7 Things I never Thought I’d Do As a Mum

Georgina Fuller - 13 Jan 16

I don’t know about you but, back in the days when I was young and carefree and dreaming of a family, the idea I had of motherhood, like most things in life, was vastly different to the reality of my life today. The prospect of a nine month holiday from the daily grind (which is what I thought maternity leave was when I was pregnant with child number one), endless cuddles, lazy pyjama mornings and having my very own tiny bundle of joy to look after and fawn upon, seemed utterly wonderful. I was going to be a cool, laid back, fun sort of mamma, the one whose child fitted in with her and took everything in her stride. How very wrong I was. Seven years, two little dictators and one tiny diva later, I’ve realised that I’m not really the mother I thought I would be. Here are my top seven parenting fails:

1) Scream like a banshee

I thought I’d be the sort of mum who would laugh and play with my adorable title darlings all day not roll my eye balls and whisper profanities under my breath. Instead, I spend half my time shouting at them for everything from not eating their dinner to refusing to get dressed to, mostly, shouting at them for shouting. What happened to the easy going, smiley girl I once was?

2) Shop for my kids rather than myself.

Hands up who else has gone out to buy a new top and ended up spending the equivalent of a year’s road tax in Jo Jo Maman Bebe? I’ve never actually really loved shopping and now, after three kids, I can’t say I relish the prospect of hitting the High St with the great unwashed to squeeze my booty into a pair of Gok Wan’s skinnies or try and find a suitable harness for my mammaries (which have, quite frankly, seen better days). It’s much more fun to buy a super cute little pair of new boots for my baby girl or matching Breton tops for my boys.

3) Become a stickler for routine.

I remember telling anyone that would listen, when I was pregnant with son number one, that our baby would fit in around us and our lives wouldn’t revolve solely around him. And that was largely true for the first few months when he was a portable, mewing newborn but I soon started micromanaging his day and clock watching and would always try and be home by 1pm for the precious lunch time nap. I’ve been the same with all three children and could have cried when Eddie finally dropped his lunch time nap at the grand age of three and a half.

4) Show off about my kids.

I never thought I’d be the boring, narcissistic parent who would post dozens of pictures of their children’s mini milestones and moments on social media. Or that I would be the type that would constantly talk about her kids and define herself by being a mother.  I have, however, found myself just as enchanted as every other parent and often can’t resist a sneaky brag about how our eldest son is on Level 10 reading or how he had one of the starring roles as the narrator in his nativity play. Or how our 20 month old is so much more advanced than her brothers and can repeat back pretty much everything you say to her. Somebody gag me now!

5) Become bourgeois

I never thought I’d be house proud but after a couple of years of having two boys traipsing mud and filth across our new carpet, not to mention the obscenities of potty training, I now demand that anyone under 10 leaves their shoes at the door and silently will anyone over that age to follow suit. I’ve also (full disclosure) been known to get out the handheld Dyson to suck up the crumbs whilst the kids (or even my poor, unsuspecting mum friends) are mid biscuit. Needless to say I avoid any sort of messy play at all costs. When did I become so flipping bourgeois?!

6) Whilst, paradoxically, becoming a domestic slut.

That said, whilst I may have become bourgeois in some respects, I have almost become a domestic slut in others and cut corners wherever I can. I thought I’d relish all the domestic stuff that came with kids, making them delicious, home cooked meals, sitting down to draw and paint with them, stirring a homemade chutney whilst they recite their time tables etc. But having weaned three babies and potty trained two toddlers, I am, quite frankly, bored to tears of the domestic drudgery of cooking and cleaning and endless washing. God knows how our grandmothers coped without washing machines and dishwashers. I have a newfound awe for my great grandmother who had seven children and ran a pub.

7) Wonder what the hell I was doing.

I thought (somewhat arrogantly in hindsight) I’d be a natural mother. I’ve always loved babies and kids and always known I wanted to be a mum. And I still love kids – just not necessarily always my own. There are times when I really have NFI what I am doing or saying, am massively inconsistent and impatient and really not the mother I thought I’d be. Some days I seem to spend most of the time fannying around on Facebook rather than actually talking to my children.

But the one thing I hadn’t and could not have anticipated was that, along with the frustration, exhaustion and unsolicited slavery, you experience the most mind-blowing, life-changing love. And, for that alone, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Georgina Fuller

Georgina Fuller is a freelance journalist, reluctant realist and mother of three; Charlie (8), Edward (5) and Jemima (3.) She writes for The Daily Telegraph, The Guardian, Red, Smallish, Little London magazine and anyone else who pays her. After eight years in London, she now lives in a Midsomer Murdersesque village on the edge of the Cotswolds.

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