Last week I listed My Dirty Mummy Secrets secrets. A jokey look on my everyday life. If read properly you will see at the top 5% of the time I am a bit crap. And sometimes during this 5% of the time I do a range of stupid things to help me get through the day relatively unscathed. So yep if I'm thin on time I use baby wipe to clean my bits and dry shampoo to clean my hair, or if I'm in a rush I have hairy legs and will shove secret supplies of chocolate down my gob for my tea.
And sometimes? During this 5% of the time I am being crap I don't change my boys nappy if he has pooed for ONE WHOLE HOUR! (expects a onslaught of abuse on social media, people around the country screaming in outrage, traffic to stop, Mothers to weep, thunder to clap and so on). So sometimes, in the 5% of a year of me being crap, let's say 2% of the time my husband is at work. So like 4 days a year. My baby has to sit in his poo. For a teeny tiny bit.
Now, do we all think I have hairy legs, greasy hair, a poor diet and me not changing one nappy four hours a year because I am living the life of riley? As I need this extra time saved to drink champagne and dance around to Abba with my friends? Or go and shop for Marc Jacobs bags? Or watch copious amounts of television. No sometimes? I am just plain and simply exhausted. Motherhood is exhausting. And that makes me feel bad. It really does. I would like to say "hell yeah I find it easy to be up at 5.30am and then spend the whole day with two toddlers by myself for 12 hours". That I always manage to cook wonderful meals and I am just the most perfect, hairless legs, clean haired, perfect mother in the world ever. But I'm not.
And you know what makes it worse? Is that the Judgey Mc Judgey Pants of this world that seem to think it is OK to make me feel worse. Make us feel worse. You know the one that turns their nose up when they see you breast feeding in public or bottle feeding in baby groups. Or using a dummy to placate your child or not using a dummy and scowling at your child weeping. Or reading a Mum just trying to do her best and making other Mothers laugh and then trolling them and saying they are cruel and heartless and disgusting for not changing their babies bum, for four hours a year. Yeah them. Tw*ts.
And what makes it worse I find is that it is always women. It's always other mothers that are there first, on the frontline, willing to bring other Mothers down. And I just don't get it? I just don't understand. We all know this is hard work, we all love our kids and we all do what we can to make our children happy. But I refuse to believe that we can be perfect all the time. I have to believe that or else I would feel such a failure and so very, very bad that I'm not sure I could cope.
So let's make a deal yes? Let's all come to this little agreement. My blog is honest. Yes, I may post the odd nice picture on instagram of jam jar glasses full to the brim of Pimms, but also you will see weeping children. I will review gorgeous items for my kids and take them out on lots of nice day trips but in return I will also try and make you laugh and giggle about the hard times of being a Mum. I don't want no Judgey Mc Judgey Pants here please. Nope. No way.
And from now on, when I wake up on a Saturday morning to find that some utter arse has trolled my blog with horrific comments about me abusing my child, I shall not weep, I shall calmly delete, go downstairs with my greasy hair, look around at my lovely, happy home (whilst avoiding looking down at my hairy legs) with my fab hub and cray cray toddlers and think......"F*ck Em".