There's one comment that I hear way more often than any other when I chat to people on social media these days - usually it comes about whenever we're talking about a bad night with the kids, or when I mention the ages of my little ones, or perhaps when I talk about how many hours I work - and that comment is:
"I don't know how you do it, you're supermum!"
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that this is a bad thing to say - not at all! It's a lovely compliment.
I had 3 babies in 3 years which is quite unusual, and I guess that people think that must be a difficult thing to manage (they're not wrong, to be honest! It is!)
But whenever people tell me I "must be Super mum", I always feel the same two emotions - bewilderment and guilt.
Bewilderment because it amazes me that I'm somehow making it look as though I've in any way got my shit together.
And guilt because I feel as though I'm obviously some kind of massive fraud - because deep down I think that if these people could see how things really go down inside these four walls most days, they might call me a lot of things - but Super mom would surely not be one of them!
Right now, I feel like the furthest thing from Super Mum....I feel on the brink of tears. And I don't mean that one single solitary crystal tear is about to cascade gently down my cheek as I sit wistfully gazing off into the distance....No, I mean I'm about 5 seconds away from full on Kim Kardashian-Style UGLY CRYING and dripping snot all over this keyboard.
And why do I feel that way?
Because to be honest, today I just feel like a really shit mum.
When I woke up today, I was greeted by good old Aunt Flo (*I don't actually call my period Aunt Flo, I just felt like shark week probably wasn't an appropriate term for the blog...) and WOW...has that bitch kicked my arse every which way today!! I'm feeling as cranky as hell, my moods are swinging more than Mick Jagger in the 60s, my insides feel as though somebody is slowly ripping them out, and I feel as weak and shaky as a newborn kitten...the kind of weak where every time I stand up the whole world goes black for a minute and I'm not sure if I'm still standing or on my way down to the floor.
All I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers with my unicorn hot water bottle (Don't judge me...), read a Sophie Kinsella book, eat massively unhealthy amounts of chocolate and have the occasional cry...but I couldn't, because not only did I have not one but TWO little darling 1 year olds screeching to be let out of their cots, but I also had my 3 year old laying in bed next to me and holding my head like a rugby ball whilst giving me a play-by-play of the dream he had about a zombie last night...
Added to this was the fact that today was a work day. A lot of people think that working from home must give you the luxury of choosing when you work and taking time off sick whenever you need it, but that's not the case at all - today I had a total of four deadlines that HAD to be met, so there was zero time for unicorn cuddles and eating Nutella from the jar.
Instead, I had to swallow a couple of paracetamol, drag my arse to my desk and get on with it.
Which I did.
Unfortunately, my eldest made my work day a LOT harder than it needed to be.
You see, he's going through a very clingy phase at the moment - which is lovely when he wants all of the cuddles first thing in morning and is declaring that I'm his "very best friend" - but it's also really bloody difficult when he's clinging onto my leg and refusing to let me leave the living room all day, WAILING out "I want my mummmmyyyyy!" constantly at the top of his lungs and banging on the office door every 5 minutes so that he can sit on my knee again and show me yet another Zombling.
(*Note* Their Dad looks after them while I'm working, no need to run off and call social services...he's just decided that only Mummy will do right now!)
If I tried once to gently explain to him why Mummy HAS to get her work done, I must have tried a zillion times...He was having none of it.
Did I WANT to give in to him, turn off the computer, go and cuddle up next to him on the sofa and have a duvet day? Of course I did!! I can think of nothing that would have been better for both of us today.
But I didn't have that luxury...because if my deadlines aren't met, then my bills aren't paid. And if my bills aren't paid, then my landlord is not a happy chap!
And deep down, I KNOW that this is just a fact of life - that I have no option but to work. That it's in everybody's best interests that I meet my deadlines. That we simply cannot survive without my income.
But when I hear him crying for me, and I have to tell him No I can't come and play Pirates with him...and when the guilt of that gets to me and I lose my patience and end up telling him off for interrupting me again...I feel like the furthest thing from Super Mum.
And I feel like that numerous times every single day.
When the kids have done nothing but argue for the past hour and nothing I try seems to stop them, and I feel like it's my fault that they don't get along - I don't feel like Super Mum.
When I can't handle yet another game of "Lets Juggle The Teething Baby And Try To Keep The Other Kids Alive Whilst Cooking A Dinner That They'll Just Complain About & Not Eat Anyway" so I take them out to McDonalds...and it's NOT the first time this week - I don't feel like Super Mum.
When both of the babies wake up at the same time in the night, and I end up almost in tears with them because I just can't handle how loud their cries are together and all I want to do is sleep - I don't feel like Super Mum.
When I give in to the demands for sweets and unhealthy things because I just don't have any fight left in me after another day of working and mumming, handling tantrums and paying all of the bills - I don't feel like Super Mum.
When I spend all of my day just WISHING it was bedtime, craving just half an hour of silence so I can hear myself think, desperately wanting to just be able to get my work done - and then when bedtime eventually comes and I beat myself up about how little time I spent playing with them today, worrying about who didn't get enough one on one time, and panicking that they might not know how much I love them because I was so snappy with them - I don't feel like Super Mum.
But I'm not going to sit and indulge myself in this pity party tonight...because here's the thing.
I'm doing my absolute best. FACT.
And even hormonal-Guilt-ridden-Me HAS to agree with that.
I'm raising three boisterous little boys who all want my undivided attention all of the time, and it's just not possible for them all to have it at once...
I'm the sole breadwinner in this house right now, so I don't have the luxury of taking time away from work just because I feel like it....because I have to provide for my family.
I'm tired...like REALLY bloody tired, pretty much all of the time and so I won't always be on my Motherhood A game. Sometimes, I'll definitely have to take short cuts and easy ways out....because it's just necessary for my sanity.
So no, I'm not Super Mum. I doubt any of us ever feel like we are.
But I do believe that we Mums have certain Super Powers...our magic kisses that make their cuts & scrapes all better, our cuddles that chase the bad dreams away, our impromptu magic tricks that keep them entertained in restaurants ...and maybe when the guilt and doubt sets in we just need to accept that we won't get it right all the time. That some days will be shitty days. That mum-guilt will probably never truly leave us, and that we will always worry whether we're doing enough.
But we'll shake it off and keep on fighting the good fight, because that's what we do...
To quote Superman himself..."You're much stronger than you think you are. Trust me"
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