Today is a good day. Sometimes the good days feel few and far between. Perhaps that’s not the case, perhaps my brain only recognises them on the odd occasion, perhaps my mind isn’t able to celebrate all the beautiful little things in life.
That’s my brain though. Sometimes I’m a glass half full kind of girl, and other times I want to peg the glass at the wall and yell at the person that brought it to me. What a fun character, right?
I just bought more expensive, healthier yoghurt pouches that I really can’t afford and I told my kids they can’t eat them.
I know, I know, you’re all like ‘uh Carmen, why did you buy them if they can’t eat them?’ Let me tell you!
It is because #biggestlittle starts pre-school on Monday and I’m already bracing myself for the lunchbox guilt.
We are a relatively healthy household. In June last year we cut out most of the basic junk from our lives (sweets, soft drink etc) and since then we’ve made additional tweaks here and there to hit that next level ‘healthy home’ – swapping regular flour for coconut or almond flour, giving sugar the flick, making spreads from scratch, actually making everything from scratch when we can.
But seeing some of the supermum lunch boxes that kids get these days has me feeling a little low.
I don’t even know why I’m panicking. Possibly (read: definitely) because of old mate anxiety. Our kids usually choose tomoatoes over lollies, they’ve never had soft drink, and they live for the free fruit basket at Woolies. There’s really not a big adjustment to be made. But that nasty little voice in my head is telling me it’s not enough.
Please don’t think that I’m sitting here all holier than thou looking down on others who choose to do things differently. No, no, no. It took us a long time to get here, and we are far from perfect. The kids still get the occasional Maccas meal and spend Christmas getting hyped up and Boxing Day crashing down. Easter still involves chocolate (and yes supermarkets, I saw you stocking the shelves with brightly coloured foil covered animals whilst the garbage trucks were still straining under the weight of scrunched up wrapping paper and empty Shopkins blind bags), and birthdays are still all about the cake.
The point I’m trying to make is that we are a healthy home and I still feel incredible pressure to provide a very specific kind of tucker for the little tacker. I’ve been Youtubing, Googling, and Pintresting my fingers off. My most used words may now be ‘lunchbox’, ‘Sugar-free’, and ‘kids’ ( kids because otherwise I get a heap of mason jar salads perfect for the office!)
I feel strongly that some of the pressure is good. No, seriously! Sometimes pressure is a good thing, because it makes me try harder. I strive to do better for my family.
And other times it just makes me crumble. I break, and instead of trying my hardest to adapt I retreat, sometimes literally – jumping into my bed and assuming the foetal position.
We need to find the balance. Not everyone is in the same place and that’s ok, it’s not my life, not my children, not my circus.
Of course children should eat healthy, nutritious foods, we all know that, but we shouldn’t shame those who don’t have the same mindset. We are all on our own journey. Perhaps we could gently see if someone is open to advice while being careful not to have a condescending undertone, or we could share our advice to the public in a place they can see and leave it in their hands.
My kids will have healthy lunch boxes majority of the time, but some days I just won’t have the energy to do anymore than a jam sandwich, an apple, and a biscuit and I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about that. No one should.
Strive to be healthy, cook together, make mistakes, try new things, and make sure you laugh while you do it – we’re making memories and creating lifelong connections with food here!
The Simpsons say you don’t make friends with salad, perhaps it’s time we consider that Homer may not be the incredibly sexy, intelligent, healthy role model he was so clearly designed to be.
I know, I know I’ve said this before, multiple times, but trust me, I’ll say it again.
Because this is important. It is an important topic. It is important that things change.
I’m not saying go and share this blog post – I’m saying go and share this message.
Please.
We need to stop using the phrase ‘boys will be boys’ as a way to shrug off rough behaviour.
We need to end the saying ‘he hit you because he likes you’ to justify why a boy may be picking on someone.
We need to cease referring to only the sport-playing males as ‘a real boys boy.’ What about the little boys who prefer science, or dancing, or art? Are they any less of a boy?
We need to quit saying ‘stop crying like a little girl’ because every body cries. It’s not a weakness. It’s an emotion.
Why are we expecting bad behaviour from boys? How are we giving them a chance when these phrases are used so callously in every day language?
I have three sons. I do not want my boys growing up thinking that the only way to be classified as a real man is to be a footy-playing, violent, emotional desert of a human. It’s simply not the case and these words can be damaging.
An amazing lady by the name of Rachael has created a shirt in honour of me along these very lines! I feel so blessed that she has done something so kind. I got a lot of comments accusing me of brushing my sons roughness off as ‘boys will be boys’. There was little said that upset me more than that.
I expect more from my children. I expect more from myself as a mother. I would never.
Anyway I’m not getting into that again #brokenrecord.
Rachael is the mind, body, and soul behind the business Zeke Unique. This new shirt is a part of her ‘Equali-Tees’ line – a line of shirts that celebrate the individual child and their likes, rather than what they are expected to like based on their gender at birth.
I can’t speak highly enough of this whole thing! I’m so proud to know Rachael. I’m so proud to now have a shirt honouring me! I’m so proud of the change she is working towards. We all need to work towards the same outcome.
Let’s celebrate our children for the unique individuals that they are!
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I’d love to giveaway one of Zeke Unique’s new ‘Boys will be good humans’ t-shirts! If you’d like to win one just leave a comment either here, Facebook, or Instagram and tell me which awesome little guy in your life you’d love to see rocking this awesome shirt!
I wouldn’t hate it if you shot over to Zeke Unique and to my Facebook page and gave them a like either! 😉
And of course you’d just be mean if you didn’t share the opportunity with your mates, right? 😏
Please note – I am receiving nothing from Zeke Unique for anything I’ve said except for Rachael’s continuous support of everything I do. I genuinely love her products and just wanted to share my joy over her new addition! 😊 #pinkypromise
*Open to residents of Australia. One nomination per person please, it’s already going to be hard enough to choose as it is. Maybe I’ll make someone else do that 😂 Entries close midnight AEST Thursday 26th of January 2017. Winner will be announced Friday 27th of January 2017.
Wow, well that was unexpected.
When I hit upload on my blog post ‘We’re under attack‘ the other day I had no idea what it would turn into! It seemed that the reply threads consisted of twenty-odd positive, supportive comments and then one that suggested my children were monsters. Twenty more ‘I feel you!’ comments, and one accusing me of shrugging my children playing up as ‘boys will be boys’ (I have never, and I will never). Another twenty comments sending love, and one telling me that my children targeted the little girl and had planned an attack on her – puh-lease.
I just refuse to believe that children are nasty little schemers with a plan for world domination and pulling peoples hair. Perhaps I’m naive. Either way, I know my children, and they definitely don’t have a bunker full of targets photos and playground blueprints.
Sorry if the title got a certain song in your head…actually you know why? #sorrynotsorry it’s a great song.
It’s just after 9am and I have a headache. I am so not in the parenting mood today.
Toby (middlelittle) and Marky (biggestlittle) are making me question why I wanted children in the first place. I could be on holidays in Hawaii!
A lot has happened in the last few days. Santa has come and gone and is probably relaxing somewhere warm, hubby and I are exhausted, the kids are on a three day sugar high, and the house looks like a toy store went out for a big night, drank far too much tequila, and yakked in every room.
Someone asked the question today ‘What are your thoughts on people who get weight loss surgery?‘
The replies were mostly supportive, with a couple that were less so. I couldn’t go past this comment from a lovely lady (who gave me her permission to share this).
I wake up. My first thought is about how horribly real the dream I had of one of my kids or my husband dying was. Nearly every morning.
Every one is fine. It was just a dream.
I lay there with my eyes closed for a few minutes waiting for the dream to fade and listening carefully for the voice of the person I dreamt about.
See, he’s fine. It’s ok. Up you get.
I finally face the day usually being attacked by my three little boys (3, 2, and 10 months) as I walk out. They start fighting over who gets me first and I consider going back to bed and trying again tomorrow.
Then I remember we have to leave the house. This is where it really goes downhill.
Ok, it’s a morning out. I can do this. Maybe I should just leave four hours early so hubby can help me get them into the car. Surely we can just drive around for four hours, right? No. Can’t do that. Maybe I should just cancel.
I think about the fact that I need to find them all clothes by digging through mount Foldmore (created because I simply don’t have the patience to refold every item of clothing ten times a day after the children throw it all out of the drawers).
Can’t they just go in their pj’s? Is it going to be warm or cold maybe I should pack both options, then I’ve got spares just in case. Oh gosh I can’t find any pants for bub. He can get away with these 0000’s right? No, they’d look like Kylie Minogue’s hotpants. Can’t do that. Maybe I should just cancel.
Then I need to make sure I’ve got all the bottles sterilised and packed, as well as formula. I need to get myself ready while they try to climb over me or ‘help’ me brush my teeth. I need to make sure I’m timing everything right for the little man’s bottles and the bigger boys morning tea/lunch/afternoon tea.
Will they need it all? Will we be home? What can I pack? We have no food. Can I buy them something? Not with $3 I can’t. What will I do? This is too hard. Maybe I should just cancel.
I finally get their food organised and start to register that I’m going to have to get their shoes on in a minute. I’m also very aware that I’m getting them ready way too early, which always leads to them whinging because they want to leave immediately. I manage to find them all mismatched socks and put their shoes on the wrong feet, put them back on the right feet, then realise the middle one is wearing his big brothers shoes. Oops. Fix that.
This is all just too much. Of course I put the wrong shoes on. God, so typically me. Why can’t I just be more organised. Every other mother seems to have her life together, why can’t I? Do we even still have the pair to this shoe? I don’t remember seeing it. This is ridiculous. I can’t do this. Maybe I should just cancel.
Then the big one has an accident.
Breathe. Breathe. He’s still little. You should have reminded him, it’s your fault not his. Stop yelling, you’re being ridiculous. Just deal with it. Reassure him that it’s ok, that you aren’t cross. Why are you still yelling? You can hear yourself. You can hear how horrible you sound. Please, please stop.
I give the little man a hug and tell him I’m sorry for yelling, and that everything is ok, accidents happen. He smiles and goes back to playing.
You’re a mess. You’ve lost it. These poor kids deserve better.
Just walk away.
Don’t leave them alone.
Just go outside for a minute, collect yourself.
No don’t do that you can’t leave them.
You have to go out for a minute.
What do I do? I am failing. I’m not cut out for this. It’s too much. I should just cancel. But then I’m letting them down, they’re going to hate me. Maybe they’ll understand. What do I say? I can’t just say ‘sorry can’t make it, anxiety won today’.
I send a message. ‘Hey, I’m so sorry to cancel, but we’re having a rough day. Can we reschedule?’
Note to self: Actually follow through with the reschedule. It’ll be another day, a fresh start. For goodness sakes, stop lying to yourself. Don’t commit to anything. They haven’t replied yet. Please be understanding. Please, I can’t handle any more today. It’s fine, they’ll totally get it. They’ll be totally fine. OK, it’s all good.
My phone notifies me of a message. It reads ‘That’s pretty disappointing. I was counting on you. Don’t worry about rescheduling.’
Down I go again.
Sometimes being a blogger can be bigger than what you’d think.
When you start a blog and you have a plan for the general theme, you don’t always realise what it will turn into.
You want to be real. You want to be honest. Sometimes you’ll have a line drawn and you’ll stay close, but never cross. Sometimes you don’t worry about a line at all and you’ll say or do whatever gets you attention.
I don’t see the point in that.
I’ve seen other mother bloggers posting things that most would consider neglect, under the guise of ‘being real’. I think that’s bull. You can be real, you can be raw, you can be relatable without being neglectful. And attention can be good or bad – why would anyone aim for the latter?
Your child gets nits – I’m pretty sure that’s a rite of passage. Do you treat it? If they come back day after day, do you treat it again and again even though it’s annoying as hell? Or do you take a photo, upload it to social media and say it’s ok because they’re loved?
No brainer, right?
If we keep bowing down to people doing neglectful things because they make us feel human, we are never going to do better. How many children are going to be hurt by this? How many kids will sit in dirty nappies because their mums were told it’s fine?
I’m not a perfect mum. If you have ever read any of my other posts you’ll know I struggle. I really do. My kids eat nuggets and chips (McDaddies) too often. We don’t leave the house a whole lot due to my anxiety. I yell more than I should. Mount Foldmore is slowly plotting to take control of the house.
We all have hard times and it feels great to know there are other mums out there who get it, who are dealing with the same issues, who are also pulling their hair out, or who just want to quit this parenting thing and run away to a new life in Hawaii.
But we don’t have to settle. When you know better you do better. If my son sits in a nappy for too long because I got busy, or because it completely slipped my mind – I’m not going to give in and just keep letting it happen. I’m going to try to do better. I’ll still fail sometimes, that’s life. But I will try.
It’s wonderful that so many women are feeling less alone, because we aren’t alone, we are all dealing with the same tantrums, the same sibling rivalry, the same exhaustion. I just worry about what this need to be the same is costing us
We are all strong, incredible, independant women.
We are more than who we follow.
We are more than how we parent.
We are more than we even think we are.
We are more.
The joys of 3 boys 