I posted about Facebook mums last week. The response was fairly positive but a few people viewed it as ‘Mum-shaming’ which was, pretty upsetting.
I’m about to become a mother for the very first time, I write a blog aimed at parents, the last thing I want is to offend my target audience and a group of people I’m excited to become a part of. So if I did, I am sorry, but I hope that most of you took that post for the tongue-in-cheek opinion piece it was designed to be.
Being a mother is going to be hard, I know that.
There’ll be parts I love and parts I hate. That’s why I’ve made a list of the top ten things that need to change before he gets here in less than six weeks’ time.
Playing kids’ iPhone games – No I don’t know why, at the age of 27, I play games on my phone that are clearly aimed at 11 year olds, but I do. I don’t bug people on Facebook for help with them or anything though; I’m not a complete loser. However, I need to be a role model for my son and frankly nobody would respect someone who gets excited about a virtual bakery quite like I do. It’s for my own good, really.
Biting my nails, rather than filing them – I used to bite my nails down to the skin until I was about 23. I stopped, thank goodness. But now, instead of filing them, I bite them down to a manageable size. This can’t happen with a baby. They get sharp and uneven and I am not going to be responsible for scratching my child because I’m too lazy to dig out a nail file. I’m also not prepared to blame Rufio either. The guilt towards both my baby and my cat would kill me.
Putting off the washing up – I might just invest in a dishwasher when we move house, but until we have a kitchen that can accommodate one, I have to get up off my bum and do the washing up as it needs doing and not when I run out of forks. I should have stopped doing this years ago, but it definitely needs to stop now.
Complaining about how I look – I know, everybody does it from time to time but I am going to make a real effort (I’m already trying) to not complain about how I look once our little man is here. I can’t perpetuate that aura of self-doubt or shallowness around him. Yeah, I know he’s a baby, he can’t understand that yet but if I don’t stop this now, I never will. I want a happy, confident, excited little boy – not one that hears his Mum moaning all the time that she feels fat or looks awful and starts worrying about it himself. Not going to happen.
Bitching about misbehaved kids in supermarkets or restaurants – I’m not confrontational, this is more in a “kill it with fire” being uttered under my breath in Costco as the hellspawn of Ellesmere Port rips through the aisles screaming their head off and knocking chocolate all over the floor. It’s not meant towards the kids, more the parents who let them, but either way that must stop. Because one day, that will be our hellspawn and I will be mortified and there’ll be nothing we can do about it. Nothing.
Swearing. No matter how appropriate it is. – I’m not a potty mouth by any means, but sometimes a swear word is just necessary and I’m not afraid to use them. However, again, I’m a role model now. Well, there’s that and the last thing I want is for my little boy to be visiting his grandparents and to come out with something shocking in front of them. That’s not really indicative of great parenting skills (irrespective of how hilarious it no doubt is). The words sugar, shoot and other things that begin with the “sh” sound will suddenly soar in their use.
Refusing to be photographed – There was a time where I would only be photographed if I was holding the camera at arm’s length and pulling some form of stupid face (not a duck though, that passed me by). Those days are over, but I remain a reluctant photography subject. That must stop when I have a child. I must be ready and willing; no matter the weather, whatever the place and regardless of whether I’ve straightened my hair to pose next to my husband and little boy to capture all kinds of moments. Suck it up Amy; if this is the hardest being a parent gets, you’re golden (I know this is NOT the hardest part of parenting. I’m not that naive).
Googling minor symptoms – It is a fact that Google insists you will die if you put your symptoms in. The last time I did this, I had appendicitis and I didn’t believe it. So it’s either not serious and Google is just wanting to scare the hell out of me or it is serious and I think Google is a drama queen. I can do without the horror of being told by a search engine that my son has some tropical disease, spread through hand to hand combat with a bear only found in one tree in Grenada. Because the reality will be that he’ll have nappy rash.
Crying at kids’ films – Up, Toy Story 3, Finding Nemo, Big Hero Six… and these are just the ones I remember in recent years that have reduced me to a quivering, blubbering wreck. These films are aimed at children; I should definitely be man enough to get through 90 minutes without having a breakdown. I need to be the one who comforts him, not the other way around. That and it’s not a good look to have Daddy laughing at me every time we go to the cinema.
Refusing to apologise, even when I’m the idiot – It’s not because I have a problem with apologising. Wes will tell you I probably apologise too much, but mainly for things out of my control. When I’m in the wrong, I am sorry… I just don’t say it. Wes is able to tell me when I am doing this, but my son probably won’t and that’s not right. As a parent, the ability to apologise to your children when they were right and you weren’t is pretty huge and I need to get that nailed from day one.