How not to nail it!

I’ve had a few comments on my blogs recently, congratulating me for ‘having nailed’ parenting. So as not to feel like a fraud, or even, god forbid, an expert who people start to turn to for advice, I thought I would readdress the balance with ways that I have fucked up in the past week. I’ve made a list, because I like lists. Lists are my life.

I didn’t go to daughter 2’s year 11 information evening at school – the one where they were telling parents what an important year it is for their child, giving out vital dates and general words of wisdom. (In my defence, I couldn’t go because I still couldn’t drive after an operation and couldn’t get the train because I still couldn’t walk…but then again, that was after irresponsibly jumping off a 6 foot wall onto concrete in sandals.)

I didn’t go to daughter 4’s year 8 information evening, because I really couldn’t be arsed. I felt a bit guilty and so ran it by number 1 friend, who replied that she hadn’t bothered to go to her daughter’s either. Rather than thinking we were both shit mothers, I felt this justified my absence.

I let daughter 3 pack for her Duke of Edinburgh weekend completely unsupervised, as I was crashed out on the sofa drinking wine and feeling sorry for myself after a busy day. Oh, and Strictly was on and I had to catch Ed Balls making a tit of himself. She then told partner in the car on the way to the drop off point that she didn’t have a coat and yes, the following day it pissed down in the Ashdown Forest. 

I won’t take daughter 1 out driving, because I’m too scared.

I allowed daughter 2 to buy 7 different packets of sweets to take on her D of E weekend, when she had actually been assigned the task of buying breakfast for the group. However, I did lob in a packet of brioche, albeit with chocolate chips. 

Partner and I had a totally uncharacteristic, ‘fuck it’ moment and booked a holiday abroad during term time, alone. If I had been at the year 11 information evening I would have been told that daughter 2’s GCSE mocks are literally the exact dates of our holiday. We could not have been more precise had we tried.

An e mail from daughter 1’s school yesterday, confirmed my worst fears…her A level mocks are literally the exact dates of our holiday…etc

Daughter 4’s school jumper is full of holes. Not just the usual elbow holes, but other much more random holes. When we were at the hospital yesterday for her pre-op for an operation she’s having tomorrow, the nurse asked her to swab her groin. She lifted her skirt and simply had to stick the cotton bud straight through the huge hole in her tights, thus saving her the embarrassment of having to pull them down, but I was mortified.

To be honest, I could go on. But the best length for a blog post is about 500 words (apparently). So I’ll just mention that I have done some good things as a mum this week: my kids have been fed and some weeks, even that feels like an epic achievement.

“Oh dear Mum”