Let’s talk about fuck ups.
Parental ones. I’m talking about the ‘dropping the baby on their head’ stuff.
The stuff we don’t talk about.
Hell, I’m sure I’ll get judged by a minority for bearing these stories but then I don’t really mind. I am a great mum and I know it. That’s the point. Fuck ups are inevitable but so long as we learn, we grow and we don’t beat ourselves up for eternity for being HUMAN. That’s all that matters. I don’t know about you but if my confidence falters, if I let ONE bad incident eat me up – I end up fucking up again in close succession. It’s important not to lose faith in yourself just because you didn’t get something quite right. It’s important because if you lose that confidence and lose that faith as a parent, you’ll lose that ability to be the best you can be. So trust me when I say, it’s OK to fuck up now and again. We ALL do it. Nobody is perfect.
It’s not that we forget these moments. OH NO. We most definitely do not forget our parental cock ups but somewhere down the line we tell ourselves it’s something that’s better buried, better not mentioned or not spoken of EVER again. Why do we do that?
I remember that time I put our second little girl in her pram and went into the car and turned round to get her sister. Only to turn round and discover the pram was in motion, across the car park and caught by a passer by.
Or like that time I’d gone into my living-room for what felt like 5 seconds to get our first child’s dummy. She’d just started crawling and there she was, rolling head first down half a flight of stairs onto the landing. The ball on her head, the drive to the hospital. It’s an image I’ll never forget.
Our first new born bath experience, where we quickly discovered she was like one of those ‘water snakes.’ WOOOOSH she went. Oh shit we went.
I remember that time I’d pent up enough courage to cut her tiny little finger nails for the first time. I’d chosen the clippers – they looked less lightly to screw up. One finger, two finger, oh that wasn’t a nail. I remember the scream and her poor petted lip.
That time I was learning to breastfeed for the first time. I didn’t want to show my knockers to my new friend – so I used a blanket to cover our child’s head. Only to discover my babies face had went purple. From hence forth my boobies were known by all.
Fingers in coke cans, hands on burny cups and pinching candle flames.
Slips on wet bathroom floors, black eyes on corners and nippy bums from the odd saggy nappy. My list is endless.
So is my list of AMAZING ACHIEVEMENTS.
We physically can’t prevent it all. We just can’t. There’s no denying we’ve got this inbuilt ability to identify danger in every situation and protect our children to the best of our abilities. Our reflexes become INSANE but here’s the thing. We can’t prevent it all. We just can’t. There’s not many parents I’ve met that couldn’t bag a job in health and safety. Suddenly we become SO aware of the dangers don’t we? But we’re learning. Always learning. Just like our kids are when they attempt to take a swig out our ‘fancy cups’ or lipstick to the walls.
My fuck ups were the inspiration behind ‘The Imperfectly Perfect Parent.’ I didn’t want to hide behind them anymore and pretend I was perfect. I didn’t want to keep those stories to myself. I needed to let all my shit out and lay it ALL on the table. Good AND bad.
Because there’s no greater peace found than that of being accepted for who you are, flaws and all and not who people would like you to be.
We are human, raising humans. Humans fuck up.
Heather, an amazing mother who’s had a fair few fuck ups.
*Please share said fuck ups below.