Just call me Mummy

Today I’m contemplating the media titling of a new movement of mothers as ‘slummy mummies’.  The ones who feed their kids ready meals, drink wine, express their annoyance at their kids publicly, share their epic fails and the gather support on social media *places hands on either side of face, opens eyes wide and gasps in mock horror*. 

As mummies we are often given labels. Yummy mummies, pushy mummies, earth mother mummies, you get the point, I won’t labour it!  

So tonight as I serve my children a meal of fish finger butties I consider how I feel about being a ‘slummy mummy’.

I conclude:-

I couldn’t give a rat’s ass!

I have stood and cooked so many meals that get the following responses :-

1. I can see orange! It’s carrots gag gag gag! End of meal. 

2. These aren’t yummy sausages. I want yummy sausages (organic butchers v a well known frankfurter). End of meal. 

3. These are too spicy, I don’t like goujons, just nuggets. End of meal. 

4. There’s butter. I don’t like butter. End of meal!

5. Is it yummy cheese? End of meal. 

6. I wanted pasta. This isn’t pasta. Pasta is curly. This is straight. End of meal. 

7. Is it dairy milk? Yes it is (I lie). Takes one look. Scrunches up face. End of treat!
Catch my drift.
We are stressed enough. We have enough guilt.  We question if we are good enough every day. We need to stop pandering to this crap!  We are just mummies! Not slummy, not earth, not whatever. We are just mummies. If we choose to feed our children ‘beige’ food as it has been described, we are feeding our child. Winner, yes?

I actually choose to positively parent.  (Pats on the back not necessary). It is my hope that it will help my children to learn to make good decisions. But it takes a hell of a lot of patience. Sometimes I epicly fail and yell ‘I don’t care just do what I ask’. Other times I patiently explain why it’s important to clean the paint off the wall and why we shouldn’t lick rain off of people’s cars!

I encourage my youngest to engage in imaginative play. It takes a hell of a lot of time to pick up after an imaganitive four year old who has presently removed every cushion off of the sofa’s to build a mountain that we can climb to ‘get some exercise’. His arms are too tired to help, after all of the exercise. I could have been making a my own fish goujons whilst I was stage diving into the cushions. However, I took the cheats option of The Captains favourite whilst jumping into the soft cushions and laughing with my littlest. And I’ll do it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. 

And in ten minutes time I’ll be counting down to gin o’clock because I know I have the trauma of bedtime looming!
My kids at fed, clean, usually happy, sociable, considerate human beings. In my book, I’m doing something right!  Not slummy, yummy, earth or pushy. Just mummy!!

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