Don’t Worry – I’ve Got Your Back

Why is it that kids never grow out of putting you in awkward positions? And no, not in a “yoga” kind of way. But in a squeaky bum, this is so embarrassing, ground please swallow me up, kind of way.

When Little Miss was small, we were waiting in the queue at the shops when she said “ugh Mum, that man is so fat!” and pointed to the person in front of us. Mortified, I quickly rectified her behaviour with “it’s not nice to say that word about anyone, and that’s a woman, not a man”.

When Tiny Miss was asked to bring in a plastic bottle for a nursery project, she told the teacher “we only have green glass ones for Mummy’s wine”. FFS.

Add this to the millions of tantrums, refusing to go out in anything other than their pants and the general puke/poo/wee stained clothes that one or all of us end up wearing, and it’s pretty obvious that parenting is simply surviving one embarrassing moment after another.

But the embarrassment is just the start. It’s when they pull you out of your own comfort zone that you really have to take your own insecurities and push them to one side. Those times when you have to go trick or treating (knocking on peoples doors and asking them to feed your children? Weird). Those times when you have to turn up to toddler group and know NO ONE. Those times where you have to take your child swimming dressed in hardly anything with the WORLDS BIGGEST BODY HANGUPS!

Today is one of those days. One of those “please don’t make me, please don’t make me, please don’t make me” days where you know your child has to come first and your personal insecurities second. JJ has been moved in class and doesn’t like who he is sitting next to. Like, really doesn’t like them. He comes home crying because they call him this, or they ruin his work, or they distract him so he gets things wrong. So now I have to speak to the teacher to ask for him to be moved (he has already asked himself and she said no). I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to see his teacher. And I definitely don’t want to walk past the “other Mums” in case they think I’m complaining about their kids.

Unfortunately, I’ve got no choice. Because I am Mum. And no matter what, I always have to have their backs.

Wish me luck!!!!

 

This post is part of a Linky:

Best of Worst

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