Today is one of those days where if being a mum was a normal job I would walk into my boss’s office and quit. And it wouldn’t be the first time. Because some days we all feel like we’re totally failing at this parenting thing. 

Some days I’m in the kitchen, dancing like a Disney princess, baking carrot/oat/banana muffins sprinkled with nothing but magic fairy dust and angel wings all full of wholesome, ethical and moral goodness. I’m might add that these days are not the norm!

Some days, today for example, my son’s diet consists of chocolate cake and cereal. 

Things he can just help himself to so that he at the very least doesn’t starve to death. 

My husband wouldn’t like that.

Whether it’s because it took over an hour to leave the house after dressing a child that is screaming as though you’re trying to murder him, or the fact that you’ve cancelled puddle ducks (again) because you can’t face stuffing those chunky thighs into the neoprene nappy, some days just seem to go to s**t. And you feel like the worst parent in the world because your child has to make do with the same old toys in the same old room with the same old mum, just sitting on her phone. Even the sun is not welcome today because going out for a walk is out of the question.

I told you. Some days I’m not a good mum.

Sometimes I lock my child in the car (let’s be real, no more than 5 minutes with the windows open!) so I can pick up all the cheerios he’s strewn all over the floor and that the cats are chasing around without having a whinging mini-me pulling at my hair like they’re reins. (Queue finding mouldy old cheerios in ever corner of the living room months down the line .) 

Sometimes I put on Stickman for the hundredth time just so I can drink my cup of coffee without him sticking his hand in it or wanting to check, again, that it is actually as hot as I say it is. 

Some days, I really do consider looking up the closest adoption agency (or kennel).

So here, my darling son. Eat nothing but cheerios and oat cakes while mummy collapses on the sofa after no sleep, yet again.

And no I don’t want to read the gruffalo again!

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Apparently it gets better. Apparently this could be a good 20 years away.