I had parenting all mapped out before having children. It would be homemade dinners, Montessori-style craft sessions, and peaceful talks about feelings. I would bring up wee ones who never yelled, never fed on the floor, and certainly wouldn’t be exposed to screens before age five. I would be the sort of mum people envied at playgroup—calm, together, and never seen bribing their toddler with a mini roll at Tesco.
Source:https://www.pexels.com/photo/girl-in-white-long-sleeve-shirt-using-a-digital-tablet-7414074/
“I Will Never Use The iPad As a Babysitter.”
In reality, this one did not even make it through the week. I recall the very first time I surrendered it so I could get through a phone call, and that 10 silent minutes? Beautiful. I am not proud of letting this one go at such warp speed, but I am not apologetic either.
We’re all just trying to make it through the day without as many meltdowns on both their end and ours as humanly possible. The iPad is not evil. It is sometimes the cause of the baby having a nap and me being able to take a shower without someone on the floor in tears.
“Screens Will Be Limited. We’ll Be Outside Every Day.”
We do go outside as well. We do quite a bit of screen time, too. Some weeks, more than I care to admit. There are days on which the prospect of bundling everyone up for an idyllic walk is wonderful in principle. But someone can’t locate their left shoe. Someone else is sobbing because they want shorts in February. And as it takes us half an hour just to get ready, I’m already exhausted and questioning why on earth I decided to have kids with this group of people. Yes, so there are days we do stay in. He plays Minecraft. I scroll Instagram. And y’know what? Occasionally, I play Wordle just for bragging rights that I still have some functioning brain cells.
“I’ll Never Bribe Them.”
I don’t bribe; I bargain as if I were in a hostage crisis. “If you get your shoes on in ten seconds, you can have a fruit winder in the car.” “If you keep your voice down, you may have one more story tonight.” “Finish your broccoli, and then we can discuss biscuits.”
Before kids, I thought bribery was lazy parenting. Now I know it’s just effective time management.
“I’ll Never Yell.”
I wished so desperately to be the placid mum. The gentle voice, the clear boundaries. I still attempt it. But there are days that the din accumulates like static in my ears and it escapes—harsh, too loudly, and accompanied by a wave of remorse.
I am trying my best. I apologize when things go wrong. I am gentle with myself when I feel overwhelmed. I understand my kids don’t need a perfect mother—just a real one who is doing their best.
“I’ll Never Allow Them To Stay Up Late.”
Bedtime would be routine at 7 pm, in bed, after baths, and before book reading. My evenings were going to be my own, and I would spend them having herbal teas and watching adult TV.
Bedtime these days feels like an additional trip to the loo, three additional kisses, several negotiations over pajamas, and someone yelling “MUMMY!” as I sit down. They go to bed later than I would like, considerably more often than I intended for them to. But I have abandoned resisting it. They are little for only a certain amount of time, and sometimes, bedtime conversations are the highlight of the day—just after they have ceased attempting to vault off the furniture, that is.
“I Will Never Abandon Routines.”
Routines are wonderful. Until they break. School holidays, illness, teething, sleep regressions—they all blow routines right out the window. There are weeks where the only thing that is consistent is that no two days are alike.
I still shoot for routine. But I’ve learned how to keep it loose. Being flexible preserves my sanity far better than adhering tightly to a schedule would.
There are a hundred more things I swore I would never do that I do on a weekly—often daily—basis, and honestly, I don’t feel guilty about any of them anymore. Parenting has this ability to strip away the rules you promised you would follow and reveal what really is important.
It is not about being the mother you thought you would be. It is about being present (even tired, shouty, and having biscuits in your hair) and doing what is effective for your family—not other people’s ideal of it.
