Muses

I was not a good mummy today.

I felt as emotionally drained as a mouse caught swimming all day long in a clothes washer.

Some days you can’t meet the kids’ expectations.

There I am working. A random photo shot by some child who thinks I work all the time.

Which is what my daughter just told me. Which is what my youngest son says to me all the time.

It’s what they both say when they want to pull out their best  dagger to zing toward my heart.

This summer I took them to one point of the state to the other. To beaches, amusement parks and Walmart when they begged because they had money to spend.

But tonight when my daughter mentioned wanting to hang pictures tomorrow and I said I had to work — she cried.

I decided as much as I don’t like what age is doing to my outer skin, I like what it is doing to my inner epidermis.

It’s tough.

I still feel pinches that I’m not a good enough mum.

Then I realize no one will ever be good enough.

We just have moments of greatness to enjoy. And then there are days when all we do is battle.

To be a good mummy you have to battle and be strong and not give in to something you know is not for their best. Whether it be another brownie or Facebook account.

They are going to try and wear you down with their arguments formulated to attack the essence of your capacity to be a good mother. The mother they need.

Well, enough of this couch session.

Got to get back to work.

How good are your children at guilt and manipulation?

           

           

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