On Friday afternoon, something odd happened. I had a bit of an epiphany.
I was knee-deep in piles of dirty washing (Friday is both my day off and the morning my eldest is at preschool, so it’s my chance to catch up on All Things Housework to save doing it all weekend), I needed to put the kids’ dinner on, and they also needed entertaining – the calls of ‘muuuuum’ chimed up the stairs at 20-second intervals.
I sat, deflated, surrounded by other peoples’ dirty underwear, and thought.
I felt guilty that I wasn’t playing with them (at this point the youngest was shouting unidentifiable words up through the bars of the stairgate like an angry chimp at the zoo). I should go and do some crafts, or bake some cakes, or crawl around on the floor with two children on my back being a pony. Again.
I looked at the piles of pants, and the bedroom beyond it. How the hell did it get into such a mess when it felt like I was always cleaning? I was embarrassed that I’d let my house get into such a state that the mere trill of the doorbell could induce full-blown Panic And Hide mode. Surely I should have the hang of this by now?
I stood up, traversed the colour-coded mountains of festering clothes, and plodded downstairs to meet the angry ape. ‘Bukfust’ she said, pointing to the kitchen – universal code for ‘I’m hungry’ when you’re one-and-a-half. I picked her up, whisked her off towards the fridge and peered at its contents.
I’d run out of everything with an ounce of nutritional value, unless you count Prosecco. There wasn’t a scrap of anything resembling a vegetable – just a faint whiff of one that might have gone off a long time ago.
I plonked her on the floor, opened the freezer and reached for the mini pizzas, potato wedges and frozen sweetcorn. I should definitely be feeding them something better – something proper. Something with actual vegetables, that I’d made myself from scratch. I felt guilty that we’d had a ‘special dinner’ last night, too. And that the three meals before that had been pasta alla something.
I was just about to start berating myself for not planning my meals ahead like a Grown Up when it happened: the epiphany. Something clicked, just like that.
I decided to stop feeling guilty.
At all.
I put the frozen crap in the oven and cranked the temperature up.
I put the tellie on, found an episode of Blaze and the Monster Machines, and sat the kids in front of it.
I went upstairs, finished sorting the washing, stuck a load in the machine and switched it on.
No guilt. No ‘I should be’. No ‘why didn’t I?’
And you know what? I got the same end result, minus the guilt. The kids ate and enjoyed their tea. They watched two more episodes with wide eyes and half-open little mouths. Even the washing, eventually, got done. And we all had a much happier and less rushed evening as a result of me not trying to do everything to 100% perfection, at the same time.
This week, please, try it for yourself. Because if there’s one thing I figured out last Friday, it’s this: guilt doesn’t change the end result one bit. It just makes the process of getting there a whole lot harder.
Don’t ask me why they decided to sit on the table to watch it. I have no idea.
Psssst – liked this? Then you might like this.
Your cute photo drew me in. I have a boy and a girl too. They love blaze! I think most of u can relate to your article!
Ah, thanks for reading Karla – I’m glad to hear the photo reeled you in 😉 A rare moment of calm in our house!
Brilliant – that is a light bulb moment. Just about whatever im doing I feel guilty that I should be doing something else!
It’s awful isn’t it? Why do we do it to ourselves?! I can’t say I’m never going to feel guilty again (far from it) but it certainly made me stop and think – guilt (in this case, not all) is a choice. Thank you so much for reading, Beth!
I think feeling guilty is a part of being a mum and it doesn’t matter how hard we try and how good a job we are doing, we feel guilty but do you know, you did exactly the right thing. It doesn’t kill them and it does make you feel better too. We can’t all be super mums all the time
Thank you for reading Nikki, you’re absolutely right – we can’t be super-mums all of the time, as much as I’d like to be!!
Love this, and couldn’t agree more. I feel guilty every time I let my toddler watch more than two (or three/four) episodes of Bob The Builder. But…he loves it, we do loads of other stuff throughout the day and it lets me get on with the housework. So hard to let the guilt go though!
Isn’t it just? I was so struck by how much lighter I felt when I just thought ‘sod it, I’m not feeling guilty about this today’ – please try it because it’s really eye-opening! Thank you so much for reading. At least I’m not the only one with The Guilts 😉
It’s crazy isn’t it – the amount of guilt we lumber ourselves with on a daily basis. Even if we DID do everything to perfection we’d prolly still find something to feel guilt pangs about. But you’re right and this is great advice.
I’m sneaking in some ‘guilty’ blogmin time whilst the kids are playing happily (they have a friend round). My youngest just ran in and spotted the pic of your children and instantly said ‘Mummy I want to watch Blaze and the monster machines!’ And I took your advice – I just said ‘Yes’ and told myself not to feel guilty. Ha ha! Thank you, it feels good. Now off to put shop bought pizzas in the oven… huzzah! Take that mum guilt 😉
Ah, thank you SO much! It really is ridiculous, but I feel slightly better knowing it’s not just me! So cute about your youngest and Blaze & the MMs 🙂 It’s always a toss-up between that and Paw Partol in our house! And I hope they enjoyed the pizzas 😉 Thank you again for reading x