Every parent has bad days; it doesn’t make you a bad parent.

Anyone else ever get to the end of the day and wonder how on earth you didn’t lose your shit and put your kids up for a bidding war on eBay? These days seem to be becoming more frequent for me and what seems to be the exorcist in my child. She even contorts herself into shapes I am pretty sure the human body was not designed to do. I shit you not, its creepy, like big spider lost in the house kind creepy!

 This is a look into a day of my life, living with a small human who seems to of employed me as her personal slave. Have kids they said, it will be fun they said…

This morning – She has successfully woken up at 6.00am screaming blue murder because she needed her juice. Now she’s not one for wetting the bed so we let her keep a leak proof cup tucked in her bears arm next to her pillow on her bed... so why couldn’t she get this herself? Last time I checked she still had working arms. Instead she decided to wake the entire household, because god forbid she stretch out her arm to pick it up for herself and allow me to get an extra half hours sleep.

 Obstacle one tackled high five this parenting m’larky is easy… let’s move on to breakfast. A simple enough task even my husband can manage to feed the child in the morning, this will be easy! WRONG! Cue shit storm number one of the day… after offering countless different items from cereal, yoghurts, bacon sandwich’s and eggs she has decided she doesn’t want any of these and would much rather throw herself on the floor and act like a wounded donkey screaming like a banshee, why you ask? Because I wouldn’t let her have Jaffa cakes for breakfast. Someone award me world’s worst parent! In her words ‘Mummy your rude and it is mean’

Come mid-morning the tantrum counter is on two! The second throw down of the day coming because I told her to put her shoes on about 100 times, seriously it’s like talking to a deaf equivalent of a goldfish! I Will take this opportunity to state it took me about an hour to persuade her to even put clothes on, that the man from the bakery didn’t want to see her bum and that ‘no darling, you cannot just wear a princess hat and boots’ I don’t even want to know what cbeebies programme is rocking that look! Boots thrown across the room, I reckon I am about 20 minutes from a raging rant on The Motherload and contemplating how early is too early to tap up the prosecco in the fridge.

The neighbours must have thought I was drowning her, she was wailing and screeching like a banshee on acid.

 Lunchtime – Successfully lasted half a day, with eff all sleep and a child who is acting like a 15-year-old girl, some people call it strong willed and sassy, I call it being a dick. Declaring she is starving (which she wouldn’t have been had she of chosen the variety of breakfast options) like the good mother I am, I slave away at a cheese sandwich with the crusts cut off as requested by she who runs the place, but, yep, you guessed it, tears over the fact that the crusts were cut off! We then proceeded to make our entire way through the kitchen cupboards and about 4 other different meals only to come back to the fact that once I started to eat her cheese sandwich, low and behold “That’s my sanweeech” was shrieked at me, along with a Lego horse being launched to the floor. Obviously because it was then mine, it tasted so much better!

 If you are having a day like this and your child is also being a bit of a dick, I urge you now, to just give up and give in because it gets worse!

 After the fiasco of lunchtime and my terror of plastic Lego horses being launched at me, I’m not taking any chances with opportunities for her to turn this shit storm into a full-blown tsunami that will literally ruin me. I have found the most annoying show on Netflix which she is bound to love because it just makes me want to pull my hair from my head and bury myself in a sea of gin and sat her in front of it, today my friends, there is no such thing as too much screen time. Its tele time or mummy is going to cry. I made her favorite snack without asking for her opinion on the matter. Happy days! Silence in the household, I won’t jinx it by attempting a warm cup of tea though. I’m not stupid.

Dinner and bed - The chicken is eaten! Thank fuck for that. But the complaints are as follows. The sweetcorn is too “corny” and her carrots are too “round.”

You see where this is going, right? We are vastly approaching a mummy meltdown and we still have 2 hours to go until dad gets home! Good lord, I need strength (and chocolate)

Now, I know some parents fall into the ‘whatever baby wants baby gets’ box, and I totally get why parents don’t want to argue with their kids, because I kid you not, working in a slaughter house often seems more appealing. But I also know it’s important for kids to follow their parents lead and learn their morals at an early age, I’m trying to raise a polite and well-mannered child. I know what you’re thinking, on your bike! Today, I agree with you. Teaching our kids to listen to us as they get older is vital.

 Back to the point – when told ‘I hate you, I want daddy’ it is soul destroying even when they have been little shits all day, we still love them. But your choices are to ignore it, say that daddy is on his way or you can follow my lead which resulted in me retaliating with ‘That’s alright darling, I’m not too fond of you either right now’ parent-shame me, I know!

 Right so between dinner and bedtime I had an argument with said child who needed a bath at the risk of smelling like she should be selling Big Issue in the ginnel, goes without saying she didn’t want a bath and therefore gave me a swift small person ninja kick to the boob, if you have had this happen you know it’s on an equal wave length as labour pain. The neighbours must have thought I was drowning her, she was wailing and screeching like a banshee on acid.

 Have you ever been to the circus and there is always that one crazy bitch that contorts herself into the box and your sat there wondering how on earth she got her ankle over her head because you can barely reach your own ankles anymore? Or watched a horror movie where the devil has possessed the local farm girl and she’s all legs and limbs gone bendy Wendy? Well… picture that. That is what I had to contend with come bedtime. (I am sure I need a career change as well to pro wrestler; it was a game and a half to even get the kid in her pyjamas even on the bribe of chocolate trifle) 45 minutes of screaming toddler insults at me, the top ones coming in at ‘You smell like poo’ and ‘the dog isn’t your friend, he’s mine’ and battering her door as if it was a marshmallow attack, the demon child has fallen asleep on the floor! THANK YOU GOOD LORD!

 But listen up: raising kids is never going to be perfect, by no stretch of the imagination. They’re kids — fickle, annoying, picky, opinionated little pains in the bum! And so there will be days — weeks sometimes — when they test you and make you consider alcoholism or running away to the Bahamas and you will wonder how you have kept them alive and how you haven’t ripped your hair out in stress. But these little people are our annoying fickle, picky, opinionated pains and despite the shittiest of shitty days, all is forgiven when you watch them sleep and admire how you made such a fantastic little human.

 Every parent has bad days; it doesn’t make you a bad parent. X