A series of unfortunate events…

Recently I have managed to get myself into some ridiculous situations, situations in which I have questioned whether or not it would be a matter of interest for social services. 

Last Tuesday I managed to lock the twins in the car. We were on our way home from a random little day out, where everything had went well (in mum terms: no shit explosions, no episodes of screaming in public, I even managed to get a coffee in peace in M&S- alongside the retired and the housewives of Ballymena- while the girls munched on strips of cucumber), I was feeling like a smug super mum! The girls had just nodded off to sleep as I pulled into the driveway, so I parked up and decided to leave the girls while I unloaded the car and quickly prepped mine and Paddy’s dinner for later that evening. 

If I ever leave the girls in the car to snooze I always lock the doors (paranoia).

Ten minutes later, I poked my head out the front door and saw two sets of little kicking feet, the girls were awake! I went to the hall table to retrieve the car key but it was AWOL… I quickly checked every single room in the house, even rooms I hadn’t stepped foot in that day, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. The girls were getting cross, I panicked… 

Quickly, quickly, what did you do since coming into the house? Where have you been?  

Ok, so I unpacked a few bags of groceries, loaded the dishwasher, put a wash on, and chopped a load of veg… The empowering feeling of doing all of the above within ten minutes being quickly squashed after feeling like an idiot for locking your offspring in your jeep!! Ahhhh…. Where are they?! Where’s the spare set? I saw them recently but of course they are nowhere to be seen at this crucial time. 

I traced my steps, searched each room for a second time, checked the washing machine, and had myself geared up for smashing a window and getting a bollocking from Paddy, when I decided to check the fridge, I had been emptying groceries, but surely nobody is that silly…?! And there they were… PHEW! 

Ok, car unlocked, girls in the house, keys in a safe place, nothing happened! 🙂 

  See? They’re fine!  

My husband has a bit of a crazy, unsociable hours job running a PA hire company, and this is the run up to his ‘very busy season’. Most evenings I am alone to feed, bath, and then get the girls down for the night. With banishing soothers and in addition to teething, the girls have been hard to settle in the evenings and won’t soothe themselves in their cot like they used to. They also wake during the night and only settle in our marital bed (that bed rarely sees the things it used to anymore). 

So there I am, cradling two wide awake babies and getting nowhere. I’m not too sure what came over me but I thought ‘controlled crying might just do the job’.

So, after a quick google it began… Girls down and I reassured them and left them to cry for three minutes… Horrible! 

I ran upstairs and comforted them again and left them for five minutes… Horrendous! 

After that, I ran upstairs and reassured them and left them once more. After one minute enough was enough, I went into their room and scooped them both up. They were red faced crying little messes, and upon me lifting them they both projectile vomited all over the nursery. 

I honestly felt like I had just commited murder. I had let them get into that state! 

I wasn’t sure what I was doing (am I ever?), I know controlled crying can work for some mums and babies, but it won’t be something I will ever try again. I sobbed with the babies and panic texted my life saving neighbours in a group text (three other mums who are honest about motherhood and never put you to shame), Tina came to the rescue and helped me clean up the babies. My sister Carla also arrived, and in moments like that, just seeing another adult can help. 

After a big cuddle the girls fell asleep within minutes, leaving me to mull over just how shite of a mother I truly felt. That calls for wine and trash tv to lift the spirits! 


– I’m currently still no further on with the sleeping issue, I tried putting the girls in the same cot to see if they would happily settle beside each other. That lasted a few hours and then they would only settle in my bed. I have decided to embrace the cuddles and hope it passes before I forget what ‘cuddling’ my husband is like.  

On another afternoon last week, I decided to be super mum once again, I popped Isla in a front carrier and Bonnie in a back carrier, like so… 

And decided it would be a really good idea to walk our two beagles… 

 meet Bentley and Belle. 

And so, off we went… Down the road for a solid mile and feeling good! Surely I’m burning twice the calories with this load? And then…. Bentley’s collar snapped off, the buckle had completely broken and there was no piecing it back together. He’s a bad rascal off-lead and would have no notion on returning once let off. 

Frantically, I grabbed Bentley… I attempted tying the lead around his neck somehow, but it only would have resulted in strangulation and I am awfully fond of my little canine pal. I tried to bend and walk the mile back to the house grabbing on to the scruff of his neck. 

Of course that wasn’t going to happen. I ended up carrying him under one arm the whole way home, with a set of crying twins attached to me, and trying not to trip over the remaining beagle on her lead. WHY ME? 

Oh, and just to top off a mental few days, after a lovely evening with wine and the girls on Thursday, I was a little fragile on Friday, so of course that was the day that Bonnie would have an explosive poo while lying on her play mat having a kick about with her nappy off. 

When will I learn? 

I have decided to try not to excel above my limitations when it comes to my motherly duties this incoming week, and to try not to be so hard on myself when things don’t quite go to plan. 

Perhaps the definition of ‘super mum’ isn’t getting it all done right, perhaps a ‘super mum’ is someone who takes the bad with the good, accepts there’s no such thing as perfection, and does the best she can by her little ones. 

They won’t remember how you never got time to do the housework, they’ll remember how you played with them instead of doing the housework, they won’t remember being locked in the car, and they won’t remember the little moments you had when it all felt too much…

… I hope! 


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