When you’re part of the Bad Mums Club – Second Child Complacency.
Ok, here’s the thing, I’m feeling a bit of mummy guilt right now. In fact, the last few weeks have left me with about six-years-worth of #BadMumsClub posts, but right now the one which I need to talk about, is second child complaceny.
Ok, I guess the technical term is ‘Second Child Syndrome’ but I don’t really like it that much. YES technically there are characteristics which The Chunk has which could be put down to being a second child. You know the ones I mean – far more content to do their own thing, far less inclined to do as they’re told that sort of thing. But that’s not what’s filling me with mummy guilt. It probably should, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that you can’t attend to two children at the same time, and the one that is in the least danger gets left. Just like I’ve come to terms with the fact that you can’t sleep train one child when the other one needs to get a good night sleep for school, etc…etc…etc.
The thing that’s making me feel bad, causing me to hang my head in shame, is the not labelling something with the same importance as I did first time round.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are some things that are MORE important, moving to a big boy bed for example. I was totally cool with it when The Beast got his bunk bed, The Chunky Monkey on the other hand, there is no way it’s going to happen. Sorry. He’s staying in his toddler bed forever.
However, The Chunk is starting pre-school in September. He’s going to be wearing a bloody uniform for crying out loud, need a book bag, a PE Kit, SCHOOL SHOES. But, unlike The Beast, only two years ago when we needed school uniform, book bags, PE Kits and school shoes, I haven’t even begun to get organised.
This time two-years ago, The Beast had tried on his uniform and I’d labelled pretty much everything. The list, which I had prepared and printed out had big ticks and circles on, and his name labels (which I’d picked in bright red so he’d recognise them) were stored nicely in the sewing basket.
Now here we are, and I’m casually going through the school uniform we have. All too small for both of them (DAMN THEM FOR GROWING), and I’m casually thinking that perhaps I should think about placing an order for new jumpers and nipping to Clarks to bankrupt myself by buying two pairs of shoes which, whilst technically will last the school year, they will both grow out of them by Christmas, if I’m lucky, probability wise, they will actually grow out of them before the end of the summer holidays.
Well that’s the excuse I’m giving myself anyway.
Except, the excuse is actually that I’m complacent.
That’s right, second time ’round I have been complacent all the way through. I didn’t beat myself up when it was time to move The Chunk onto the bottle, nor was fretting when he refused to eat anything but mini cheddars for a week. Plus, whilst it really cheesed me off when potty training was a bloody painful experience, it didn’t upset me. In fact, the only thing that upset me was when people insisted on offering advice I didn’t ask for. “Put a potty in every room” they’d say when admitted he wasn’t taking to it. “Let him sit in it” when they witnessed another ‘poo incident’. But, being fairly chilled about it all, I just plodded on, knowing that it would happen eventually, I always reminded myself ‘you never see a grown man wearing a nappy while he’s eating his KFC’ Well… you might. But you know what I mean.
With The Beast, the minute he didn’t eat a varied diet I’d flap, I hurried along potty training and in general whilst I was outwardly tough loving him when he hurt himself, inside I was hyperventilating and wondering if I needed to call the paramedics.
So, why am I so complacent with The Chunk? Second child – innit? Experience and success – after all The Beast is VERY NEARLY SIX! AIR PUNCH – allows me to loosen up a little bit. The Chunk will have something to wear to pre-school on his first day (especially as he’s only there for an hour – we’ll cope), shops don’t suddenly sell out of clothes the weekend before the first day of school, and if his jumper has to be plain…well…I’m sure a brioche after his porridge at breakfast will soften the blow.
That is, if we have any porridge, he’ll probably have eaten it all for supper and end up with coco pops…but at least he’s not my problem for a few hours.
This complacent post is hosting the #BadMumsClub for August. Could you be a member of the club? What are your parenting fails? Link up a blog post below or just share in a comment if you don’t blog but still want to get involved.
Don’t forget these posts aren’t a way of asking for parenting advice or giving a platform for people to leave and judgey comments on any of the posts linked up. This is meant to be tongue in cheek and good fun, so let’s all play nice.
Please make sure you check out the awesomeness which are Alison over at Not Another Mummy Blog, Morgana at But Why Mummy Why and Katie at Hurrah for Gin. My favourite co-founders, and equally bad mums. x