A friendly loving reminder, was what it took this time, to persevere with another blog entry. A dear friend, whom knows me quite well, gently reminded me that someone enjoys my blog and that even that doesn’t matter so long as I enjoy it. You see I never started a blog for fame or popularity but simply for someone to enjoy my writing, my style, my take on things. I think because of the beautiful world that can be generated by social media, I began to put a value on my “worth”. Somewhere along the line I starting using numbers as validation that my effort was worthwhile and it meant I was “good at this”. So I stopped. I stopped thinking about what I wanted to say and write. All because I didn’t get some magic number of likes or page hits on my website. I hate numbers generally speaking, so why should it matter. Why do we need numbers, notifications, friends requests, likes, or emoticons to validate our life moments so much these days? Which in turn got me thinking about the vile judgemental world than can be whipped up quicker thana Queen Elsa storm when one mummy makes a statement or choice that another doesn’t agree with.

I’ve been hung up on time an awful lot lately. The time I’m not getting with my children. The time I’m not using as a proper mum should be. The time I choose to use by sleeping instead of dragging myself out if bed to do exercise that I loathe. The time spent collapsed on the couch because my brain cannot function properly to play housewife after working and fighting the epic battle that is story and bedtime. Time, time time! I hate it so muchlately that I have not bothered to replace my watch battery.

But why? I couldn’t understand why the obsession. Then it hit me after reading an article (referred by previously mentioned friend whom endured my rant over time). I was doing the very thing that I was trying to avoid when I started my blog. Comparing myself! I am woman, I have a choice. I stand proudly by my choice but not everyone would think I am doing the best I can as a mummy.

So whilst I envisioned the following statements being in a warm and fuzzy story, I’m going to embrace what I wanted MY OWN MUMMY to be and use my blog to be just me.

I’ve got some awesome girlfriends! You know you are awesome right? I have friends that stay home with their little people and make it look like a breeze. I have friends that are raising their babies on their own and by heavens they do a great job. I’ve got friends whom are married but still do it all by themselves. Friends that stress over all the little things like routine and clean outfits, friends that have endless patience and energy. I love them all. For all sorts of reasons. But I find myself comparing myself to them at times.

Somedays I so want to be a different type of mummy. Somedays I want to be the mummy that does need or want to work. Eventually it passes. What doesn’t pass is the want to be a different mummy. I want to learn to ignore those dishes on the sink. I want to ignore the washing and sit in my pjs all weekend in front of of fire and just play randomness games. But I can’t. I just cannot. Why? What is so wrong with my makeup that it doesn’t allow me to just sit and be with them and cherish the random toys around the house? Why can’t I just sit and be a mummy to the two people in the world that don’t care about anything else but me sitting and playing or pushing the swing for endless hours. Why cannot I not just put the first and worry about all the other jobs later.

Do all mummies feel like this? Do we all think we are not doing even a semi decent job? Women are funny creatures even at our finest moments. We are our own biggest critics. We hold our own child raising theories and practises like a sword or shield depending on the situation. But then we can be each other’s biggest cheerleaders.

So I ask you this? Either publicly or privately be honest about your fears as a mummy. To yourself, to your partner, to your cheerleading BFF. But please please please always be a cheerleader to your friends. Be a supporter to those women that parent differently. You have no idea of their circumstances. Remember that in today’s society we women get the power of choice. You don’t get to judge other women’s choices; breast or bottle, attachment or babywise, married or single, working in or out of the home. Today we are afforded a choice. Sometimes choice comes with a burden, try to ease burden and be a Cheerleader. Xo