It’s Okay For Mums To Cry

It's Okay To Cry

The last few weeks have been tough. Dubz, who is two months shy of his fourth birthday, has been more of a handful than ever. In January, he began being afraid of sleeping alone and started sneaking to his sister’s bed throughout the night and waking up early. He had always slept through the night, until about 7.30am. So waking up at 6am began taking a toll on him. In the past few weeks, he has started waking up at 5am. He cannot handle the lack of sleep, physically and mentally. He has been falling asleep in the afternoons, on the sofa or in the car. He wakes up angry and cranky. But if he doesn’t sleep, he is much worse.

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Challenging Child

I have turned into a bit of a hermit. You see, I am having trouble leaving the house. When Husband is around, we go on lots of family outings. But when he’s at work, I go into the garden with the kids. And that’s about it. There are the occasional playdates or trips to buy groceries. And my daughter and I sometimes have little outings, just the two of us. But I cannot handle proper outings with both children. I say both children, but it’s not my 6-year old daughter who gives me a hard time. It is my son. My dear, darling, terror of a two-year old.


I have written about Dubz before. But he has somehow gotten more ‘energetic’ in the past two months. In the house, he storms around, destroying the house. He upends baskets, rips books and climbs furniture. In the garden, he smashes pots, digs up plants and bashes the BBQ with a plastic golf club. My Twitter and Facebook feed are full of mums taking two, three, four children out for fun summer days out. I stayed home all day with the kids on Wednesday and Thursday this week, bar one quick trip to buy ingredients to make ice cream.

I am tired of feeling afraid and nervous of leaving the house with my son. I am tired of feeling like my back has to be strong enough to carry him into the car, kicking and screaming, when he does not want to come home (this has happened many times). I won’t even go to the park or playground because I cannot control Dubz in public. And I get so embarrassed when he kicks off when he doesn’t get his way.

So, what do I do? Do I wait until I can negotiate/control Dubz? Or do I bite the bullet and go on lots of outings so that he can get used to going out, and so that he can learn when to stop acting dangerously and when to go home with me?


My Confession

There’s something you all need to know
There’s something I have to get out
My eldest child was a darling,
When she was two, never did she pout
She skipped the terrible twos and threes
She was such an amiable girl
But now that she’s six, oh my,
My life is in an utter whirl

She makes fun of my American accent
She laughs at the way I saw water
She doesn’t listen to what I say
She thinks she’s the mum and I’m the daughter
She screams and shouts and kicks
She even calls me names
Stupid and Poopoo Head
are some of the ways she defames

Me, her dearest mother
Does not know what to do
I am tired of being battered,
Of being left black and blue

I really love my daughter
I’ll probably keep her around for a while
But if she doesn’t stop being an a**hole,
My son will be an only child

Okay, okay, I’m joking
I know that I am blessed
To have healthy children,
Even if they sometimes act possessed

So if you’re ever feeling down
And think you’re in this alone
Your child is not the only monster,
Come to my blog and together we’ll have a moan.

If you enjoyed this, and my other posts, please vote for me in the Fresh Voice category for the Brilliance in Blogging awards (Bibs). Voting closes tonight, the 16th May, at midnight. With all the tantrums I have to deal with, I really need your votes! For my six dedicated readers who have already voted–cheers me dears (for my international readers, that’s how British people say thank you).

My Word of the Week? Self-Doubting

In between enjoying fun family time and appreciating the sunny Spring weather, there has been a cloud over me. For the past two weeks, my five-year old Moozles has been a monster. Though, she technically doesn’t have horns, gnarly teeth or a prickly tail, she has been a monster nonetheless. We are talking tantrums almost every day. And not little tantrums because I have taken away a favourite toy. No. It will be a raging, out of control tantrum because I have asked her to wash her hands. 


There has been yelling, shouting, pushing. She even bit her Daddy on Tuesday morning. As a Stay-At-Home-Mum, you can’t help feel that you are failing as a parent. Why had I given work when it turns out that I am doing such a crap job at raising my children? I have been called rude and evil. Moozles has shrieked that she doesn’t like me or love me, and that she wishes I wasn’t her mummy. *ouch* 

On Tuesday morning, after school drop-off, I spoke to Moozles’ teacher. But there is a bit of friction between Moozles and some of her friends. Apparently it is common for five and six-year old girls to act like b**ches to one another (in addition to their parents). I have also been worried that Moozles is feeling quite jealous of her little brother, who at 22 months old, is quite the scene stealer.

At about 1pm on Tuesday, Moozles’ teacher called me after an in-depth conversation with my daughter to say that in addition to the issues with friends, my daughter was in want of some alone time with her Daddy. I have always tried to have Mother-Daughter time with my daughter, but we realised that she doesn’t get much quality alone time with her Daddy away from her little brother. 

Moozles has come home with a sticker reward chart that she made with her teacher. She gets stickers if she gets ready for school in the mornings and if she gets ready for bed in the evenings without any tantrums. We haven’t had one tantrum since Tuesday morning. Maybe my word of the week should be thankful, as we are so lucky to have a a teacher who cares so deeply about her students and can help so quickly.

I am linking up to Word of the Week over at The Reading Residence. Please go check out other people’s weeks are shaping up.

The Reading Residence