Bad Mama

So just the other day, I seemed to forget I had a 16 month old. I’m waiting to pick up Big O from her class, letting Little A have a wander around and talking about juice (juice!?) with another mum. Meanwhile others have arrived and have entered the cluster around the door.  And suddenly Little A pops into my head “Where’s A?”


So I start manically looking at the feet of other mums as I spin around “Where is she where is she??” Then I hear “Elinor?!” I turn round and A is through gate 1 (which is never closed behind anyone) and halfway up the path leading to another gate. She is happily standing with another mum as I grab her and I display a face declaring “Oh my G-d, can’t believe what a terrible mother I am!” whilst I’m assuming the look on other mum’s face meant “Oh my G-d I can’t believe what a terrible mother you are!”


That was probably less than 20 seconds.

I then ran back to the door to be greeted by Big O “Mama I don’t want to go to my swimming lesson” and Mama has to then calm down the inner anxiety and flusteration (wish it was a word) and get back to Mama business, starting with dragging both into their car seats and then escaping the dreaded school car park.

Of course I know this happens all the time. I also know I’m not a bad mum, but we have to have a nice stab of mum guilt to offset against the occasional buzz of confidence just to make life more exciting.




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