Dear Boy 1 & 2,
I just wanted to write to you both to apologise for not being “That Mum”. You know the one, the one I see all three of us gazing at longingly, the one I’m not.
“That Mum” looks like she has just stepped out of a salon as she sashays past us with her two impeccably dressed children, speaking in a sing songy voice followed by bluebirds and sparkles. I however, am rocking the recently evicted from the jungle look. She´s nailing this, I´m not.
Space theme for Show and Tell? She’s been in touch with Tim Peake, he will land at approx 2pm to take the whole class for a quick whizz to the moon before home time, whilst you proudly present a soggy loo roll covered in glittery cling film cos´we ran out of foil, inspiration and wine.
Her house? Straight out of a shiny, coffee stain free magazine not like ours which is the stuff Channel 5 documentaries are made of.
Play dates? Minion shaped apple slices and a planned activity, none of this fighting over the Xbox and sharing a bonus fish finger that you found down the back of the sofa malarkey. I´m also pretty sure she doesn’t have to spend half of it consoling you because she invited the wrong “Max”.
Parties? She effortlessly throws together a Disney on Ice party in her bathroom and the cake is a life size Mickey Mouse rather than a poo-shaped sponge, made at 3:46am the day of the party and a peg basket instead of a piñata.
” That Mum” is the mum I thought I would be, the one I want to be when I’m growling at you both in a voice reminiscent of Chewbacca before his voice broke because we`ve lost something in the abyss that is our sticky lego filled house, when we should have left the house 13 minutes ago.
I will never be “That Mum” but I will always be “This Mum” in my oversized knickers and three day old dry shampoo, ready to fight off dragons, ogres and sad days like a ninja, powered by the ridiculous immeasurable and unconditional wonky love I have for you two.
Thanks for your patience and for not trading me in for Match Attax cards,
“This Mum” x