Mum Diary: When motherhood goes wrong

You know those days where everything goes wrong? When you’re a parent, they are even worse because when children are in tow everything gets magnified and the result is chaos.

This was forcibly brought home to me last week when a routine visit to the shops turned into a gruelling endurance feat.

It started off relatively simply; I had to go into town to return a duvet set that we had accidentally purchased twice (don’t ask). Unfortunately, the road into town was jammed by road-works, and the 10-minute journey took half an hour.

Once we’d parked, I explained to Harry that if he was very good he would be allowed a plastic egg from the novelty toy vending machine. Despite a succession of frankly stupid toys, the mystery and allure of a surprise never wears off for two-year-old Harry. It’s almost as if he thinks that one day there might be an iPad inside, instead of yet another inflatable mini beach-ball or rubbish keyring.

So, promises made, Olly loaded into his sling, we set off for the shop. The whole thing should only have taken about 10 minutes. Of course, I didn’t know then that this was to be a day where everything goes wrong (DWEGW?).

[Mum Diary: A toddler’s sugar detox]
[Mum Diary: I've lost my brain-to-mouth filter!]

First of all, the shop refused to accept the return. Then, they said they would refund it but only onto the debit card that had paid for it - my husband’s. Then they said they would put the refund onto a gift card for me. I quickly picked up some other things we needed, like socks for my toddler (Where do his socks go?! I’m starting to wonder if he eats them) and attempted to pay with my gift card.

“No, no madam,” sighed the supercilious server. “It takes at least 40 minutes for the card to activate.”

Hmm. My quick jaunt into town had already taken an hour and it was getting close to the boys’ suppertime. I decided to pop down to a café and feed the boys, then come back up for the clothes. Both Olly and Harry were now looking pretty fed up, but when I said we’d just go out for dinner they both perked up.

Unfortunately, of course, it was a DWEGW and the two cafes we visited were no longer serving children’s meals. Harry looked close to tears and Olly had begun to whimper, so I decided to ditch the shopping and just head for home and a quick meal of beans on toast.

We were in the car when Harry suddenly realised he’d been cheated. “I don’t have my novelty egg!” he sobbed. This was a disaster; I had failed to keep up my end of the bargain – risking his faith in all future rewards.

I quickly turned the car towards a supermarket that would definitely still be serving children’s meals and had a novelty egg machine. But that’s when things really started to go wrong. Fed up, tired, hungry – neither of my little children were at their best. Harry spent the meal refusing to eat, singing Incy Wincy far too loudly, and occasionally poking his brother in the head.

I felt I couldn’t possibly reward him with a novelty egg after all that, and tried to sternly walk him past the machine. But if I thought things had been bad before, this is where he really lost it, collapsing to the ground and howling that I had promised him an egg.

I’ll be frank; I didn’t know what to do. Sleep-starved Olly was alternating between despairing wails and furious crying. Harry was lying on the supermarket floor, blocking the path for other shoppers trying to wheel their shopping to their cars. We were all exhausted and totally fed up.

At that point I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and somehow ended up giggling at how ridiculous it all was. I pushed the trolley to one side, picked Olly up and sat down on a handy bench. Olly’s crying became a little less determined and I met Harry’s eye, still chuckling. He began to laugh too, stood up and joined me on the bench.

[Mum Diary: How do you discipline a two-year-old?]
[Mum Diary: Should my baby eat better than me?]

The delayed shoppers moved on with their day (sorry all!), and the boys and I had a cuddle and a giggle. The afternoon had been horrible and we had all wound each other up, but at least we had come together at the end of it.

I suppose that what I’ve learned is that parenting is never straight forward; there will be occasions where I don’t respond in exactly the right way. I’ve realised that what matters is keeping a sense of humour and making sure the boys feel loved. Even when they’re not allowed a plastic egg.

Have you had a day like mine? How do you keep your cool when your kids are playing up? Share your tips and experiences with me and other readers using the comments below.