Mums are overworked and under-appreciated, but nobody is listening. Being a Mum is perhaps one of the most thankless jobs in the entire world. No one ever says thanks. No one ever says ‘good job today.’ There are no appraisals, promotions, or pay rises. It’s relentless, often boring ‘work.’ And yes, it IS work!
But we’re not allowed to call it work are we? We’re supposed to be smiling as we sit cross-legged on the floor playing educational games with our little ones, with a roast dinner cooking in the oven. We dare not complain. We dare not say that it’s bloody hard, or that we’re exhausted, or admit that we shout and lose our temper sometimes. We dare not say that some days we hate being a Mum……because this is what’s supposed to come naturally, this was our choice so we’re supposed to just get on with it without uttering a word.
Well bollocks to that.
People choose to become lawyers and dentists and accountants and they’re allowed to complain and have bad days and still be afforded high praise and gratitude by clients, bosses, friends. Is it too much for me to ask to feel valued as well?
Can we please start giving Mums a bit of credit? We’re raising the future and we are instilling morals and attitudes into the society of the future. What a responsibility. What an important job.
So Mums out there, I want to say a massive ‘good job’ to every single one of you.
Good job for keeping calm that time you found pee all over the living room carpet.
Good job for saying sorry that time you lost your temper when you found pee all over the living room carpet.
Good job for dealing with the kids all day on your own and still managing to get dinner on the table.
Good job for getting everyone dressed in the mornings and out to school on time.
Good job for all the times you’ve answered 101 demands from the kids at the expense of your own lunch.
Good job for all the times you cleaned up vomit.
Good job for all the times you’ve scrubbed poo off the toilet.
Good job for all the times you were down on your knees picking up endless peas/Lego/Coco Pops.
Good job for cleaning all those little teeth every single morning and evening when they just won’t keep still.
Good job for every wriggly arm or leg you’ve put into pyjamas at the end of a long and trying day.
Good job for all the times you held a sick or restless baby at the expense of your own night’s sleep.
Good job for every tantrum you’ve dealt with, at home, at the shops, with no one there to help.
Good job for that day you gave the kids cake for breakfast, they got fed didn’t they?
Good job for not saying a word when someone commented on how tired your husband must be after his working week and you felt like crying thinking about how hard you work and how tired you are.
Good job for being sat there in the shadows while your child shone on a stage or a sports field and nobody knew the hours you spent willing them on, being there when they felt like giving up.
Good job for putting yourself in the shadows time after time after time.
Good job for not giving up, even on the days when you felt like giving up.
Good job Mummy.