Perfect Mum is dead.
She tripped over her Cath Kidston change bag, skidded on her highly polished kitchen floor and landed in an immaculately executed rainbow cake suffocating in the butter cream.
Thank fuck for that.
The problem is that now there’s a mummy shaped power vacuum and Bad Mum is stepping up. It seems we’re no longer struggling for domestic perfection we’re clambering over ourselves to be bad parents.
I get it – we like Bad Mum, she swears, she drinks, she reads her smartphone in the park while the kids face plant off the roundabout. On the surface that description does seem to fit my parenting style perfectly so you might imagine I’d be cheering Bad Mum on.
But I’m not.
I didn’t want to be Perfect Mum but I didn’t hate her either, she made cakes, what’s not to like about someone who bakes cakes?
To be honest Perfect Mum never really bothered me, if someone else wants to keep their house clean and *shudder* do crafts with their children, all power to their elbow. I will not be joining in mainly because I have a temperamental oven *ahem* and an aversion to cleaning other people’s shit up off the kitchen floor.
(I should point out that if there was actual shit on my kitchen floor I would totally clean it up, I’m not an animal.)
Whilst I’m indifferent about Perfect Mum I also don’t really like Bad Mum. Bad Mum can fuck right off, actually she’d probably like that so I shall just ask her politely to leave instead.
Not wanting to do crafts, never emptying the dishwasher and live tweeting my two year old’s tantrums does not make me a Bad Mum.
It makes me a mum. Just a mum, standing in front of a load of other mums and asking them to love me.
Or not. Whatevs.
Being generally a bit shit at housey type stuff, having a potty mouth or *whisper* finding some aspects of childcare fucking tedious (Oh no she didn’t) doesn’t make you a bad mum. Telling people you find life with small children challenging and that often your child looks smarter in the clothes from the nursery lost property than the outfit you actually sent them to nursery in, isn’t admitting you’re a bad parent it’s being honest. There is nothing wrong with being honest. Most people can get their heads round the simple fact that you can absolutely adore the fucking bones of someone whilst at the same time not being overly keen on them shitting on your sofa.
I think it’s time to step into Perfect Mum’s crisp white Converse and boot Bad Mum up the arse to clear the way for a new mum movement. So far I’ve come up with:
I’m quite a good mum actually I just can’t really be bothered most of the time.
In many ways I’m fucking awesome but yes, I did buy that cake from a shop.
Good at some stuff, shit at others.
Okay my slogans may need some work, lets face it all of these are going to be difficult to embroider onto a banner, especially with my needle craft skills which, as you’d expect, are shite (where’s Perfect Mum when you need her?).
So I’ve decided to open it up to you. If you’re with me let me know, and someone please come up with a snappy name.