The last couple of weeks there has been a lot of talk about the headteacher who sent home a letter to parents asking them to refrain from wearing their pyjamas’s to the school gates. I have my own thoughts on this, I frankly couldn’t care less what anyone wears at any point in the day.
I don’t want to talk about that though. I want to talk about something I read in response to that.
A mother was asked for her comments and she reported, No, you are not a failure as a mother if you appear at school dressed in your nightwear.
Ah lovely, round of applause, you’ve got our backs sister, solidarity woohoooooo
She then went on to say, you are in fact a failure if you are at home in your pyjamas after failing to get your kids to school.
Yeaaahhh, you tell ’em gir…Oh.
Now that’s not in the spirit of things is it.
Maybe it struck a chord because I have been a mother, at home in her pj’s after failing to get her kids to school. When I was ill or tired or just plain could not be arsed.
So where do I get my ‘failed as mother’ certificate? Do I have to have it on display at all times? Can I still gain recognition for the nights spent nursing poorly babes? The days spent playing rough and tumble on the carpet? Or is that forfeited in light of my huge failure?
In reality, this was just a poor choice of words. However it made me think.
When are we failing? At what point are we a failure? And who gets to decide when we have obtained this prestigious title?
‘Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.’ – William Makepeace Thackeray.
In the eyes of your child you can never fail.
You are the blood running in their veins that gives them life. You’re the confidence they need to get out there and make big things happen. You are every ounce of joy and happiness they ever felt. You are the warmth and comfort they will always come back to. You’re their hardest goodbye and their favourite Hello.
Sometimes you get it wrong. Sometimes the days are so long and monotonous you feel you’ll fall asleep where you stand. Lets face it as much as they love us kids seem to also love giving us a hard time and it’s tough going. Wear your pyjama’s, serve freezer food, stick the TV on and squash onto the sofa together.