WHEN I first got pregnant 13 years ago, my rose-tinted spectacles were firmly on.
I pictured myself in a pristine white nightie, gazing lovingly at my son as he contentedly slept in my arms.
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And I thought all the next steps would be equally blissful.
I imagined sitting with my children as they created handmade cards, baking delicious cakes together and celebrating every new step they took on the climbing frame.
The reality was very different.
In fact, the only part that came true is that I love my two boys, now aged 12 and ten, fiercely and unconditionally.
But the rest of motherhood largely left me gritting my teeth or tearing my hair out.
I don’t want to pretend to be a dog, it feels silly
My biggest bugbear is crafting. I’m a control freak and I don’t want my house to look like a glitter and glue-covered nursery.
I did try once. We got out some paints, I covered the table in plastic and my eldest son splodged some paint on a piece of paper, mixed up the colours, and somehow still managed to get paint on the table.
The resulting “picture” looked horrific, too. Why anyone would ever want to stick their toddlers’ artwork on the wall, I’ll never understand.
After that I swore never again. What’s the point? They never produce anything worth keeping and I hate it.
There are people out there who love crafting, such as teachers and nursery workers. It’s hardly joyful making a card when all you can think about is hoovering up the glitter afterwards, or that they are messing up the colours.
When they were a bit younger, if we went to a toy shop I’d steer them towards the footballs, and if someone gifted them a craft kit,I’d tuck it away in a cupboard.
And I have to admit I wasn’t thrilled when they went to nursery and their key workers would thrust armfuls of artwork at me at the end of each week.
I’d begrudgingly pick out a couple of the best ones and stick them on the fridge. The rest would go in the recycling. Maybe because I’m just not arty, I don’t get it.
But it isn’t just crafting that irks me.
Baking has always been a no-go zone, too. My boys would always end up tipping the whole bag of sugar in the mix or knocking the bowl over.
Waste of ingredients
Muffins would end up flat as a pancake, while cookies would emerge from the oven as a big sheet of goo.
It was always inedible, and a waste of ingredients.
Playing make-believe was another one that had me rolling my eyes.
No, I don’t want to get down on the floor and pretend to be a dog, it feels silly.
Instead, I’d choose the lesser of the two evils and we’d go to the playground or to play football. I joke that I have a love/hate relationship with the playground — I hate it, they love it.
There are only two years between my boys so they could always play together, and this became my time for scrolling social media or working on my phone.
Even so, I’d regularly be interrupted by a piercing shriek of, “Look, Mummy!’, so I could admire them going down the slide for the umpteenth time.
Screens helped from an early age. When my eldest was three and dropped his nap, but his brother still had one, I’d give him my iPad to go on while I did some work.
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Life got easier as they grew up and could really interact with each other — or play computer games. There was less pressure on me to entertain as they could just kick the ball to each other.
I’m sure some mothers will be shocked by my admitting to all of this and think I should enjoy every second of my time with the boys.
I’ve even been trolled for videos that I’ve put on my Instagram @amotherplace. People say I should be sterilised or shouldn’t have been allowed kids in the first place.
But I think that’s ridiculous.
You can love any job while hating aspects of it. I’m sure artists hate doing their accounts or accountants hate schmoozing new clients.
I’m very honest about my feelings on social media and I’ve found a tribe of mothers who think like me.
I’ve even been trolled for videos that I’ve put on my Instagram
My husband, Tom, 44, who runs a creative agency, has always been supportive. He wouldn’t like the house covered in sticky glue and paint splodges either.
I think it’s important to speak out about it as there’s so much pressure on mothers from social media to be “perfect” and love every second. But for me it was an unrealistic expectation.
The early years were difficult and I hated a lot of it — and that’s OK. Baby groups didn’t help, they were full of women wishing the time away, or “Earth mothers” who would have been shocked if I’d been open about my feelings.
I’m a great mother in many ways — I love hanging out with my kids, swapping stories, giving advice and hearing their opinions.
Now they’re older, it’s exciting to watch them develop into the people they will become. I teach them how to cook, and they’re both sporty, like me, so I enjoy watching them play in matches.
You don’t have to be good at crafting to be a good mum.
Consumed by children
It’s fine to say it’s not your thing.
It’s not as if I’m depriving them, they did it at nursery and now do it at school. And some of their paintings are really quite good now and hanging up in the house.
I worry about some mothers whose every moment is consumed by their children. These mothers will struggle when the kids eventually leave home.
It’s important to have time away from your children — and I often go away with my friends or sister.
People have asked whether I’ll be different once I’m a grandmother. But I don’t see why that would change me into a glitter-loving, playground enthusiast.
Though, depending on how much I like my daughter-in-law, I might buy them crafting sets.
- Becca Maberly is a post-natal expert and author of Nobody Tells You: Over 100 Honest Stories About Pregnancy, Birth And Parenthood.
