Mummies Rambles

This week didn’t quite go how I imagined it would.

It started strong — Monday was one of those days that fills your cup a little. A talk and walk with Mammasocial Co, fresh air, adult conversation (a novelty), followed by soft play at Kids Cove. The kids were happy, I was caffeinated — a solid start.

Then Tuesday arrived… and everything slowed down.
Theo stayed home, clearly not himself. No eating, no drinking, just quiet cuddles and that horrible knot in your stomach that only shows up when your child isn’t okay. We cancelled plans, parked expectations, and leaned into calm.

Wednesday was a rough one. A poorly night, still no appetite, and a GP visit to rule things out — especially with several children off sick from his class. Waiting rooms always feel heavier when you’re already tired and worried.

By Thursday, there was a shift. Theo was brighter — still arguing with Zach (a reassuring sign, honestly), still reluctant to eat, but improving. We stayed home again, watched films, coloured, played with cars… all of us piled into my bed because apparently the living room is completely overrated.

Friday brought cautious optimism. Theo ate a little more and wanted to go back to school, so we sent him in with a very clear “call me if he needs to come home” plan. Zach and I escaped the flat for a bit — fresh air at Greendale, followed (inevitably) by soft play. At this point, if I don’t visit soft play at least once a week, are my kids even my kids?

Saturday was gentle and slow. A trip to the post office to renew my licence (we will not be discussing the photo), a hot chocolate, and I finished my second book of the month — The Thursday Murder Club. Quiet wins count too.

Sunday stayed chilled. A lazy morning, then birthday excitement as Theo headed off to a Build-A-Bear party — joy stitched together with stuffing and tiny outfits.

This week wasn’t glamorous.
It wasn’t perfectly balanced.
But it was real.

And sometimes, surviving the week is the win.

You’re doing better than you think. 💚

used to think being a “bad mum” meant not caring enough.
Now I realise it often just means being overstimulated, overtired, and asked one too many questions at the exact wrong moment.

The noise.
The touching.
The constant need to be available, responsive, patient, calm.
It adds up.

When you’re parenting children with different needs, personalities, and energy levels, your brain is doing a hundred tiny calculations all day long. Who needs what? Who’s about to melt down? Who needs space? Who needs connection? Who just asked for a snack while holding a snack?
No wonder some days feel impossible.

Losing your patience doesn’t mean you don’t love your kids. Needing space doesn’t mean you regret motherhood. Wanting quiet doesn’t make you ungrateful — it makes you human.

You’re allowed to be overwhelmed and still be a good mum.
You’re allowed to take breaks and still be present.
You’re allowed to say “this is hard” without needing to balance it with gratitude.

If today felt like too much, that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means your nervous system is tired — and that deserves compassion, not guilt.

You’re not a bad mum.
You’re just overstimulated.

Thanks for being here.
If this post felt familiar, you’re not alone — and you’re not failing.
You’re doing better than you think. 💚

This is for the mums doing their best and still needing a minute.

Some days I feel like a good mum.
I make decent meals. I respond calmly. I say the right things at the right time. I feel patient, present, and almost… capable.
And then there are days when I hide in the bathroom.
Not for long. Just long enough to breathe. Or scroll. Or stare at the wall and remember who I was before someone needed a snack while I was already holding a snack.

Both of these days count.

The “good mum” days don’t cancel out the hard ones, and the hard ones don’t erase the love. Motherhood isn’t a highlight reel — it’s a constant swing between I’ve got this and please nobody speak to me for thirty seconds.

Some days I handle things beautifully.
Some days I raise my voice and feel awful about it later.
Some days I meet everyone’s needs.
Some days I barely meet my own.

And if you’re parenting children who are all different — in age, needs, energy, emotions — the mental load can feel relentless. You’re constantly adjusting, anticipating, translating one child’s needs into another’s reality while trying not to unravel in the middle.
It’s exhausting.

Hiding in the bathroom doesn’t mean you’re failing. Sometimes it means you’re regulating. Resetting. Choosing to step away so you don’t lose it in front of tiny humans who are also still learning how to exist.

Some days survival is the win.

If today wasn’t your best — that doesn’t define you.
If today was just okay — that still counts.
If today felt heavy — you’re not weak, you’re human.
You don’t need to be the “good mum” every day. You just need to keep showing up — even imperfectly.

And if you’re reading this from the bathroom…
Solidarity. 🧻

Thanks for being here.
If this post felt familiar, you’re not alone — and you’re not failing.
You’re doing better than you think. 💚

Some weeks are loud.
Some are muddy.
Some are quieter than expected.
This one was a mix of all three.

Monday
We started the week with a Mammasocialco talk & walk, followed by soft play at Kids Cove. Fresh air, movement, and small humans burning off energy — a solid way to ease into the week.

Tuesday
Stormy weather flooded a lot of the local roads, so plans were cancelled and we had an unexpected day at home.
Theo was off school and — somehow — he and Zach played together nicely on and off throughout the day. Fewer fights, more calm moments. Absolute dream behaviour. The kind you don’t question in case you jinx it.

Wednesday
We went out for breakfast after a slight change of plans when a friend couldn’t meet. Nothing fancy — just getting out and eating food I didn’t have to make.
In the afternoon, we did messy play at home: the worm dig. Chocolate “mud”, gummy worms, marshmallow rocks, and a toddler testing boundaries (and textures).

Thursday
Play Wild in the morning.
It was wet, but that didn’t stop the Zach whirlwind. Water, mud, sand, cars — full sensory chaos. Wet sleeves, muddy hands, and zero regrets.

Friday
A dog walk that turned into a boggy, stuck-in-the-mud downpour. One of those walks where you’re committed whether you like it or not.
We came home soaked, had lunch, and followed it up with cuddles — which honestly felt earned.

Saturday
A slow morning at home. Zach playing with cars and his “pony”, mixed with dance time courtesy of big brother John. Music on, movement happening, chaos but the good kind.

Sunday
A quieter one. Theo went to the cinema with his dad, and I had some time to myself. I did some doodling in my bullet journal — nothing productive, just peaceful.

No big milestones.
No perfect routines.
Just a real week, lived.

If you needed the reminder today — you’re doing better than you think. 💚

Today’s activity was messy play — or at least, that was the plan.
Chocolate angel delight mud, gummy worms, and marshmallow rocks. A full worm dig setup.
Zach surprised me.
Normally he’s straight in, hands first, no hesitation. But this time he paused. Watched. Thought about it. That’s new for my whirlwind.
Once he realised the “mud” tasted fun, he was all in — eating far more of it than I expected, carefully avoiding the worms at first. But curiosity eventually won, and before he got fed up, he was grabbing and squeezing them too.
We didn’t get as messy as I thought we would.
But we explored. We laughed. And we followed his pace.
And sometimes, that’s more important than the mess.

You’re doing better than you think. 💚

We’re moving house soon. Hopefully.

Naturally, I thought I’d get a head start. I’d be organised. I’d be ruthless.
I started with the books.

Two shelving units later, I’m sitting in a cardboard fortress of 25 boxes.
The tally so far:
465 books packed
20 books to rehome (and honestly, I whispered “sorry” to every single one of them)
3 more units still staring at me, mocking my lack of tape
(just in the bedroom — don’t ask how many book piles exist elsewhere)

People ask why I don’t just get a Kindle.
(Funnily enough, I have one — and it’s just as full of books, both read and TBR. There are simply too many stories I still need to read.)
They ask if I’ve actually read them all.
They ask why I’m lugging 400+ heavy paper worlds from one house to another when I could just… not.

But here’s the thing: these aren’t just pages.
They’re the places I went when I was nap-trapped.
They’re the quiet moments I carved out between school runs and housework.
They’re where I escaped when the “mum” reality got a bit too loud.

So far, I’ve packed 465 books — and yes, I’m aiming for library status of at least 1000. 🙈

Some people collect shoes.
Some people collect vintage cars.
I collect paper-and-ink proof that I am more than just a person who wipes noses and finds lost socks.

So I’ll pack the boxes.

I’ll probably ruin my back lifting them.
And when we get to the new house, the books will be the first things to come out.

Because a house isn’t a home until all 465 friends are back on their shelves.

Thanks for being here.
If this post felt familiar, you’re not alone — and you’re not failing.
You’re doing better than you think. 💚

I wasn’t planning to start a blog.

But here I am — because my brain is loud, motherhood is messy, and keeping all these thoughts inside was starting to feel heavier than letting them out.

I love my kids fiercely. I also feel overwhelmed, touched out, guilty, proud, exhausted, and occasionally like I might scream into a pillow just to reset my nervous system. Sometimes all in the same hour.

Some days I feel like I’m getting this right.
Some days I feel like I’m absolutely not.
Most days live somewhere in between, where nothing is catastrophic but nothing is calm either.

Motherhood doesn’t come with clear answers — just a lot of second-guessing, emotional whiplash, and wondering if everyone else is coping better than you are. (They’re not, by the way. They’re just quieter about it.)

Mummies Rambles isn’t here to fix anything or offer perfect advice. This is a space for honest thoughts, messy feelings, small wins, and the things we don’t always say out loud because we’re too busy keeping everyone else afloat.

I’m writing from the middle of it. Not the healed version. Not the expert. Just a mum thinking out loud and hoping that somewhere out there, another mum reads this and feels a little less alone.

I don’t have clear answers.
But I do have a lot to say.
And I’m done pretending that’s not enough. 💚

Thanks for being here.
If this post felt familiar, you’re not alone — and you’re not failing.
You’re doing better than you think. 💚