And the "Crap Mummy" Award goes to......ME
I should probably clarify right at the outset that I don't think I'm a "Bad Mum". When I hear that term I always think of someone who is abusive or neglectful of their child and I am neither of those things.
What I mean by being a crap mummy is that I'm trying my very best and in my opinion, failing really rather miserably.
My daughter hates me.
Allow me to explain.
In September last year we received notification that Toots' daycare fees would almost double the following month. We tried through October and November to keep up with the payments.
I won't lie, we were more than a bit disgusted at paying so much money for daycare, but at the same time we were afraid of the effect taking Toots out of regular daycare and away from her friends and routine would have, especially since she only had to go one more year in full time care. So we tried.
In November the husband's job changed quite a bit, he was working further away from home and I was having to commute back and forward to work as well as drop Toots off and pick her up from daycare. The cost of this together with her daycare meant that I was spending more money than I earned every month. Something had to give and it did.
On 1 December I handed my notice in. My last day would be 31 December and Toots last day in daycare would be 23 December. To give you some idea had I let her continue in daycare until 31 December (bearing in mind that it would be closed most of the days between 23 Dec and 31 Dec for holidays) the fees for the month would have been £980.
Since then it feels like things have gone from bad to worse. I apologise if I come off as a gurn when so many people are in worse positions than I am.
Every day here has become a battle ground, even over the smallest things.
Toots has pretty much refused to eat every meal I've made since she came out of daycare. Most of the time I have to resort to some novelty, her current favorite is cutting her food up into cubes and then eating it with a cocktail stick and calling it a party.
She ignores me when I speak to her, making me call her name countless times before finally looking at me.
Getting dressed is a 45 minute fight. This morning once I'd finally managed to get some clothes on her, I went to quickly grab her coat and scarf. I came back to find a pile of clothes on the floor and no child to be found anywhere. Where was she hiding? Behind the curtain with her bare bum pressed up against the window for the entire school drop off outside to see.
She's lashed out at me a couple of times and defies me at every opportunity.
I'm worried in case she starts to develop problems once she starts school. She can't just say she doesn't want to in school and get away with it.
Truth be told I am letting her away with too much. Sometimes, I just get so tired its easier to let her play in the nip rather than making her keep her clothes on. Last week my record fail was letting her eat Pringles for breakfast one morning.
She tells me she loves me all the time, but I can't help but think that she's angry at me for taking her away from her friends and she's just acting out in the only way she knows how.
Sometimes I just wish I'd tried to find a couple of extra jobs and worked nights to earn the extra money and keep her in daycare.
I'd probably only see her for a grand total of 20 minutes a day, but something about the way she looks at me makes me think she'd be happier with that.