Last Tuesday morning between 8 and 9 a.m. was not my proudest hour. In fact it serves as an excellent example of the sort of uptight, stressed pickle working mums often get ourselves into. It was the sort of morning where I didn't get my own balance right, to say the least, and instead I ended up acting a bit like my two year old son Freddie when he doesn't get his own way. Yes, I had a full blown Mummy Tantrum.
I know that I'm not the first mum to have a morning like this so I'm taking a deep breath to share the whole sorry tale with you. I hope that by being upfront about my own experience, it could help you if you ever throw Mummy Tantrums yourself.
And so, the story begins. The boys and I ended up leaving the house late last Tuesday morning, so Max was ten minutes late for his holiday club football. My working day started at 9.15am instead of 9.05am as planned. Ten minutes later really isn't a big deal is it?! Who would have thought that starting the day 10 minutes late would cause such trauma?
My heart was beating fast, my adrenaline racing around at 8.30am. I took it out on Max, when, at 8.45am he said "Where's my tracksuit top?", followed by "Can I wear my new shoes?" and "I don't know where my trainers are".
I blew. I really blew. Mount Etna had nothing on me. I shouted at him, "You are old enough to make sure you've got your tracksuit top. I'm not your servant" and "find your own shoes. No, you can't wear your new walking boots. It's not fair! You should be ready to go!"
I grudgingly found his trainers for him and threw them on the floor in front of him, slammed a couple of doors and sat in the car with the engine running and a face like thunder whilst I waited for him to put his trainers and his shin guards on. In short, I did a fair imitation of Freddie in one of his tantrums. Ok, so I didn't lie down on the floor thrashing my arms and legs around and screaming at the top of my voice, but I threw my own grown-up version of a toddler tantrum.
Poor Max - my little helper, my Freddie-tamer, my patient, thoughtful, kind and funny seven year old - copped for it.
Clearly, being a coach doesn't make me superhuman or perfect mummy. However, it does allow me to ask myself useful questions so that I can reach a better balance in future. Once I'd emerged from my tantrum, I asked myself:
What were the clues and warning signs this morning that I didn't notice?
After some reflection time, here are clues and warnings that I didn't take notice of at the time: