The second our kids close their eyes, we forget every dipshit thing they did that day and our brains start flashing their highlight reel at us. Suddenly, they are adorable and funny, and the three cumulative minutes of cute they produced in the previous twelve hours are the only minutes we can remember.
It’s like their Instagram stories flash before our eyes – not the reality shitshow they actually put on.
Mum and dad’s daily shitshow? Oh, we remember every second of that. We get a fun replay in technicolour glory as we kiss our sleeping babes goodnight.
Every scowl, every cross word, every impatient huff… we dwell on every part and our heart aches for how awful we were to those perfect little sleeping darlings.
We never, ever, ever look at our own highlight reel. We don’t scroll back through photos of ourselves and get misty-eyed about how awesome we’ve been and then post a loving tribute on social media. We never even remember how great we were, even if it was just a few minutes in the day.
But what if we did? What if I posted this photo and said:
“Oh gosh, this old girl! I gave her a really hard time today but she tried SO HARD! She always does.
She laughed with the kids over a book called, ‘Poo Bum’, she made them fish and chips for dinner because she’s a rebel like that, she shook her arse in an epic bath time dance number. She kissed them goodnight and said ‘I love you’ a dozen times. Her kids went to sleep knowing how loved they are. She’s a rockstar.”
What if we could only remember our own highlight reel? What would you remember from today? What should you be adored for this evening?
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