Sometimes it’s ok not to be ok,
To not be perfect after you’ve been up all night.
Sometimes you’ve just got to say F@*K. IT. ALL.
Because it’s alright to not be alright.
Sometimes you are gonna lose it,
And call your newborn baby a knob.
It doesn’t mean you’re not an awesome mummy,
It makes you a member of the ‘We’re-Not-F@*king-Perfect-Mums-Club’.
Just because your house isn’t spotless,
Doesn’t mean you don’t crave a raisin-free home.
But while your living room is a Fisher Price graveyard,
You’re bloody entitled to a bit of a moan.
Some days you’ll stay in pyjamas,
(And the next day) (and shit, the next day after that)
Some days you’ll just need a good weep on your own,
Because that bastard shop window made you look fat.
Not having your shit together every morning,
Or dropping the odd F-bomb and drinking wine.
Does not make you a totally crap mummy,
It makes you totally NORMAL and is f@*king FINE.
Somehow you’ll make it to tomorrow,
Just brush the Weetabix and that sticky stuff into your hair.
Stick on ITV-Be… get the biscuits, make some tea…
And just don’t f@*king care.
So sometimes it’s ok to see through it,
All the perfect-mummy-bollocks on your Facebook feed.
Because you know what, being not-so-bloody-perfect,
Makes you more than f@*king perfect to me.