The Ruminating Mum

Author: Tamz

  • Words Cut Deep

    Words Cut Deep

    I wanted to run away today and it hurts to admit that.

    I know that my four year old loves me, but when she tells me she doesn’t want to be with me, she wants to be with her daddy, instead; her words cut deep.


    Photo by Dương Nhân on Pexels.com

    Her father and I split up a year and four months ago. It’s been a difficult emotional roller coaster of a year.
    He is really hard working and works long hours, five days a week, so when he has them on his days off, he understandably devotes his time to them.

    He is able to be, in the words of my daughter, “fun daddy”.
    I, on the other hand, I’m “mean mummy”; the unfair parent who is always busy and never does anything fun.

    I know because she lives with me that she is with me a lot and that makes me, in her eyes, the mean rule setter. So I’m seen as unfair.
    It doesn’t help that I need them to have consistent routines to be able to cope with the chaos of trying to raise two little humans.

    I know that with my anxiety I am often over sensitive, too cautious and sensible. So I do find myself easily dismissing things that make me anxious. Saying no more often. Telling them off for things that maybe don’t warrant admonishment.

    I have also been where she is, in the same situation, living with my mum after a relationship break up and I wanted to be with my dad, too. Although I was a little older, like her, I still didn’t understand what had happened and why we didn’t live together, anymore.

    My mum, like me, was no doubt highly overwhelmed and stressed on a daily basis but as children we can’t see that. We can’t comprehend what our parents are having to cope with.

    I do think in some ways my daughter is probably lashing out because she feels more of a connection with her dad. He is able to devote more attention to them, when they are with him, whereas I’m constantly playing catch up trying to keep on top of everyday life.

    I hate hearing myself say “Hang on, I’m just trying to get this job finished,” or “I’m just in the middle of something, please give me a minute.”
    There’s always jobs to do. I feel like I’m drowning in stuff that requires my attention and as fast as I think I’m catching up, there’s more to do. Or things I’ve forgotten to do.

    I’ve been feeling overwhelmed so easily lately and being so overwhelmed is making me irritable and snappy. I hate it. I just want to feel calmer. I want to be more present for my kids, not constantly feeling like I’m putting out fires just trying to survive the days and not giving them enough attention.

    We’re already into the beginning of June and I don’t even know where the last five months have gone. It honestly feels like it turned 2025 a few days ago.

    Reflections

    This is currently an ongoing situation, so I don’t have answers as to how we dealt with this, but one thing I do want to do is try to look at the situation with more compassion.

    It’s difficult when you’re in the thick of a strong emotion to think rationally. I’ve been feeling very low and hurt by some of the things she has said to me lately and it’s resulted in me being quite snappy, which, of course is only exacerbating the situation. It’s not how I want to be.

    Her dad was good and stepped in to talk to her and explain that what she was saying was making me feel really sad. I could see the emotion building inside her and she came over to apologise and gave me a hug.

    Later that night after settling her in bed, she came back out of her room and said she wanted to say something. Which she followed with “You are a fun mum.” I gave her such a big hug.

    I mean, I’m not. Well, not at this moment in time, I’m not. But it was good of her to say it, as it was her way of being kind. It shows she’s really been thinking about what we’ve said to her.

    In some ways this could just simply be a boundary that she is pushing. It has brought about a natural lesson on how we should treat other people. Even if there is something deep down that is bothering her, she does need to learn that to feel something is normal, but it’s not okay to be hurtful to others because of that.

    It’s possible that with how busy I am all the time, that my daughter is craving connection with me. I definitely need to look at more ways that I can create some quality time with her.

    It feels so difficult now that she has started school, the only times we really get to do things alone is when her brother goes to nursery in the school holidays. Otherwise, it’s always the three of us and unfortunately our support network is very limited, so it’s not really an option to ask for help with the matter.

    Finally, I definitely need to work on when I should and shouldn’t tell her off. I need to work on not letting my anxiety rule others. Nor how I act with them. It’s not okay even if I am feeling anxious or stressed to take it out on them.

    All we can do as parents is try our best. We aren’t going to get it right, all the time, but reflecting and striving to be better is a good thing. Even if it’s just a small step, each day or week or month. So long as we keep trying to be better, to do better, one day it’ll work out.

  • The Danger Nap!

    The Danger Nap!

    Photo by Gianni Orefice on Pexels.com

    How can 30 mins of napping ruin an evening, you ask? I’ll tell you how.

    I picked up my son from his nursery today. The nursery worker very apologetically told me how she’d arrived back from her break to find my son asleep. He’d only slept for 30 mins.

    It won’t do any harm, right? Wrong!

    Later that evening, it’s edging towards my son’s bedtime, but I’m conscious of the nap that he had, so I allow just a little more time before ushering him upstairs. He gets ready reasonably well, without any meltdowns, which since dropping his nap have been a frequent bedtime routine visitor. So he’s all ready for bed, we read two books, tuck him in for the night and return to my daughter, ready to put her to bed.

    My daughter, however, is less willing. “I’m not tired,” she says. But with putting her brother to bed slightly later, now she is going to bed later, also, and to make it worse, it’s a school night.

    I wade through the barrage of complaints from my daughter, trying to encourage her towards getting ready for bed. Meanwhile, my son has decided he’s not tired either and would like a cuddle. So I break away from being able to get my daughter ready for bed to go upstairs and give him a cuddle and put him back to bed.

    Within less than a few minutes of returning downstairs, my daughter has not made any attempt to get ready for bed and is laid moping on the floor and my son is now out of bed again and at the gate at the top of the stairs.

    You can see where I’m going with this, right?

    After several more attempts to get my daughter ready, my son finally settles and stays in bed long enough for me to read two books to my daughter. We’ve not quite progressed to chapter books yet, but are in that awkward stage that the books are getting longer and longer and they still insist on having two books, but that is for another post lol!

    We’ve read our books, my daughter’s enjoyed drinking her new bedtime favourite, warm milk, and we’re finally able to go brush her teeth and put her to bed.
    It’s quiet when we reach the top of the stairs and open the gate, so I’m hopeful that my little boy has finally drifted off to sleep.

    Fast forward five minutes and we creep in to their bedroom and lo and behold, my son is still wide awake and decides this is the perfect time to get out of bed again. So now I’m trying to usher my daughter to bed whilst simultaneously trying to stop my son from getting out. If there was ever a moment I wish I could split myself in two, this would be it.
    It took me a few minutes, but I was finally able to say good night to them both and leave the room.

    Well, if I thought that was going to be that, I was deeply mistaken. Bearing in mind that on a good night it takes from 6:45pm when I take my son to bed, to around 8-8:30pm to finish settling my daughter in bed. 8pm on a good night. So at 8:10pm when my daughter says to me, distraught, that she hadn’t had a chance to tell me her day(which is our favourite time of the day) I was then torn with what to do. In the end, I figured the longer I say, sorry we can’t do it now, the longer the bedtime would take so I caved and sat down to listen.

    My son eagerly came to join in, so there we sat, each recounting our day, for the next 10-15mins. I must admit, when my little boy, who’s only 2 1/2 years old began telling us little snippets from his day at nursery, my heart started to melt. He had obviously taken in what we were talking about and realised he could have his turn, too.

    Everyone’s day had finally been recounted, the kids were both tucked up in bed again, they would surely go to sleep now, right? Wrong!
    It was now 8:50pm and I had already been back and forth to usher them back to bed. Trying to explain to my little girl that if she just tries hard to go to sleep, that her brother will surely follow suit.

    By this point I’m wound up to the gills and I know it’s really selfish of me, it wasn’t their fault they were having difficulties sleeping, but this was my time. My time to sit down for a minute and not hear mum for the 1000th time. My time to put the television on and watch an episode of something without feeling guilty or having someone require my attention every two minutes. My time to just stop and take a pause from the speeding train that is my life, right now.

    There’s no one else here to help me. No one else to say “It’s ok, you stop for a moment, I’ll go settle them this time.”

    It can be so frustrating. So exhausting. So lonely.

    Reflections

    So how do I reflect on this situation. How do I see this for what it is? How do I not allow this to drag me down?
    The first way would be to look at the situation objectively. My son had a danger nap at nursery and it made bedtime a stressful nightmare. So I would start by reminding myself that this is not a normal occurrence. They don’t normally allow him to nap(I’m still not quite sure how he managed it, but I wouldn’t put it past him to just take himself off with the other kids that nap and join in. He’s so cheeky.)

    So the fact that it’s not a normal everyday occurrence, that is a positive. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been through my fair share of sleepless nights and non-existent evenings. I solely took care of bedtimes and all the feedings, for both of my kids through choosing to breastfeed, because I struggled so much to pump milk.
    They usually sleep reasonably well. Only the odd wake up if they’ve had a bad dream or if they’re poorly. Now that my son is in a toddler bed, I found it easier to just keep the gate off their bedroom door, so they’re free to wander through if they need me. It also ensures my daughter can get to the toilet if needed.

    Step two is to ensure it doesn’t happen again, so I’ve already left a message for the nursery, politely asking that they do not allow him to nap again. They’re usually so good at following the no nap rule, too.

    I have since discovered that he was actually falling asleep at lunch time so their logic was to pop him down for a short nap to avoid him falling asleep, later in the day. I can completely understand their logic, unfortunately, that just then made it harder for me to get him to sleep at a reasonable time.

    Step three I did whilst writing this post. Simply writing it down. Getting the frustrated feelings out of my system. Channelling it in a way to offer a release from the pressure it held on me and then purposefully finding a way to reflect and see a huge stress in another light. That maybe in time, these stresses will slowly diminish their hold on me and that bit by bit, I will feel stronger and more able to cope.

    And maybe, just maybe someone reading this will feel a little stress ease, too.

  • Ogre in Me

    Ogre in Me

    Trigger warning. Major mum guilt and shame!

    Today, I am so thankful that my daughter is a beautiful soul. I, on the other hand, am a fricking ogre!

    Just lately, my daughter and I have been clashing a lot. Since she started school, her behaviour has changed dramatically—she’s naughtier, pushes boundaries more and is generally cheekier. She’s got her dad’s sense of humour, for sure, so she thinks she’s hilarious!

    Of course, these are all normal things—kids will always test boundaries—but just lately I’m feeling so intensely overwhelmed that I’m finding it hard to see the funny side. So I just end up snapping and getting frustrated.

    My 4-year-old daughter was invited to a classmate’s birthday party. When it was time to eat, there was a mad dash of children scrambling to the tables to claim a seat.
    Unfortunately, she did not manage to sit next to her best friend.

    After finally managing to calm her down, I steered her towards a seat next to a boy in her class. The boy began to protest that his friend had been sitting there. I felt really bad, but my daughter had begun to eat, so I apologised profusely to the parents for the mistake, to which they said not to worry about it.

    But when his friend returned, after nipping to the toilet, he was distraught at losing his seat—I felt horrendous. His mum tried to say it was okay and convince her son that he could sit in another seat, but he would not have it. To him, it was a really big deal and sitting further around the table was simply not an option.

    There was only one thing to do. I knelt down to my daughter and kindly asked her if she would mind moving to the next seat that was free, so that he could have his seat back, as I’d mistakenly sat her in his seat.
    The little star said yes, so we swapped her over to the other seat and he was able, once again, to sit next to his friend.

    Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com

    What a beautiful young girl my daughter is becoming. When an opportunity arose to follow through on an act of kindness for another child, she did so without hesitation.

    I, on the other hand, am such an ogre lately, and I don’t know how to snap out of it. I just feel so tense and stretched thin. I’m trying to keep my head above water, but the weight of all the things that are required of me is dragging me under.

    I don’t want to snap at my little girl. I don’t want to feel so overwhelmed all the time. I just want to feel happy again. Whatever that is.

    After a huge bout of anxiety, the doctor has put me on anti-anxiety medication. I really hoped the tablets would help. I mean, to some extent, they have. I’m definitely not as bad as I was, and it’s possible the dosage just isn’t strong enough.
    At the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that something still isn’t quite right.

    I know what I need to do; I need to contact the doctors and speak about it. I am just so reluctant to go through another round of feeling rubbish from either upping the dosage or changing entirely to something else.

    I really should be sleeping, not sitting up writing this. I just needed to write for a minute. I needed to focus on the beauty of my little girl today. Her beautiful soul.

    Despite my ogreish, snappy behaviour today, I did at least manage to tell her how amazing she was for helping the boy like that.

    The little gem also illustrated a book today. It was all her idea. I helped her with some spelling, and her dad and I both helped her to sellotape it together when it started to fall apart. The book contained pages of Paw Patrol pups that she had drawn, along with their names.

    There was even a moment where she realised that the name Chase was a tricky word because the ‘e’ is silent and the ‘e’ is magic, so it makes the ‘a’ sound like its name. Amazing! She’s only 4 years old.

    I need to strive to be better. I have to do better. I will do better.

    Reflections

    At the time of writing this post, I needed an outlet for my shame and guilt about how I had been responding lately. Sometimes it’s difficult to share how we feel with people we know, or even where to begin to make things better.

    So I think that at times like this, we have to look at it from somebody else’s perspective. What would your best friend say if you talked to them about this? What would your therapist say?

    I know a good friend of mine would tell me to give myself a break. To take in some perspective. I’m a single mum to two children, aged 4 and 2. I have a lot going on. It’s understandable that I am stressed, overwhelmed and tired.

    So in these moments, where the shame and guilt weigh heavily on our shoulders, try to take a moment to reflect. No parent is perfect, no parent gets it right all the time.

    “All change is hard at first, messy in the middle and gorgeous at the end.” — Robin Sharma

    The only thing we can do is look inward, take accountability for our big emotions (we’re not here to make excuses for ourselves), apologise for them and strive to do better next time. And each time, step by step, change will happen.

    Authors Note

    I don’t really know the exact intentions of this post. I suppose I hope that someone out there, maybe experiencing something similar to what I was going through—feeling like they’re getting it wrong—will take something from it.

  • The Little Wins

    The Little Wins

    Being a parent is tough, and sometimes it can feel like trying to climb a mountain with a ten-ton weight on your shoulders when a toddler won’t cooperate. But sometimes we just need to see the little wins for what they are—a win!

    My little boy has been asking to buy a blue scooter so he can ride just like his big sister does. With summer right around the corner, I decided this was probably the perfect time to encourage him to learn.

    After buying his scooter, we returned home. I needed to take a parcel to the post office nearby, so it was a great opportunity to let him ride for the first time.
    He was really excited and eager to set off. He even told me not to help when I anxiously hovered my hands in case he wobbled.

    Silly mummy, he had this, didn’t I know?

    He was understandably slow, but he rode it most of the way, with only a little support. Not helped by the poorly maintained paths where we live—the paving slabs are really uneven in places.

    Photo by Polesie Toys on Pexels.com

    My daughter had already had an unfortunate face plant on her scooter when riding this path, so even when she rides, I find myself cautiously keeping her steady on the bumpier bits.
    As awful as it was, it proved to be a valuable lesson for her about why we must always wear a helmet. Had she not been wearing it, she would have broken her nose, for sure.

    We made it to the post office, and I explained to my little boy that he couldn’t ride the scooter in the shop. He must get off and walk nicely, which he did without too much fuss and an acknowledging “Okay, mummy.”
    However, once we entered the shop and were stuck in a boring queue, waiting for a member of staff to be free, he wanted to ride his scooter again and tried his hardest to get back on it.

    Understandably, for a two-year-old, waiting even a minute seems like a lifetime, so the tantrum began. I kept my cool, although I was sure that my face was becoming flushed. I don’t like people noticing me at the best of times, so when my toddler/child is creating a scene and drawing attention, I just want to crawl in a cave and hide.
    After what felt like a lifetime, we were finally served by the member of staff, and my son actually stopped creating and behaved as good as gold until we left the shop, which was a relief.

    When we got out of the shop, however, the biggest meltdown of all began. We needed to return home, so I steered him back the way we came.
    Out of nowhere, he tried to turn the scooter around, becoming distraught and bursting into tears.

    This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s possible that walking back the way we came is not acceptable to him. Or perhaps he thought we were going somewhere else, or he just didn’t want to go home so soon. But unfortunately, this time, I needed to get us home quickly to put a chicken in the oven for dinner.

    I suppose in hindsight it wasn’t the best time to let him ride the scooter for the first time, but at the same time, he needed an opportunity to have a go on it.

    From there and most of the way home, he refused to walk or ride the scooter. In my stubbornness, I scooped him up, picked up the scooter, and marched home with him protesting in my arms.
    He is getting quite heavy for me to carry now, so I kept trying to encourage him to either ride the scooter or at least stand on it so I could pull him home. He was having none of it.

    What was a super exciting adventure, riding his new scooter, became yet another difficult journey home—and we only live around the corner.

    When we finally arrived at home, the mood unfortunately carried on, and this is one of those times when I probably should have picked my battles.

    My son was hungry again. At lunch time, he hadn’t really entertained the cheese wrap that he’d agreed to eat.
    After the fact, it occurred to me that it possibly wasn’t the right block of cheese that he liked. He can be quite particular with what he will and won’t eat at the moment.

    We finally settled on a snack for him to eat, but I wanted him to sit at the kitchen table; he was insistent that he was going to sit in the lounge watching Numberblocks instead.
    But of course, me being me, and still feeling somewhat stressed from the walk home, I stuck to my guns and said no—I’d asked him to sit at the table and he could watch Numberblocks after he’d finished his food.

    Well… at least ten minutes later, the meltdown was still in full swing. Tears streaming down his face. How dare I not let him eat his food whilst watching his favourite programme. The big emotions were definitely out in the open.

    I offered him hugs and tried to console him enough to find us some calm, but realised I’d made my bed, so I had to just carry on with the no TV rule. I mean, if it’s a snack, I’m usually not too bothered by TV. It’s meal times where I draw the line. But I guess, to him, his food was merely a snack.
    Although he’d rejected it earlier, in his eyes, he’d eaten his lunch.

    He calmed enough for me to begin washing up before dinner prep, and he started playing with a toy. It was only a short while later that I realised he’d edged nearer to his food, which he had abandoned in a bowl on the chair.
    I slowly took a step closer to see if he was finally eating, and to my delight, he was sat on the chair in the living room, munching away on his food; the TV was long forgotten.

    Shortly after I thought he had finished his food, I went in to act as I had promised, to put Numberblocks on the TV for him, only to realise he still had a few bites left.

    I braced myself as I slowly lowered the remote—or “clicker” as it is now called in our house. Thanks, Nanny, lol!—praying that the meltdown wouldn’t resume. And do you know what… the little star sat there and munched away happily on his last few bites.

    He then bounded into the kitchen, placed his bowl in the sink as requested, with another little “Okay, mummy”, and returned to have his hands wiped.

    He was happy once again, sitting comfortably watching Numberblocks, like it had never happened.

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    Reflections

    I think, often, we don’t realise just how strong our resilience is when it comes to riding the wave of emotions from our little ones. At the time, our shoulders tense, the stress levels rise, and if you’re anything like me, you find it hard to shake that feeling off when the moment has passed.

    Our toddlers and children are amazing reminders that in order to heal an emotion, we have to feel an emotion. ( I heard that quote somewhere, but me being me, I’ve completely forgotten where. Probably on one of the many podcasts I listen to.)
    He was upset with me; I made him go the wrong way after the post office and then I wouldn’t let him watch his favourite TV programme. He’s two and a half years old; in his world that was a huge deal and after hugging it out, allowing him to feel and move through the emotions, we reached a peaceful end.

    I don’t always react the right way. I know I can be a tad hot-headed and stubborn, so when I say something, like impose a rule, I tend to stick to my guns and will not be swayed, no matter the tantrum.
    I did, however, manage to show him that mummy meant what she had said, so when he finished his food, he was then able to watch his favourite programme.

    Another thing I try to keep in mind is that despite how hard it is to parent my strong-willed child, I know that what is difficult now will make a brilliant quality for them later in life.

    So to sum up, when toddlers, children (or even adults) experience big emotions, just remember the little wins.

    Even if you don’t see it now, one day you’ll hopefully look back and think, wow, that did make a difference.

  • A Little Introduction.

    Welcome to my blog, The Ruminating Mum.

    As I sit here, writing this, I’m not even sure if I will manage to pluck up the courage to post what I write, but for now, I will start with just a little bit about myself.

    My name is Tamzin, Tamz for short. I am late-diagnosed with ADHD, potentially undiagnosed AuDHD, which I think, more often than not, is the root cause of my struggles.

    I am also a single mum of two children: a daughter and son, both under the age of 7.”

    You can probably tell from the title of my blog that I am a deep thinker and have, unfortunately, spent most of my life ruminating and worrying my way through to now.

    I have more recently been trying really hard to be better and seek help for my anxiety through talking therapies. I also tried medication for anxiety, but for me, personally, the side effects outweighed the good.

    Through my healing process, I sought solace in writing down how I was feeling.

    Writing feels good—especially when something is weighing on my mind—as a way to find a sense of release.

    After writing my thoughts and feelings of the day, I found myself looking over what I had written and trying to think of it from another’s perspective.

    By doing so, I was able to better understand what was happening—not to excuse my thoughts or behaviours, but to try to use that to show up better next time.

    I mean, let’s face it, no matter how hard we strive as parents to be perfect for our children, we’re going to get it wrong from time to time.

    What matters is how we show them that we can apologise when we’re wrong, show them how to work through OUR big emotions, and strive to be better—not only for them, but for ourselves and others around us.

    I’m going to lay it out there that I am in no way a professional. I have never trained in any way that would allow me to say I am qualified to help people. I am definitely not that.

    I suppose I hope that, just by showing up and talking about my experiences, no matter how big or small, maybe someone reading this might find the courage to talk about their own struggles as a parent.

    I firmly believe that talking openly is the key to healing, and if someone doesn’t want to hear it, then find the one person who will, even if that is a stranger at the other end of a helpline.

    But hey, maybe you’re happy with how you are, and you just like to read blogs; that’s totally fine, too. Hi.

    I will kindly ask, though, that people keep this a safe space. I will not accept hurtful or hateful comments.

    I am just a mum, a human being, trying to get through life and parenting without a manual, just like everyone else, and with very little support.

    If you can do one thing today, be kind. Please. That’s all I ask.