She’s been criticised by other parents but Becca Maberley, 45, refuses to pretend she doesn’t find certain aspects of parenting outright boring. Here she tells Closer why she feels the need to speak up
When first fell pregnant 13 years ago, my rose-tinted spectacles were firmly on. I pictured myself in a pristine white nightie, gazing lovingly at my son as he contentedly slept in my arms. And I thought all the next steps would be equally blissful. I imagined sitting with my children as they created handmade cards for family and friends, baking delicious cakes together in a floury mess and celebrating every new step they took on the climbing frame.
“The reality was very different. In fact, the only part that came true is that I loved my two boys – now aged 12 and 10 –fiercely and unconditionally. But most of the rest of it left me gritting my teeth or tearing my hair out.
CONTROL FREAK
“My biggest bug bear is crafting. I should have realised it wouldn’t be my thing – I’m a control freak and I like my house to look like a house I want to live in, not a glitter and glue covered nursery. I did try once – we got out some paints, I covered the table in plastic, they splodged some paint on a piece of paper, mixed up the colours and somehow still got paint on the table. The resulting ‘picture’ looked horrific! After that I swore never again. What’s the point – they never produce anything worth keeping, it makes a mess and I hate it.
“I have to admit I wasn’t exactly thrilled when they went to nursery and would bring home their ‘art’ at the end of the week either. I remember their key worker thrusting armfuls of bits of paper at me and thinking it was pointless. They would look the same as everything else they bought home – splodges of an indeterminate colour and glitter that would dry and fall off on to my carpets. I’d pick out a couple of the best ones and stick them on the fridge and the rest would go in the recycling.
“Baking was a no-go zone too. They’d always get over enthusiastic and start tipping in the whole bag of sugar or knocking the bowl over. Playing make believe was another one that had me rolling my eyes – no I don’t want to get down on the floor and pretend to be a dog, it feels silly.
“Instead, I’d choose the lesser of the two evils and we’d go to the playground or to play football. I joke that I have a love/hate relationship with the playground – I hate it, they love it. Thankfully, there are only two years between my boys so they can play together.
SHOCKED
“But even so, my scrolling or working on my phone was regularly interrupted by a piercing shriek of ‘look Mummy’ so I could admire them going down the slide for the umpteenth time – which irritate
