Liar Liar Pants on Fi-ar

Would you say that Parents are Liars?
Big Porky Pie Liars?
Or is it just Me?
Oh, yes, I always help my children clean their teeth, I say, blithely, to the visiting Hygienist to our pre-school.
No, I don't.
Yes, I think a varied and healthy diet is essential. I never give my children Crap.
Yes, I do.
No, I never feel murderously angry with my children.
Yes, I do.
Yes, I change the beds each week.
No, I don't.
No, I never wish my children lived abroad.
Yes, I do.
I hoover our house at least once a week.
No, I don't.
Come on, you lot, I say cheerfully to my brood as we walk across the road to school.
No one knows that I just yelled Fucking Bloody Bollocks to them all and threw one of their shoes at the cat. I look like a perfect mother, really. Everyone smiles at me and says good morning. I return the greeting and smile widely at them all.
I kiss my children. See them into the door. Chat to the other mothers. Cringe when I think that my four year old will probably go into school and say Fucking Bloody Bollocks to the teacher when he can't find his shoes.
No, I never swear in front of my children.
Yes, I do.
I try to be cheerful at all times.
Crap.
I find a calm nature works best with my children.
Total Toss.

Each morning I get up and it's a New Day.
I really do try to be a good mother. My children love me and I love them.
Most of the time it's OK. Sometimes it's lovely.
Occasionally it's a load of Bollocks.
But finally, after many years of mothering I have come to the conclusion that I am doing a good job. The children might be subjected to a bit of yelling on occasion and a smattering of quite rude words when a Tad Stressed. They are used to a mother in tears when watching a TV programme. They have become accustomed to a Brief but Volatile Session when mother is driving and there is a Pillock at Loose. They have seen me lie through my teeth when the vicar asks have I remembered the fairy cakes on Sunday. (But Mummy... they start. And Stop. Bless Their Little Hearts) (We then Buy Cakes in mad rush)
They have this strange and intimate knowledge of me... and in that knowledge there is this sense that I am OK and that I will keep them safe, even though I might be a Tad Narky at times.
Quite frankly, Thank God For That.
Wouldn't it be awful if they got all Judgemental and Huffy.
Wanted to live somewhere else. Loathed us all.

Oh, Silly Me.
That's what teenagers do!