Welcome to the final guestpost in my series of Parenting Fails, Up next we have Becky from Bringing up the Berneys

I’ve had many moments as a parent when I’ve thought FML.

Many times I’ve questioned whether I’ve been the only one to fail so spectacularly at parenting, and then I talk to other parents and realise I am not alone in it!

To this day, this particular fail still haunts me, but I am 100% blaming it on pregnancy-baby brain. Okay, so there’s me trying to be really organised by having a calendar at home on my kitchen wall, and a diary in my handbag so I can make plans whilst out and about. It was going really well for a time, and I was loving life.

Then a birthday invite was handed out. Fine, fine. I thought. I popped the information on the wall calendar and thought no more about it. I’d also written it in my diary, but here’s the catch…I’d written two different times down…And being *totally organised* as I was, I’d RSVP’ed verbally AND I’d lost the original invite. FML. So, with a 50/50 chance of getting it right, I took a punt and went with the time I’d written in my diary.

Can you tell where this is going yet?

I got Lily ready for the party, wrapped the present up and we headed off to the party! (Which, I might add, was at an indoor soft play.) I boldly walked in, and found all the children eating their party food. “Hmm, they’re eating first…They don’t usually do it that way round here, it’s play first and then eating. They must’ve changed it round this time.” I then wondered if perhaps this was a different party and walked up the stairs to see if we recognised anyone.

We did. This was the party alright… I’d only gone and picked the wrong bloody time and brought Lily to the end of the party! As the realisation sunk in, I could feel my face going red with embarrassment and then the awkward explanation of how I managed to mess this up so royally.

Lily still got a party bag and some cake (there’s always a silver lining) and I paid for her to have a couple of hours play. After all, we’d come all this way…might as well make a day of it!

A lesson learned from this, I have a special hook for party invites, and I have other mummy friends to double and triple check with now!

You can find me over at:


Becky x



Up next we have Adrian talking about his parenting fail..

The Day We Cried At A Bus Stop

Parenting is one long iteration of that pearl of wisdom ‘fail better’ but we didn’t know that when our first baby was only two weeks old. It hadn’t been an easy birth and we’d spent the majority of my paternity leave in shock but by the end of the second week, we had to get out of the house.

Also, my parents had arrived to see their first grandson. They were sensibly staying in a B&B not too far away and we agreed to meet them at a park halfway between us. It was going to mean a bus ride (we didn’t own a car at the time – fools that we were) but we were sure we could do it.

Packing the bag to leave the house for the first time ever with a baby must have taken us an hour, including rechecking everything five times as we were so sleep deprived. But eventually, we texted my folks to say we’d left and nervously headed out with our precious tiny bundle barely visible in the apparently massive buggy bassinet.
The bus ride there was mercifully swift and incident free. We met my mum and dad and went for lunch in the park cafe. This was all very nice and we started to relax. We chatted and cooed over our baby and passed him around and eventually we all decided it had been long enough and we should head home and see them again the next day.
It was only as we waved goodbye that we checked the time and looked at each other in horror.

“Did you feed him at the cafe?”
“No. Did you?”
“Oh fuckety fuck.”

He had been asleep for ages as new babies tend to do but he hadn’t had a feed for nearly four hours, so he’d basically missed one. We had to wake him and crack on.
So, this was the first time we’d been out of the house and now it was going to be the first time Mrs B was going to have to feed our son on a park bench, in March.
He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy about being woken. He was even less happy about being woken up hungry. Cue much wailing and flailing arms and legs. After getting some milk inside him we hurriedly wrapped him back into his blankets and popped him back in the buggy.

Now we had to get home with a still cross newborn. I remember feeling so exposed as we stood at the bus stop. Like there were threats everywhere. And of course when the bus came the buggy spaces were taken so we had to wait another fifteen minutes. At this point our son decided to vomit all his milk back up. He’d eaten too much too fast on an empty stomach.

It was at this point, standing at the bus stop with a crying newborn, who was covered in sick, with everyone staring at us, that parental tears were shed. By the time we finally got home we vowed we wouldn’t leave the house again, but of course we did.
Nothing about this situation was funny at the time. Looking back with the experience of three and a bit years we can share a wry smile. When our second son was born we barely batted an eyelid taking him out for the first time, in fact we were more worried about managing his two year old brother. But we never ever forgot to feed a baby again!


Blog (link)
Twitter (link)




This weeks Parenting Fail’s guest post is from The Lone Wolf Mama.

Parenting Fail…

This parenting fail is about the worst morning ever, in the history of horrendous mornings:We get up. The children accept my offer of a banana as an early morning snack in place of their usual morning Party Ring (which I’m trying to phase out because how the hell did we get to a stage where the first thing they eat in the morning is a party ring?) and get dressed without fighting me. It’s going well. I’m winning at motherhood. They put their shoes on without a fuss (D’s are on the wrong feet but hey ho, you can’t have everything).

We go to the car and it’s here that things start to go wrong. I’m not going to lie: what I’m about to tell you isn’t pretty. If you’re of a delicate constitution I’d stop reading now.

Z decided he wanted to get in the car on D’s side and climb over to his seat. I let him. He’s scrambling all over the back seat while I’m strapping D in. I go round to his side. ‘Come on, into your seat.’ I say. Z obliges. As he’s climbing in, his trainer falls off. I reach down into the murky depths of the footwell, which is filled with empty crisp packets, rotting apple cores and biscuit remnants, and retrieve the trainer.

I feel something warm and soft. ‘What’s that?’ I wonder innocently. I look down at my hand, clutching the trainer. There is dog shit all over the trainer and all over my hand.

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

I scrabble in my pocket for a tissue, wipe the worst of the dog shit off my hand and dump the trainer on the pavement. With my one clean hand and my elbow I manage to finish strapping Z in.

It’s at this point I realise the dog shit is, of course, all over the back seat of my car. I pick up the offending trainer, and the shit covered tissue and run back inside.

After scrubbing my hands (whilst weeping on the inside), I do my best job at cleaning the shit off the trainer, chuck it outside, grab a new pair of shoes, run back to the car, shove them on Z, clean up the shit covered back seat as best I can and screech off to the childminder’s.

A pretty shitty start, hey?

Oh it’s not over yet.

All the way to the childminder’s, I can still smell shit. I frantically clean my hands with baby wipes on the drive there and throw some back at the children but the smell persists.

We arrive at the childminder’s, I leap out and inspect D’s shoes. All clean. I inspect mine. All clean. I inspect the back seat. No shit left there. I go round to Z and realise he has shit smeared up the leg of his trousers.

So, if you ever think you’ve had a rubbish morning, remind yourself that at least you haven’t delivered your son to the childminder, covered in dog poo.

Social Media Links:


To read last weeks parenting fails post, click here.

One Hull of a Dad

Welcome to a my guest post series in which I ask other wonderful parenting bloggers what their biggest, funniest parent fail is! Up first we have a wonderful blogger, Her name is Becca and you can find her over at My Girls and Me.

My Parenting Fail.

My fail consists of lots of things being taken back and exchanged.. OOPS.

Through the rest of my pregnancy with Rosie, I LOVED the name Anna-Belle. I was in love. I would tell everyone her name was Anna-Belle and i was never going to change it. I would call her in while i spoke to her in the womb and i people would actually refer to her as Anna-Belle.

Well, i gave birth all nice and smoothly and the moment she came out i looked straight at her dad and said she does not look like an Anna-Belle. We sat for ages and tried to think of names we liked but nothing suited till the midwife said “Oh what lovely rosy cheeks she has.” and boom it clicked. We announced her birth and when it said “Rosie-Belle” everyone was confused (oops haha!) a few people even had to return gifts that had said the name on it. (Sorry everyone)

That is my most biggest parenting fail, even to the point where we had Miyahs name picked out and there was no way on this earth it was being changed because of Miyahs dad but people still refused to till i gave birth and she was actually names Miyah.

My Links are: