Kids don't have to be messy to be happy!

I have something to admit and I'm painfully aware that this is going to mark my cards as the crappiest, least fun mum in the entire world.

Here we go ...

"I don't like my kids being dirty!"

I can hear the gasps of horror ringing in my ears.  I know some of you will have an uncontrollable urge to come to my house, kidnap my boys, strip them to their pants and chuck paint all over them.  I know others will want to grab the baby, strip her to her nappy and sit her in a cushioned impossible-to-clean highchair piled high with spaghetti bolognese, whilst simultaneously hiding all the bibs and spoons!

But it gets worse as I have an even greater guilty secret.  Here it is ...

"I don't have a dirty house and the kids' bedrooms are all tidy!"

Again, I can imagine the judgemental looks of disapproval.  I have three children aged six and under - how is this possible?  There must be no fun at all happening in my house, as these well known 'available to buy for a small cost' plaques testify:

The inference is clear, isn't it?  If you, your children and your home are clean and tidy then your kids can't be happy, you aren't any fun and you're nowhere near as good a mum as the lady next door who bathes her children in baked beans and allows them to eat trifle with their fingers.

I am forced to be totally ashamed of my fondness for cleanliness and what this signifies. But, hands up time! I'm not at all gifted or motivated in the housework department, there is usually an ironing pile or two lurking around and my home is spotless due to my lovely cleaner, not by any grand effort on my part.  Given my youngest's tantrum-inducing hoover phobia combined by my laziness, I can assure you my house would be a tip if I didn't pay somebody else to clean it for me.  It seems my ironing piles are my one saving grace in a world which awards a badge of honour to mums for their scruffiness.  There's no better way of signalling excellence in the parenting department than to forfeit the housework in favour of dragging your paint-splatted kids from one fun-filled activity to another dressed in muddy wellies and dirty dungarees.  Have a clean and tidy home, even if it isn't cleaned by you, and you're doomed to being labelled as 'not fun enough'.

Don't think I haven't tried to locate my inner-scruff.  I've taken the kids to art classes where I've resisted the urge to wipe paint off their hands until home time.  I've managed to hold it together whilst they've glued and chalked at playgroups and occasionally ketchup stains have been left on chins and noses until bath time.  Yet, try as I might, I'm just not 'feeling' the messy fun. I don't like grubby faces and dirty clothes, I don't like gloop and I can't muster any enthusiasm for rolling around in the dirt.  If my kids are scruffy I have to wash them, it's as simple and unsavoury as that. If this makes me a colossal failure, then so be it, and I'll apologise to them in later life for depriving them of the joys of grime.

Recently my Facebook news feed has been crammed with images of dirty children in highchairs, when I know full well there are several packets of baby wipes in their houses.  All children make messes with their tea, am I abnormal for wiping mines' faces and putting a plastic bib on them to protect their clothes?  Sure, a messy baby picture is funny the first time and everyone has one or two in their collection, but fifty uploaded photos of children eating shepherds pie, dressed in nothing but a nappy and with no cutlery in sight, tends to wear a bit thin.

Then we have the highly strange 'birthday cake smash'.  Obviously I'm at a complete loss with this one!  It's now the done thing for eager-to-impress mums to arrange a photo shoot for their babies' first birthdays, purposefully covering them in smashed up chocolate cake and wearing guess what?  Yes, only their nappy. Today's new parents can keep a memento of their cool parenting hung in their hallway until, presumably, the children reach their teenage years and ask them what on earth they were thinking.

Birthday parties have morphed into a competition of one-up-womanship where mummies vie to outdo each other, not on the best party-bag or most spectacular home-baked cake, but on who can make their child's party guests the dirtiest.  A dirty party, of course, equals a great party.  So, forget the party dresses and the orderly games of pass-the-parcel.  There's no room for these outdated diversions in a birthday party hosted by a fabulously fun super-scruff.  Instead, bring your toddler to the party in their nappy and they can spend a fun-filled couple of hours sitting in a paddling pool filled with cold custard and, presumably, their fellow guests' wee-wees.

Businesses have emerged where whole events are organised to the specification of the scruffy-is-cool mummy set.  Here, babies can enjoy themselves by romping in heaps of cold, wet spaghetti and cornflakes, followed by digging around in sandpits of jelly and shaving foam.  Have you ever looked at the children's faces at these parties?  They're nowhere near as pleased by the fun provided as their parents are.

Even churches are getting in on the action and are drawing in the fun families and happy kids with something called a "messy church".  It's a stroke of pure genius at a time when the pews are deserted by anybody under the age of 75.  Cleanliness was once next to godliness, but not any more!

When did scruffy start to mean cool?  Don't get me wrong, if you really are hard at work being creative with your kids then this is all bloody fantastic and I envy your enthusiasm.  I have lots of lovely, fun and very cool hippie-type mummy friends who rave about this kind of stuff and I'm certain their children are ecstatically happy in the goo - but they're no happier than mine are out of it!  At least I hope they're not ...

Why is the world telling me I ought to feel guilty that whilst my children are washed, brushed and dressed nicely to play with their toys, read their books and enjoy their games, others are sitting in buckets of blancmange?  Well, I don't feel guilty.  Not one little bit!

When it comes to the crunch, we all choose to do stuff with our kids that WE enjoy, in the hope that our children will too.  I'm overjoyed that people are sharing their love of painting their own feet with their children.  Just as I'm overjoyed that today, the first day of half-term, there will be children playing football (boring), decorating their fingernails (pointless) and playing Minecraft (utterly bewildering).

Today, my kids have performed a comic strip with their Playmobil thanks in small part to my love of story-telling.  Yesterday we spent hours in Ikea pretending we lived in the shop's room set-ups thanks in small part to my love of flat-packed Scandinavian furniture.  It was a lot of fun, the kids had a ball and they emerged from both activities spotless of mud, paint, glue and tomato sauce.  But I'm sure they had no more fun than their messy neighbour's kids did making mud pies and vice versa!  Kids are more than happy dressing-up, making sticker-books, playing on x:boxes, drawing pictures of super-heroes, baking cupcakes, building Lego, watching Mary Poppins for the hundredth time, listening and dancing to One Direction, or just being in the company of their parents getting lots of cuddles.

The amount of fun you can have whilst being clean and tidy is infinite!