‘I bought this t-shirt from NASA when I visited Houston with my best friend years ago. I think I was 14. Many years ago,’ I said, running my finger down a laughter line in dismay.

Olivia scrunched her six-year-old face up. ‘Failure is not an optician?’

‘Failure is not an opteeon,’ Benji corrected her, shaking his blonde mane that should’ve been cut weeks ago. He could almost pass as Olivia’s identical twin.

I laughed at their enthusiasm for something that had been stuffed at the back of my drawers for years. A cherished memory.

A wail from downstairs erupted, and we all pulled a face, knowing it was their wild baby sister throwing a tantrum. It was past her bedtime. And theirs.

A door slammed. My heart cracked a little. For the past few weeks, Alex had been shouting at everyone. Apologising and shouting, apologising and shouting. The children were feeling the strain from him, and I was feeling the strain from the children. We were under immense pressure as he started his business, and we knew it would be tough. But I wasn’t sure Alex knew just how tough.

The children stared at me, almost waiting for me to compose myself. I smiled at them and continued, ‘“Failure is not an option”.’

‘What is failure?’ Olivia asked.

I wished I had more time to talk to them. ‘It means…well, it’s when something you try to do doesn’t go as planned, or you don’t achieve something you want. Like…’

‘I failed at school!’ Benji exclaimed proudly.

‘Did you?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t listen to the teacher.’

‘Well, I think that had more to do with making the wrong choice. Failure is like when you both learnt to ride your bikes. At first, you wobbled and fell off a few times. That’s failing. But it’s okay because each time you fell, you learned to balance better until you rode without falling.’

‘So, failure is good?’ Olivia frowned.

Zoe’s cry impaled through their bedroom floor. I realised that NASA’s motto might not have been the best way to start a conversation on failure. Not tonight. I just wanted to do something different for them, to put bigger smiles on their faces. And when I said I would do a “show and tell” for them, they were so excited. But it seemed in parenthood that even when you tried to do better in one area, you did worse in another to pay for it. 

‘Mummy?’ Olivia poked my arm.

‘It is good,’ I emphasised, feeling out of my depth and trying to stop my yawn from showing. ‘Failure means you learn from your mistakes and get better. Like how a superhero keeps trying to save the day, even if they don’t do the best job every time.’

Olivia fiddled with the sequins on her Frozen pyjama top, and Benji’s finger was dancing inside his nose yet again.

‘But at NASA,’ I continued. ‘If they fail…well, then…um…’

‘Bex!’ Alex shouted.

‘One sec, you two.’ I leapt up. ‘Yep?’

‘Zoe’s turned the lounge upside down. Your books are all over the place. She’s now climbing up the bookshelf like it’s a ladder! I can’t…Can we swap?’ His feet stomped up the stairs, and Zoe rattled the stairgate, screaming her little face off.

‘But Mummy, you haven’t finished…’ Benji groaned.

‘It’s not fair.’ Olivia fell back on the floor and folded her arms.

‘I’m sorry, you two,’ I muttered, resigned.

Alex stormed through the room, the bags under his eyes growing darker by the day. ‘She’s just…’ He shook his head, looking about to collapse.

‘I’ve got it,’ I said. ‘But uh, you need to explain to Liv and Ben why the people at NASA can’t fail, but they can.’

Once all three were tucked up in bed and the house sighed in grave relief, Alex and I collapsed on the sofa with a bag of Doritos.

‘Did you explain it to them?’ I asked.

He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I did my best.’

His stubble was longer than he usually let it grow, his eyes were sullen, and he had the same joggers on for the past week. Alex clearly hadn’t seen the spag bol stain that Zoe put near his crotch. Or maybe he had.

‘Thank you.’ I crunched a crisp. When you long for silence all day, and then silence is given to you, you almost don’t know what to do with it. I crunched another crisp. ‘I was getting a bit tongue-tied with it.’

‘Well, I should know all about it,’ he said, staring into his lap.

‘You’re not a failure.’ I put the Doritos on the pile of toys pushed to the other end of the sofa, and put my arm around his tense shoulders. ‘Why do you think that?’

He scoffed.

‘You’re not a failure,’ I asserted, trying to lock eyes with his.

He ran a hand through his unkempt sandy hair and shook his head. ‘I was a failure the other day when I walked out the front door and left you to pick up the pieces.’

‘No, you…’

‘And when I threw the stair gate across the room.’ He met my gaze, and I faltered.

Zoe was crying upstairs. Thankfully, Alex hadn’t heard. Please, go back to sleep. This was not the time.

‘Do you know what Benji said to me?’ Alex exhaled. ‘“I’m going to keep drawing you pictures because you always shout at me”. And Livvy said I never listen. If that’s not failing, then…’

‘I shouldn’t have fallen apart in front of the kids.’

I clasped his hand tight. ‘Life with three is tough enough without you starting your own business and working another job. I don’t blame you for walking out. Or throwing the stair gate – that thing drives me insane. And it wasn’t all you. That argument was…’

‘I shouldn’t have said those things to you.’

‘I deserved them.’

‘No. You didn’t.’

‘You deserve better. The kids do.’ He scrunched his eyes tight, and mine welled up at his vulnerability.

‘Alex, you needed a break. We all need that. Like I told the girls, failure is good. Because we learn. I watched you today when you came down from work. You showed Livvy and Benji so much love doing the “daddy dragon”, and I thought you were so strong. It takes courage to admit you’ve failed and humility to apologise and try again. You said sorry to them and to me, and that’s what counts.’ I played with the back of his hair, and he let his head fall back onto my hand. ‘I lock myself in the toilet all the time when I can’t cope – I have to count to about a hundred to calm myself down.’ I laughed, glad that his mouth was turning up. ‘There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. The only way to fail as a parent is to give up. And you haven’t done that.’

‘Not yet.’ He winked, putting his arm around me. ‘You’re a truly amazing mother, you know that?’

‘Truly amazing, and truly terrifying.’

‘It’s good for the kids to see their dad struggle but get through it. They’re watching you pursue your dream, which comes with highs and lows. They know you love them. They also know you are always there for them and that you keep on trying when life is hard.’

‘I’m sorry for throwing the stair gate. I think I tore a chunk out of the chest of drawers.’

‘Alex!’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sand it down. I’ll fix it.’

‘I can’t wait till we can get rid of all the baby-proofing,’ I sighed.

‘Our baby…she’s not really a baby anymore, is she? She’s already growing so fast. It won’t be long before she’ll be asking about NASA. Maybe she’ll want a job there one day.’

‘Don’t,’ I widened my eyes, torn between not wanting them to grow up too quickly and wanting them to grow up enough so that we could enjoy a lie-in again.

‘In the meantime, before they all grow up and leave us, let’s put Creature Comforts on. And nosh the Doritos.’

‘Don’t you need to work tonight?’ I asked.

He planted a soft kiss on my lips. ‘Tonight, I want to be right here with you.’

I kissed him back, feeling hope reignited, reassured that we could overcome this.                  

‘I’ll get a second bag, so we don’t have to share.’ Alex winked, picking himself up with a bear-like yawn. ‘First to finish their bag? Failure is not an option.’

He walked into the kitchen, and I laughed, thankful that Zoe got herself back off to sleep. Thankful that despite all the shouting and apologising and failing and trying, we still had one another.