If you are pregnant and reading this, prepare to be shocked. If you already have a child, feel free to snigger. I have something to confess – I was a mother judger. Oh, yes! Before I had a baby, I used to stare in disgust as parents turned a blind eye while their children wiped their greasy hands down shop mirrors.

I’d sigh wearily if stuck behind a screaming baby at the check-out. Whey couldn’t that mother control her child? I would even move seats in trains, planes or restaurants if I was too close to a pesky pre-schooler. Shouldn’t they be in bed by now? I’d never let my offspring offend. Oh, no!

I had some pretty strong views on parenting, let me tell you. I would never use a dummy when I had a child, never let my child eat in the back of the car, run around covered in snot and food, or behave badly in public at any time.

I mean, I knew no kid could be perfect and that being a mum was a challenge, but there were certain things I just wouldn’t allow. Secretly, I was sure that most tantrums were because the parents weren’t in control.

Luckily, just before I disappeared up my own smug posterior, I went into labour and discovered the hideous truth - that motherhood exists for the sole purpose of making you eat your words.

Since swelling the ranks of motherhood, I have now become one of these mums I used to despise. I have allowed my son to pick apples from the fruit section and munch them on the way round the supermarket. I have ripped open packaging to get to teething rusks in a desperate attempt to get him to be quiet for just a few more aisles. I have even stooped to buying him off with lollies at long check-out queues. Me, the same person who argued for confectionary-free counters! The shame of it.

There’s worse, though. I have knowingly allowed him to suck pristine soft toys from the children’s section of a department store just so I could choose a swimsuit in peace. And then, I can hardly admit it, I returned the soggy teddy to the shelf, hiding it at the back so the shop assistant couldn’t see. I have disguised packet food as home-made in order to impress my son’s child-minder and, in desperation (yes, I am going straight to hell), I’ve liquidised fast food takeaway when we ran out of baby food.

Think this couldn’t happen to you? Well, there’s more. Those dummies I would never use? I couldn’t have done without them. I have even been known to pick them off the ground, lick them and pop them back into my son’s mouth.

I have wrapped my child’s bottom in a plastic carry bag because I forgot a nappy on a Sunday outing kilometres from the nearest shop. I have force-fed him chocolate to keep him quiet while he got his first haircut. I have switched on the TV to keep him entertained when I just couldn’t think of one more game to play on a rainy afternoon. I’ve allowed him to reel off all the toilet paper just to get another five minutes’ peace in the shower and I have hidden under the covers at four in the morning, hoping against hope that this feed might be forgotten.

The pure hypocrisy. Could I sink any lower? Well, actually, yes. See that child driving past, tied to the back seat with a pair of tights because his mother has forgotten the car seat? He belongs to me.

And the child you saw today throwing hysterics by the freezers of your local supermarket? He’s mine. That woman breastfeeding in public, offending everyone and throwing her boobs and caution to the wind is me, too. And, next week, I will probably bore you senseless at a dinner party talking proudly about my children.

I know what you are thinking - I would never do that. Feel free to judge. I did it, too. Yet, one day, sooner than you think, you could find yourself secretly smearing a dummy with strawberry jam.

Check out more at Julie's website Omigoddess

Your say: Are you a mother judger? Were you a mother judger before having children? Tell us below.