It has been an amazingly long time since I have been on my little beloved blog and I guess I ought to explain where on earth I’ve been! I mean, most bloggers disappear when they are doing something life changing, like having a baby, moving house, changing career, writing books etc. You know, BIG things. But I haven’t been doing those things. Sadly, I’ve not been doing much!
Hmmm, what I have done since I’ve been gone for nearly two years? Well, I’ve completed two years of my degree with The Open University for one! That took some time up because I could no longer fanny around on Facebook or Twitter and witter on about my disastrous life, no, I had to do SERIOUS stuff! Studying, tutorials, writing essays, wondering why I don’t understand politics and law etc. To be honest, I still don’t seem to understand anything but I did manage to pass most essays and exams with around 70%! I literally have no idea how! I just stuck lots of intelligent sounding words together and hoped for the best! But, halfway through last year I decided to stop taking some of my strong medications (like a good few bloggers I have some chronic illnesses), but I also have liver disease so decided it was best to stop a lot of the strong meds I was on. Not my mental health meds, my doctor refused to let ,e stop those, I guess me having a nervous breakdown wasn’t something she wanted on her conscience! But the side effects from me dropping all my meds were horrendous and long standing so I decided to defer my next year at uni to try and get on top of my health.
I also met the love of my life! It wasn’t plain sailing to start with, what with me having BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder - why have one personality when you can have many?!), but he’s now used to me and my weird foibles and is brilliant with it! He has said it stops him getting bored, so it’s a bonus really! Anyway, we fell madly in love, and are happily engaged and he is a brilliant stepdad to my 3 sleep thieves. So we spent a lot of time going to the cinema, the pub, on holiday and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes! Yep, I know, it’s vomit inducing!
On top of all this, we had an issue with Satan! I mean, we always have issues with Satan, but I mean more than the average issues! She started getting bullied at school. Badly. The headteacher of the school refused to believe she was being bullied but let’s not go into that too much (I don’t fancy being sued!), but at some point I may have called a complaint hearing and asked why on earth he’d decided that some horrible little shithead pulling my child’s legs out from underneath her so she smashed her forehead into the concrete floor, on pretty much a daily basis, and telling her regularly that he hoped she died of cancer (just a reminder - she is eight years old..!), was not what he classed as bullying. He started on about how he didn’t like to use the word “bullying” so therefore it wasn’t happening! Yes that’s right, he did absolutely fuck all! So at this point I pulled her out of school and homeschooled her until I could find her a place at a new school, which she started only a few days ago! There has been massive fallout because of it, but my daughter is happy and is loving her new school and not being battered every day, so I don’t particularly give a shit what anyone else thinks!
So now Satan has returned to school, I actually have time on my hands again! And as much as I love her and enjoyed our extra time together, my god, she was driving me insane! I am so not cut out to be a teacher, how do they make it through the day without accidentally on purpose clipping some mouthy bastards ear I do not know! They have more patience than me! How do teachers reach their thirties without sitting in a corner rocking and dribbling on themselves? I don’t know, all I know is, fuck that!
So I guess I’m back! I didn’t really know where to begin so I figured the beginning would be a good place! I’m keeping up with the times and am over on Instagram now, aswell as Facebook and Twitter, and my life rests on how many people follow me, so pop along and follow me so I can feel validated about myself as a person! And keep your ears and eyes peeled later on in the year for a Slummy Mummy book.....ah it’s all very exciting these days!
I have missed you guys! I promise I’ll never leave again!
Love Slummy x
Well hello my fellow slummies, it's been a while! I've been putting a lot of efforts into writing my book, although that is a LONG way off!
Todays' news though, really got under my skin a bit. I'm sure you've read about the headteacher asking parents to turn up to school in actual clothes instead of pyjamas. If you've missed this highly controversial news item, you can read it HERE.
Basically a head teacher in Darlington sent out notes to ask parents to stop wearing pyjamas to school and one mum refused point blank and went in in her pyjamas.
Now, I'm the first to admit I am a somewhat slummy mummy, obviously, and anywhere I can find a shortcut, I will find one! I've been known to kick a dustbunny back under the sofa from whence it came, I soak the dishes in hot water for a good couple of hours to make washing up easy, I have a mountain of clean laundry that needs putting away and I will rope the kids in to put their own clothes away once I've sorted them. I've given the children McDonalds for tea, cereal, toast, anything I can get my hands on to fill them up and keep them quiet when I've completely forgotten to get any shopping in. We run out of milk on a fairly regular basis because no matter how much I buy, my eldest drinks his own body weight of it, I've dusted only things that you can see the dust on and ignored other shelves or ornaments that don't show the dust easily. I've pushed with all my might, down on the full bin to attempt to get one more evening of not having to empty my kitchen bin into the wheelie bin outside in the rain, which is generally surrounded by dog poo (because why pick up dog poo in the rain when you can wait until its dry and erm, of a consistency that is also slightly drier, if you catch my drift! (All dog owners will!). I've occasionally had to put the children in the same trousers two days in a row because I've forgotten to put the washer or dryer on, I avoid ironing in all shapes and forms and do my utmost to ensure nothing in any of our cupboards needs ironing. I wash up once a day, after soaking the dishes in hot soapy water, I then add the tea time plates or bowls and wash everything up then. Anything used after that has to wait until the following day! There are reasons for this, and being lazy isn't one of them. Far from it. Although I'm sure if I was a 'normal' mum, I'd still do these things just to get 5 minutes sit down with a magazine or glass of Prosecco in the evening!
The thing is, I have illnesses and some disabilities which cause me tremendous pain, even just washing up. So I find short cuts so I don't end up on my knees crying in agony, and to fit in more cuddle time with my kids. And I know there are tonnes of mums out there who have just vacuumed the front room to be confronted by a dust bunny that's rolled out from under a cupboard who has shoved it back under instead of picking it up or getting the hoover back out. I will always find shortcuts because I'm not a Stepford Wife, and I like to spend time hugging my children and snuggling up under blankets rather than dusting ornaments. These are the shortcuts that make us slummy mummies. We shortcut the horrible but necessary boring chores in order to do something more fun, because otherwise what is the point of life? I don't want my gravestone to say "her housework will be greatly missed, what a gorgeous show home she had!". If that makes me slummy then so what??
In the mornings I set my alarm clock to allow me an extra minute to get dressed into clothes. I may have a mad panic and have been known to put back on yesterdays clothes because all my clean stuff is in the bottom of a pile of clean clothes SOMEWHERE, but god knows where. So long as I am dressed! Despite my illness and disabilities I get my children to school in good time, in clean (ish) clothes, washed and brushed (not that you'd ever know with their wild curly locks and finger nails that attract dirt like those little magnet toys that attract iron filings). I have never, once, ever, and never will, leave my house in my nightwear. Not only are my PJs short ones so I'd freeze to death, but I also wear nighties and they are pretty knackered and entirely non-sexy. I set my alarm clock to include actually dressing in some form of clothes.
This 'mother' turned up not only in her PJs but without her false teeth apparently. And just so happened to 'not realise' and also managed to get the press there to photograph her in her full glorious PJs.
Why?? Surely it can't be pure laziness? It takes a normal fit person about 30 seconds to put some clothes on! You've managed to get your child washed and dressed, at what point would you think "hmmm, if I don't get dressed I'll get an extra sip of coffee"?! What about your poor child?! I mean, it's our job to embarrass our kids, let's face it, and I kind of enjoy it too! Telling them you love them and asking for a kiss in front of their friends is all part of the child/parent relationship! But do they not realise how humiliated those children must feel when all the other kids are whispering about the mum at the gate in nightwear and without their false teeth? I mean, it's hardly likely to make them proud to have you as a parent is it? No, humiliation only comes into play when you throw them their 18th or 21st birthday party and put up all the pictures of them naked in the sink up on the walls (and in my case, print outs of this website stating what they got up to! Oh they are going to hate me....!). But that's a normal rite of passage and they are actually adults then, not little children that could possibly get bullied by their peers. Could you show any more disrespect to your own child and the school that you chose to give your child the best education they can get, no matter what kind of area you are in. You chose that school to teach and help shape your child, should you not show the school some respect also? Why would you disrespect a place full of people that look after your children for 6 hours a day?! I'd be slipping them twenties and saying make sure they get one on one teaching, they deserve to go to Oxford one day! Regardless of class, neighbourhood, any of the things they blame, wouldn't you want your child to be the best they can be?
The infamous and mainly hated Katie Hopkins has already commented on this storyline (you can read her views HERE) and for once, and you'll probably never hear me say this ever again, I actually agree with her! Kids follow what we do, how will they ever learn to dress themselves if their parents can't be bothered??
What do you think? A big fuss about nothing? Do you wear your PJs on the school run? Or do you think the least we can do is have the self respect for ourselves, and respect for our children and their school, to turn up fairly clean and kempt, you know, just enough for a glancing eye?
It's not often that I talk about 'serious' subjects, or subjects in the news but I was really insulted that she was entitled a Slummy Mummy because that's an insult to us Slummies! Scummy Mummies more like, how dare they associate us and our odd dustbunnies with people who cant be bothered to get dressed and brush their teeth (or forget their teeth altogether!)
Until next time Slummies!
Hi there my lovely Chummies!
Where have I been, you may be wondering! Or of course, you may NOT be wondering. Well, I'm sure I don't need to explain the following sentence further - it was summer holidays! Ah yes, the lovely, joyful, calm, relaxing, refreshing break that is the summer holidays....
Actually, once the kids lowered their expectations and realised there would be no holidays abroad like their friends, and that we could only afford to go to the cinema once, they happily accepted it! As I have Fibromyalgia, my main summer holiday consisted of the kids staying up late and then sleeping in late, meaning I could stay in bed! Yippee! I know most Perfect Mummies were up early and doing baking and craft projects with their offspring but along with my Fibro friends and other non-perfect mums, we just bathed in the pure laziness of lying in bed, not having to get 3 children up at an ungodly hour to get ready for school, and not having to leave the house for any reason. It was great! Cuddles with the kids in bed? Check. Having random conversations about giant squids and the chance of the existence of Megalodons today? Check. Breakfast bars and crumbs in bed? Check! 3 children and 1 adult lined up in a King sized bed with their iPads on? Check! Oh yes, we know how to enjoy ourselves in this house!
After all, who wants to go and walk miles in the RAIN (the weather didn't get the memo about it being the SUMMER holidays) when you can barely walk and you can be warm and cosy and lazy at home? Whatever happened to letting your kids entertain themselves? Who said we have to take them on trips every day? Especially when your car won't start because your starter motor's gone, and even if it does start, it's been running on fumes for the last 60 miles? What's wrong with letting them sit in and actually play with the very expensive toys that they got for Christmas and birthdays?!
Not that they DID actually play with them so I sold them or gave them to charity shops. They didn't even notice!! How much money am I wasting every year?! But then what would they do if they didn't have piles of presents? Melt down and mentally scarred forever I'm guessing! Maybe I should just wrap big boxes with tiny pound shop toys in them instead? So they'd look impressive before they open them. I mean, I don't know what I'm going to do this year, they all want computer games but some of them are only available online! And as fab as Apple is, even they haven't come up with a way to wrap up an App and stick it under a Christmas Tree yet!
So my kids basically spent most of the holidays on computer games. And do you know, why the hell not eh? They've worked hard all year just so us parents can have the satisfaction of good reports and grades, so why shouldn't they relax how they want to? Id prefer them to do the things I used to do like playing in the fields and climbing trees and things, but to be honest Id just be scared that they'd either be chased by pedophiles, or fall out of a tree and impale themselves on a branch, so at least I know I kept my kids safe!!
I wonder if our parents worried about Pedophiles abducting us and impalings when we were kids and went out all day? Or if they were so grateful to be rid of us that they decided the benefits outweighed the risks? But personally, I'm rather partial to my kids (I know I'm biased but everyone knows mine are gorgeous and wonderful anyway, so that's good 😉), so I'd rather keep them under my feet. Plus they are reaching that age of pocket money.....and pocket money means chores....and chores means mini-slaves!! So all in all I enjoyed the holidays with the cuddles, the chilling out, and having drinks brought to me all day (they did charge me 10p a go though, so it's technically not slave labour, I worked out it put them on an average rate of £80 per hour which is pretty good!)
So that's where I've been. Surviving the holidays. Just like everyone else. Who has the energy to do holidays AND blog? Not me, that's who! I'm sure Perfect Mummy managed to write a full blog a day, full of baking and making things prettily with pretty children. But we just lived in our own sloth and fully enjoyed it! And it was over before we knew it. I was dreading them going back o school after all our time together. But to be fair, the ability to drop them all off and come home for a doze on the sofa isn't a BAD replacement.....and coffee with my friend means we can actually have a conversation without screaming and shouting going on (and that's just us!), so I guess I don't mind some parts of term times! But oh, the getting up at an ungodly hour, it's killing me already!! 😩
Next time, how to keep your home clean and tidy with 3 children!
I'm lying, there is no way to keep your home clean and tidy with 3 children! Ok, 5 excuses for why your house is a mess when you have unexpected visitors. Although I've now got it down to one: "excuse the state of the house, I have 3 children" pretty much covers it I think!
So, as the title suggests, we are only on day 3 of summer holidays. I don't know how we'll get through to be honest, based on the last three days!
Day 1 - I was awoken in the middle of the night by that familiarly horrible 'cough, cough, retch' sound of a child vomiting heartily. When I told my eldest to wait for a while after his tea before he went to bed (yes, he took himself to bed! Early! In the holidays!) or he'd be sick, I really didn't know how right I was! Sadly, he'd decided he couldn't possibly puke in his own bed, full with washable bedding, oh no! He had to throw up over the side of his top bunk bed. This resulted in his very nice solar system rug being covered in diced potatoes and noodles and being completely ruined, and also his brother and brothers bed being totally covered! Luckily his brother stayed asleep while I sponged him with hot, soapy water. The rug didn't make it though and went off to rug heaven, along with eldest's school leaving jumper, signed by everyone but chucked up on by himself!
Day 2 - We had a "plumbing" emergency. And I use the quote marks for a reason. Shortly after lunch I heard a freaked out child calling me from upstairs - "Mum, Mum! The bathrooms making a funny noise!"! Now I've not long had my boiler serviced and the guy managed to get air in the system so I assumed it was just knocking after he'd turned the tap on or flushed the loo, so I kept shouting up to flush the loo again or turn the tap on and off. Because there's not many problems that can't be fixed by switching things on and off again. But it didn't stop. So begrudgingly, I left my warm bum shaped indentation in my sofa and dragged myself upstairs. When I got there I heard this horrendous noise and I can only describe the noise as the noise you shortly hear before your boiler blows up, so I started to panic we were all going to be killed by a boiler! I started pressing buttons on the boiler, turned the water off, the radiators, pressed reset, turned all the knobs, all to no avail! So then I switched it off in panic. And the noise carried on! Like a high pitched drilling sound! So I followed this noise and it was coming from behind my sink! At this point all I could think was that my water pipe had gone pop and the high pitched noise was water being forced out of a very small hole and was seconds away from exploding hell and high water (sorry....😏) into my bathroom and we'd all die from shrapnel! Not that I'm a doom and gloom kind of girl or anything. So at this point, I realised I couldn't stop it, had never heard it, and was panicking. I knew there was only one thing for it - I needed a Dad! Dads can fix everything, right?! As mine was miles from me I sent the eldest round to the neighbours house to borrow their Dad. After he'd gone on his Dad-finding mission, I looked again and noticed the toothbrushes had started to vibrate. Not understanding how this could possibly come from a water pipe, I looked closer. And closer. And closer. And then I noticed it. The toothbrushes were vibrating violently against the beaker they were in. I pulled them out one by one and SWITCHED the electric toothbrush OFF!! Yes, that's right! Eldest had brushed his teeth and put his toothbrush away whilst it was still on! The noise was it jumping and vibrating around the heavy acrylic bathroom beaker! I had to send middle child to go and get eldest child who was just starting to tell the neighbour about the fact our boiler was about to explode, mortified, the message I gave was that I had fixed the problem! And that wasn't a lie, I HAD fixed the problem! My eldest was in so much trouble - oh the shame.....and now my neighbour will read this and realise that it was just a vibrating electric toothbrush rather than a plumbing emergency!
Day 3 - This was going fairly well. No dramatics, except I felt rough as sin. I'm generally sick anyway, as in ill, but a summer cold on top had left me feeling shaky and weak, because of how it affects my scarred lung from a previous bout of septic pneumonia and a lung operation. So when I finally finished the morning basics, I'd just fed the cats and was shakily trying to carry my sorry old body to the sofa so I could sit down before I passed out. At this point my black cat walked past and I stroked her. And then my hand stuck to her. Yes, that's right, stuck to her. All her underside and legs were covered in lots and lots of sticky gloop! As I yelled and shouted out "what's happened to the cat?! She's covered in gloopy stuff!" my youngest started to cry and started muttering that it wasn't her fault (which means it was), but that the cat had apparently walked right into a tube of gel toothpaste just as she was squirting it, and for some reason the entire tube of tooth gel had ended up in my cats luscious, shiny coat! As I was stuck to her, I had no choice but to carry her to the sink for a rescue operation! One handed I had to remove all the breakfast bowls from the sink, run the taps til they were warm and then get a towel out if the very bottom of the cleaning cupboard. Eldest had to come to do that and of course, as an 11 year old boy, he couldn't see any towels so proceeded to empty the entire contents of my cleaning cupboard out. All the while I was attempting to rinse the cat! Have you ever tried to rinse a cat?! Well I can tell you, they don't like it! Not one bit! However I did manage to bath my minty fresh cat! Then I needed to get this dripping wet mass of twisting fur and claws dry....lets just say the towel got near but did not manage to make it around the cat before the cat escaped. At the end of this debacle I had a kitchen covered in bubbles of toothpaste and clumps of black fur and water just about everywhere, my t shirt was dripping wet, and my hands had some new holes. The cat ended up under the table trying to lick herself dry. This took quite some time but her teeth were sparkling clean and she had minty fresh breath instead of slightly rotten fish breath! Her coat also smells lovely! Still a bit sticky but at least she's no longer foaming at the mouth when she cleans herself! Although Id like to point out that childrens toothpaste does not agree with cats tummies and shortly after, I had to clean up a different splattering of a rather more unpleasant kind! I don't know how I managed to crawl to the sofa after that but I'm thinking of not moving for at least 3 more days.
I can only wonder what delights await me tomorrow and for the rest of the school holidays. Let's not mention that one of my cats is due to give birth in the second half of the holidays.....we all just know I'm going to have to get involved in membranes, fluids and placentas don't we.....and no doubt bottle feeding every 2 hours around the clock. I can only hope she has a small litter!
How long is it until September?! 😱
Size really is relative isn't it?
Take, for example, the spider that's been living in my bathroom....
Last week I heard an ear piercing scream from the bathroom and hysterical crying. Rushing (ok, slowly sauntering - I don't do rushing..) to expect to see a child with at the very least a broken limb, I find my daughter inconsolable because of an apparently HUGE spider!
Now, I'm an arachnophobic and I have nearly crashed cars (not just ones I've been driving either!) because of our evil 8 legged freaks, I mean, friends! So to hear such a scream that I've never heard from ANY of my kids, I'm assuming tarantula sized at LEAST, if not CAMEL spider sized! So this week every time I've entered the bathroom I do so armed with a rolled up newspaper and a spray bottle of industrial strength spider killer.
This evening I hear frantic calls coming from my son who was at that point sat on the toilet, which was convenient as he crapped himself when a spider rolled across the floor....he shouts down to me "it's a big one Mum!!", youngest goes rushing up to see and starts shrieking "it's huge!". So I armed myself with spider killer and a facade of confidence and no fear, and psyched myself up ready to run screaming from the bathroom. I got up there and said to my youngest, "is it the one you saw this week?!" And she said yes. I was SHITTING myself! I am bloody petrified of big spiders! I shake and freak out! So I poked my head into the bathroom (son was still sitting terrified on the loo...ho hum...) pointing into a corner.
So was this a big hairy tarantula? A Brazilian Wandering spider?!? No. It was not. Although youngest hadn't exactly exaggerated the size, what she failed to tell me was it had the body the size of a petit pois and was one of those wispy, floaty, tumbleweed style spiders that just don't do anything, aren't big, fat or hairy, and just look like a little ball of hair rolling over the floor.
So I stood on it and double checked that was the one youngest saw. It was. I have no idea how she even saw the bloody wispy little thing!!
I'm still convinced there's a giant wolf spider or Wandering Spider in there though. Bathtimes aren't quite the relaxing soak they used to be.
So it's just goes to show, my kids thought this thing was huge, and whilst I acknowledge its leg span was fairly impressive, the fact it was 99.5% air made me class it as a not very big or scary spider. But thanks for that kids! Must go and take my beta blockers now......
Just once I'd like to come to bed to find that:
A) my bedroom hasn't had a state of emergency declared on it as a war zone as that's exactly what it looks like! It looks like 3 kids have been running round it and throwing everything I own all over the shop! Probably because they did!!
B) I can actually walk around the edge of the bed to the window without removing large random items and stools (of the seating variety, not of the Doctors samples variety - I draw the line at faeces in my room!!) out of the way
C) there isn't half a packet of custard creams crumbled into my carpet, cream side down
D) my bed is empty, still made, and there is no one dribbling, sweating and farting on my side of it
E) my nightie hasn't been randomly stuffed in duvet covers, pillowcases, youngest's wardrobe, or the latest favourite spot, the bathroom floor. Next to the cats water bowl. Which has been kicked onto said nightie
F) there is only one cat on my bed instead of three as I'm actually allergic to cats. I woke up this morning with swollen lips, and for the first and only time I compared myself favourably to Rosie Huntington-Whitely (because it's normally not entirely a fair comparison to be honest, but I had her lips today! Whoop!!!!). But who do I know with puffy watery eyes and a streaming nose??! Apart from me obvs...
G) I can just get into bed just once without spending an hour getting to it to end up sitting on biscuit crumbs and a coloured in duvet cover and sheet.
Kids, incase you read this one day - THIS IS WHY WE DONT HAVE NICE THINGS!!
Having just had to clean the bathroom at 1am (don't ask. Seriously, don't. My kids will never make it as serial killers if they keep leaving so much mess and DNA behind), I'm now going to browse Damn You Autocorrect, because there's nothing like giggling & snorting like a pig until you cry laughing and wake the kids up at 2am to chase away the insomnia....
Oh, by the way, I've a random question for my fellow Slummies - which degree would you choose for a late in life change of career? Health & Social Services, or forensic & criminal psychology? I'm thinking I'm better equipped for the latter. Goddamn it, why can't I just have a normal midlife crisis like everyone else and go bombing off down Route 66 and marry a random stranger in Vegas, on a motorbike after stopping by the tattoo parlour? Oh no, I choose higher education! I suck at being a rebel!
Once upon a time there was a Perfect Mummy.
She loved to clean and iron clothes all day long and when her Perfect Children came home she used to cook them a homegrown healthy bowl of vegetables with grilled fish and they ate it all up. When that was finished Perfect Mummy used to get the craft box out and they would hand make presents for all their friends and family, they were always impeccably made and never had glue or bits of tissue paper sticking out on badly coloured wood. They would all help Perfect Mummy clear up and then they would have a lovely bath where Perfect Mummy tested them on their Phonics and spelling, sometimes even some grammar! When bath time was finished, they'd all sit together patiently while Perfect Mummy helped with their maths homework and they would all read their reading books to her. After she took them upstairs for a bedtime story and a lullaby, she tucked them lovingly into their soft fresh sheets which smelled of fresh air and fairy clouds. When they were in Dreamland she would wash up and run a bath. She would then do some stimulating coursework and then retire to bed, after her full cleanse, tone, moisturise, and go to bed and sleep. For 9 hours. When she awoke the birds would be tweeting and she would look perfect and not have morning breath!
Then there was Normal Mummy. Normal Mummy would pick the children up from school every day, and go to McDonald's on the way home. When home she would look at her piles of clean and dirty unlaundered clothes and apply the Sniff Test for tomorrow's uniform, after using wet wipes to get any toothpaste, food or mud off. Normal Mummy would then run around like a headless chicken, washing up and checking book bags for letters. She was always surprised to find 3 weeks worth of letters and at least 3 school trips, which were all tomorrow. After hastily cobbling together packed lunches of varying quality of "food", outdoor wear and swimming gear for said outings, she would wipe her dripping wet sweaty face. She would then check the children all over and give THEM a quick Sniff Test, before deciding a wet wipe wash would do for now. At 7pm on the dot, Normal Mummy would then shout out "time for bed everyone!", and tell them to get changed and take themselves to bed, where one child could read their reading books to the other children as bed time stories. The children would then take themselves to bed in their fragrant sheets which were due for a wash, but not yet crunchy enough to warrant it. Normal Mummy would be desperate for a good soak in the bath but once she sat down she found she could not move and only had energy to move to find the bottle of wine and a corkscrew. She would drink directly from the bottle to save on washing up, and put a recorded Jeremy Kyle show on, with her feet up on the coffee table. Eventually she would go to bed at 2am after spending 4 hours building up to actually going upstairs to bed. She would look in the mirror at her sweaty face and mussed greasy hair and would mutter "meh" and walk back out of the bathroom. She would then trip over a million toys and step on at least 10 pieces of lego whilst muttering swear words under her breath on the long walk to bed. When she got in she would find at least one child in her bed who'd been farting and dribbling on her pillow. She would fall into a dazed sleep and awaken having mild cardiac arrhythmia upon the screeching tone of her 3 alarms, and stumble blindly out of bed.
One day Normal Mummy met Perfect Mummy.
She stabbed that bitch dead and from thereon in there were no more Perfect Mummies. Ever. Anywhere in the world. And all the Normal Mummies would laugh and laugh and drink wine forever!
And they all lived happily ever after.
While I was pregnant with my first child, before the HELL of parenthood hit me, there were many ideals I thought I'd easily achieve as a mum, many things I swore I would NOT do, all with that naive innocent perfect view of Johnsons Talc smelling babies and snuggles in blankets.
So for all of the mums-to-be out there who are smiling serenely as they await their first childs birth, I've made a list of things you need to know about life after birth so you can actually properly prepare for motherhood....
1. Your baby will not smell of Johnsons baby talc. They will smell of cheese from all the milk that runs down and gathers under their chubby little necks and you will find yourself constantly spot cleaning their neck in order to remove that cheesy smell, but it won't work. And if you can't smell cheese, you'll be smelling poo or the odour of dried saliva. Just keep a bottle of talc nearby and sniff that instead.
2. You will not sleep when baby sleeps, you will try and do chores. After 6 weeks of no sleep you WILL be sleeping when baby sleeps, but your baby doesn't want to sleep so much in the day, and your house will look like those ones on TV that are just piles of crap. If your crap makes it into an actual pile though, you will see this as a good days work. This will continue until they leave home. You will run out of excuses as to why your home is a mess ("Scuse the mess, we are decluttering/decorating/you've just caught me in the middle of cleaning haha"). Simply replace with "Scuse the mess, I have kids". People with kids won't notice, childless people will look horrified and double check the sofa for stains before they sit on it, and wipe their feet on the way out.
3. You WILL use TV as a babysitter. You will tell people they only watch it for half an hour as a treat. In truth there is no limit to TV because it gives you time to cook/clean/drink coffee/read a mag/have a shower/sit frazzled with a look of shock on your face unable to form any sentences. This will also apply to computer games as they get older. Infact they become your only bargaining tool. Allow your kids to get addicted to TV and computer games as early on as possible because the threat to remove them is the only way your kids will do as they're told.
4. Your idea of cleaning the house changes from changing bedsheets once a week to changing them when they become grey or crunchy or someone vomits on them. You won't be pulling sofas and TV stands out to hoover behind, you'll be kicking dust bunnies and random bits of paper underneath and behind them. Washing the floors becomes spot cleaning only the places your child has vomited on/spilt milk on/pee'd or poo'd on. The only surfaces you will dust are the TV area because that's the point of interest in the room and your mantra will be "if you can't see it, it doesn't exist". Window cleaning is dropped completely. Skirting boards will have a layer of dust on them. Tables won't be washed with hot soapy water and antibacterial spray, you will give them a quick swipe with a baby wipe. And you won't even care.
5. Baby wipes become your holy grail. They clean EVERYTHING. Tables, floors, work surfaces, toilets, food stains on clothes, cuddly toys and carpets. Even the dog on occasion for those of us stupid enough to think we can look after small human beings AND animals. Wet wipes also clean everyone in the house. Introduce yourself to the "wet wipe wash" for when you just don't have the energy to clean little people properly. Don't buy a baby bath as you will end up bathing them in the sink just because it has a plug hole and is easy to wash away and get to. The baby bath will just take up space and sit there mocking you.
6. Get used to being pee'd on, poo'd on, puked on and snotted on. You will constantly be covered in orange stains. You won't even know where they came from. You will desperately scrub at them with a wet wipe but it will never come out and this is the only time wet wipes won't actually clean something - accept this now to save your sanity.
7. Your dirty washing basket that used to be empty at least once a week? Hah! Not only will you NEVER see the bottom of that washing basket ever again, but it will become a dirty washing mountain. It will rival the clean washing mountain that lives constantly on your dining table because you never have time to put it away, and pfft, who eats at the dining table anymore? It's just a place to dump stuff that doesn't have a home. You will eventually end with mountains of crap and clothes everywhere and empty draws and cupboards. Live with it. You think you'll get it sorted when they start school. This expectation also will not happen. Because you'll be asleep or drinking super strong coffee whilst watching Jeremy Kyle and feeling happy because your house is definitely cleaner and tidier than the "guests" on the show. And you have more teeth.
8. Makeup. When your baby is new, you will insist on doing your hair and makeup when you leave the house. After a couple of months you'll be just down to a bit of powder and a coloured lip balm. After the first day at Primary School when you will get up early to apply a full face of makeup to show the other mums how organised you are and how bringing up children is a piece of piss, you will eventually stop wearing makeup and look like those mums huddled in the corner of the playground with pale unmade up faces, big grey circles, and mad, big hair that hasn't seen a pair of straighteners or tongs for a significant amount of time. There will be some mums that still have makeup. They only have one child, and cleaners - don't worry, they'll soon be just like you...
9. You will never read a book again. You won't sit still long enough and if you do you'll be nodding off. You will buy trashy celeb magazines as you don't have to concentrate on words and can just look at the pictures and be jealous. Try to remember these celebs have glam TEAMS of people to make them look that way, cooks, chauffeurs, cleaners and nannies. So when they are captured on camera looking shocking despite all these, you will feel smug. Because you can look shocking without a team of people helping you.
10. You won't even attempt to watch anything on the TV that doesn't have stupid songs and mental middle aged men prancing round and talking patronisingly to every small child they meet, until at least 7.30pm. Then you will watch shit programs that don't need concentration because you know a child will be downstairs every 10 minutes until they fall asleep in bed roughly at the same time as you nod off on the sofa.
11. You will read to your child every night like you said you would, but after a year you will start skipping through pages of the same book your child forces you to read every single night, just to get to the end quicker. When they start school you will tell them to read to themselves whilst you stare blankly at the TV screen, exhausted.
12. That freshly homemade and puréed wholesome food you cook every day and freeze so your child has a good diet, will eventually change to jars of baby food. This will then progress to porridge, bananas and finger sandwiches, with the occasional fish finger thrown in for good measure. That junk food you said you'd never poison their bodies with will become a treat used for bribery, or on evenings when you simply don't have the energy to do anything other than grunt and click on the Just Eat App. You then rely on school dinners for their hot meals so you don't have to cook in the afternoons and everyone will live on sandwiches for tea, with the occasional crisp butty making an appearance.
I know right - you're sitting here horrified and swearing you'd never do any of these, only BAD mums do this! But when you actually become a parent, bad mums are the ones who actually neglect their children, take drugs and are evil (and make up 95% of Jeremy Kyle "guests"). Anything in between perfect (haha....) and ACTUAL bad mums is wholly acceptable. And your children will end up wearing PJs all day on a Sunday and you will allow this simply because it means one less set of clothes to wash.
If you are STILL thinking this will never happen, this is where I tell you that it may, or may not happen. You will reach a point where you think maybe you want to play with your kids or take them somewhere and spend quality time with them rather than doing housework. And all those awful sounding things I've listed, that you are NEVER going to do, will simply happen and become a way to make sure you end up spending time with your kids, rather than having a show home. And you won't care that you look unhealthily pale, tired, and like you've been dragged through a hedge full of fluff and lint backwards and then been in the epicentre of a tornado, because your kids will remember their mental, crazy, funny mum and not remember that time they ran out of pants because you forgot to put the washing machine on.
Welcome to parenthood - the only club you'll ever want to be in, and never get out alive! Literally!
😘 X x X
When I received a message on Twitter asking if I would like to try free cake, the first thought I had was "what's the catch?", the second thought was "finally, an online cake shop!" and the third was simply "mmmm, cake!". I am nothing if not a cake connoisseur! Ok, well maybe not a connoisseur but I DO love cake! Which is unfortunate for my diet and weight but I don't drink, smoke, go out (ever - the problems of single parenthood!), what's left if not cake?! Nothing! That's what, absolutely nothing!
So the wonderful Emma at Bakerdays.com emailed and indeed confirmed that they would LOVE to send me free cake, which in my book makes them my new best friend! (I would like to point out that at this precise moment in time I'm currently sipping my diet cuppasoup on the 5:2 diet, which means I have to spend 2 days a week starving to death to allow me to eat cake all week. Just sayin....).
Now, you may (or may not) be wondering where I've been. I've been sick. As in quite poorly, and after only half of my diagnosis' of Lupus and Arthritis came through, and with a trapped nerve caused by a problem with the discs in my back, I've spent many weeks asleep with my feet up on the sofa whilst trying to get used to my new meds. It was while I was feeling poorly and full of holes from needles and bruised ribs from liver scans that a little box of goodness arrived on my doorstep! If ever there was a fantastic time for a surprise treat arriving in my little paws, this was it! A parcel, a surprise AND it was cake - how to pull me out of the doldrums!
Inside the little box was a list of ingredients, a little pack of Lovehearts, which are the cutest sweets in the world, a lovely little note and a cute as pie cake tin, with the luscious aroma of vanilla piping up out of the little air holes! When I opened the cute little tin, there was an even cuter little cake with writing on it in the style of The Bright Side (gorgeous tins, trinkets and presents by the Bright Side are sold HERE and are a particular favourite of mine, which made the cake all the nicer!)
The cake was the small Letterbox Cake (5 inch cake, 3-4 portions) which is normally sold at £14.99. It said 3-4 portions but I quickly wolfed it myself (although normal people who aren't cake fiends could reasonably expect to share it 3-4 way!). The cake was very moist, having been packed in a special packaging that keeps the cake fresh but ensures no condensation issues arise, the icing soft and just the right amount of sweet, and I was really surprised how nice a cake that had made it through our postal system was! It arrived in one piece, packed well but not over packaged, and had no postal damage.
Having had a good look around the Bakerdays website, there is a HUGE choice of cake and decorations, aswell as personalised and photo cakes. The size and price range range from the Letterbox cake I received, up to a whopping 12 inch cake, with recommended 40-55 portions, for a cost of £56.99 plus on this choice you get a free helium balloon! You can also buy a 7 inch Small Party Cake (10-12 portions) for £26.99 and a 9 inch Medium cake (18-25 portions) for £36.99.
Yes, they may be slightly more expensive than a bakery cake. BUT you can't send a bakery cake in the post and surprise people, you can't get such a massive, extensive & high quality range of designs and personalisation - you can even change the actual cake to chocolate chip, chocolate gateau, fruit cake, the choices are pretty endless! So for this service which is all done from the comfort of your armchair, I think the prices are pretty spot on!
A few years ago I was actually looking for an online cake service to send a surprise cake to my friend and there was no such thing, and I thought that someone was definitely missing a trick there. Bakerdays have quickly and extensively filled that niche, with good products of great quality and have an excellent customer service care.
I WILL be using this company myself because it's quite simply an amazing idea and something different than sending flowers to congratulate people, or even just to say "I'm thinking of you".
You can also find them on Twitter, Facebook or call them on 01623 867160. If you have any queries you can also email them on firstname.lastname@example.org.
Thank you Emma for sending me such a lovely gift and cake just when I needed a pick me up, and I wish you and the company a long and deserved successful future! (p.s. Any jobs as cake testers - think of me! 😘)
I shall just return to my diet cuppa soup and dream of cakes.....😍
Sometimes, you have one of THOSE days - you know the ones I'm talking about....where the kids have argued from the minute they got up, bickered with each other, whinged and whined "Mum, Satan poked me in the eye!", "Mum, Sensible tripped me over!", "Mum, Mental is LOOKING at me!!", then spent all the car journeys shrieking, making random screeches & weird noises, kicking the back of your chair, and you end up wanting to just beat them with sticks**?!?!
THEN you go and see them all fast asleep, all cute and snuggly, looking like little angels, with their soft pink cherub cheeks, and their little cute sighs and mutterings, and you just want to wake them up and cuddle them??
Nah, me either!
It took me all day just to get some peace! No WAY am I starting another whinge fest before I've had 7 hours sleep and copious amounts of coffee and am ready to fight another day!
** I don't beat my kids with sticks. Or rulers, or baseball bats, or anything. I don't beat them full stop. But for some reason they find it hilarious when I answer any "Why?!" questions with "because I'll beat you with sticks/put you in the cellar (we don't have a cellar)/poke your eyes out with rusty spoons or blunt sticks". Don't ask me WHY they find this funny, I can only assume they've inherited my warped sense of humour....my particular favourite is when I listen to their very long explanations of what they want me to buy them (hahaha, yeah right!) and how they will earn the money for it, or how I can sell my possessions to raise the money (and again, hahaha yeah right!), and I sit looking convinced and making the appropriate "uh huh" noises of someone who is taking their plea for toys very seriously indeed, only to get to the end and just say "well, that was a very convincing pitch you put in there bud, but...nope! Never gonna happen. But excellent speech!". They laugh and laugh and laugh....then they realise I'm being serious..... 😘
I'm all for that "loving sleeping in fresh sheets" thing but as a person with disabilities:
A - it's a bloody nightmare actually changing them and being stood up actually accidentally inside the duvet cover with the duvet isn't particularly helpful when you're on the highest dose of medication for anxiety!!!!
B - because I sleep upright using a prop and 4 very specific pillows, all different from the other, first I need to make sure I get them back in the right order and THEN you only finally find yourself really getting comfy and moulding into the pouffed up pillows roundabout the time it takes to need to change the sheets again!
Still, if changing sheets is challenging (and now I'm hurting all over and my bed isn't comfy cos it's all pouffed up!), taking off screwed in stair gates is enough to virtually kill me. I mean it did. I fell over (which sounds funny and quite probably looked hysterical, and if it was my friend I'd be absolutely pissing myself laughing), but being physically and chronic-painfully challenged really REALLY hurt, much less the fact I nearly stabbed myself with the screwdriver when I fell. When I finally dragged and heaved my huge sorry backside back up again, the problem was that that there was "hidden screw syndrome". This means there's a screw, but it's hidden, and when you put it in you thought "I must remember how that hidden screw thingy works for when I take it off, I'll keep the instructions safe!". Instructions went in the bin along with most of my memories after the coma! Yes I had a coma. So what? It's the latest thing I've heard, great for the skin, all that ventilated oxygen keeping your lungs working and stuff....
Anyhow, the gate was hanging on by one hidden screw. One. Hidden. Bastard. Screw. So I attempted with my feeble body strength to just yank the gate off, whilst screaming - it was much like hearing a woman in labour actually, yanking at it and screeching between gritted teeth "will you just get out you little bastard!!!!" (ok I didn't say it in labour - we were all thinking it though!!)
In my amazing strength, I managed to yank it off the wall, so hard (haha) that there was no damage to the wall or to the fittings! So I put it up for sale! And now I know how to word adverts to sell things really quickly! Just be really honest! I did however only sell it for £5, and the sweat and tears put into it...the kids learned some new words....and wondered why mummy was trying to kill the gate (it was like I was attempting a prison escape).
And why did I do this? Why decide to do this after the hell of changing my sheets?
Because it has been screwed into my daughters bedroom door frame for 3 years. For all 3 years it has failed to keep her inside it. At first she climbed it like a little monkey climbing a tree. And later she just learnt to open it. She's long outgrown it but it's one of those jobs you never get round to doing.
But for the past 3 bloody years, every single evening, all I hear downstairs is the incessant "clank. Clank" of Satan banging it against the wall. 3 years of being slowly driven insane. So I did it through anger!!!! It gave me courage and strength!
And now I really hurt all over and my bed smells nice but isn't comfy and my bum hurts cos I fell over backwards and this none too light body weight fully landed on the arse area.
As a lesson to us all, stair gates are evil. Cursed. You can bring them home any time you like, but they will never leave....
Sorry, went all Hotel California there. The scariest song in existence. Apart from Zombie where the lead singer of the Cranberries does a very good impression of a seagull. Soz. Love the Cranberries, but she DOES sound like a seagull!
I shall leave you with a picture of my ad should you ever wish to get rid of a piece of cursed furniture - I'd hardly finished writing it when it was sold! I pray the dark side inside Satan was actually in her cursed stair gate and when it leaves I can rename her AngelCakes! 😊
When the only food left in the cupboard because Mummy's been too busy making the bills match the bank balance, has fresh chillies in it, cut into minuscule pieces and you eat it anyway......when you're allergic to bloody chillies - THAT!!
Itchy, stingy, itchy, stingy......that'll be a nightcap of two piriton then....😣
Is it just me, hey it probably is, but do you find yourself still surprised every time you have an allergic reaction to something even though you've always been allergic to it?
Every spring I spend a month in confusion with a 4 week cold, which of course turns out to be hayfever, which I've been suffering from since I was 14. And that was a LONG time ago! A very long long time.....oh god, I think I might cry! I'm OLD!! 😭
Oh, nope, false alarm, allergy eyes!
My favourite allergy (sarcasm) is the one to those anti sickness pills you tuck down the side of your mouth to dissolve. I have daily anti sickness meds, but when I've got a "vomit-on", being the only person able to look after the 3 kids, 5 cats and 1 stupid dog (who eats Lego. I don't know how many calories are in Lego but I've put him on a Lego diet - i.e. put them in a different room - he's lost shit loads of weight! True fact!), and being phobic of vomiting as I've been known to pass out when vomiting and have choked on my own vomit & nearly karked it, had concussion, black eyes etc, I will do ANYTHING to not vomit. So I resort to these little dissolving pills because they carry on working even when you're actually spewing, but I have an immediate allergic reaction to them. Last time I took them I finally fell asleep with one tucked up against my gum and woke up with a rectangle mouth. I mean, my lips were SO swollen, they were no longer the cute little rosebud lips I had (hahaha yeah right.....), but we're actually so swollen they were rectangular and I couldn't open my mouth!
At least it only lasts about a week now, when it first happened my lips all split open like sausages (I'm not even exaggerating here!) and had that see-through plasma type stuff (er, plasma?) oozing out of them. I was abroad. So off we went to a Spanish hospital where I was expecting my then (now ex) father in law to waffle on in perfect Spanish to the A&E doctor, you know, what with them living there and everything, but instead managed to only get across pointing at my lips and saying "normal poco, now grande". Which to be fair I could've done but if I'd gone in I'd probably have come out minus a kidney or something. So I had to have a jab, and in Spain they clearly hate people because they don't jab them nice and gently in the arm, oh no!! They manhandle you until you're lying facedown on the medi-bed thinking "what the fuck has this got to do with my li......OW! Holy bollocking hell", because they just jab you in the arse. No warning, no "little scratch", no word of anything, they just stab and press. No gentle inserting of needles, when I mean stab I mean with the ferocity of someone stabbing the blonde girl to death in a horror film!
Took 4 weeks for my lips to return to normal and for the massive reaction to the injected drugs which kindly came up in vicious spotty lumps all over my face so, to go. I refused to go out looking like that and the sun made it hurt so I stayed inside til they were gone. Which was 4 weeks. Which considering it was a 4 week holiday was a bit of a bummer! Scuse the pun! 😂Ah god I'm shite at jokes!
On that note, my eyes are now streaming and my lips are tingling so I'm gonna go take every antihistamine concoction that doesn't cause death or major organ damage and hope I don't wake to rectangular lips tomorrow! Because I have to leave the house! I could just slick some gloss on and go for the trout pout but unfortunately my lip skin (lip skin? Is it called that?!) cracks and means nothing can touch them. I have to drink coffee through a straw without my lips coming into contact with the heat through the straw. It's really difficult and the only time I achieve a skeletal look.
Ooh I just remembered, I need to go and order 80 toilet rolls! Not sure how that linked there apart from squashy, pillow like lips/loo rolls? Altho my lips aren't quilted and don't have puppies on them. Anyhow, must dash! Goodnight (day) my fellow Slummies!
You know like, now we're all grown up and stuff, we get ADULT acne (they don't tell you about THAT teenagers!!!)...and we all know what we are supposed to do - keep it clean, don't touch it, gently exfoliate, do not squeeze, use a "gentle" spot gel blah blah blah?!
But then you get one of these THINGS slowly building up on the side of your nose. It gets achy and throbs more throughout the day and you expect to go to the bathroom, pop it out (*retch* - sorry) and that'll be that? But then you get to the mirror & there's a great big hard lump under your skin with the teeniest ever little whitehead at the peak?
You know you're supposed to leave it. But you think (again...) that if you just squeeze hard enough, the whole lot will come out and in 2 days it'll be fine. Wrong! That never ever happens. Ever. So I squeezed and this pathetic bit of whitehead came off. But the lump underneath was so big and so hard that there's no way it's coming out of a mere pore, this is scalpel territory! However, especially being the clumsy person I am, and not medically trained, even I wouldn't be stupid enough to take a scalpel to my face (it did cross my mind though). So I went through all my spot treatments and realised none of them really work. Not really. But I figured it just lacked that oomph and realised that what I needed to do was put EVERY SINGLE spot treatment on that I own! All of them! I had the alcohol ones first (fastest drying), then the serum ones, the ones that sting like things that sting, and all smothered by the gentle hydrating yet peeling effect one. On top of all the chemical peel ones of course.
So now one of two things is going to happen in the morning (er in a couple of hours). Ok, it's only a couple of hours away so make that 3 things!
1 - it will stay exactly the same and spend a week being gross before it starts to scab and slowly fade to a scar.
2 - my spot with be Bazooka'd by all the treatments and actually GO like it says on all of the packets and tubes.
3 - a large chunk of my skin is going to peel and fall off, drawing attention by the massive flaps of peeling skin left behind, which I will pull off too far and make myself bleed. And underneath this horrendous chaos, Mount Vesuvius will still be there, growing by the minute, ready to blow (through the layers of clotting plasma and flaps of skin that is) and it will take at least 2 weeks for it to die down.
From experience, it's likely to be number 3.
Why??? Why do I do it??!! Does anyone have a spare balaclava at all???
This is because I didn't have teenage acne isn't it? It's some kind of karma! I also have 2 white heads on my eyelids so have been having lots of eye watering moments trying to get rid of those - I honestly think those and the ones up your nose are worse than labour. Honestly. Id rather go through labour (being 10 years younger and with some really good drugs!) than these evil spots.
Being a grown up is a bit pants actually! I think I'd rather be a teenager! At least back then we had hope...... 😣
P.s I also learned, don't try to stab an extra big hole in your face to get rid of your spot with a big pin. Doesn't work, lots of blood and a pin being stuck in your face. Wasn't one of my better plans.....
Just wondered, theoretically, how inappropriate it is to store all the glue in the fruit bowl, under the bananas, on a scale of 1 to 10?! With number 1 being the most inappropriate and number 10 being the least inappropriate?
I would vote for 10 actually - I can't think of a better place to store harmful substances - the children seem to be physically repelled by some form of forcefield that radiates approx 2 feet around the area of the fruit bowl. I buy fruit every week. See those 2 brown bananas? They were kept out of the other 8 bananas I just put into the compost, to aid with ripening the 10 NEW bananas, which I'll be composting next week. No one ever goes near the fruit bowl. Everything goes to die in that bowl. It's basically a bowl of death and decomposition. It's a fruit bowl of doom.
Now you'd be right to assume that really, I should give up buying fruit as what is the point wasting money and food to sit and watch it slowly decompose. But oh no, the minute I DONT buy fruit, all hell breaks loose and I get demands for fresh fruit and told how unhealthy it is to not have fresh fruit in! I buy fresh fruit every week and watch it rot to mulch. Every. Single. Week.
I personally hate fruit, I'm more of a veg kinda gal. If there is literally nothing edible left in the house (the day before shopping day) and I'm literally so hungry I could eat an actual, real, live horse, I may, just may, consider eating one of the 10 very brown bananas. But only if I'm about to faint from hunger. And if there's no milk left so I can't even have cereal....
Plus the bonus side is if the kids were to actually get to the glue, the chances are they might glue their mouths shut so they can't argue with each other! Win win I'd say! But the layer of rotting bananas mean they will never, ever, in a gazillion years, find the glue. Especially now there are grapes in front of it too! You can put all your valuables in the fruit bowl, not only will the kids not go near it but you NEVER hear of burglars ransacking a fruit bowl! Well, it's not a known burglar activity anyway, they usually go for drawers, cupboards and jewellery boxes! My jewellery box is full of baby teeth and random badges the kids want to keep....but pop all your goodies under the glue in the fruit bowl and not only will you confuse and stun the burglars (unless they're really hungry and decide to eat 10 rotting bananas) and create a huge security safeguard, but your kids will never again spark a hunt for your diamond earrings or favourite bracelet after they've been playing in your bedroom!!
Now THAT'S smart parenting! 😉
I keep coming to bed with no chaos upstairs, and its really confusing for me! I mean, its great that its tidy and the kids haven't spent 2 hours running round Lord of the Flies style trying to kill each other, but on the flip side - I've got no writing material!! 😱😱😱😱
Although Satans tantrum this morning was hysterical - if I hadn't have been sat on the loo I may well have had to reach for the Tena Lady (3 big kids ok??!! You do it and tell me you don't have issues when you cough, sneeze, laugh or bounce on a trampoline, not that I've tried that in the 5 years since I last tried it, that was a bit embarrassing. Ahem!!)
All hell broke loose and Satan started screamed with every ounce of her being, I thought someone was being murdered, I jumped (slowly sauntered) off the loo and flew (slowly sauntered) to the top of the stairs to find out what on earth could be causing this horrendous death-scream!
Did her brothers hit her? Steal her coat? Play Miss Piggy with her school shoes? Pinch her, punch her, pull her head, take the mickey out of her, steal her toy, knock her over, did she hurt herself? What could possibly be the cause for such non-stop loud screaming?
Apparently it was because her brother was looking at her.
Yes, looking at her.
Not giving her a Chinese burn, not pulling her round, not teasing her or pulling pigtails, but merely stood there ready to get in the car and calmly watching youngest and middle child putting their shoes on.
Not even looking at her "the wrong way" as he's been accused of before.
Just looking at her.
She then, 5 year old Shirley Temple style (Google her, no I don't remember her from the first time round, the same as I did not get evacuated during the war - thanks Mental for that question), stood and stamped her feet and screamed at the top of her lungs again!
So I did what all normal parents would do and screamed back at her. She screamed louder! Seriously, it was the loudest I could go, god only knows what the neighbours thought, although I have no pride or dignity left anymore...she carried on screaming.
Normally I would've out-stubborned her but it was late! We needed to go to school!
I had to use every fibre of will power and teeth gritting to politely ask eldest "please just go in the front room a moment so youngest can put her shoes on without you looking at her" whilst giving him the wink and hoping HE didnt kick off. But for once he calmly did so, shoes were put on, coats were on and we were off.
We drove in silence - I felt like a kettle boiling inside....I've no idea where she gets her stubbornness from.....
Dropped them at school. Picked them up after. Went home. All in silence.
And then, when we were home safe and didnt need to leave the house again, she was MINE! I waited til shoes were off, hands washed and then said very calmly "well young lady, for your show of screaming this morning, you're banned." I had a little smile on my face & had to resist sticking my tongue out and saying "ner ner nee ner ner - you thought YOU'D won but you are the looooooooser!!"
She stayed fairly calm and then asked what she was banned from. I told her, everything. Just everything. I awaited the screaming and shouting and "I hate you" and stamping. And I waited. And waited.
When I looked back she was sitting at the table happily accepting her punishment and drawing pictures!?! 😱
I had waited all day, simmering! I waited for her to scream and shout and NOT get her own way because we needed to be somewhere! She was supposed to feel like she'd done wrong and was now facing the consequences! Not sitting singing to herself and being all happy!?
How do they do that?!? I'd been sulking all day like a little kid and SHE was the one that out-calmed me!?!?
She was well behaved and trotted off to bed without being told to, gave me a goodnights kiss, and didn't even once come down the stairs! What is this?! I feel like I'M being punished!
Well, fine! I'm going to stomp off to bed now then! She's laying there looking all angelic, with the room all tidy, you couldn't get further from the screaming harridan of this morning!
Kids - clever enough to outsmart parents every day....I'm so proud 😉
D'ya know, I'm pretty sure that when the sleep scientists suggested us insomniacs take a nice relaxing bath before bed (because we need specialists to work that out for us obviously), they didnt envisage that whilst running the said relaxing bath filled with aromatherapy oils to help you de-stress & sleep the night away, that you would be plunging the crap (quite literally) out of the overflowing toilet.
Because apparently some tiny lumberjack had decided to put a bloody LOG down our loo of such epic proportions that it needed an axe to chop it in half!! As I didn't have an axe handy it was left to me, bleach (for my hands) and a trusty, although fairly ineffective, plunger!
Thank you son, its always such a pleasure having this added scenario to my night time routine of tip-toeing through the Lego landmines, 1,000 small toys and various cats tails! As in real cats actual tails......we took in a gorgeous wee kitty tonight who is tiny and vulnerable but much like Shreks Puss in Boots, is also a lethal killer! According to the other 4 cats and the dog.
So tonight I have 3 cats upstairs with me - I believe they're trying to trip me up & kill me so they can take over the world, but that could just be paranoia - it would've been 4 but she was too scared to move & is hiding in the corner of the windowsill, plus the dog who also tried to get up here too. But she's so teeny and sweet! I suppose its not really an insult calling these 3 pussies is it?! 😂Ah good job I never wanted to be a comedienne eh?
Right I'm going in for the third plunging of the toilet with washing up liquid to lubricate (just how the hell did this even FIT inside a child's stomach if it won't go round a U bend?!?), if this doesn't work, I'm gonna start making them use litter trays! Ok, I'm not, but its kinda tempting.....please please let me be in my hot relaxing bath in the next 5 minutes....please.....
Snow day. That's all I need to say isn't it really?
Took me an hour and 15 minutes of skidding and sliding my Fiat 500, AKA the Snowmobile, to leave my house and go 200 metres round the corner in the direction of school, just to eventually turn round and come home. Traffic was a standstill all day. It's almost like the council have completely missed the news about storm Juno which has been ALL over the media!
Kids have been demanding. That's all I can say.
One broke a leg off the table so there was a whole to-do with superglue, nails and hammers, and I eventually resorted to duck tape and begging my mum (I'm 40!!) for financial assistance to purchase a new table!
The dog ate the food that slid off the table when it collapsed.
I had to put out my wheelie bin through the "dog turd zone" which I obviously normally scoop up first but as it was covered in three inches of snow I ended up using a shit shoveller to poke snow every step until I hit brown. Scooped most of it away and got the wheelie bins out before finding, somehow, yet more dog turd in the dry patch under the wheelie bins! How he got it under there I don't know!
The children have driven me mad. After a mad play in the snow I popped coat and gloves on the conservatory heater.
When I smelled a distinct burnt toast kind of smell I realised the heater was on full and now the coat and gloves have a lovely griddled effect of brown lines on them. Oops. They are kinda crunchy too.
I had to send the kids to bed early, they've literally done my head in, totally beat me and worn me down today, but they're mess-arsing about up there and the tension I'm feeling now is like a tightly stretched elastic band being twanged - eventually, it's going to snap. And it's going to HURT.
The fact one child just came downstairs - to which I duly warned her through gritted teeth that bad bad things would happen if she didn't trot back up them quick smart - and said the boys were keeping her awake all wide eyed and innocence, but then went back upstairs with a large plastic sword, tells me it might be a long evening.
Snow - it's been wild. Now eff off and just let the rain back! Please god just rain it all away!!! 😱 (If you can't see that emoji, it's the one from the famous painting, The Scream. That's me right now.)
One day off school is quite enough, please please don't make it be two! I had a whole day of putting my feet up planned!
So I pull the covers back on my bed, and this. Why???!!! Why can't I just go and get in my own bed to sleep without an obstacle course??! And where did the Santa hat come from, the Christmas stuff is in the garage?! And I haven't seen that Legoland medal for at least 2 years!!
Why do I have to clear a footpath to my bed every night? Shall I tell what's around my bed right now? I mean, stuff that isn't mine, that doesn't belong there and that was NOT there at approximately 6pm tonight!? Well, I'm gonna tell you!
A pink dressing gown
A princess blanket
A portable DVD player
A glove (just the one)
A pair of animal slippers
A board book with a steering wheel on it
50,000 Lego pieces! (Approx.)
A bottle of water
A large cuddly Olaf
A medium Hamleys bear
A Nintendo 3DS and game
A "guess who" game board (just the one, who needs 2?!)
A buzz Lightyear dress up helmet
Various My Little Bloody Bastard Ponies with mangled hair!!
A tin of moshi monster figures
A large pirate ship
A different pink dressing gown
3 Ben10 toys
White colouring pencils (because why throw away useless inventions when you can store them on my bedside table?!)
A giant Minecraft sword behind my pillows
My kids seriously have too much stuff, why is it here, why? Is it not enough that the rest of the house is overtaken with small people's stuff and animals stuff?!
This is why I don't go to bed til 2.30am. I just can't face trawling through the stuff to play "guess where Satan hid your nightie tonight Mum! Is it in your pillowcase? Stuffed inside your duvet? Or perhaps wedged down the back of the bed?!" She could at least give me a Phone a Friend option!
Oh, just found a small grey sock...
This is like the most un-fun, shittest ever treasure hunt! And I get to deal with it daily. DAILY.
If she didn't look so sweet and angelic when she was asleep....(.....in my bed....)...
Ah well, calm will come my pretty....one day, one day soon, the bin bags will come, you won't know when, you won't know how, but it will all just disappear! Poof! Just like magic! And that day is sooner than you think....oh I cannot wait for that day....I've been stockpiling bin bags every week....there's at least 30, hidden away, all ready......
Sleep tight my pretties!
One of my boys trotted past me today casually asking if anyone needed the loo....this is boy talk for him going into the bathroom for several hours until the hall outside resembles a doctors waiting room, full of cystitis sufferers...
Anyhoo....in his hand he had his iPad - reading material of course, typical lad - when I noticed behind the iPad he was attempting to hide a packet if crisps....
"So, you're off to the loo then son? So, what's the packet of crisps for?"
"I'm taking them with me Mum"
"But you can't do that son, that's just gross and horrid!!"
"Why is it?"
"Because you can't poo and eat at the same time, that's just disgusting!! You can't take them, why would you WANT to eat and poo at the same time?!"
"Well, I will probably be a long time and I thought I might get hungry!"
And off he trotted with his pack of crisps while I was sat with my nose pulled up doing that piggy face you do when you're grossed out!
2 hours later I forced him out as me and the other kids were hopping around in various stages of bladders about to burst. When I got in there, he had a stool next to the loo set up with a handful of toys, a glass of water and an empty crisp packet! 😱What, was he having a bloody picnic in there??
Why???!!?? Is it a boy thing??! Or just a gross thing?! Should I be hiring a child psychologist to find out why he fancies a meal and a bit of playtime whilst sat in a stinking bathroom?! I mean, I was retching at the aroma he'd left behind him, the thought of EATING in that stench, well, just no really, just NO!!
It made me feel all faint. He was so nonchalant, like having supper on the loo is the most normal thing in the world! Is it??
Personally I'd rather sit on my sofa in my delightfully fragranced front room where we all wear clothes and there are no poo particles floating around, but hey, that's just me!
Boys - are they ALL weird?!
So, for tonight's episode in the "Is Mum going to go to bed uneventfully?" show, you will see the answer is a resounding no.
After spending all day boil washing (who, OCD, me?!) and "super washing" my bed sheets after last nights accident (not mine!!!), I had it all made and fresh (ah I love a freshly made bed), with bed mats underneath the other side in the general area that people seem to pee and puke in.
I came upstairs to find a child in bed who promptly jumped up awake sobbing that she couldn't find Freddy (Freddy the teddy...she's more imaginative than me. I had a cuddly brown dog who I called Brown Dog). Personally I wasn't about to walk into the boys Room From Hell to see if her brothers had it as I wouldn't make it in there without severe Lego foot damage.
So after promising to source another Freddy to replace the Freddy that wasn't even hers (but possession is 9/10ths of the law and she'd stolen it off her brother two years ago, he went with her everywhere), and tucking her in with London Bear (a bear we got in London. I told you, imaginative...), I pulled back my bed ready to get into.
When I came back from the bathroom there was a cat in my little triangle of bed. All curled up cosily like a little prawn. But not just any cat. Princess the Bengal Cross rescue. With an attitude from hell. I am physically scarred just from attempting to stroke her as she walked past. She communicates in hisses and yowling and likes to beat the living shit out of anything that walks past. Her collar came off 10 days ago. I'm too scared to put it back on, although I did try for a good 5 days.
So I stroked her, which she allowed, and then really gently tried to put my hands under her to shift her, all the while muttering soothing words to her in the hope she'd stay calm. She did not stay calm. She got the right arse and shot off with a yowl that sounded pretty much like "well, fuck you!". She can sound kinda harsh.
I turned around to get changed for bed, and when I went to get back in bed she was bloody right in the same spot the stubborn little git! So I had to go all through the rigmarole again just so I didn't end up dying on the floor of a jugular vein ripped open by a mental cat! She sat across the bed and hissed at me as if to say I was the shittiest bit of shit that she could ever have the misfortune to stand on and that she would quite simply not piss on me if I was on fire.
As I got comfy, under the evil glare of Princess (oh the bloody irony, a sweet, girly princess hah!), I realised I'd left my meds in my med bag on my cupboard and hopped out of bed to get them.
As I went to get back into bed, you've guessed it, she was laid in the same bloody spot all curled up asleep, like I hadn't hopped out for only 10 seconds! This time she would take none of my sweet talking and just hissed and spat at me as I came near. So I had to take my courage and go in for a quick poke of the behind to which she jumped approximately 3 feet in the air yowling and hissing and smacked me one on my offending pokey finger before going over to perch on my daughters head, glaring at me.
Some of you may know I have some disabilities and health problems. I use a metal bed prop to allow me to sleep upright at night (back and lung op, nearly died, very boring!) and she is currently behind it. She's right behind where I am sitting up in bed.
I'm a bit scared to go to sleep. Did you ever see that film where cats come and steal your breath and kill you?! She could be lying there behind me just waiting! What if I fall asleep and flail my arms around, she'll attack them and I'll end up with accidentally slashed wrists!!
She is one scary psycho cat. No wonder her owner was getting rid of her! Gets on with cats she says (she tries to gouge their eyes out every time they look at her), gets on with dogs too she says (yeah, cos the dog is bloody petrified of her!), gets on with kids she says! Well she IS slightly better with the kids, it's as if she knows she can't do too much to them or I'll be, well, deeply unhappy!! Although Mental is sporting a scratch from stroking her for apparently 2 seconds longer than she required!
I do feel sorry for her, she's obviously been passed from pillar to post and is just misunderstood. Or maybe really premenstrual? Or she could just be a mardarse!? But I'm way too scared to get rid of her so I'll let her stay I guess.....I've worked out she likes cheese so we are living on a mutually beneficial bartering system. Otherwise known as blackmail...I give her the cheese and no one gets hurt and I will be allowed 3 strokes. Anymore have to be bought with cheese and salmon treats and even then there is a strict limit before she takes herself off upstairs to bed. My bed.
One day I'm just going to come to bed and just actually get into it without dealing with any disasters! Or psycho cats! Maybe.
Right I must go, I'm erm just popping downstairs to check up on our cheese rations...
As we have done with Christmas, its back onto the rounds of birthdays - Mental has his in only a couple of weeks.
There was never any point to writing how to survive and enjoy Christmas with Kids because there is a reason people drink alcohol on Christmas Day, and that is to survive it! (I don't drink often so I go more for the wide eyed rocking and bibbling in the corner come 3pm). Daytime drinking is a widely accepted Christmas tradition and I can't help thinking it was invented by a parent, one who had battled sharp plastic packaging which cut into them so much they ended up looking like they'd tried to slash their wrists on purpose (which may even seem a fairly fun thing to do when faced with box upon box of sharp plastic packaging), used every tool available to snip through those stupid plastic coated metal twisty wires, unravelled the new Eco friendly twisted cardboard ties (you know, the ones they wrap 30 times round a rectangle piece of black plastic so tightly that you can't cut it), pinged a thousand small accessories across the room from the plastic moulded packaging, and battled with 40 different backs of toys, with 20 different screw sizes, requiring 20 different screw drivers only to find a butter knife is the only way to unscrew them, and tried to find 10 different sized batteries to go into the toys, all of which required a 30 page booklet on how to put together and which sticker goes where. I actually spent 2 hours building Satans much coveted (demanded) pony castle with slide, which required 5 hands to build and got thrown across the room more than once with a screaming tantrum (yes, from me - I told you, I don't drink!). Most annoyingly after finally biting my lip to shreds and gritting my teeth, I triumphantly build the thing, all in one piece, I felt like I'd just gained a degree, that's how proud I was of myself. Unfortunately none of the pieces quite fit properly and it now looks like its been picked up in a tornado and dropped on a pony from a great height:
So THAT, ladies and gents, is why people drink alcohol on Christmas Day. People think its to get through the day of seeing the relatives they only see once a year, the ones they want to argue with and, occasionally, punch, to get through making the "perfect" Christmas dinner for 20, when you're used to pinging a microwave ready meal for one so have no cooking ability or experience to call on to make this "perfect" meal and feel that alcohol will somehow make you Gordon Ramsey - you know, like when you've been drinking and suddenly feel that urge to sing at karaoke and think you ACTUALLY sound like you can sing, despite evidence to the contrary, shown by lack of pop star status and other people's bleeding ears.... No, alcohol on Christmas Day was invented by PARENTS!! And its well deserved after spending months, even a whole year (January sales make great Christmas presents for the following Christmas!) preparing the perfect Christmas, with the perfect amount of magic and wonder. It takes more effort than lifting an entire car by yourself and more will power than a chocoholic on a diet at Willy Wonkas factory, it takes discipline, and stamina.
So much effort is put into it that come birthdays, we are done! So how to make a fab birthday for your little one without actually making much effort or spending tonnes? There are certain things that will make kids happy on their birthday, all the fuss is purely parents putting pressure on themselves, and there's no need, kids know they had their magic quota for the year at Christmas! They don't expect anywhere near as much as we do of ourselves. So here are my top tips of how to keep your child happy on their birthday/birthday on a budget/birthdays using as least energy as possible!
1. Kids want to see big boxes of presents. They really don't care what's inside them, its all about shallow appeal at this young age. So instead of spending money you don't have on expensive presents, just make a bit more effort on making the presents look good. Put every present in a bigger box before wrapping nicely and putting ribbon around it and add a bow; to be SUPER impressive, buy a nice patterned cardboard storage box for them to keep their new toys in - mine have pirate boxes - as its well known that kids love to play with boxes! So give them a box! Inside put any dodgily wrapped pressies that are such weird shapes that they end up looking like a 1 year old with an attention deficit order has wrapped them (we are giving PRETTY looking presents, impressive looking presents, not presents that look like a giant wrapping paper cat has hacked up a giant wrapping paper furball). Voila, nice packaging, a box to play in, AND dodgily wrapped pressies inside! What more could a child want?!
2. Kids don't want expensive presents. Well, strictly speaking that's not true, they want the world, but if you can't give them the world then give them something messy or noisy instead! Playdoh sets are the best for kids, they won't be able to close their mouths due to the shock of being given something that will make a mess, by their own parents! They're used to a family "friend" or family member who takes great pleasure in buying them messy or noisy toys, (this is purely because they hate you, or else why?!?!), but the kids are used to these slowly edging closer to the bin until one day they just disappear....
3. Quantity not quality! Lots of cheap presents are always going to be much better received than one or two good quality items!
4. You don't need to do an expensive birthday party or pay a fortune to have a soft play place party, quad biking party, paint balling party, baking party, teddy bear making party, princess party or bouncy castle party; nor do you need to spend hours of your life preparing buffet food only to spend the next three hours sweeping it up off the floor and scrubbing it off the walls. Simply tell your child they can choose 2 or 3 friends, take them to the cinema, or bowling, or a soft play area (depending on age range), and either eat cheaply at the places or promise a McDonalds on the way home. And let them actually SIT in there to eat instead if going through the driveway, then back home for the cake!
5. Get a cheap cake. If you're feeling adventurous get one of those flat edible toppings of their favourite character. Don't bother spending £80 + on a handmade 3D Frozen castle, a 3D ninja turtle head or Mario - your kids will see it for an entire 30 seconds and then you're going to chop it up!! Cheap plain cake from the supermarket, edible topper, or you can decorate yourself with ready made icing and 3D toppers if you're feeling adventurous, let them soak the effort in for 30 seconds and then they can blow the candles out! Really it's best to keep the cake as flat as possible as there will be spit involved and a smooth cake means you can wipe it off quick with a tissue!
6. Cut up cake, give to said friends, send them home, then send your child to bed!
Simple, easy, affordable, and the kids will love it! The effort, money, style and magic is saved for Christmas, a once a year effort, and all the birthdays are cheap and fun, kids already know this automatically, its an unwritten rule, but us parents have been a bit slow off the mark. I've done the £400 parties where you rent out an entire play place privately and invite every child from the class, only to watch one of them repeatedly smash your toddlers head into a plastic slide - you're basically paying £400 for your non birthday kids to be tortured, and feel like you have to be the hostest with the mostest! At this £400 party I was also heavily pregnant, feeling nauseous and ended up with my friends younger child throwing up onto a paper plate at the meal while I tried to reassure the poor lad whilst trying my hardest not to vomit on his head. So really, was the £400 worth it?!? In retrospect, no, but I did it because I thought my son would love it! He really didn't care all that much in reality!
So take the pressure off yourself, you simply can't compete with Santa, so don't try to! Take an easy, relaxed approach with no stress involved.
Also, unlike Christmas, its considered bad form to drink alcohol at 9am on your child's birthday, especially if its a week day and have to take them to school......
Remember those New Years Eve's before kids? The ones we always hanker for at the start of the evening?
You remember them, surely? Paying a fortune for tickets to stand in your normal local pub, with at least 500 extra uninsured people, a foot square to stand in, and a 200 strong queue of people every time you squeeze through to the bar? All just so you could count back from 10 at the stroke of midnight with a room full of strangers (and lets be honest here, hope of a bit of a snog off a stranger just to see the new year in...don't say it's just me, we all know the truth here....😉), and end up cross eyed and paralytic in the Kebab House at 2am hoping that the kebab will keep the alcohol in your stomach but already knowing you are about to spend the next worst 20 hours of your life stuck in bed, unable to move?
Well I love my New Years Eve's with the kids WAY more! So, how do you celebrate New Years Eve as a parent?
When you first become parents, you don't. Well, I could never bring myself to. Kids and alcohol doesn't mix. It would always be me at home with the kids/baby, not touching a drop, except for maybe 3 sips of wine at midnight, whereafter my ex husband would find the nearest neighbours house party and disappear until at least 6am. When he eventually crawled through the door, paralytic, while I'd had my measly 2 hours of sleep, got up 4 times for the baby and was up for the day, I'd stand watching him trip over invisible shoelaces (preferably into the door frame - he's not my ex for nothing...) while I stood with steam coming out of my ears and my foot tapping on the floor, DARING him to so much as breathe anything other than the words "Im sorry, I'll make it up to you" so I could let my frustrations rip about spending the new year alone, tending to babies/toddlers etc. He'd then finally ending up asleep snoring in the dogs bed/up the stairs/front room floor/bathroom floor while me and the kids had to do everything around his comatose, snoring body. Sometimes when the kids were older I'd let them jump off the furniture onto him just to see if we could wake him up, if we couldn't then I'd let them jump on him more, just for punishment! We'd also play "let's pinch Daddy's nostrils shut to see how long it takes him to open his mouth!", which was my eldest's particular favourite Drunk Daddy game! So my first few New Years Eve's were NOT fun and I dreaded them every year. The kids however, had a whale of a time!
Then something changed. My marital status. And therefore, my life and entire outlook on everything!
So now I celebrate New Years Eve in MY way! This basically means that you get together at another parents house, other parents come too, everyone brings their kids, and we let them stay up late with junk food and films while we have a few drinkies, get a bit merry, and give a good example of sensible drinking to our kids (ahem), or as they might see it, embarrassing parents giggling stupidly to themselves for no apparent reason!
Unfortunately kids do tend to take this abnormal behaviour of their parents to task and ensure that all bad parenting traits get fulfilled in one evening. Junk food overload? Tick. Fizzy hyperactive neon coloured drinks? Tick. Fireworks set off by a drunken Dad? Tick. Same drunken Dad accidentally setting fire to things? Tick. Child gets smacked in the face by the dog resulting in a massive red patch that looks like someone beat 7 tonnes of crap out of them? Tick. Same child receives a giddy kick in the face from a sibling resulting in a split lip and lots of blood? Tick! (Thanks for that Satan, after mixing my few drinks and eating lots of curry, the sight of blood didn't do wonders for my stomach. Thanks Sensible for kicking your sister in the mouth on the trampoline you were jumping on at 11pm in the rain..don't think I have forgotten...!)
But its not a party unless there's blood and fireworks! And I think this year the kids particularly enjoyed our singing along to Queen in the manner of people who believe they can actually sing.....sounded good to us anyway!
It was a quiet taxi home at 1am with 3 sugared up, partially battered, trampolined out kids, and me - a few drinks down but just at that happy merry place, as paralytically drunk and kids do not mix (see above!), and they need at least one parent who knows what they're doing! But being a single mummy, I was up WAY past my bedtime, I don't know how the kids did it, but I'm suspecting it might be the sugary neon coloured soft drinks they were downing like an alcoholic downs pints after walking round a desert with no water (or alcohol) for 3 days! Just hazarding a guess there...
So, the evening with good friends, getting giggly on a couple of glasses of wine and an obligatory shot of something you wouldn't normally touch with a barge-pole, good food, kids all having fun together being daft and hyperactive, bad singing, fireworks and plenty of laughs - its not your expensive 1 foot square space in a pub getting drunk enough for a 20 hour hangover, but I wouldn't give up my New Years Eve's as a parent, they are SO much more fun! Even better, guaranteed lie in next day! 😁
And with that, I'd like to wish all my Slummy Chummies a fabulous 2015! Kick out the old, bring in the new, I can't wait to see what the year has in store for us, and for this blog! Thank you so much for reading and joining me last year, lets hope these kids get into action and give me some good writing material.....kids DO come in handy sometimes! 😉
I was thinking this whole Christmas thing had gone far too well this year, despite altercations on the doorstep with some deluded people....but that's pretty much the norm round here and a whole other story!
My darling daughter not long ago presented herself downstairs looking pale and a bit scared....I thought "she's still awake and I think she's broken something because she looks like she knows she's in trouble, what has she done and why is she awake at 1am, what?!?"....instead of shouting out the normal response of "why are you awake, why are you out of bed?!", I asked gently and kindly, like any good Mummy, what was up Sweetie?
She shuffled closer and it was then I noticed her Christmas onesie was wet, and next the waft of piles of undigested cheesy Wotsits assailed my nostrils.
From this I was able to deduce that she'd vomited all over herself and now stunk of the very same foodstuff that I'D just been stuffing down my neck only 5 minutes previously, causing my stomach to start roiling around (yes, roiling, not rolling, roiling...its the perfect word to describe that hitching and swaying movement of everything liquid in your stomach threatening to eject at a moments notice). I also deduced by the fact that she'd started saying "sorry Mummy" over and over that there was one hell of a mess up there to clean up.
When she said she'd been in my bed, and middle child was also in my bed, along with 2 iPads that I just thought "do I really want to go up there? Can't we just set the house on fire and live in the car?! Please?".
Still, I peeled her soggy stinky onesie off, wiped her down, cuddled her and told her to stay put and then raced up the stairs (OK, dragged my fat arse and breathless shrivelled lung slowly up the stairs, gasping for air) as I started to think of my luxury memory foam mattress and whether or not it was taking a soaking.
It WAS taking a soaking. She'd done a right job on my bed. She'd not only managed to vomit all over herself, but pulled the duvet right back to vomit straight onto my bottom sheet - and my God there was a LOT - had managed to hit the duvet cover heavily, and the duvet inside, 3 of my pillows, an ipad, and had just about managed to miss her brother who was lying in deep sleep next to the biggest pile of spew I'd ever witnessed, snoring happily.
Obviously I had to remove middle child, except he didnt understand when I tried to gently awaken him, and proceeded to roll straight into the big pile of huey before I managed to walk him out of the room and plonk him on the hallway floor while I undertook emergency cleaning duties. I came so very close to simply binning all the sicky sheets and duvets, but the fact they were my hotel grade Egyptian cotton sets and cost a fortune made me chuck them in the washing machine instead.
I am now sat in my bed, with my cheap bedding set from Studio Catalogue on, which is which SHOULD have been on (but no, I couldn't be arsed to change my sheets on Christmas Eve could I?), with towels and disposable bedmats under the entire bottom sheet to soak up the freshly scrubbed soggy mattress juice (ew, mattress juice?! Wtf?! I sicken myself, I'm so sorry if your stomach is now roiling too!), aswell as protecting against further projectile vomiting directly into my £700 mattress....
As I put middle son back in my bed afterwards and tucked her Ladyship up with a sick bucket, ready for me to move into action at the slightest cough, he briefly woke up, smiled at me and said "no one ever said being a mum was easy Mummy" which is rather deep (and also correct) for a 7 year old who's just woken up and rolled straight into vomit.
I smiled sweetly and replied "but I always knew it was worth it Son", and tucked him in. It was a touching scene. I didnt want to spoil the moment so I waited til he was asleep before muttering "bollocking, fucking bastards! My bloody bed, you little sod, why MY bed?!" under my breath whilst accidentally kicking the open door of the sheet cupboard with the back of my heel and swearing rather more heavily.
So, pretty normal Christmas here then, how about you?? 😁
I wish I had a downstairs loo. For those moments when you need a wee but know if you go upstairs there will be chaos and carnage, and then there will be shouting, and arguments, and "tidy this craphole up right this minute young man!"'s! Not to mention the "do you think I'm your slave?", "do you think my life's work is picking up Lego men before I stand on them when I get up for a wee at night" and the occasional "you treat this house like a doss house".
And mine aren't even teens yet! I mean, if they're like this NOW, what hope do I have?! My 5 year old is going to be EVIL! I'm petrified! I think I may have to consider boarding school. Just from 13-25 when she should have started acting like a fairly rational human being. My eldest is on the verge of packing for "the children's home" every other day depending on his hormones...or if I'm breathing the wrong way, you know, the usual...
Therefore I have decided to throw away everything in my house! If there's nothing here then I can't stand on it, right?! And I won't have to pick it up either! Although it's taken me about 5 hours today just to empty, clean and refill one bookcase and my TV area from the 5,000 video cases, little bits of Lego, little bits of other toys or random springs (why?! Where from?!) that were put high up to stop the cats and dog eating them. Unfortunately cats can climb...
So I reckon to empty the rest of my house would take at least 4 weeks at this rate, and my complete ruthlessness would mean Id have to take out a small mortgage to pay someone to take my rubbish away - when the urge to declutter appears, I just bag it, sling it down the side of the house, and think about a way to get wet, dirty bin bags taken away that don't involve the interior of my incredibly small car (with white interior!). Which means it stays there until my dad can't cope with it anymore when he comes to visit and offers to stump up the removal costs! Hi Dad! 😁Love you!! 😁😁 👋 Not the most responsible way to approach it BUT if I start thinking of things like that, it will give me reasons not to do it, and I must strike while the irons hot!! Oh, well, actually, I don't iron (maybe one day I'll share my "self-ironing" technique!), so maybe strike when the kettles hot (I love coffee. Coffee loves me. I have to have two heaped teaspoons of coffee in my cup in the morning. This should give you an idea of what a completely miserable bitch I am first thing. Am thinking of upgrading to 3 teaspoons as I no longer get a caffeine rush, just slightly less droopy eyelids).
Except now I've tidied only one bookcase and the other ones waiting. Firstly, because I've only done one, the "tidied" one is currently holding every ornament, candle, Christmas ornament and Christmas candle I own, so it looks like it's a display in a Christmas shop, and secondly because I just didnt have the strength or energy left to be ruthless again yet. I needed to sit and eat mint Matchmakers instead. So essentially, so far it seems I spent 5 hours of my life today, to make my bookshelf look cluttered. Still. And yet I threw out 3 bin liners of stuff from that one bookcase. I mean, surely there's no room on that bookshelf for 3 bin liners of crap?! By the time I finish, Christmas will be over and we'll probably be well on our way to another one!
Anyway, must dash, I'm getting desperate now....maybe if I hold my hands at the outside of my eyes like blinkers, maybe I can make it upstairs and back relatively unscathed?? Because finding it when I crawl to bed at 2am is much better...at least they don't hear me swearing when I've stood on a fireman Sam board book with steering wheel on, a Guess Who board, and 3 Lego men with accompanying swords and rifles. These items were what I stood on last night. I said many B words. You know, Bastards, Bugger and Bollocking hell. We all have a certain word we use when we unexpectedly hurt ourselves. Mines the B words. It just seems right. When I expectedly hurt myself on the other hand, I just say "waaaah!" Its like my brain has accepted that pain is shortly inevitable and refuses to let you swear, so makes you make stupid noises instead. The unexpected pain is always characterised by the sharp intake of air through the feet, hopping and the use of the B words. Its instinct. I'm not proud.
Oh god, it's getting to a state of emergency now! The bladder is feeling suspiciously close to bursting, and, you know, I've had 3 kids now, its not young and fit like it used to be. It was good to talk to you but now, now I'm going in.
If I'm not back in 20 minutes send in a search party.
I wish I had a downstairs loo....
Hi my Slummy Chummies!
So today I went to watch the youngest's Christmas play at school. They did a play involving various animals, and Satan played a lion, which is apt as she's a little roaring Leo.
When she came home with the note, it said she needed either a Lion outfit or onesie, or a pair of yellow leggings and top. But would my sweet-faced angelic looking cutie pie settle for a pair of leggings and a top? No, of course she wouldn't, how dare I even suggest it?! So I set about looking for a onesie, figuring at least I'd get value for money, as she could wear it in bed. But again, nope. Oh you can find monkey onesies by the bucketload, and the occasional zebra or even leopard onesie, but a lion onesie?! Not a bloody snifter of one. Well, not any that would arrive in time off Ebay from China, or that I could afford without pawning one of my other children. So after thinking "there is no way Im going to one of those online fancy dress shops again because it will cost a fortune and she'll never wear it after", I gave in and trotted over to the online fancy dress websites.
There were a few cheapish lion costumes but of course, none were in her size or even close to her size. Only toddler sized or teenaged children size, none even vaguely close to a size for a 5 year old. So in the end I bought a really expensive outfit from the online fancy dress shop and we had to live on beans for the rest of that week. Which made the atmosphere somewhat unpleasant to breathe...
So anyway, the school play was fab as usual, funny, energetic, cute, emotional, all the things an infant play should be! But the best bit, well, for me it was the best bit, was watching my poor child, after her energetic lion songs and dances, slowly start to rubber neck on the floor mat afterwards. I watched her for a while, thinking along with everyone else, that she was bopping along to the music. Then I noticed her eyes were shut. She was dozing off! She swayed too and fro crossed legged, occasionally woke up and sang half a sentence of a song before flopping forward again, and she rocked closer and closer to the floor until she was almost folded in half on the floor. At this point, and after mild amusement in the first half, watching her picking her nose (with both hands!), this to-ing and fro-ing was just too much for me, and I ended up watching her instead of the play and tried my hardest not to snort with laughter! This is at the same time as thinking "Shit! The teachers are going to think she's tired because I kept her up all night engaged in child labour"....I then realised that was actually Cinderella and went back to trying not to wet myself laughing!
One of her teachers eventually sussed that she wasn't doing some form of funky dancing and picked her up and put her on her knee where she dozed for another 10 minutes, before waking up in the foulest mood ever and refusing to join in the rest of the school play!
Us guys in the front row had a good laugh at her expense though, I like to think that the plus side to all my sleepless nights and sacrificing everything, ever, is free entertainment! So that makes it ok to laugh at my children! Sorry, WITH my children....ahem....
When we got home Satan proceeded to tell me we were having a "Colour off"! When I asked what on earth she was on about, she told me I had to colour Christmas pictures in and she had to colour pictures in, and then we'd see who'd done the best. I tried to tell her that I'd had 40 years, I mean, 30 years of practice and she'd had 5 so it was hardly a fair competition, she wouldn't listen. I told her we didn't have to have a competition, and that colouring in was all about enjoying ourselves and doing exactly what we wanted, because what was the point in art if you have to follow rules? She wouldn't listen.
When she came over to "check up" on my neatly coloured little reindeer, she lost the plot completely because mine was neat and hers wasn't! What was I supposed to do, scribble across everything?! No way, I LOVE colouring in and I'm not making a mess of it just to let my kids think they can illegitimately win colouring competitions! Besides which, I've deliberately lost SO many games just to avoid her wrath that I kinda enjoyed winning for once.....
So, time to bath a tired, ratty lion, a tired, ratty mum, chuck the other two in for a quick rinse and snuggle up and put the Christmas films on, while I continue to watch my 4 cats destroy everything Christmassy in sight! This is what Christmas is all about! Not the bit about my cats destroying my tree and decorations, that's just plain annoying....