Sunday, 23 July 2017

The Boring Mum

I'm not going to lie but as I write this I am lying in bed at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon feeling a teeny tiny bit hungover. I've just returned from a weekend away for my lovely friends hen do. I'm exhausted but really happy. Not just happy that it was fantastic fun but happy as I feel like I've broken a spell. A spell that arrived around the moment I fell pregnant with my eldest. One which took chunks of my personality from me and made me a different girl (and yes I am referring to myself as a girl despite being 39).

I have been using my kids as a crutch. If I was asked to stay away for the night. I more often than not didn't want to leave them so wouldn't go. If I had to for work I didn't want to share rooms with friends as I know I wouldn't sleep properly without my family around me. I thought my laying awake would bother people. I ducked out of nights out preferring the comfort of my couch. When meeting girlfriends for drinks I would feel worried I had nothing to offer to conversations so would often sit quietly counting down the minutes until I could leave.


Thursday, 20 July 2017

10 Things To Not Beat Yourself Up About This Summer Holiday

1. It's Ok To Dread The Summer Holiday A Bit
It might be because you have the nightmare of trying to work out childcare or because like me you are faced with six weeks with two small children. It's OK to dread the summer holidays a bit. Whilst a lot of moments can be magical there are some bits? That are f*cking hard work.

2. Your Children Won't Get Square Eyes
So I've got my two beauts alone for six weeks. 11 hours a day. That equates to over 330 hours to entertain them. So I am telling you now if a few of those hours are watching TV so I can go for a wee, or watching a bit of YouTube so I can have a five minutes rest? I shall be feeling not one jot of guilt. Sometimes it's about survival.

3. No Mother Is An Island
If you can? Get help. Try and save up for a few summer play schemes. Or get your parents to take them out for a couple of days. Even if it's only two it's easier to know that in a fortnight you may have a day's rest. It will help the madness not seem so overwhelming.

summer holiday
No greater joy than riding on the front of a bus!

Friday, 14 July 2017

Dear Beyoncé...

Dear Beyoncé

Firstly may I just say that I am huge fan. And I don't want to blow my own trumpet but it has been said that my 'drunk mum' version of 'Single Ladies'. After I've had one too may gins (six). May well rival your very own version. Sure I do it barefoot and OK I may not be able to do all the low down moves but the enthusiasm is there. I adore you. You embody everything I love about being a woman. But then...it comes to Motherhood? And I wish that once. Just once. You didn't "slay" at it (slay is what the kids say these days right?).

I wish in my heart of hearts? You were just a bit crap. In your first photo shoot with your beautiful twins you look better than me on my wedding day. My wedding day. When I was at my VERY best. A few weeks after I gave birth I looked like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards. I still looked roughly seven months pregnant. My clothes were covered in crusty milk, my hair was greasy and I was a wild eyed, insane, screeching, hormonal mess.

SLAYING IT (I think I've used it in the right context maybe?)

Tuesday, 11 July 2017

A Woman On The Edge

Ladies and gentlemen. It's official. This woman? Is on the edge. For the past seven years I have either been growing babies or raising babies. Seven years of my life has been taken up with nappies, sleepless nights, weaning, weeping and rowing a bit with my husband. Seven years, which now on reflection seems like it has been six months. From September? My last baby will be at school and I will be let alone. With no bums to wipe, no soft plays to hang around in and no tiny voices screaming "MUUUUUUMMMMMMMYYYYYYY".

And it's breaking my heart. I feel lost. I truly feel that my children are deserting me. These past few weeks with my son has mainly been me overindulging him, hugging him that little bit too tightly and saying "YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU RIGHT". Whilst he looks at me with confusion in his eyes and tries to run off to play another game of hitting things with plastic swords. My husband is looking worried whilst I say tentatively "shall we have another one?". I know that's not the answer. Because when that one went to school I would be saying the same.

Knackered but happy

Sunday, 9 July 2017

The Week The Blog Nearly Stopped

This week has been a funny old week. In one way it has been amazing. My little boy smashed his school settling in, my daughter took part in her first gymnastics show producing some 'interesting' moves that shall stick with me for a lifetime. I had a friend come to stay and we laughed whilst screaming at Love Island in our pyjamas. All very ordinary. All very lovely. But on the flip side? Whilst all this very lovely, very ordinary stuff was going on. I had a few comments on my social media that suggested that ordinary is. Well sh*t.

You see ordinary is not seen as anything special. The media has spent years and years telling us that extraordinary is best. That might be extraordinarily beautiful or extraordinarily stylish. You really should want to live in a huge house. Your other half should probably want to drive a really nice car and your kids should be perfect. You should be slim, or trying to get slim, or be judging those people who aren't slim. You should rock motherhood like Kim Kardashian whilst looking contoured and sleek in a size 10 frock. Men should desire you. Women want to be you.