6.11.16

Extreme 'Mumsying'

I used to be hip and trendy. I worked in PR, drank cosmos just like Carrie from Sex and the City and owned a TopShop store card. I read Vogue and on my lunch break? I bought my lunch. Bought it! It cost a fiver everyday. So what? Who cares? I was youth. Now? I get my sh*ts and giggles from what only can be described as 'Extreme Mumsying'. These are small mumsy style activities that I do, but take them one step too far. I enjoy them so much more than is necessary or reasonable. They set my pulse racing and make my heart happy. My husband thinks I've lost the plot.

The 'Gift' Box
Remember the days when you used to get dead posh smellies for Christmas? Or lovely jewellery? Do you know what brings me joy now? When I get sh*t I don't want and I can put it in the 'gift' box to re-gift to someone else. Yep. I LOVE it. I feel I have cheated the system. And if that gift, came in a gift bag that I can reasonably reuse IT IS LIKE ALL MY CHRISTMAS'S HAVE COME AT ONCE! Quite literally. Also placed in here are the extra '1' from the Boots 342s. It's two for me. One for the box. Bliss.


(Folds bag nicely and tries not to get cross the label was written on)

Double Dressing Gowns
Whenever pregnant women ask me for advice about having a baby I don't tell them about massaging their bum hole with olive oil, or go into depth about mucus plugs. No. I simply say "make sure, whatever you do? You have two dressing gowns bab". One dressing gown is not enough for the average mother. What if you get baby sh*t on it? Or sick? Or you spill luke warm tea down it? No. You need two of those bad boys. And if you are feeling extra specially extreme? A summer one as well - short and flirty for the husband (or in my case flowery, cheap and flammable from Primark).

New Slippers
In my house? Pay Day means just one thing and one thing only. NEW SLIPPER DAY! Wahoo! Who needs fancy shoes when you can have slippers? Ah the joy of a new slipper, actually a slipper that is a few days old so it is moulded just right to your foot. After a month? Those sods are floppy and good for nothing. Some may say a danger when running down the stairs to answer the home phone (PPI again, b*stards). Like a dressing gown I like a spare pair of slippers. It's essential. And if I go to a fancy hotel or spa (once a year tops). And there are those 'free slippers'? I AM SO HAPPY. I dream of UGG slippers. Then I know I've made it.

SALES!
You remember when you used to see people on the news queueing up outside Next to get a bargain and you thought who the hell could be arsed with doing that? Well you know what. I could. I do. And I relish it. The thrill of a half priced toddler hoody or a cheap dress. I get there. I arrive like a lone wolf ready to pounce on a jazzy summer hat for an eight year old girl. Even though my daughter is only five and it's September. Next Sale? I come. I buy. I am triumphant. I'm also all over Argos 342 toys and I lick my lips with glee if I receive a £5 off voucher for Toys R Us. WITH GLEE.

My 'best' dressing gown. IT HAS A HOOD

All The Tea
Pre having the kids. I didn't really like tea. Now? I love tea. I can't seem to function without tea. I drink tea continuously. I have had to stop having tea after 4pm as it was sending me mad, so now I have decaff tea. As I can't give up the feeling of having a cup of tea. If I am out. And someone offers me a cup of tea? I act like they are giving me the crown jewels and then I make weird moaning noises (oddly a little bit sexual. TMI?) when I drink it. I take tea drinking too far.

There are a host of other things that I now take a little too far. That to be honest are a bit of an embarrassment. Such as oversharing (I once went in to graphic detail about my c section to an elderly Sikh man working in a photo shop) oh and yeah I talk to strangers. It seems that when my children came out - so did my dignity and any 'shame' gene that I once possessed. Now must go. I have to go and have another cup of tea and scour the internet for cheap toys in my winter hooded dressing gown. ROCK N ROLL MOTHER F*CKERS!
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