Dear Boy 1 & 2,

I just wanted to write to you both to apologise for not being “That Mum”. You know the one, the one I see  all three of us gazing at longingly, the one I’m not.

“That Mum” looks like she has just stepped out of a salon as she sashays past us with her two impeccably dressed children, speaking in a sing songy voice followed by bluebirds and sparkles. I however, am rocking the recently evicted from the jungle look. She´s nailing this, I´m not.

Space theme for Show and Tell? She’s been in touch with Tim Peake, he will land at approx 2pm to take the whole class for a quick whizz to the moon before home time, whilst you proudly present a soggy loo roll covered in glittery cling film cos´we ran out of foil, inspiration and wine.

Her house? Straight out of a shiny, coffee stain free magazine not like ours which is the stuff Channel 5 documentaries are made of.

Play dates? Minion shaped apple slices and a planned activity, none of this fighting over the Xbox and sharing a bonus fish finger that you found down the back of the sofa malarkey. I´m also pretty sure she doesn’t have to spend half of it consoling you because she invited the wrong “Max”.

Parties? She effortlessly throws together a Disney on Ice party in her bathroom and the cake is a life size Mickey Mouse rather than a poo-shaped sponge, made at 3:46am the day of the party and a peg basket instead of a piñata.

” That Mum” is the mum I thought I would be, the one I want to be when I’m growling at you both in a voice reminiscent of Chewbacca before his voice broke because we`ve lost something in the abyss that is our sticky lego filled  house, when we should have left the house 13 minutes ago.

I will never be “That Mum” but I will always be “This Mum” in my oversized knickers and three day old dry shampoo, ready to fight off dragons, ogres and sad days like a ninja, powered by the ridiculous immeasurable and unconditional wonky love I have for you two.

Thanks for your patience and for not trading me in for Match Attax cards,


“This Mum” x


Share This:


If I were some sort of boffin and had to produce a diagram representing 2015, it would look a bit like this;



It’s a pie chart, not a bejazzled acorn…


But as moving on seems to have been a bit of a theme this year, I am going to wave off 2015 and gallop (possibly stumble) into 2016 with gusto. I´m not making any resolutions as I will lose the piece of paper I wrote them on, or it will be used for snot or other child sized bodily fluids. However, I think if the boys had to make my resolutions for me, they would probably go a bit like this;

  1. Chill out about punctuality; It’s so last year. It’s really ok if we turn up late for school, there’s no rush as long as we show our faces before 3pm, it’s cool.
  1. Stop pretending you’re trying to find a screwdriver in the cupboard under the stairs, we know you’re downing tubes of Smarties and scoffing Pom Bear Crisps. Come out of the cupboard and share the love.
  1. Bedtime? Playing on the Wii time limits? Forget about them; there is no need. Your world (ours) will be a better place without them.
  1. Save money by ditching the green stuff on the weekly food shop. Replace it with Kinder Surprises. (Toy and food – nutrition and pleasure -bargain!) it’s much better for our souls than veg.
  1. Stop saying No. Replace with “Yes of course!“ at all times.
  1. Embrace the small triumphs. We see how hard you try to overcome hurdles like getting into your most definitely last year´s size Your routine needs a bit of tweaking, but even if you need a bit of a rest afterwards your perseverance is admirable.
  1. Don’t beat yourself up about the effect you and Daddy separating is having on us. We are excited about having two places to live and all the (guilt presents) stress-free fun times we’re going to have with two much happier parents.
  1. Enjoy 2016 and take (add to our collection of plastic crap) each day at a time.




*A huge hearty thanks to everybody who contributed to the green sparkliness..

Share This:




According to a survey of 2000 UK mums carried out by Nurofen for Children, when asked how they found the first year of parenthood and the emotions they experienced, the answers were these;

1. Tiring 69%
2. Love 59%
3. Amazing 48%
4. Fatigued 46%
5. Joyful 44%
6. Stressful 43%
7. Hard 38%
8. Chaotic 36%
9. Lonely 29%
10. Wonder 29%
I am now in my sixth year of parenthood and I experience these emotions daily, normally all of them in the space of the school run (please replace run with very slow dawdling, tantrum filled walk)
Here is my breakdown of those emotions in order of appearance.
1- Fatigued;
 This is how I feel before I even wake up. Luckily we have a faulty stormtrooper alarm clock that flashes and screams to bring us out of our warm peaceful cocoons and fall into reality with a bump and a bit of a grump.
It is truly AMAZING that every morning we go through the same groundhog day rigmarole of groans, moans, breakfast complaints (who knew that if you ignore your shreddies until 30 seconds before you need to leave, they turn into a large congealed lump?) strops, refusal to put our coat on , remembering we need a poo as we are leaving, crying that we still don’t have a car (this is mostly from me) , hilarity that Mummy has something unidentified stuck to her nose and is still in her slippers.
 Yes, education is necessary and all that. But there is SO much to remember of a day! Packed lunches, one with crusts, one without. Money for toast, money for mufti day, money just in case. Homework. Readers. Socks. School monkey… If you leave the house with less than six bags, you have most definitely forgotten something.
 When it’s -6 outside and the boys are clamoring for a day off, it is incredibly hard not to bribe them all the way to school, with two packs of smarties and a creme egg. ( There is a small possibility this might have happened …..)
 Baggage, children, busy roads, knotty hair and all the rest makes the time before school ever so slightly chaotic, factor in a Mum who hasn’t managed her 3 coffees yet and chaos is rife.
 It is so easy to feel that you are in this alone, especially when you walk past the other parents with their beautiful glowing faces and perfectly behaved pristine children and pull along book bags. DO NOT BE FOOLED! A quick survey conducted via whatsapp in the last 2 minutes amongst some of my closest parent friends, shows that we are all in this congealed cereal state together. I promise!
 Having the same conversation about how you don’t have Inspector Gadget arms or Superman biceps and can’t carry both children over your shoulders (45+ kilos of combined child weight) at once, does get a tad tiring, but it’s apparently a necessary part of our daily walk.
 This is how you feel when you have got to the playground and handed them over to people in a position of much more responsibility of you, you walk away with a positive spring  in your step, you did it! Hooray! this process doesn’t need to be repeated for another 23 hours . The joy is immense!
 This is what goes through your mind along with fear, when you hear the teacher and your eldest son  calling, yelling your name. You are a millimeter away from the school gate.. but you turn back , to see your son telling you that he forgot to tell you something really important. Worry sets in that you have forgotten something vital like … well you can’t think of it , cos’ you haven’t had your coffees…
 The eldest didn’t run out to tell you off for not putting enough ham in his sandwich, he has run to tell you that he in fact loves you , more than Lego. You melt into a puddle of unhinged parental emotion, he skips off happily , oblivious to the fact that despite your grumbling, you would in fact do the school run a zillion times a day if it meant that every now and again, you get the biggest confidence boost ever.
I am a member of the Mumsnet Bloggers Network Research Panel, a group of parent bloggers who have volunteered to blog about a specified subject or review products, services, events and brands for Mumsnet. I have editorial control and retain full editorial integrity. I have been entered into a prize draw to win a £100 voucher as a token of thanks for this post”.

Share This:

Oo, it’s ´orrible being in love when you’re four and a half


You know those holidays you inadvertently ruined when you were young by being lovesick and pining after said object of over the top affection and weeping when somebody said a word that began with the same initial as your obsession’s name?

Well, I thought that we were set to have a summer like that, all 13 weeks ( yes 13 weeks) of the school holidays. Only my son isn’t 14 years old, he’s 4 and a half.

A few months ago, O mentioned that him and Zara played Wendy and Peter Pan at breaktime. He said it was his favourite time of the day. A few days later we were in the car and O chirps up from the back,

“Mummy, I kissed Zara”

“Lovely! On the cheek?” I ask

“No Mummy , On the lips, for a long time. I LOVE her. I wish we get married one day”

“Me too!” pipes up F.

And so it began. The wedding planning, everybody would eat jelly and carrots, but not F. Everybody could kiss Zara, but not F. O would wear a bow tie, F could wear his princess outfit if he had to, but not to the party, only to the kissing and singing bit.

Just as we were leaving to go to Zara’s birthday party, O emerged from his bedroom covered from head to toe in pen.

“Zara LOVES boys with tattoos , Mummy.” he announces proudly. It reminded me of my nine year old self , when I learnt my first love’s phone number off by heart and upside down and then asked him to ask me my favourite number and went all whimsical while I recited his phone number .

At the party, Zara greets O with a kiss, he turns to me and beams a huge “ You see it’s real” kind of grin. Bless.

Then there were complaints. Zara´s baby brother was born and she didn’t want to play Wendy and Peter Pan anymore. “She is sooo grumpy, “ says O over dinner, breakfast and lunch.

One day he gave her flowers that he had picked on the way to school. On receiving them, she gave them straight to her Grandpa and said “Put these in the kitchen when you get home” Note to self; This shall not be my future daughter in law. FAR TOO PRACTICAL. Where’s the romance?. Second note to self; They are four years old, get a grip.

Then the summer holidays began and O swirled his Weetabix sadly around the bowl. “I miss Zara , can we go to school so I can see her?” A few weeks later we end up at Zara’s house. F waltzes in and plants a huge kiss on her lips, O goes all coy and pretends to be mysterious. They play Wendy and Peter Pan, only there are two Peter Pans and one of them is a bit overzealous (not O). We go home and nothing more is said, until a few bedtimes later when we are talking about sleepovers. “I want everyone to come “ O says and then there’s a pause.. “But not Zara”

“Why not?” I ask

“She’s got whiskers on her legs, Mummy, only boys have whiskers” he says sadly.

I shuffle nervously. “Oh yeah, I forgot” he adds “only boys and Mummys.”

I looked in two books to see if anybody says anything about the love thing, and unsurprisingly nobody really does, although they talk about masturbation being commonplace and a healthy and natural part of your young child’s life. Another thing, I thought didn’t happen until they were at least 14 ( 23) and in their bedrooms listening to Nirvana.

We bumped into Zara yesterday, O blushed and F zoomed excitedly up to her. O showed off, F danced with her. She went to kiss O goodbye. O did a forward roll , which went disastrously wrong and he kicked F really hard in the head. Zara kissed F, O refused but as soon as she was out of sight, started rambling off wedding instructions again with a few amendments. (There will be sausage rolls instead of carrots).

Last night I was tucking O in, “Goodnight O, Love you”

“Time to find your own friends Mummy!” instructs O


“It’s from Shrek ” he says sighing at my ignorance “I’m Shrek and you’re the donkey”

Of course. I go into F’s room.

“Goodnight F, Love you”

“That’s nice”, says F who doesn’t use the L word as a rule, and just as I turn to leave he says “ I really really love Zara”

Lucky for him, Shrek is snoring, blissfully unaware of the competition that awaits.



Share This: