Blogger and freelance writer (Life, love and Dirty Dishes)
Clinging onto my thirties but losing my grip. Mum to two boys, living in a house full of Lego. Figuring out this parenting lark one fail at a time. If you've ever been wedged in the rollers at soft play, or forgotten the change bag the day your kid projectiles, you my friend are not alone. Award winning blogger.
I could rant a lot about douche bags, but today I want to shout out to the other type of people you will come into contact with as a parent. The one's who are kind and thoughtful. The one's who can make a tough day better.
I have two children and I am done making babies. I know this with no shadow of a doubt. Give me a newborn and I will coo and cluck and savour those cuddles, but I won't hand them back and feel a hole that another baby needs to fill. My two kids are enough for me. Some days my children are too much for me!
I never expected to be rewarded by society for being a stay-at-home mum. I felt short changed that we had been told we could have it all, the career and the family, and for so many that isn't the case.
When it comes to being a good mum there is a very definite list of rules. Only no one tells you these. You get to find out these for yourself at the same time as you learn what the hell to do with this baby you just produced that didn't come with a manual, and seems intent on doing the exact opposite of what the baby books said.
Yesterday I ate two slices of pizza, a hot dog, a banana, two strawberries, some corn on the cob, three cakes and an ice cream. All served with cups of tea, and without a single calorie. Of course it was all plastic and served to me by my toddler on tiny plastic plates.
First smiles, the first time they sleep through the night, first steps, first day at school. All big milestones for our little ones. But what about the parents? What about the milestones we reach? What about the crap that no one warns you about? The first Poonami.
Cars are now his go to choice of things to play with. Although it has been a reminder that my nostalgia with the big one may have been through some rose tinted glasses. Like his brother before him, the little one has a very long and strict set of rules for playing cars with him. And woe betide you break a toddlers rules or code of conduct.
So whilst he was curled up by my side I began a subtle check through his hair. In a matter of seconds I saw the first unmistakable critter. After 10 seconds I had seen another two. My romantic evening flashed before my eyes and I sent the husband an emergency text
I'm in panic mode. 6 long weeks with both my boys at home as the summer holidays begin this week. I need to get my arse in gear and plan some fun activities to keep the smalls entertained. If my Facebook news feed or Pinterest is anything to go by they need to be educational, outdoors, homemade, involve a lot of mess, and everyone will have a spiffing time.
I can't be the only parent out there that thinks hotels 'Family Rooms' are more like 'Torture Parents Rooms'. After several overnight stays confined to the one room with the small people, I have decided that no, there is no such thing as a family friendly hotel.
I thought I would be a no nonsense mum when it came to the 'awkward' or 'embarrassing' things that my children would ask. The big questions. I admire those mums who use the correct words for body parts, I really do. But I can't say penis without giggling.
The husband and I are complete opposites, and generally our differences compliment each other. We are yin to the others yang. Except when it comes to DIY. The Great Kitchen Tile of 2003 nearly ended in us getting divorced before we were actually married.
Before I became a parent I lived very much for the future. Short term I lived for the weekend and the nights out. Longer term I was all about promotions, property, and marriage proposals. It was all part of the 5 year plan.
When simple pushchair etiquette is not adhered to it makes me mad. And when I say mad, I mean I will be huffing and puffing, tutting and rolling my eyes, and muttering things about you under my breath. In general being very British about the whole thing. So to save me from looking slightly unhinged please follow these simple rules:
The mention of World Book Day makes me break out into a cold sweat. I love getting lost in a good book. I love sharing books from my childhood with my children, and discovering new ones. I love the idea behind World Book Day.
People say that romance is difficult after kids. I would actually argue that due to a significant drop in both standards and expectations, romance after the children come along, is actually easier. Allow me to demonstrate...
11/02/2016 17:31 GMT
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