Recently I’m sure I was like 25 or something. I’d just been going about, enjoying my business of being young and down with the kids when WHAM – what the hell?! Suddenly I’m no longer in the 25-34 age bracket, I’m in the 35-44 bracket and it hurts (like literally in my back when I bend over).
Can I really be more similar to a 44 year old than a 25 year old?! (No offence to 44 year olds it’s just, you know, you are older and that’s not my fault).
On a bad day if I look in the mirror I can see my skin slowly sliding off my skull. So I did a frantic Google for Sali Hughes anti ageing recommendations, followed by some spendy action and I was armed with the products promising to make me look 25 again. Whether they work, or whether they just make gullible people feel a bit more proactive I don’t know. Who cares. Right now they are worth the money either way.
Of course the changes are not just physical. There are many things that I now think/do that lead me to believe that night serums are not going to be a complete fix : –
- If I go to Topshop I walk around thinking – too tight, too short, too midriff baring or too trendy.
- My friend Emma told me that she buys her jeans from M&S and they are great. I am actually excited to try them myself.
- To be honest though I prefer going pyjama shopping to clothes shopping.
- I didn’t even feel vaguely tempted to watch Big Brother this year. Why is there nothing good on the TV these days?!
- I felt stupidly pleased with myself for finally ordering a new cutlery basket for the dishwasher but it ruined by morning (day) when it didn’t fit properly.
- I take my slippers with me when we go away.
- I feel really pleased when It’s a nice day, mostly so I can dry the washing on the line.
- I don’t like trashy magazines any more. I don’t know who all the people are.
- I read the local neighbourhood magazine and enjoy it (more than Heat magazine).
- I don’t really go out very much and I don’t really care.
- I sometimes feel glad when people cancel plans on me.
- In fact 95% of the parties I go to are kids ones (maybe even 99%).
- On the rare occasions I do go out I am a total liability.
- And then I still wake up at 6AM and my hangovers last 3 days.
- When the toilet roll runs out I always put the new roll on the holder instead of leaving it sitting on the floor.
- I don’t like it when technology changes. Windows 8 made me want to weep and my new laptop has a touch screen that I can’t seem to turn off. When I point at something on the screen, a keyboard pops up or something minimises and/or flies at me. I HATE IT SO BAD.
- When I recently found a pair of boots I really liked I bought two pairs so that I wouldn’t have to feel sad when the first pair wore out. I feel very smug about this.
- Sometimes I wonder if I should have bought 3 pairs.
- We joined The National Trust and I fricking LOVE it.
- Sometimes I work out the actual cost per visit vs. the price non members pay and I feel very smug about that too.
- Feeling smug about stupid unimportant sh*t is definitely something old people do.
We have a 5th member of our family that I don’t really talk about much on here, a lovely rescue cat we got about 7 years ago. She used to be called Tiffany which we didn’t like (If you have a pet or child called Tiffany then apologies but, hmm, how to be tactful? I don’t know. I just hate it).
Anyway we decided to change it. I wanted to call her ‘Little Pretty’ but J thought that might make him look like a pervert.
I guess he had a point.
So after much thought and deliberation we decided to call her Pickle. I feel I can reveal her name on the internet as she’s a bog standard black and white cat, just like 95% of the other poor nondescripts in Battersea’s reject bin. I doubt anyone would try and nick her and I’ve not heard of identity theft in cats being a thing. Even if she did go missing we could just go and get another one exactly the same so, yeh she’s Pickle. Help yourself.
She’s been a nice cat over the years, stayed away from cars and not cost us much in terms of medical care. She used to be the apple of my eye and at one point in my life I ‘may’ have referred to myself as her ‘Mummy’ (*vomits*). Sorry.
Are you finding it difficult to control a wilful child? Are you fed up with buying parenting book after parenting book and still feeling like an utter twat? Would you like to bitch slap super nanny into the middle of next week?
Then why not try…
Parenting With Biscuits promises you happy, compliant and flexible children with a simple ‘Just Add Biscuits’ (#JAB) approach.
- Won’t let you brush their hair #JAB
- Feeling too sick to go to school #JAB
- Refusing to get in the buggy/car #JAB
- Doing a wee wee dance but saying they don’t need the toilet? #JAB
- Repeatedly singing ‘Let it Go’ in an irritating American accent? #JAB
Still a little confused? Don’t worry, the world is made up of people with varying intelligence levels. We answer your stupid FAQs here:
Q: My kids whine all the time and it does my head in. What should I do?
A: Stick biscuits in their gobs.
It’s always the way – I’ve been trying to cajole my kids away from the park for about an hour and just as we’re about to finally bust a move I hear that familiar tinkle…
Inside my stress levels start to rise but I keep my eyes focused on the task ahead, I don’t react. Perhaps they won’t notice?
‘OOOh what’s the lovely sound?’ remarks the biggest one.
‘I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING!‘ I say loudly trying to block it all out. ‘ALL I CAN HEAR IS THE SOUND OF US PUTTING EVERYTHING BACK IN THE BUGGY AND GETTING READY TO GO HOME. THERE ARE DEFINITELY NO OTHER SOUNDS, AT ALL, TO BE HEARD HERE’.
‘But I think I hear the music of ice-cream!’ he says.
(Apparently as a parent you can trick your kids by saying the music means they have sold out but whoever came up with this idea clearly had stupid kids cos mine aren’t falling for that bullsh*t. Why can’t ice-cream be silent! Why does everything need a bloody theme tune these days?!)
…Oh and look, now the littlest one is bouncing around like some god-dam wind up toy at the very mention of THAT word.
I look at my watch, It’s 4.45pm. Of course it’s 4.45pm! Why do they always show up just before tea time? And when did I become such a boring, uptight cow?
I reason that a little Mini Milk might work to keep the peace without ruining their appetites (#mug) and we move cautiously towards the van. The guy smiles at me. He seems nice but we are never going to be friends for our food related objectives are severely misaligned. I want my kids to occasionally eat savoury things at meal times, he would like them to have ice-cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner between the months of April and October.
I’m so lucky generally on this blog, the people who read it are lovely and kind and supportive, but you always get the odd few nasty comments. I’m too old now to care much about what other people think but this is a little piece about why I think its OK, or even important, to be able to occasionally bitch about parenthood…
An Ode To Honesty
Some people they may look at me,
All that’s sitting in my lap.
And I see why my grumbles taunt them,
If in their arms, there’s still a gap.
Others like to hear a tale,
With a rosy tinted hue.
But where’s the story going,
If the words we speak aren’t true?
Perhaps some find it simpler,
Embrace the change without a hitch,
But you can’t dip your toe in parenthood,
You can’t stay a selfish bitch.
My biggest boy has had the same bedroom since he was 18 months old and according to him it was ‘just not cool any more Mummy!’
He was right and I was worried that when friends come over they would diss him and trash his rep at school. Also I thought YAY project! And then got to work researching kids room decor on Pinterest (yep I know I wrote a post slagging it off a while ago but like Lily Allen I reserve the right to change my mind, and it’s worth noting that a lot of what I say is bollocks anyway).
You could easily loose days of your life on pinterest researching a bedroom your kid has absolutely no interest in. But as I was swooning over all the monochrome chic a nagging voice in my head said perhaps he should have a degree of involvement. So I asked him what he thought a cool bedroom would involve…
‘BATMAN of course!’
Before I became a parent, or more specifically before I became a parent to an actual child rather than just a baby you could do whatever the hell you liked with, I used to look at other kids with all their character branded garb and just be like URGH, yuk. Why would you dress your kids like that and not in breton stripes, cool cords and converse?!
In short I was probably the type of annoying person that I would now like to punch in the face. With a brick.
I was in the supermarket the other day, raising merry hell about not being allowed to use a Petits Filous as a dip for my KitKat (which was incidentally WELL WITHIN my basic human rights) when I saw another so called ‘toddler’ giving a brief whinge before being placated by a lousy bread-stick. Our predecessors would have been disgusted!
If you are tired, bored, sick of everyone around you or just feeling inherently evil for no reason whatsoever you NEED to make your feelings known. They don’t call it the ‘Terrible Twos’ for nothing – follow my simple guide to making this year horrific…
The How To Properly Sh*t Things Up Manifesto
Keep It Random – Pick two words and run with them. Think wellies in the bath or sleeping with the toilet brush, perhaps someone else looked out of YOUR car window or the cheerios you were served for breakfast seemed annoyingly round?
Be Inconsistent – This morning you understood the benefits of a coat and now if anyone so much as mentions your name and THAT word in the same sentence then you think they should DIE. Stuff changes and that’s totally fine!
Make It Public – If a toddler angrily pelts pieces of wooden train track at playgroup, and there is no one there for them to hit, does anyone require stitches?
Go Naked – Put forward a reasonable request but opt to do it without pants on. Always a winner.
So It’s Easter holidays and I’m so excited because… well… actually maybe i’m not very excited… because it was like, the shortest half a term ever and 3 weeks of it were chickenpox ridden so… to be honest I’d kind of like school to keep em for a bit but…
Anyway lets not complain!
Instead lets pretend that I am really looking forward to enjoying quality time with my kids who are like ALWAYS HERE. I’m thinking of it a bit like the pox round two, dreading it but then also looking forward to getting it out of the way.
But lets not think about that yet… *shudders*
So two weeks of kids – what to do? I did a little Google and landed on a Netmums page of suggestions which was jolly lovely! But as I read though the list I couldn’t help feeling that some people lead rather different lives to my own.
Here are a few that left my mouth slightly ajar…
- Mattress Manoeuvres – Drag a mattress downstairs (say what?!) into the most suitable room and put cushions around it and on any hard edges. Voila! Your own indoor soft-play centre. When they are tired (when is this?!), grab a heap of books and lie around (say what?!) reading.
- House work – Small children can help with sorting clothes and matching socks. A Smartie for every pair matched correctly is a great motivator. If my kids saw me clutching a pack of Smarties they would rip them out of my hands before I even had a chance to say ‘Can you help Mummy with…’. Young teenagers will love to be shown how to properly iron a shirt and be allowed to do such a grown up task. Now I don’t have teenagers and it’s been a long while since I was one but I don’t seem to recall learning to iron as a particular highlight.
- Teddy Bears Picnic – Write out party invites, make paper hats, cut out and colour paper plates, prepare a pass-the-parcel, make miniature sandwiches and snacks. I can hardly be arsed to throw parties for my own children’s birthdays.
- Duvet day – You are allowed at least one of these in your Easter break! A day when you all stay in your PJs all day. Borrow or swap some new DVDs, stock up on popcorn and chocolate, have a big bath together in the middle of the day… Sounded awesome until the big bath bit. WTF?!
- Afternoon disco – Get out your old tapes/CDs, decorate the lounge, turn the lights down and put up some fairy lights and tin foil Disco balls. Have a “bar” and mix fruit juice cocktails. Invite a friend or two. Dance! Does occasionally putting the radio on in the kitchen count?
- Get down the farm – Most of the farms aimed at children and families are open all year round and a Spring day is a great time to visit. Spot the new baby lambs and try to resist bringing one home. I think I get points here because we’ve done this! We preferred to play spot the premature dying baby lambs though and then talk about death a whole lot.
- Long Lie In – All snuggle in bed with a pile of books or a DVD – bring breakfast upstairs and don’t get up until you’re ready. If this is something that other people really do then I’m just going to go off and have a little cry.
- Soft Play – Feed the kids before you go and bring a bottle of water so you don’t have to buy expensive cafe food. Tell them that’s the deal before you go! ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!
I was just starting to feel like, hey it’s been a couple of weeks now so surely we’ve escaped the eldest getting it?
But then, hang on what’s that small red bump? Oh dammit.
F seems totally fine so I carry on with my plans of heading out to see friends.
I drink tequila, do ‘sexy dancing’ and turn up home in the early hours stinking of Burger King. I wonder at what age it will be achievable for me to have a civilised night out? It’s certainly not 35…
It’s Mother’s Day. I’m hungover and would have appreciated a lie in but instead small people come in to prise my eyes open with their fingers.
They have made sweet cards for me but let’s face it they don’t really get the whole point of this do they? Everyone could do with a refresher on the T’s & C’s to be honest. Perhaps re-branding it to ‘Keep The Kids Out Of My F*cking Face Day’ would help a bit?
Later we decamp to my Nana and Pop’s house, a magical place where all illnesses and behavioural issues magically (yet temporarily) disappear.
We get home and have time for a quick game of ‘death-copter’ before bed. I won’t go into the specifics as it’s rather harrowing but let’s just say it’s not one of my favourites.
Text from husband…
(We sometimes text using only emojis and no words because it is honestly quite funny but I realise it does sound a bit sad if you say it out loud and maybe even worse if you write it down on the internet).
Anyway turns out he means the littlest has chickenpox, tenuous at best. Never mind I am in London seeing friends. Not my problem.
Who cares i’m in LONDON still! :)
Day 3 – Subtitle: THE DAY OF NO SLEEP
Back home now and S seems mostly ok in himself. That is until bedtime when he decides to forego sleep in place of thrashing about like a wild animal.
The only thing that calms him down is Fireman Sam. How long do you think a 2 year old would be able to stay up watching Netflix?
Yes I was surprised too.