Calm down dear, it’s only a parking space…..

Shopping with babies and toddlers is torturous on a good day and although I ordinarily opt for online shopping, trips to the supermarket are inevitable when like me, you are a bit forgetful because let’s face it you survive on less sleep than a prisoner of war and are being solidly and consistently hen-pecked for 12 hours a day by irritating mini versions of yourself.

Parent and child bays are designed with additional space around them so parents are able to unload their shopping more easily and so that they have plenty of room to grapple with car seats and the unloading and loading of their own small (and usually uncooperative) people.  If you’ve never done a solo shopping trip with one or more small children then count yourself lucky but believe me it is a whole new level of hell that is made a whole host better if you bag one of the hot-property Parent/Child spots.

I often see people casually using these spaces without the obligatory small child in tow and it really, really pushes my buttons. If I’ve not bagged one of the spaces then you will see I am carrying a handbag plus a one year old (who is either trying to jump down into the traffic for fun or is pulling my hair, poking me in the eye or his current favourite – biting my cheek). Add to this a stroppy, uncooperative threenager who *almost* fell asleep in the car and is now akin to the devil incarnate and she doesn’t give two shits about oncoming cars. It’s not fun. And this is BEFORE the shopping trip. With a trolley full of groceries and a couple of tear stained sobbing children from the tantrums it is even more shit. Which brings me to my point.  Just in case you aren’t clear, here are 10 Very Good Reasons NOT to use a Parent/Child Parking Bay:

  1. Because you have a child, but they’re not with you (you should know better)
  2. Because you have a 12 year old child and they are with you 
  3. Because you’re disabled (you have your own and quite frankly I wouldn’t dream of parking in yours)
  4. Because you’re really old 
  5. Because you’re really hungover
  6. Because you are just ‘popping in quickly’ 
  7. Because there were loads of them free when you arrived
  8. Because it’s ‘just this once’
  9. Because you drive a really massive, expensive car that’s tricky to park
  10. Because you are an utter bell-end and you just don’t give a toss

And here is ONE good reason to park in a parent/child space:

  1. Because you have one or more small children/babies in tow and YOU NEED THE EXTRA BLOODY SPACE. 

Really f*cking simple isn’t it?!?



Spook Off……

Halloween. Love it or hate it Halloween is most definitely a ‘thing’ and with two small children, there is no avoiding it. I do actually enjoy it and see no real harm in dressing up our little ones, carving out pumpkins (turnips actually, when I was a lass!) and eating lots of sweets. 

There are however a couple of things about Halloween that make me a teensy bit uncomfortable – one being Trick or Treating.  My daughter is a ‘why’ child. She questions abso-f*cking-lutely everything, mostly things I can’t answer. So with regard to Trick or Treating:  why is it suddenly ok for her to knock on strangers doors?   Ermmmmmm, dunno?  Why is it ok for her to accept sweets from strangers? Ummmm.  Errr?   Why is it ok for her to wear no bloody coat in October in her funny little costume?  It’s not??!!  Why is essentially begging strangers for sweets ok? It’s kind of not?!?!

It makes me cringe. Thankfully I think mine are still too little and she also has a prior engagement so I’ve got another year at least to think of my answers to the above (i.e. google them).

Moving onto my second bugbear – the outfits. There are some really, really cute pumpkins, ghosts and spiders for the small ones then the options become a bit weird. I find the plethora of witchy outfits borderline ‘slutty’ for little girls. What happened to the warty, green Grotbags proper style witch of my childhood?  Why are they glitzy and sexy these days? I do not like this one little bit.

And my final gripe is when older children who look really bloody scary are trick or treating. I don’t mind cooing at a cute 6 year old pumpkin or faux-hiding from an 8 year old skeleton but an 11 year old high on Haribo in a full on ‘Scream’ costume, wielding a fake dagger banging on my door – absolutely fucking terrifying! For me AND my kids.

In all honestly I don’t mind Halloween. But I definitely preferred it in my twenties where it was just another excuse to go out and get leathered.  Maybe a carafe of wine should be offered alongside the bucket of sugary treats?!?  Let’s make THAT a thing!  


Mummy Appraisal. By Buddy.

Appraisee – Mummy 

Appraiser – Buddy (14 months)

Departments – ALL


I’m generally pretty happy with your performance but I feel it’s important to document things so we both know where we stand.   And before some of the ‘little things’ turn into ‘big thing’s and we really have a problem.  It’s important for my continued development that you continue to meet and exceed objectives.

Objective 1 – Food Provision and Service:

To provide a variety of meals, snacks, drinks and breastmilk to me as and when requested

Grade ‘Less than standard’ (Needs improvement)

So let’s start with an example – breakfast this morning:  I’m bloody starving. I only woke you up twice for milk last night and then just 4 or 5 other times for a cuddle so why the hell are you looking all vacant and tired and staring at that screen in your hand instead of fixing my breakfast?

So you finally got your arse into gear and served me breakfast. And fucking brilliant. Cheerio’s. Again. Little hint – why don’t you start a rota so I’m not getting the same old shit day in, day out, otherwise it’s going to get thrown on the floor! I’m sorry Mum but I have to take the hard line now and again just so you know your boundaries. I don’t want to, but it’s for your own good.

Moving onto snacks – when you ask if I want a snack I’m thinking a Flapjack, or some Pom Bears or at the very least a twix. A snack isn’t grapes or blueberries or those shitty sugar-free wafer biscuits. Sort it out.

And on the topic of food & drink, I can see what you’re up to with your titty’s. If I pull them out I expect to have ’em there and then. Don’t fob me off with water, or worse that bloody awful soya milk in a cup. Breast is best. Surely you bloody know that woman?!? I’ll tell you when I’m ready to quit so you just carry on lobbing them out at my request.

Objective 2 – Transport:

To ferry me about to fun places in comfort and ideally luxury, at my own pace.

Grade ‘Standard’ (Just about acceptable)

So now I’m walking I don’t want to be carried anywhere. I expect you to get me ready early enough so I can potter along at my own pace. Also I hate the pushchair. For fucks sake I’m 14 months now, not 14 weeks. I will scream until I vomit should you pick me up or put me in the pushchair if I’m not up for it. Be warned.

Objective 3 – Personal Care: 

To keep me clean and dry looking flyyyyy and smelling delicious at all times

Let’s talk nappy changes. I really, really don’t like them. You know this.  I’ve been trying to drop hints for months now by screaming, thrashing, rolling about and kicking my own shit but you still keep doing it?!? I really think if you could find a way of changing my nappy while I’m still playing and moving about it would suit me much, much better?  Great stuff 👍🏻.

Other areas for discussion:

So that’s actually it for now.  I’m not an unreasonable baby and I know you work hard. But let’s be honest. I’m really small, don’t ask for much and it shouldn’t be as difficult as you make out a lot of the time.

Lets review progress in a week or so and see how you’re coming on. Keep your chin up. You’re doing very well and remember – I do love you.

(And finally please can you stop calling me ‘baby-cakes’ and ‘Mummy’s little soldier’. It’s really unprofessional and my mates take the piss something chronic)


The Mum Games

The competition of motherhood begins when pregnant… unexpected and unwanted element to early pregnancy. 

You announce you’re pregnant and everyone asks how you’re feeling. Your answer of course is “crap, tired, sick & huge”.  And to yourself, you *are* the most crap, tired, sick & huge you’ve ever been. But more often than not you won’t hear “oh you poor love” you’ll hear “I/my sister/best friend had morning sickness 24 hours a day/was so tired they tested for narcolepsy/was so huge she needed maternity wear from 6 weeks etc etc”

You’ll discuss how gigantic you are at every opportunity only to find that no matter how big you get Sarah from Marketing will tell you how much bigger she was and no matter how duck-esque your waddle, you’ll be ‘walking like a catwalk model’ compared with Julie from HR when she was pregnant. 

Your horrific labour (that will remain the most traumatic experience of your life) will always be out-laboured by everyone you tell and everyone’s newborn will be the most frequent feeder ever known.  Those early days are pretty rough without the constant competition about the size of your baby and the rapidity of their growth. A bigger baby is the ultimate badge of honour as you exclaim “She’s huge! She never stops eating” and your friend tells you her baby was the size of a Shetland Pony at your baby’s age. 

Breast vs boob – who can hold out the longest without giving formula? Whose nipples bled the most? Whose milk squirted the farthest?  How many tubes of Lanisoh did you get through? 

The ultimate competition of course is sleep. You will fall into one of two categories – good sleepers or bad sleepers and you will compete to be the best / worst in the respective categories.

Sleep isn’t always a solo game – teams can be formed. Teams of the non-sleep category will stick together and defend the honour of their poor sleep-deprived peers whilst teams of the sleep-through brigade join forces.

It does settle down a bit once the babies get to toddlers.  I think as we mature as Mums and as our precious babies transform into precocious little shits we seize the opportunity to join forces and complain about them.   We finally realise that it doesn’t matter one jot what age your baby walked/talked/slept through they’re still highly likely to turn into a massive twat as a toddler / threenager.

And lets face it – everyone’s a loser then….

mum games

Kiss and Make-Up

Make-up. It seems to be a bone of contention in Mummy circles. Especially when doing nursery/school runs or attending baby groups. You either do wear it or you don’t. And while nobody particularly cares if you’re of the au-natural ‘don’t’ camp it seems that the ‘do’ crowd can ruffle some feathers & aggravate their au-natural sister’s from another mister.

Personally, I’m of the ‘do’ camp and I wear make-up all the time. I always have done and I always will do. Even in the house with a brand new baby I barely showered or dressed and I spent most of my days crying with one of my breasts hanging out BUT I still always washed my chops and slapped on a little slap because that’s just what I do. (Time wise a brief cover up can take me less than 60 seconds). I’ve worn make up every single day since I was a teenager albeit my application skills (& taste) have moved on from then (Spice girls glitter eye’s & a fake mole were some of my specialities) and to me it’s just part of my life.   If it’s not part of yours then I whole heartedly understand and quite frankly, don’t care (in the nicest possible way).

The reason I wear make-up every day is :   Absolutely not because my children sleep 12 hours a night. Or because my routine is better than anyone else’s. Or because I am more organised. Or because my kids are angels. Or because I’m a better Mum.  Or because I’m trying to impress someone. Or because I want to make anyone feel bad.  Or because I’m insecure.  None of the above.

It is quite simply because to me it is as normal as cleaning my teeth, or having a poo. I do it every day without thought or consideration (And if I’m being totally honest, I feel like I’m missing a limb without it).  And in the words of Topsy and Tim’s simpering Mum ‘that is that’!


10 Revolting things that are now acceptable to me…..

Becoming a Mum has seen me change from a silly little girl who was scared of everything into a double ‘ard b*stard who can do ANYTHING.

Here is a small selection of just ’10 revolting things’ that would’ve made me physically sick before having children, yet are totally sometimes acceptable now:

1. The consumption of disgusting & unknown foodstuffs from the floor/sofa/baby
2. Mr Tumble (although he still does make me sick in my mouth sometimes)
3. Accepting (& reciprocating) kisses from children with candles of snot running from their noses
4. That I would actually like the smell of my own babies widdle-filled nappy.
5. Wiping a toddlers arse.  Not for the faint hearted.
6. Having a constantly ungroomed lady-garden
7. Tasting breastmilk
8. The thought of not ever sleeping for longer than a few hours in a row. All. The. Fucking. Time.
9. Wobbly teeth (this hasn’t happened yet. It makes my stomach hurt thinking about it.)
10. Actually pissing myself & it being so acceptable to me that I post it on the Internet