Revelations of a Slummy Mummy

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free I'm following the path God laid you see. I heard him call. I took his hand And travelled to a better land. A land where I am whole and strong Where life is beautiful and long The colours bright, the music sweet A place where I have found my feet Pure joy, full peace-my God is here I know you wish I was still near- But resting with Jesus, I'm safe in arms Protected from all that once caused me harm *  *  *  *  *  * But Mum, you're missed, you've left a hole Your loving heart, your gentle soul Your laugh was infectious, your humour was great (I'm not sure your cooking was worthy to plate) You never held back in the words that you spoke- 'I'm so proud!' 'You're awesome!' 'You chose a great bloke!' Your art was amazing-your beauty shone through Your talent, your flair and your thoughtfulness too No more pain, no more suffering-of this there's no doubt You're...

Snow Day (through the unique eyes of a special family!) ‘Twas the night before Snow Day, and throughout the UK , Excitement was building- skies were indeed grey! You’d think this whole snow thing was rarer then gold- Oh wait, this is Poole and it is, so I’m told. The kids came home chattering with dreamy eyed sighs, ‘Miss L said snow’s coming.’ (And teachers don’t lie) Said I, trying to rein in their zeal, just in case, ‘It’s not teachers who lie, it’s those stations in space.’ At last they were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of snow angels danced through their heads. The hubby and I had a cheeky nightcap, And settled our brains for a (brief) winter’s nap. Awoken next morning-4:30, oh dear- I crept to the window-had this white gold appeared? Mixed feelings arose as I peered through the glass, A star for Miss L- white stuff here at last. Now for those of you non-Brits this is gonna sound crazy, But we’re not used to snow...

For all you parents out there, I think you’ll identify with this. For those potential parents out there, these pearls of wisdom are keepers. Enjoy. (Guys)   You’ve noticed a shift in your lady recently. She’s been moody, irrational and touchy, fallen asleep in the most inappropriate settings (you had heated discussions as to why the office sofa was off-limits for sleeping) and you just can’t figure out what exactly it is you’ve done wrong. On the plus side, her boobs look fantastic right now. (Ladies)   You’re late on, you have the headache from hell that rivals last New Year’s hangover, and you’ve taken to keeping a carrier bag in your handbag for the awkward unannounced and particularly violent vomiting episodes. Classy. Your hubby’s touching concern merely grates on you. Come to think of it, so do most things. But there is one bonus; right now you have a cleavage to die for. You complete Operation Superdrug with the stealth of a panther as one person keeps wa...

It’s no use. I’ve tried my hardest to hold on but my bladder really doesn’t like me after subjecting it to 4 difficult pregnancies, and I waddle-dash to the nearest train loo. Doing my best impression of a drunken hummingbird, I precariously hover over the toilet bowl attempting to avoid such activities as a-falling over, b-touching anything and c-losing focus on my aim. Oh, and all this while staying a safe enough distance from aforementioned toilet bowl to escape magical blue loo juice backsplash. A comedy experience all round, I congratulate myself on the incredible quad strength I never knew I had before endeavouring to flush with my elbow. In the nick of time I remember the golden rule: ‘Please do not flush the toilet while the train is stationary.’ I’m not normally a rules kind of girl, but fear of emptying the contents of my bladder all over a busy station floor keeps me in line. I hold off flushing and wait patiently for what seems like an eternity as broken tannoy annou...

A Day in the Life Disclaimer: This started off as a day in the life but actually ended up being far too long, so is more accurately, a few hours in the life. I decided that title wasn’t so catchy so stuck with the original. Apologies to all you puritans. 04:30: Wake Up Call. Provided by B with compliments of the house. I shift into stealth mode and do my best impression of still being asleep. So does S and there’s a 5 minute stealth-off until eventually one of us gives in and gets up for fear of other residents of the house being awoken prematurely. One grumpy child is better than four. Tripping over countless toys en route I arrive in B’s room. Still clearly under the influence of BrainFog I release him from his bed, this incredible zippy contraption that we were gifted a few years ago when every morning we awoke to the musical bumps of B falling down the stairs. He’d bypass the stairgate entirely and squish himself through the banister bars for some sort o...

New Year New You?   It’s a lucrative business, this whole new-year-new-you tactic. Well played by the corporate masses, they seem to tap into our insecurities (with a tidy little profit for themselves) right around January the first. The clock strikes midnight on December 31 st , and parallel to everyone’s favourite fairytale, the magic and merriment of Christmas, with all it’s comfy warmth, vanishes into the harsh reality of yet another cold, hard (and usually skint) January. Shops are mutated overnight from twinkly festive havens to crazed motivational life-centres. The aisles that were full of yuletide indulgences are now replaced with cardboard-tasting eat-this-for-ten-days-and-you’ll-look-like-Twiggy meal supplements. Books offer advice on improving every aspect of life; advancing your career, being a better parent, satisfying your man while also getting fitter (seriously-Google sexercise-on second thoughts, don’t)- everything you need to climb that bit higher and push th...

‘You can go the distance; you can run the mile, You can walk straight through hell with a smile. You could be the hero; you could get the gold, Breaking records you thought never could be broke.’ The Script feat. Will.I.Am This is the sort of motivational kick up the arse that would usually have me running for the nearest picket line, comprehensive solutions to the UNs top ten crisis list firmly in hand. But this New Year, as I found out, things would be a little different. As I toasted the New Year in with a motley crew of very lovely mates, I felt renewed vigour and that classic everything-is-possible, take-on-the-world feeling rising up again. Or it could have been that night’s Chinese after one too many, who knew. In fact, the only thing missing from the evening was ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ Personally, I’m not a huge fan of that song; the inebriated slurring and bizarre hand-cross-bounce manoeuvre- which at that point in most people’s New Years Eve is a task akin to a M...