Revelations of a Slummy Mummy

One of S’s conditions in agreeing to baby number four was that I learned to drive. Fair enough, I could see how, from his point of view, playing taxi driver to three small people and me, plus always being the dessie driver by default because he was the only driver could get quite tedious. To add insult to injury, I rarely drank when we went out, normally for one of two reasons- namely pregnancy or breastfeeding. I think we calculated that I’ve spent 37 months of my life pregnant, and 44 months of my life breastfeeding the products of those pregnancies. (If you’re wondering about the extra month of pregnancy- all of my kids were hugely inconsiderate and rocked up late. Big dislike) Before I learned to drive my main mode of transport was, in the words of S, the dreaded ‘peasant wagon.’ This amused me in the extreme, having happily used buses my entire life since my mum never drove a car, but to S the mere thought of sharing a vehicle with strangers (and possibly unwashed, germ-ridde...

Firstly, apologies for the slackness in this very tardy blog. Secondly, I love every one of you brilliant, encouraging, fantastic, supportive, awesome individuals for taking the time out to read my ramblings. It means more than you can know. It hasn’t been the easiest few weeks. In fact, epic crises the size of Everest have seemed to strike one atop another like angry waves battering the shoreline in a particularly gnarly storm. My resolve to remain rock like is rapidly eroding into sand, but I figure there are some sand attributes that aren’t so bad after all (but that’s a whole other blog post!) My eyes have recently been opened to a whole other realm. A realm untalked about by the masses- funerals and death 101. I have no previous knowledge or experience on this slightly taboo underworld-it’s not something that generally pops up in the everyday chirpy dinner party conversation. On the occasions I have seen it attempted with such casuality the result has been fallout akin ...

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...