Meeting santa

It’s the most wonderful time of the year..

Visions of my toddler happily sitting on Santa’s knee (not allowed due to police checks now guys) , giggling and being given presents…

But just for a second can we all talk about the taking children under 18months to see santa?

I need to know what the deal is because quite frankly I feel I have no Santa etiquette whatsoever. I thought this year would be easier than last (Oscar was four months but we were the overly excited first Christmas family) ,but frankly.. It wasn’t.

We queue- we get ushered in by an elf, who honestly looked like she’d enjoyed the festivities far too much, I’m talking lots of baileys and lots of mince pies.  Santa asks a bunch of questions to my ‘none talking’ child…. I then have to.l ANSWER THE QUESTIONS – AS THE BABY?as me? I’m unsure. It’s awkward.


Santa : have you been a good boy this year?

Me: no, no you haven’t have you Oscar?


Santa :what do you want for Christmas then?

It’s already awkward

Me: a wooden spoon would be great wouldn’t it Oscar?


Seriously could you help me out a little 

Santa :can you find my magical elf

Me : is that a euphemism?

Gingy: not the place beth


OK we just need to get out of here now. 

Turns out the magical elf was on top of the camera, which in turn takes your family photo… I’ll let you take from the photo what you will,but I have a funny feeling that Santa’s not so welcome in our house just yet.

Feel free to post your funny santa photos in the comments. 19w0ty4rprozab4wgazfzbs5bp9az09ntfrwts0hhgq8yhl80x.jpeg


I’m more than just a mom

It’s a feeling of frustration and anger, being just a mom….i mean that in itself is an insult, but I’ll leave that for another time

Right now I’m focused on the fact that I’m seen as just a mom, just the one that gets your jacket potato done for when you get in from work.just the one who managed to nip down the post office and post your parcel today. Just a mom, who feeds our babies belly and puts him to bed at night.

What you forget is, before I was a mom, I was your lover, partner in crime, the one who used to laugh hysterically at your really unfunny jokes, or waltz round the kitchen in our jammies making super noodles. Date night used to be every night.a snog was part of the daily routine.

every night I’d make and effort. I’d always put my nice smelling moisturiser on, you’d always give me those get into bed eyes….. Now.. Now I’m lucky if you look up from your phone. Now I’m lucky to get a peck before bed. Now I’m just a mom who never has time for makeup, never has the money for a date night and never gets seen as much more than part of the furniture.

Can we go back to waltzing round the kitchen, snogging on the sofa, laughing nonestop and singing in the car to our fave Ed sheeran songs.

Let’s go back to the person I was before I was a mom..

My babies getting too big for his boots…

I’m not sure what’s gone wrong? Was it the extra E numbers. Was it the fact we laughed when he hit our (not so favourite family member)in the face.  what was it?

Am I growing a mini murderer? Because here’s the thing… My loving cuddly ‘ahhh’ baby, is turning into this punching kicking and screaming toddler;and I’ll be honest, I haven’t a fucking clue what to do about it.

He hit me square in the nose, right in the middle of row row row your boat. It took me by suprise. It made my eyes water, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you that for a miniscule second i thought about flicking him back in his little nose. (I didn’t guys… You don’t need to phone childline)

You know what’s worse though. I shouted. I told him off. I wasn’t happy. AND HE LAUGHED. HE FRIGGIN LAUGHED. I muttered to myself about how he was a mini arse hole that doesn’t appreciate all I do for him. He hadn’t got a clue, he was picking his nose and eating it.

Then (oh yeah there is more) .. he did it to my new mom friends baby, I’d literally jussssst made this friend (new mom friends are hard to come by don’t you know?!) . And he ruined it for us both. He pushed her toddler over. The embarrassment. The shame. And then……. I told him off. And he laughed. Never wanted the ground to swallow me more than then.

Guess what? Naughty step, with a 13month.impossible.

Praising good behaviour. Ignoring bad behaviour. I got another punch in the nose. (really hard to ignore).

Telling him off, making him sit in the cot, completely oblivious to the fact he was in their for anything other than a nap.

Perhaps I’ll channel his anger early. Perhaps I’m raising a little rocky balboa. Beats the idea that I can’t control my 13month old doesn’t it.



But am I a bad mom?

It’s one that whizzes through my head on my evening bath… When my baby’s still not walking independently… When he’s refusing most meals that don’t have Nutella or yoghurt involved, when he hasn’t moved on to any new words except dada..

Does any of that make me a shit mom? Does the fact that my darling son, who I could cook from scratch 7 meals a day ;still prefers to just eat a weetabix or a dry toast;does that make me shit? Well… It makes you feel that way for sure!Especially when your mates kid eats 3 organic meals a day, enough veg to fill an allotment, every fruit under the sun and of course, plenty of plain water to wash it down.

Am I a shit mom because my son still can’t walk independently, or name animals or farm noises, he can’t sing and he still can’t say mom…. Does that make me shit… Because my friends child can sing the alphabet, name all the animals and noises (whilst munching his organic dinner with his own spoon)

Maybe he does still have a dummy. A comfort bottle. Maybe he does wake up six times a night. Perhaps we have co slept too long. I guess he shouldn’t have had McDonald’s chips.

But does annnnny of this make me a shit mom?

No… I’m bloody well not.. You know why? Because I’m trying. And a shit mom, wouldn’t try! A shit mom…. Wouldn’t give a shit about whether or not he’d eaten a vegetable. A shit mom wouldn’t feel guilt about the fact he went to bed on a weetabix rather than a home cooked roast. And a shit mom sure as hell wouldn’t spend the rest of her evening googling why her baby isn’t doing any of these things.

So next time you’re worried that your babies gone to sleep on 3 biscuits and a bottle of milk…..

Or the fact they’ve not started walking at 1

Or even that they’ve never said a word.

Guess what? Your still the best mom! IMG-20171012-WA0013.jpeg


Today was our first attempt at playgroup. 9am-11am. Arrive early or you could be turned away, firstly I dare you to turn me away after getting myself and a baby changed, here,and alive for 9am!i will fight you. Secondly  I’m unsure how when I got there everyone was mingling, dressed appropriately, calm, collective and relaxed.

Me? I’d jogged the whole way (except when I saw builders.. Don’t want them seeing me pant and sweat) turned up at the door sweating, having what felt like a minor asthma attack, couldn’t find an inhaler.. Didn’t pack it- and holy mother of God the church felt like the devil himself had been in and warmed it up! Not fun after a jog there and I’m pretty sure my deodorant was totally failing me. Pfft.

We eyed the room, and there was a few types of children.

CLINGERS. Oscar came into this category, the babies that literally you couldn’t shake off your leg, the moment you even attempt to ‘leave them’ to sit on an adult chair there is one hell of a crying snotty face peering up at you. These babies carry a comforter, Diddy and bottle all together at all times!

CALM. COLLECTED. CONFIDENT. They got here early, their parents are chit chatting and they are doing EXACTLY as they should. Playing nicely. No throwing, basically a total dream. They have matching outfits and no comforter!

EXTRAS. these are the older children who come with a tot.Too old to be here but somehow was allowed to come in with little suzie baby. They tend to be kinda chubby. Really destructive and taking toys that the CLINGERS are playing with left right and center. Their mom…. Doesn’t give a flying f**k.

TOKEN SET OF TWINS there’s always an set of twins isn’t there? The ones that make you thank jesus you only have to deal with one clinger and not two. Their mom always has panic across her face and generally loses one of the children every 5/10mins.

And last but not least CRYERS.talks for itself doesn’t it. They cry. Nonstop from start to finish even with a mouthful of toast. Their mom… Totally unfazed!

After an hour of dropping Oscar in a pile of books and running to a chair Repeatedly.It was toast and singing time. I obviously had to check the toast wasn’t poisonous (heads up… Don’t do this) its seriously frowned upon when you each the children’s free toast.

Ring a ring a roses. Wheels on the bus. A very… Shitty rendition of I can sing a rainbow and we were out of there. But you know what… I enjoyed it. I enjoyed sitting with a bunch of other CLINGERS moms, giving each other the ‘I feel sorry for you eyes’ and looking at the together moms with complete jealously and slight admiration. I think we’ll go again. ☺

Baby free moments

Going to the supermarket with a child is a real pain in the arse isn’t it.. Like you have to pack a change bag, they always fall asleep in the car on route there. Meaning you have to wake them to go in the trolley.. And we all know.. Waking a child.. Well waking anybody, but specifically a child is like WAKING THE DEVIL HIMSELF.

You have to handle the screaming whilst managing to get every item off your imaginary list. Bit like supermarket sweep but way worse.

You spend every aisle giving the baby inanimate objects to keep them quiet “here.. Take these baby wipes wowww” “Wow.. Look at this dog toy” “oooh these supernoodles are shiny” that get thrown with great force at other shoppers, while you give them the polite smile but also the DON’T SAY A F***ING WORD eyes.

And then of course in desperation you open a pack of chocolate buttons don’t you, like.. It’s worth It, if I get in trouble, so be it, I’d go to jail for a good sleep anyway.

But what we take for granted is, we always have someone with us, what happens when someone’s said ‘ah just leave him here while you nip to the shop it’s fine’

I’ll tell you what happens. It goes to shit, where do you put your purse? You have no bag because this purse has lived in that change bag for like.. ever.

Your hands.. Your hands suddenly don’t know what to do, do you swing your arms down the aisle? Do you put them in your pockets. It’s alien. You’ve no idea what to do with your hands. And then last but not least you start talking to yourself. ‘wow this is a nice new beans can‘… You get other customers glaring at you like a fruit loop.

Smiling at other babies now looks like your a paedophile rather than ‘another mom in the supermarket’ and the glare you get back off a fellow mom when you give them that ‘I know how you feel’ look is a very stern ‘no you f*****g dont’ look!


Mom dating.

Not for the faint hearted, I spent the first year of Oscars life just fumbling on through, I’d lost my old friends to the party single NO KIDS lifestyle. And it was time to… make new ones. Ha.

Started at playgroups, and harbeeps. Turns out, I’m not mumzy. The Chitterchatter of the mums about evening routines and when to discipline and blergh blergh blerghhh, no.. It wasn’t me. Don’t get me wrong. I tried to embrace it. This was now my lifestyle. This must be what a mom is. Drinking cups of tea, watching your language and talking about routines (routine Andrea.. There is always one.)

After realising that actually I can’t rant about my other half by saying ‘fluffing idiot’ and that quite honestly I couldn’t give a damn about milestones and routines. I set to find my lobster.

I’m talking someone who I can go round, no makeup on . doesn’t mind about alcohol before 12 (or even embraces it) , Rant with real swear words while our kids eat wotsits and watch Tangled repeatedly.

It was a long road,lots of awkward playdates, lots of watching my language, WHO SHOULD TEXT WHO FIRST… I don’t wanna be too eager… Do I take the swearing out my text. Shall I delete my no make-up selfie. Perhaps she doesn’t agree with the salt content in wotsits.i wonder if it’s a pub date or a crafty play date.

But guess bloody what, I only found two! Two mom friends. Who live near me. Who I can drink alcohol. Eat snacks. And waffle about how shit night feeds and periods and toddler attitude is. Talk about bonus.

I found my lobster.(s) dedicated to sasha and abigail who I can’t believe haven’t run away after me writing a blog post about them 😂