Thursday 22 March 2012

Mumbiches (said like sandwiches)

Today I heard the following come from a mum to another mum, sat only a few feet from me in a swimming pool.

"I cant believe that kid still has a float jacket on!'

There are about twenty kids in the pool, and corresponding mums. (Who are all desperately trying to hide their 'thunder thighs' under the barely warm, piss ridden water).

Oh, and Boy is the only one in a float jacket)

"Mine were out of jackets by the time they were one"

(Mumbiches kids are splashing about, trying to drown each other while mine is attached to my neck like a very frightened kola, slowly pulling my (not big enough) bikini top down)

"She needs to get him some swimming lessons."

Thanks very much FELLOW Mum.

I leave, nearly crying.
Then I am angry that I'm crying.
Then I'm angry at them for being so judgemental.. and loud about it.
Then I'm freaking out because I think Boy is abnormal and will grow up frightened of water.
He will grow up to be teased.
He will fall in to a lake...
and drown.....
I am the worlds WORST mum.


I reach my mums where I get total sympathy and a firm yet totally empathetic talking to.

My son is normal (if a little...spirited??)
He will learn to swim when he is ready (and when I can afford swimming lessons)
He will grow up to be well rounded as I will teach him not to be affected by teasing.
He is not frightened of water... he regularly pours it all over my carpet.
I am a GOOD mum (not the best, but then, she doesn't exist..)

Peg Pinata

Boy has devised an ingenious game that, coincidentally, has become a pain in the arse for me.

He has invented Peg Pinata.

This game basically involves him whacking my (very full) peg basket, on the washing line, with one of those massive noodle floats.. Boy does this until all the pegs have flown to the far corners of the garden, ready for me to retrieve. Usually, when I have 4 loads of washing to squash and hang (badly) on the line.

I swear he is under the impression he needs to create more work for me...

Monday 19 March 2012

Stolen Goods

Have recently started letting boy out of the trolley when shopping. This quite often comes down to a shocking life or death moment involving boys curiosity and the travelator. It also means he now has access to everything on the shelves.

 I reckon I owe hundreds to supermarkets for broken, half eaten goods cunningly shoved to the back of shelves. Yes, I am one of these Mums who lets their kids eat the grapes from the bag BEFORE I have paid.. I make no apologies.. the happiness of a toddler in a supermarket is something that concerns EVERYONE. This has however created problems now he is free to stick his dirty little paws into the food. Found him with his finger testing the squidgyness of a raw sausage. Great. If I'm not on the ball or in my usual half asleep state I will forget that I need to do a sly U-turn to avoid the pick and mix... This is the incident that made me have to change my shopping route..

Boy is literally helping himself to handfuls of pick and mix, ignoring the hygiene implications of this my main concern is how to extricate the evil little hyper jellies from his hands without him having a full- on emotional breakdown in the middle of supermarket when I have a full trolley (3 weeks overdue). I did what any self respecting, caring and emotionally fragile Mother would do.. I said this.. in a whisper..

"Just eat them quickly so no one sees and don't do it again"

I watch in shock and admiration as my tiny boy shovels these evil little sweeties down his throat thinking 'Yep, thats gonna bite me on the arse at bedtime tonight when I'm trying to poke him down of the light fitting with a broom'

We approach the till.. I'm a little nervous I'll admit.. thinking Please don't ban me for being unable to control my child. All is good, the man puts my stuff through the till and I feel smug... until I hear a little voice I recognise say
"Look man LOOK what MUMMY GAVE ME"... and out of his little pocket, squished into his hand is a few quids worth of pick n mix. Man looks at me and the best I can say??

"HAHAHAHAHAHA, does that count as harbouring stolen goods?!"
These are not good words to say, loudly in a supermarket.

Human Echo

Boy is my human echo. Its really disconcerting being told off by your own offspring in you own rehursed Mummy is angry voice. Here are some examples from today alone..

"MUMMY GET on the TRAMPOLINE NOW!!"
"I will in a minute, I'm just cooking" (By which I mean I have hot pan of boiling water in one hand, making huis dinner, while the other hand chops the cucumber for his lunch.. thats how I roll! Haha)
"No NOW!"
I dont reply.. this angers him further (and I know it, can even see him with his little fists clenched in indigation. His face all scrunched up and red)
"MUMMY, I GIVE YOU TO 3 to get on the TRAMPOLINE! 1.....2.......3.....!!!"
"I told you I'm cooking, I'll be out in a minute"
"RIGHT!! Mummy TIMEOUT 2 MINUTES!"

He then marched in and tried to bundle me out of the kitchen into timeout. Outrageous.


"Mummy, eat your cucumber ALL up!"
"Alright bossy boots, whats it got to do with you?!"
"Because I said so..."

Bugger.


Saturday 17 March 2012

The Death of the Speakers

Music plays a big part in my life and therefore the boys too. He's been listening to music since he was in my tummy, which is probably why he can only shout his wants and needs at me, maybe he is constantly hearing Tower of Power in his head. The boy likes funk, he likes bass and he likes it LOUD. This makes me so proud.

The demand for music in my car has led to her only being able to produce sound from 1 speaker (2 intermittently  on a good day) This is what happened..

"MUSIC LOUDER MUMMY!!"
*I turn music up.. i live to serve the Prince in the back*
"No, LOUDER mummy!"
"I cant hunny its too loud." - I am having to turn music down to speak now.
"No LOUDER!!"
"LOUDER!"
"LOOOOOUUUUDDDDEEEERRRR MUMMY LOUDER!"
"fine!"
*Turns music up and speaker blows, then the other goes...*
"Shit"
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahah, naughty Mummy. YOU broke the music"

Im sorry car xx

My Portable Storage Unit

My car, is a luxury I can neither afford or live without. My car is priceless, especially when we are talking about the crazy social life of boy. He has more friends and commitments and than I do, certainly not easily managed on public transport!!

My car is many things to me, my friend, my transport, my Independence, an extension of my storage and lastly, a refuge for half eaten bananas, broken toys, raisins and beakers so old I swear I can hear them talking to me.

Poor car takes a bashing, she is too old for me to worry about dinging the doors or the funny noise she makes when she goes round corners. She is loyal and reliable, this is enough for me. I can no longer use my boot, it contains every conceivable item that might be needed in the event of a national emergency: 2 first aid kits, 4 changes of clothes (all for varying weather conditions) emergency toys and items of amusement, big thick coats, emergency nappies wipes etc, buggy, two rain covers, wellington boots, spare tools and a warning triangle ( which I sometimes think would be better suited attached to my arse)
Boy, is not good to the car.. He doesn't treat her well or understand that she has boundaries. A regular conversation In my car between us is this;

"FASTER MUMMA, FASTER!!!"
"Babe I cant go faster, the car will break and its against the law."
'FASTER MUMMA!!"
"No."
'CATCH UP WITH THE LORRY!!"
"I cant darlin, there is two people in front of me"
"FASTER MUMMY!! FAAAAAAAASSSSTTTTEEEEERRRRR!!!!"
"no."
"THE LORRY IS GETTING AWAY!"
"thats because he can hear you shouting and he's scared"
"FASTER!!"


Friday 16 March 2012

The Birthday Party Checklist

Birthday Party Checklist;

  • Balloons (of the helium variety so when the kids are in bed you can inhale them and fool yourself it was worth spending £20 on glorified air)
  • Cake (not just any cake but THE cake. You know, the cake that symbolises the kind of Mother you are. How much you love your child, how great your domestic skills are, your ability to create under pressure; these are all considered by your nearest and dearest while they aptly devour your cake/heart in front you...)
  • Presents (oh god, the toys!! All now needing a new home, that YOU are going to have to find.
  • Invites (that you hope child is going to help you make but you end up doing them and trying to authenticate them by sticking the stickers on at dodgy angles and writing with your left hand)

  • Sedatives

If you only remember the sedatives your doing well....
The sound every mother dreads is the sound of their child crying in pain.. but what we hate more is the sound of someone elses child crying while ours is silent and looking very sheepish stood next to them. Then comes the inevitable exchange with the 'unknown mother'. This will go one of two ways...

1. You agree that both kids are as silly as each other, no one lost an eye and your coffee is still at a drinkable temperature so lets just laugh and move on. (once the twenty minute bribe for your child to apologise has taken place of course)

2. They look at you with disgust and your child like they are Satan. They snatch their child away and stalk off telling all the mothers along the way that yours is a bad egg. You cry and leave.

Personally I much prefer option 1 but I must confess I no longer cry and leave if option 2 is what i get landed with. I merely say in a loud voice "the best you can do baby is apologise if that's not enough then that's THEIR PROBLEM' .....Pick boy up and run full pelt into the ball pit.

Knicker Eating Bottom

A regular haunt of mine and boys is soft play centres. To say that boy is energetic would be a massive understatement.. he needs places to climb, stuff to throw and occasionally, if I'm very unlucky, another child to start a fight with.. soft play is designed for this! Some of the funniest moments have happened to me at one of the many places we frequent. Thanks to these places however I no longer seem to have claustrophobia.. thanks motherhood!

Yesterday I found myself literally the butt of a joke made by a very cute little 5 year old girl. She was walking up some stairs behind me and boy with her mummy when I hear the following conversation take place, loudly, behind my back...

"Mummy, that lady doesn't have any knickers on! Hahahahaha."
"I'm sure she does darling, maybe they are just very small."
"HAHAHAHAHA, maybe her bottom ATE THEM UP??!!"

I can assure you all, I was wearing knickers.
The mother was totally embarrassed and apologetic while I roared with laughter and made a note in my head to share this with everyone i know.
This level of embarrassment I can handle, this is comfortable, sorts out the people into those with a sense of humour and those without. However, a few hours later my mother points out to me that my leggings are totally see through and she can totally see that I am wearing a thong. Which means that so have ALL the parents at soft play.. especially when I was climbing through tunnels on my hands and knees.

Note to self... check transparency of clothing before leaving house!

The Beginning

Starting this blog is alot harder than I imagined it would be. Basically, I need a place to document the ridiculous, amazing and sometimes heartbreaking moments in my life... and this is it.. Welcome to my life, my amazing (and tolerant) husband, my hilarious (nearly) 3 year old son, my mental mates and my inspirational family.

I'm in a fairly small minority these days; being a full time mum and still being in my early twenties. I have also realised over the last (nearly) 3 years of my life that frequently I am, The Worlds Worst Mum yet also the BEST! The quickest way to determine which mummy I am going to be today is to ask my boy, as lets face it... its his decision.

Before I had my boy I will happily confess to being easily embarrassed and fairly cautious in nature. This is no longer an issue for me. Once you've had more than a handful of people look at your foof in a PURELY medical and curious fashion, your dignity is so low its almost funny to see how far you can drag it along the floor. This lack of embarrassment however has enabled me to laugh at some of the most cringing, humiliating and down right disgusting moments being a mum has chucked at me... I hope you enjoy them....