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The age old Tupperware problem…

I’m ill. Again / still.

I can’t shake this cold. It was reignited after braving storm Imogen (ftw. Imogen. Seriously. What’s with the ridiculous names?) to take Ramona to playgroup.

But being a full-time mum means you aren’t allowed to be ill. So instead, I tidied.

Continue reading “The age old Tupperware problem…”

Enter: the Sh*tlord

Yesterday, R and I had a perfect day under a beautiful London winter sun.

Today? She turned into a bit of a sh*tlord.

Why is it that as soon as you think you’re getting the hang of this motherhood thing, that bitch called reality comes and smacks you back down?

Continue reading “Enter: the Sh*tlord”

Where the f*cking f*ck is Peppa f*cking Pig?!

If ever a photo summed up modern day fatherhood, it would be this:

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OH HOW I LAUGHED SO.

Continue reading “Where the f*cking f*ck is Peppa f*cking Pig?!”

Not another New Year post…

I’m not one for Happy New Year posts. Or sentimentality for that matter. And I’ve never made New Year’s Resolutions (though agreed to partake in one three years ago when my [now] husband suggested we get married). But this year I thought I’d give it a go.

1. Be [more] present.

Most nights, after putting Ramona to bed, I go downstairs and after the flood of relief has washed over me, the sense of guilt seeps in. I feel like a failure. I’m not saying I should give in to every whiny whim that’s thrown my way, but postponing a response to an email or giving in and reading the same book for the 20th time at bedtime isn’t such a bad thing. On occasion.

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2. Stop following blogs / reading comments on Facebook / internet that I know will irritate the f*ck out of me.

Seriously, when did it become acceptable for people to be so vile towards one another? From: You’re a sh!t mum if you don’t breastfeed. You’re disgusting if you do breastfeed. Stop breastfeeding in public you pig. Your baby is too old to still be breastfeeding because I f*cking say so. To: absolute abhorrent racism. I’m sick of it. Can everyone just please shut the f*ck up?

3. Give up breastfeeding R by the time she’s 2.

Thanks Internet you bullying know-it-all d!ckhead.

I gave up the daytime feeds a while ago but it’s the night feeds that need tackling. I suppose it’d be nice to not have to wear a bra to bed…

4. Plan ahead and do sh!t.

As everyone knows, getting out and about with a baby / toddler can challenge the most saintly. I want to attempt to plan and execute at least a few decent day trips per month around London with R.

5. Write more.

Just do it you lazy good-for-nothing.

Hem

6. Try to cook more.

Give my husband a break from cooking every night. Try to actually follow a recipe instead of second-guessing it and ruining f*cking everything.

7. Exercise.

Absolutely tedious. I don’t know who I am right now. But as I’ve not made resolutions in the past, I think I can get away with putting this one on the list.

When I was pregnant, I really enjoyed doing some antenatal yoga in the evening. It made me feel a bit less like a fat, useless tw@t who was sitting around just waiting to squeeze one out.

8. Stop getting annoyed at Question Time.

This will probably be the hardest resolution to keep.

I rarely get to the end of an episode of QT. I usually storm off to bed, shouting expletives at the husband and the TV, a deep internal rage brewing before tossing and turning in bed convinced that we live in a land of tw@tting f*cking tw@ts.

9. Don’t drink for the sake of it (if I ever get to go out again).

I’m boring and socially inept and I’m sick of pretending otherwise. Therefore, I won’t be keeping myself topped up for the sake of conversation and to not seem so awkward. Whatevs.

10. Me time(?)

I’ve hardly spent any time away from R. It’s just the pattern we’ve fallen into. I went 15 months without taking a time-out from her. Early December, I attended a baby shower and reluctantly left her with my husband for a couple of hours…before they came to meet me.

This was her face when it suddenly dawned on her that she wasn’t actually coming with me:

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It was difficult and actually not an enjoyable feeling for me. I felt like a wreck. I guess this rezzie should actually be “try to enjoy some me time”.

11. FINISH THE F*CKING BRIDGE (BRON/BROEN) III.

Seriously. I’m part way through episode 10. Still. I can’t even politely take my computer in the bathroom whilst I take a dump so I can watch just that little bit more because I’m not even at home.

12. Don’t beat myself up when the above isn’t achievable. 

Apart from no.11 because seriously, if I don’t get to the end of the last episode of The Bridge, something has gone very, very wrong in my life. Maybe I died or something.

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