Ditch the G&T, It’s All About Robinsons Fruit Creations #Ad

I have a confession. It may appear from my online antics that I’m partial to a G&T almost every night of the week, after all, isn’t that what us “mum bloggers” (must stop cringing at that title!) do – blabber on the internet, moan about our kids, then guzzle G&Ts while munching on a left-over fish finger amuse-bouche?! In reality, I drink 1, maybe 2, G&Ts a week; I can’t stand wine and gag at the thought of any other hard spirits; in truth, I have the taste-bud maturity of an 8 year old. Which is tres noble and at least one thing I do that might be good for my insides, but somewhat embarrassing when you ask for a squash at a friend’s house in the evening. Mr OG has long asked “what kids drink did you want with your meal this evening?!”

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Frozen Green Smoothie Recipe with Breville Blend Active Personal Blender & Accessory Pack #Ad

Anyone that follows our everyday madness over on Instagram will know how proud I am of H & B for being scouted for the Chelsea Advanced Development Squad. For every inch they were thrilled their ball-kicking dreams were coming true and pride that spilled from my every pore – dread finally set in at our new, life destroying, petrol consuming schedule. With football related travelling, training and matches taking up 15.5 hours (minimum) a week, some days it leaves the boys with little more than 3 waking hours in which to eat, get dressed, relax and argue with each other – which used to take up a lot more time!

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Casper’s Christmas Covered

We’ve got the basket, the metal “bin”, the Swedish superstore, storage mega-plex and the floor – all covered/over-spilling/spewing Casper’s toys. The kid rivals Santa on the amount of toys he has, courtesy of carboot sales/hand me downs and doting grandparents, and yet he still only plays with the same ones again and again. With every new toy purchase, there’s the element of risk – sure, it looks rather alluring to the small, eager eyes of a toddler when it’s sheathed in shiny plastic, under the fluorescent shop lights – money is duly handed over in the hope that the latest amusement fodder will keep Cas busy long enough to sort the lights from the darks; but generally, the poor lump of plastic gets discarded with the dust bunnies and odd socks under the sofa after a mere 5 minutes of attention

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The Only Car Seat You’ll Need

As my third and our collective fifth, it would be an understatement to say Cas has been the King of Hand-me-downs; if ever there was a kingdom of second-hand garms, spider ravaged garden toys and over-bounced jumperoos – Casper would reign supreme. So, when it came to his car seat, it was no different – out came the biscuit encrusted throne from the shed, complete with the musty smell of a bygone childhood. Not only was the hand-me-down ethos we’d adopted for our latest bundle of joy friendly on the pennies, but I convinced myself it was saving my sanity – after all, who wants or needs to learn how to install yet another car seat?

Then, the kindly folk over at GB (Good Baby) seemed to take pity on little Cas and offered to send over one of their rather trendy Vaya i-Size car seats form their swanky Platinum Collection. If ever there was an excuse to finally clean out the family car (aka The Dump Truck) a brand new, gorgeous cars seat is it! We opted for the lux-black, with a Saville Row inspired pin-stripe – if it was just down to how it looked, it gets top marks from me!

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Why We ARE Doing Presents This Christmas

Last year when I boldly declared “we’re not doing presents” I felt relieved, wholesome and that my soul had been relinquished from the consumerist-Demogorgans that feast on the festering flesh of Christmas morning aka our children. A touch dramatic? Perhaps! But hopefully this conveys the modicum of hope this brought to my festive season of 2016. I’d, of course, hoped this would become our Christmas tradition and our children would shed their greed nourished, Philistinian skins to reveal Swallow & Amazon-esque delights – charmingly feral, lacking in materialistic desires; but then I realised I’m not 21 and my pelvic floor is shattered, so promptly readjusted my expectations.

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