It’s become known as the day I thought they’d finally turn on me, that my own children would want to stab me in the eye with their overpriced, scented Smiggle pencils. T’was the first Saturday of the Christmas holidays, which may explain my naive, fuzzy optimism getting out of hand, however, ‘shouty mummy’ had already reared her scary head and unleashed the fury of a thousand toddlers denied “choc-choc”! I’d heard enough shouting “replenish my health” down headsets/into the next room/to the brother sitting 67cm away to last me a parental life time (thankfully shorter than the average due to Xbox induced stress levels and general sleep deprivation – there’s 3 parental years to the standard singleton year!); been told “…but I’m in a game!” like it was the answer to every possible request I could make of my children and seen the cherubic faces of my offspring for a whole 13.5 minutes (while they scoffed vital food supplies) in an 8 hour period.View Post
My obsession with a morning tea in bed begun when I was just 6 and, didn’t even like tea. Staying with my Great-Nanny Flo, every morning her doily-clad teas-maid would ping its tinny alarm to notify her that the morning could begin thanks to a somewhat stewed, chlorine-y brew – but a brew none-the-less. Fast forward 25 (odd!) years, and not only did I start drinking tea during my first pregnancy, it’s so deeply ingrained in my (morning) routine that it’s almost a part of me. I’m also known for not being a morning person, so, in order to rouse me from my dribbling slumber without being subjected to the wrath of “you’re burning my bloody retinas” as he opens the blinds, Mr OG comes armed with a steamy cuppa to placate my morning dragon rage.View Post
I’ve heard “no one enjoys ironing”, well “hello”, call me a crease obsessed domestic freak ‘cos I bloomin’ love ironing! I’d almost go as far to say that with enough time to get my (ironing) kit out, it’s actually a pleasurable luxury – after all, nothing beats regaining half my wardrobe by freeing the garments from the shackles of the ironing basket; in essence, it’s like going shopping for new clothes while ticking a job off ‘the list’ which you can martyr yourself with at the altar of relationship chore-tit-for-tat at a later date, what’s not to love?!View Post
I might be flouted as “fussy” by those nearest and dearest come present buying season, even to the point I’ve renounced presents to avoid disappointment and for the simple reason I don’t need anything else in my life. This might sound annoyingly self-righteous and oh-so on-trend for banging the anti-materialistic drum, but those aren’t the foundations of my protestations. I do believe in the whole “less is more” ethos, I don’t always live it, but believe in it I do – it comes down to the fact I just really know what I like (and, more accurately what I don’t!) and get twitchy at the thought of undesired crap being thrust my way.
I feel the same when it comes to my wardrobe – not much makes the cut, there’s a few rules about what infiltrates my Trojan-like fashion fortress…View Post
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?!”View Post