Why I’m Disappointed in 1D

Maybe it’s because I’m a mum of boys, or maybe I just have a soft spot for floppy hair – either way, I couldn’t have been prouder when 1-D came third on X-Factor 2009, propelling them on a meteoric, sex (and allegedly drug) fuelled roller coaster of international success. Little did the bright-eyed Harry Styles know as he whispered into the winner, Matt Cardle’s ear: “Think how much pussy you’re gonna get!” – that he would, in fact, be on the receiving end of quite a bit of the feline synonym mentioned. But 1-D, despite my years of loyal motherly love (even as your tattoo count entered triple figures and you actually got facial hair!), you’ve disappointed me in the past few weeks; as much as I am a die-hard fan of your free-spirited boyish behaviour, I am also a real girly-girl – willing to stand-up for womanhood and all its fabness at the drop of a tampon!

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When Did (my) Kids Become So Useless?

Ok, be warned this might get a little bit sweary!

When did modern day kids become so fucking useless? I mean this in a very loving, motherly way – as in, why the hell can’t kids seem to do anything for themselves anymore? I don’t want to set my little birds free from the nest, when they one day head off into the big wide world (the day will come right?), for them to trip over the first man-hole cover in the drive because they didn’t think to look where they were going.

My little rant observation, comes after a Saturday during which…

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The Pleasures of Motherhood – Ironing & More

I think it happened somewhere between the episiotomy and the endless sleepless nights, a seismic shift in my pleasure receptors and what I consider a reward. Once upon a time I took great pleasure in travelling, new shoes, finding the right shade of lip gloss with a zero hair-stick factor – I’m not saying these things no longer give me pleasure, but these days they are considered more of a luxury. After having children, the little time vampires have an effect on how you view menial tasks; perhaps it’s because prior to the little second-suckers entering our lives we would freely roam super markets, taking minutes deliberating over which fresh juice one might prefer to sup in peace on a lazy Sunday morning, or leisurely separate, not only lights from darks but, silks from wool as we generously applied a suitable washing solution based on the fabric composition.

But not only do I dream fantasise of a trip to Waitrose (sod it, I’d be just as thrilled with a Lidl these days) on my own, for at least an hour, without having to separate what looks like Tyson Vs Holyfield in the bakery dept as my 7 & 8 yr old go hell for leather for the third time whilst childless twenty-somethings gawk in disbelief, but I find myself ranking household chores into things I must do first before I’m allowed to move on to the more “fun” tasks.

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Mother of Boys – The Fear of Guests

Last Wednesday was a very exciting day (at least in my books), after weeks and weeks of waiting the architect was finally coming to our house to reveal the plans for our much needed extension (in case you haven’t seen the last blog about this, check it out!). The thrill, the wonder, the anticipation was nearly overwhelming, but this was soon taken over by The Fear!! The fear that only a mother of boys could possibly appreciate.

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