En mass, I get it, we’re not only a larger than the norm family, but luck also swung firmly in the male direction when it came to our procreative efforts generating 5 boys. We get a myriad of comments ranging from the friendly, yet sympathetic “you deserve a medal – wow, 5 boys!”, after dinner has been inhaled at a restaurant; to slightly icy stares as couples mutter “god, haven’t they heard of contraception?!”, as we herd our monsters through a packed checkout in Tesco’s on a Sunday afternoon. What none of these people realise, and why would they, is that we never set out to have 5 kids, let alone 5 of the same rambunctious sex. Mr Only Girl and I were happily bumbling along as single parents with two mild-mannered (that’s a whopping lie!) boys each, until one day, we met whilst playing football in the park, fell madly in love (not a whopping lie!), became a family with four boys and then thought we’d give the baby-sex-wheel-of-fortune one more spin at having THAT girl – ooops, there’s another boy. So, in a relatively short space of time, we went from two each to five collectively! BAM! A family of seven was created.View Post
Last weekend saw me left alone with the boys at home, as Mr Only Girl fled the scene on a work trip – this mini-(anti)-break allowed me some time to fully appreciate the boy-ness that plays out in front of me on a daily basis, but is usually osmosed by Mr Only Girl, so skips past my girly gaze.
I grew up as an only child, with a single mum and attended an all-girls school – my life was officially girly. It was as girly as they came, think fake tan, beauty pageants, high heels and mother/daughter shopping trips galore. Then, in 2006, my life changed – there was nothing that could prepare me for a life with boys – things I never knew existed are now common place in my life. Today, I praise those dirty, noisey little blues for giving me a re-education. They’ve brought endless things into my life that I never really needed, don’t really want – but oddly, really enjoy. Here’s just a few…View Post
The count down to our first ever family holiday has begun. In 3 weeks the brave crew over at Thomson Holidays will be jetting all 5 boys and us grown-ups to sunnier climes. So, this week saw me traipse into town (Brighton if I’m being precise), baby and mother in tow in search of the perfect mum garb for our jaunt to a warmer location/summer 2016. I’d tried and failed with my usually reliable online shopping, perhaps as I had quite specific requirements from my new, more revealing wardrobe…View Post
As the wedding invites start rolling in, who am I kidding – I don’t have THAT many friends. Ok, so, as the two wedding invites I’ve received stare at me from the fridge door, the glimmer of a full day and night, sans kids, glistens like a beacon of parental hope on the childcare horizon. I’ll be dressed like a grown up for a full day, possibly wear heels (the jury’s still out on my heel walking abilities) and can get stuck into some cheap cava like only a mother who’s left her kids with grandparents for 24 hrs can.
But it only occurred to me, halfway through chatting to a child-free friend getting hitched this summer, that the debate whether to allow kids or not to their nuptials was a fiercely roaring moral dilemma. Kid-free friends – let me put your mind at rest – don’t invite my kids! Please! In my opinion, weddings are no places for children under the age of 15 – after this age, the free food, possibility of a sip (or two) of aforementioned cheap plonk and the chance of a cheeky snog with a young relative of the bridal family, are all good reasons to be in attendance.
Still not convinced? Here’s just some of the reasons you shouldn’t invite my kids…View Post
You see the pictures on my instagram – a busy, happy and healthy brood of boys. What those pictures don’t tell you, amongst other things like the dirty laundry piled just out of shot, is that one of those beautiful boys believes he’s “not good enough”! Everyday he battles with with painfully low self-esteem, emotions he’s not equipped to control, anger that rages out of frustration to communicate effectively, and ostracisation.
But I’m not going to write about H’s anger issues as there’s no diagnosis, no cure and, at times, everyone around him is floundering for answers to help this little boy. Instead, I want to share a little of my frustration and anger – as unlike H, I’m able to highlight the exact things that make me seeth (poor Mr Only Girl!!).
Suffering from rock-bottom self-esteem has always left H looking externally for approval, none more so than that of his peers. In a bid to make/keep friends he always asked for the biggest, bestest birthday party, inviting as many people as he could remember. The planning would start 6 months in advance: the venue, the theme, the cake, the invitations – he’d make list after list of his ideal day, only comparable to a bride-zilla high on smell of luxury, letter-pressed stationary. I was always happy to go along with it, as it was something he enjoyed planning and, as a mother to a child continually alienating himself from friends due to volatility, I just wanted him to feel part of something special.View Post