Category: Children & childhood

I see you. Your children see you. Can you see you?

The thing with Instagram mums is you can’t see them. If Sarah down the road has her shoes on the wrong feet (hers, not her child’s, it can happen) you can see it. You can see her unwashed hair, her red-rimmed eyes, the numerous fish finger boxes in her recycling. You can see her ill fitting jeans. Women have never been… Read more →

Camping: Never. Again (until next week).

Camping. It’s basically just wiping toilet seats, dry retching, eating crisps and arguing, isn’t it? How many times in one holiday can you say “You CAN’T want a wee again already?” or “Have you finished yet?” or “Don’t go in THAT one!” or “You’re not hungry because you’ve eaten eight bags of crisps,” or “We can’t stay together if you… Read more →

Ants, pants, wet gussets and battered plinths: My birthday lunch

It seems so obvious now. The walk there should have been a giveaway. BUB.3, aged three, decided to wear sparkly flip flops two sizes too big for her. Those damn shoes, and they’re not even shoes are they really, flipped off behind her about eighty times on the five minute walk.  Every time the shoe flew off, she cried. I… Read more →

8 times I knew I was tired

I decided to adopt the “early tea and fast track into PJs” strategy, only to find everyone demanded a second tea and required a change of pyjamas. Double the work. Twice the pain. I completely lost track of how many contact lenses I had put in each eye and took three out of one eye but still couldn’t see. I… Read more →

Solidaritea (and up yours Daily Mail)

Reading one of these women’s posts is the equivalent of panicking because everyone in your post-natal group is bringing out brightly coloured snack pots full of home made humous and pasta salad and you have forgotten a snack but then the woman opposite you brings out a tupperware from her bag from last week that she’s forgotten about and it’s got mould growing in it and everyone sees and you just want to hug her and say “Thank you.” Read more →

Fish heads 1 Parents 0

I sipped my tea from a safe distance, muttering things like “There’s no need for such a fuss” and “It’s nothing a quick rinse with some soapy water can’t fix” and “It’s just a matter of encouraging their individual interests,” as the children splattered and smeared fish guts all over the kitchen cupboards. Read more →

The Poo Lagoon* (*or Bank Holiday at the public swimming pool).

Further round we dance, ducking under buckets of cold water, ricocheting off of obese men’s stomach, rippling past frenzied children kicking, mouldy crocodiles and a demonic stork, we make it back to the baby beach, apologising to everyone we get kicked in the face by. Read more →

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