Why we all need to calm down about THAT Taylor Swift impersonation.

Would you let your 7 year old child do this?

 

 

Xia Vigor gave it her all in the hit Phillipino TV show ‘Your face sounds familiar KIDS’. She has single handedly sent social media, Piers Morgan and those Looose Women into melt down today as this video goes viral.

What I want to know is why on earth is everyone so shocked? Can we all calm down and take a deep breath.

We are living in a world where our children are getting older from a much younger age. Thanks to the abundance of social media, celebrities are more accessible, with some like Taylor Swift having huge followings of primary aged kids. My kids are a little too familiar with you tube. They love watching music and dancing, as well as far eastern women opening kinder eggs… They like that a lot.  The world is at their finger tips, and trying to ‘protect’ them from that is virtually impossible. Surely curbing their enthusiasm is all we can do?

Would allow one of my girls  to perform like this, aged 7?

The answer is yes, I probably would allow it. But that’s not to say I would out and out encourage it.

The reason for this is because to ban make up, to ban certain dance moves and to ban sparkly costumes would be entirely hypocritical. Whilst I appreciate that there has to be a line and crossing it would put a child in a potentially vulnerable position, I don’t see the issue with a little girl essentially mimicking her idol in this controlled environment. This isn’t a little girl performing in an entirely inappropriate venue like a club or in a situation which would put her in danger. This is a child who clearly loves performing, and is giving it her Taylor Swift best. On a stage. With proper adult supervision.

Xia Vigor is having the time of her life. And why shouldn’t she? How many little girls dress up and dance around their living rooms, dreaming of a big stage to perform on? Probably a large proportion, if my small window of experience around 6 year old’s is anything to go by!

My daughter loves to wear make up. She watches me bodge my eye liner on a daily basis. She questions which brushes are for what. She is genuinely interested to find out and to experiment with my make up. To save my Bare Minerals collection, I trotted off to Claire’s to buy her a more suitable kit. It’s her pride and joy, to Darcie she is mimicking me (please note I am not, however, her idol!). We have a rule that it’s only for the weekend, but I do let her wear it out of the house. It’s not like she has mastered the art of contouring or perfected a smokey eye, so it’s really not noticeable if at all (don’t tell her that!). But to Darcie she loves that she can add this to her weekend uniform of black leggings and black leggings.

If you have ever been to watch a children’s dance show you will know that the make up flows. Those backstage ninjas don’t hold back. We had our first experience of Darcie being in a dance show last year. She was plastered in make up, and wore a cute costume. It was in no way a sexual performance, it was just adorable 4 year old’s dancing their tap shoes off.

I think performance is a great way to grow a child’s confidence and for them to learn new skills. The Xia Vigors Taylor Swift impersonation, if watched with the right frame of mind, is adorable. It’s only when we add an adult spin on things that the waters get murky and the tutters get their pointing sticks out, ready to tell the world how little girls should act.

At the end of the day it’s all down to individual choice. No I wouldn’t trowel make up onto my little girls and teach them how to twerk. But if they managed to figure it all out by themselves, then I would have to give them credit for that.

What do you think? Would you let your child perform like this? Do you allow your child to experiment with make up? I’m genuinely intrigued to have other parents opinions on this one. Leave a comment and let me know!

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

10 reasons why being a Muma rocks

Welcome to my nifty fifty blog post!

To celebrate such a grand total of waffle I decided to turn the world on its head, and tell you why I think being a Muma totally ROCKS. (I’ve delved deep, and I’m ignoring the fact that I gave in and  fed my 2.5 year old daughter a bottle of milk at 2am last night – yep, I’m a sucker.)

So without further ado, I give you: 10 reasons why being a Muma rocks

  • Love: yes, I’m starting with a belter. That little voice that first says “I love you” has the power to move mountains: or at least make me immediately forget that my Chanel lipgloss has now become an abstract motif on my new wallpaper. LOVE ROCKS!
  • Endless supply of great big fat cuddles – even when you are on the loo! No boundaries here, just hug away, literally ANYWHERE.
  • You get to eat fish fingers beans and chips on the regular, and sometimes I treat us to  those alpha-bites (ohhhh I hear you gasp, you badass) occasionally I turn uber Bad-Mom and leave hubster a naughty word on his plate: scandalous! oh the endless laughter to be had…
  • The buggy / Trolley. No gorilla arms for me, I just load up: not sure if you need a coat, iffy weather? No need to ponder that big question – Just pop it on the buggy! The fact that my children no longer ride the buggy is irrelevant. I’m not letting go of my trolley. I’ll never let go…
  • Christmas. I thought Christmas was good as a kid, but having kids at Christmas is a whole other ball game. I love scouring the shops – and internet, mostly internet for little things I know they will love. Different little surprises and other ways to make it all magical. There is no such thing as OTT at Christmas time in our gaff.
  •  The excuse. Our little charges are actually little sources of some of the most watertight excuses you can find. Don’t want to go to that party? NO PROBLEM, flip the no babysitter card. Running late? NO PROBLEM, last minute nappy changed held me up… I mean 9 times out of 10 these are legitimate reasons, but for all of those times the lack of babysitter or lateness has seriously got my goat, I pay back with the occasional white lie… don’t hate me.

 

  • Friends. I’ve made some of my very best friends through my children. That immediate understanding between Mumas is a bit like a secret club. We nod and smirk at each other as our kids run around playgroup with their skirts above heads, only stopping to steal a scooter from a minor. Having kids has opened up so many opportunities to make some incredible new friends, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

 

  • Pride. More and more I am feeling a sense of pride. Especially as Darcie, our 5 yr old, is growing up. When I see her being kind, or cuddling her friends I literally burst. She has never been a huggy sort amongst her girl-click, preferring to stand back and observe. When I see her being affectionate now to her friends it makes my heart leap!

 

  • Kids days out: Who doesn’t enjoy a fun fair?! Days out, kid style, are pretty awesome. Zoos, farms, theme parks, fun fairs – fire engine open days…. y’know. Day trips rock – even with the tantrums and copious amounts of crud we lug around with us all day.

 

  • I am their Muma. The person I hope they will always be able to rely on. The person who will always be there for them. Their constants. Us Muma’s are someone’s rock, and that in itself is the No.1 reason why being a Muma is the greatest privilege I’ll ever have.

 

There we have it, 10 whole reasons why being a Muma rocks – I admit I struggled after the first 4!

Let’s have a few more… leave your “Being a Muma rocks because…” answer below.

I’ll be referring back to this when I am playing the go to sleep Toddler game later. Muma rocks, Muma rocks…

Mummascribbles

Cuddle Fairy
Tammymum
Mummuddlingthrough

Growing down for a day

“You do know Muma is just a girl who grew up”
Imparting these words to Darcie has been somewhat of an eye opener for her.
“No you aren’t”, came her reply. Visibly shocked, face all screwed up- eyebrows almost at her hairline and I’m sure the words ‘Old Troll’ were dying to escape her.
It never occurred to me that in Darcie’s eyes I have been forever old.
Being ‘old’ is quite a tiring label really: responsibilities weigh heavy on my shoulders as the day to day task of keeping our girls alive mainly boils down to moi. Just keeping the peace between them is like a military operation and reasoning with an exhausted 5 year old post school is a real edge pusher. It’s enough to see me heading for a cheeky aperitif at 4pm.
But I am not just a Muma, I am a daughter and a sister too; sometimes it’s hard to juggle all of my hats, and not neglect those who were once the only ones I called family- long before the crazy world of parenthood took over the care free please yourself equilibrium.
Last week I escaped domestic bliss life, and went to London to spend some time with my sisters and my step Muma, before the eldest younger sister up sticks and emigrates to Hong Kong on a pretty impressive career path. We rarely get a chance to just have a conversation without a toddler hanging from one of us, usually upside down whilst making aeroplane noises. It’s hard enough to keep up with their 20-something lives, without having to performing some kind of aerobics while I try and grasp the bones of their latest promotion.

Swanky Swoo
The chance to ‘grow-down’ for a day was, frankly, bloody marvellous. To have a day when I have my sister / daughter hat on is a rare treat. We saw the incredible Sheridan Smith performing in Funny Girl at the Savoy Theatre, if you are into your musicals then this one is a classic. We over indulged in a totally OTT afternoon tea, complete with pink champers (no Lidl prosecco for us that day…) at the fabulous Sketch, just off of Regents street. It was super swanky, no ball pit or foam rollers in sight: fish out of water here. We sat on the dusky pink velvet uber-cool non-sharpied-on sofas and chatted, with no interruptions. Well, apart from the rather delicious waiter offering free replenishment’s of sandwiches, cakes and scones… I could get used to this: If it hadn’t cost my entire weeks shopping allowance.

Boys Boys Boys…

I made a pretty huge realisation whilst gallivanting about London. And no, it’s not a corny and cheesy family epiphany at all. Quite the opposite: it’s more a gritty, FE-MALE realisation…

We sat down for a quick coffee before the day’s proceedings got going. Conversation was happening but my eyes were darting all over the place, then it dawned on me why;
I was getting redder and redder by the second as I realised this was the first time in years that I had seen so many men in one room. It hadn’t ever really occurred to me before now, that my life is so female heavy!
Christ, Men still exist!

I was seeing men, blokes, guys, MALES all around us. (Sadly I don’t mean we were a honey pot for these suited and booted boys, we just so happened to be near the counter and so as position would have it, we were, in fact; Surrounded!)
Apart from the odd Dad in the playground and of course, my Hubster… I live in ‘girl domination’!
We have 2 girls, their friends are all girls, I socialise with other Mumas.
I don’t go out to work so really do not have any contact with the Male of the species anymore. It has taken me 5 years to realise this, so clearly I don’t feel there is a huge empty testosterone shaped hole in my life. It’s just strange that after years of working alongside men, in male dominated offices, I really have very little to do with half of the country’s population!
As suit after suit wandered in for their caffeine fix, little did they know this Muma was getting a little fix all of her own…
Ok, I’ll get off of my smutty, pheromone high horse, back to business: The Famalam.

I guess what I’m trying to say is if you are lucky enough to be a sister or a daughter, and you actually enjoy their company, then go hang out with your original tribe: Grow down for a day, shed the responsibility of your rug rats and belly laugh with your circle.
It’s oh so good for the soul.

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

Hot Pink Wellingtons
Rhyming with Wine

It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes…

It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes… 



Or not.
Thanks Nelly but I think I’m good, I’ll just sit here at the park supervising the Toddler-Movement with my black skinnys on getting an increasingly sweaty crack, just in case little Gabriel’s Muma should notice my unshaven white luminous legs in the shorts I really wish I was wearing.
OR
I would come and splash in the waves at the beach kids, but Muma hasn’t got herself ‘bikini ready’ and an off guard super fun wade-about is not what this hairy, non-bronzed non-svelte, Muma wants to take part in.Soz.

But here’s the thing, and this is actually quite a liberating thought:

NO ONE ELSE CARES!

  • No one else cares that you have hairy knees, or the grey tinge of dry shampoo around your hair line.
  • No one else cares that you have a serious muffin-top situation going on with the vest / shorts combo that you HAD to wear for fear of actually melting into the playground.
  • No one else cares that you have a set of dodgy tan lines or cellulite craters which resemble the surface of the moon.
  • No one else cares if you have a spotty chin that day following a satisfying chocolate binge, or the deepest darkest bags under your eyes thanks to a week of 5am wake up calls.

We are our own worst critics; I can often be found scanning for the onset of a wispy beard, assessing the severity of my tash or god forbid NEW LINES. I’m pretty sure those people I come into contact with are not busy scanning my face for excess stragglers. That would be verging on obsessive. So it’s just me then: Tweezers out, scanning. Obsessively.

My kids don’t care if I show off a bit of veiny ghost-leg when the temperature gauge soars off the scale. But they sure as hell will care if I don’t take them to the local Zoo for fear of a death-by-denim situation, in the scorching heat.

And my kids sure as hell don’t care if I look suspiciously pregnant in my bikini and my arse wobbles like a big whitish-blue jelly…(ewwww). 

They just see their Muma splashing around with them in the wee-infested toddler pool. And I’m pretty sure that’s all they will remember.

Today is set to be one of the hottest days of the year so far. I shall don my DaisyDukes, which are inappropriately short and spend the day playing with my toddler in the sunshine, hopefully avoiding a sweaty crack moment. She won’t mind the ice cream gut I have been putting so much work into lately, or the dodgy tan lines that are all over my shoulders. I’m pretty sure the fellow Muma’s at the Zoo aren’t going to mind my get-up either. They will be too busy keeping eyes on their own charges to care about my hairy thigh situation.
Break out the bikinis and shorts, the flimsy dresses and the skirts. No one is actually looking at you the way you look at yourself in the mirror. (Picture the flab-grab, and the, suck it in-and-out, the, turn-around-and-strain-neck-to-check-butt-size-with-the-lock-jaw-look. These special ‘poses’ are fairly sacred. No one else need share in these moments, they are reserved just for us.)
Of course, I’ll have to remind my MumaSquad of this tomorrow before they raise their eyebrows at my tropical ensemble.

Loud n proud Mumas, loud n proud…
Because, you know what: No one else cares!

Mummascribbles</div

Rhyming with Wine
Writing Bubble
Cuddle Fairy
Mummuddlingthrough

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

Secrets of a Reception Veteran.

I’ve done the time..

Darcie and I began ‘big school’ last year. We were rookie novices back then; eyes wide, shoes polished (her) make up always on (me) all ready and uncreased for every drop-off. Well my friends, times have changed, let me tell you. We are now old hands, reception veterans, if you will. And, as we are coming to the dying days of the summer term I am getting ready to pass the Newbie baton on to those unsuspecting preschoolers.

As part of this reception graduation I’ve compiled a list of my 10 essentials every Muma needs when entering the murky world of BIG SCHOOL…


The first 5

1) Sharpie Marker pen

Yes, I did it too: ordered meters and meters of fabric and Iron on name tape. Of course when I was getting ebay-happy with my order I never once stopped to consider that I have never sewn anything in my life (the frog in yr 4 doesn’t count). I was trying to be The Perfect Muma. How I intended to sew on a name tape to every pinafore, polo shirt, jumper, PE kit, and apparently pants and socks too, I’ll never know! But I didn’t sweat the small stuff. Surely these Muma skills arrive with the name tapes. They didn’t and the result  wasn’t pretty. Don’t fall for the ‘easy’ iron-on variety either. They peel, burn a bit and don’t survive the spin cycle. You heard it here first!

So step away from the bastard name tapes. This is all you need:

It’s Sharpie to the rescue.

2) Costume design degree

As you can tell from the above point, I am not a dab hand with a needle and thread. However you are about to enter a 10 month stretch of your life when you will be regularly challenged, often at short notice (that’s their favourite) to make some sort of costume. And of course ‘the children’ get a prize for the best one. What the actual F?! I sat up and safety pin a costume together while dream boat sleeps on and SHE gets the prize. Ok then…

I made an entire angel costume using just safety pins for the oh-so-sweet Nativity: thank you very much.

Please Note: World Book Day is the biggie, this is the Met Ball of the Primary school world. Big prizes are at stake here. Do not be fooled by any facebook chit chat which might suggest Jimmy’s Muma is just ‘throwing something together last minute’. NO SHE AIN’T. You know the story about the shoe maker’s elves… uh huh.

Find out the date your school is showcasing it’s World Book Catwalk and get over to ebay or Amazon pronto. (Unless of course you are blessed with talents like my amazing friend Holly at Oh Sew Dinky check her page out!)

3) Sunglasses

I’m not sure how to break this to you, but you’re going to cry. Possibly within the first few minutes of meeting the parents you are about to share 7 years’ worth of school runs with. Actually it took me a couple of weeks to shed a tear. I may have been in a euphoric state at first, as a result of relinquishing control of our little girl who was by all accounts a teensy bit of a handful: something along the lines of GOOD LUCK MISS SCOTT. After a couple of weeks it dawned on Darcie that this school gig was pretty repetitive and showed no signs of fading away. It made her bottom lip tremble, her face screw up and big tears fell from both of our eyes as we realised we would be saying goodbye at the same time everyday for a very very long time.

Anyway as luck would have it I was caught completely off guard no sunglasses- or my toddler to hide behind. I had to walk through the playground, thankfully flanked by my Muma Squad, sobbing. Save yourselves the ugly cry face, take sunglasses, ALL TERM!

4) Patience

This is a bit of a tricky one as you can’t just ‘add to basket’. Particularly for someone like me who lacks patience with ya know – most things. So this is an important one to practice over the summer hols: your patient face.


Here is mine. What do you think? You’d never know that inside I’m screaming any of the following,

“It says RAT EFFING NAPS not MOUSE SLEEPS. Please, for the love of god attempt to sound out the words before I loose the will to live”

Or

“I have marker penned several 4 letter words across your forehead with my eyes and If I have to listen to you harp on about how little Zachariah is far too clever for the class or that little flossychops is just plain bored due to her natural level of intellect I will reach for the Sharpie. And I will not be accountable for my actions.

5) Flexibility

I’m not talking leg above your head stuff, it’s trickier than that. I’m talking diaries.  All of a sudden one of 20 Parentmail emails will hit the inbox inviting us to attend a once in a lifetime rendition of Jack and the Beanstalk, or a ‘recital’ (in the loosest sense of the word) of various shaky hitty noisy instruments. Of course you don’t want to miss such delights. It’s a drop everything situation. An understanding boss / Toddler / friends and family is what’s required here.

So Reception sounds super fun right? Bet you can’t wait…!!

Ideas welcome for the final 5 items…post in the comments below pretty please x

Mummascribbles</div

Mummuddlingthrough

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

Cuddle Fairy
Life Love and Dirty Dishes

Domesticated Momster

Domesticated Momster
Rhyming with Wine

10 jobs I could nail thanks to my 5 years Muma experience

1) Waitress – think Wimpy, not La Gavroche.

2) Uber cab driver, USP: Providing a 3 course meal whilst in transit. Will that be the crusts off marmite on white or the mini chedder’s sir?
3) Hostage negotiator: If I can talk a Toddler in arsehole mode down from throwing a cold cup of coffee over cream carpet…
4) Cleaner: speciality tool, wet wipes. Kitchens, bathrooms, walls, arses. I got this…
5) Community police officer: you really don’t want to be leaving your dog’s shit on the pavement or park in the Toddler / Muma spaces on my watch.
6) Laundrette skive, is that Dot Cotton or me? Blurred lines.
7) Teaching assistant, I haven’t suffered at the hands of an enthusiastic 4 year old armed with a Biff n Chip book for nothing, and don’t even get me started on the ‘Pen Licence.’
8) Risk assessor: Stairs, streams, fire pits, ovens, big dogs, small yappy dogs, busy roads, quiet roads, bees, spicy food… you name it, I’ve risk assessed it.
9) Red Coat: entertainment covered 12 hrs a day, special skill: leading a dance off whilst folding washing, singing just like Adele. No lies.
10) Chef, speciality diets: no beans for one, only carrots for the other, no courgettes peppers or spice on another. No carbs, low carbs, only ‘good’ carbs. Gluten free, meat free, extra meat. Only meat. No sauce meat balls, naked pasta… with ham sprinkled on top of everything.



Have I left any out girls? Let me know…

Life Love and Dirty Dishes

Have you decided?

Have you ever taken part in a game of Tug-of-war? You know, the really rough kind, heels dug deep, desperately trying to pull the other team over to your side, at any cost… No? Me neither, rope burn isn’t my thing. However I do feel like I have complimentary front row tickets to the virtual Tug of war game to end all games: The EU Referendum.

Trying to get to grips and keep up to date with the latest scaremongering is a full time job. D-Cam’s latest has been to liken a Brexit outcome to putting a bomb under the British economy; that’s bloody scary, let’s be honest. We’ve been there done that just a few years back. I really don’t fancy seeing another P45 in our family. Turn the page and we see our floppy haired plummy friend claiming that actually a Brexit outcome would contribute an extra £2.4 billion a year to our economy… Maybe D-Cam was talking about a sparkly glitter bomb full of £50 notes going off under the economy then.

Untangling the web of words between the two camps has been harder than untangling my daughter’s hair on swimming night: Frustrating and time consuming, requiring a saint like amount of patience.

How does the girl next door make an educated decision on this? How do I, as a parent, make a decision that I can stand by; If, when my girls reach their 20’s and can’t get a job, unable to get onto the housing ladder and England has its begging bowl out, Greek style, I want to at least say I did try and foresee this shit storm. I voted for what I felt was the best option. I didn’t abstain, I didn’t glaze over when the conversation turned to the EU Referendum (chances of that in the playground are pretty slim yes I know…) I got amongst it and had my say!

I have simply decided to focus on which of the many issues raised by the big wigs would have the biggest impact on our family: and for us, that’s money. We don’t have much of it, and can’t really afford to risk shit hitting a sodding great British Isles sized fan.

So my vote will be to remain. * holds breath, hands over ears*

Risking my little girls childhoods being blighted by another recession is not an option for me– that’s the reason our first is here! We love to travel throughout Europe – well, go on a week’s holiday once a year, so not exactly throughout…but the ease of no visas, the reciprocal free healthcare and the promise of  tariff free mobile phone calls being rolled out later this year is good news for those who love a bit of Eurocamp.

Let’s be honest, do we really know enough about how those campaigning for OUT really plan to plug the drain of international businesses sodding off to one of the more attractive Single Market countries (jargon I picked up… you like?!). The pound has been at its most turbulent as the OUT campaign gathers pace, evidence this circus is already pissing on our parade.  I don’t believe that they would actually shore up the NHS with funds is desperately needs if the cool weekly sum of £350 mill was suddenly available, there would be some other need, some other trade agreement to fork out for. It’s like being a parent: at last your Toddlermonster qualifies for their 15 hours free nursery sessions after you have been paying for it for a year. Oh lovely, I think, that £120 I was paying out per month can now go towards Christmas. Christmas comes, money’s been spent on new tyres, replacing broken school shoes and a vet bill. Shit happens. Totally comparable scenarios right?!

 

Get involved, have you say, and VOTE. At least you will have earned the right to moan about the outcome if you do.

For the official IN campaign click HERE

For information from the Government’s official EU Referendum site click HERE

I couldn’t find an official BREXIT website so I have copied a few for you HERE and HERE