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

Bag porn* Fantasy shopping

AUTUMN HAS LANDED! *Cartwheels around the room*

So my secrets out, as much as I love the Summer – and I really do, I have a secret love burning deep inside for Autumn. Do you know why? I have an addiction to coats, boots, and bags. Basically outerwear! So I am eyeing up my old faithful boots, my beloved coats and big wintry hard core leather bags while it rains for the first time in like, a gazillion days.

With this obsession now at the forefront of my mind I thought it might be fun to trawl the internet and share one of my favourite pass times with you:

Behold the autumnal essentials ‘Add to Cart’ game. (Rightmove & fantasy holiday shopping being a close 2nd / 3rd)

First up is…

Coats: 

(I included the links, y’know for just in case…££ )

  1. The school run, cover ya bum, no harm done jobby and laugh in the face of a full on deluge, January style.
    school-run-coat
    Mango, £139.99

     

  2. The oh-my-god I need this in my life NOW coat. Ok, so it doesn’t look particularly warm, it doesn’t have more than 2 buttons on it for goodness sake. But my word, leopard conquers all for me right now.
leopard-print-coat
Topshop, £85.00

3. Are you ready for some coat candy. Yeh?! Ok then, here goes… (I mean, we could just cancel Christmas and let the kids stroke the coat right?!)

reiss-coat-porn
Reiss £495.00. *cries*

 

Boots

This is where my fantasy ‘Add to Cart’ game is a wonder because let’s face it – boot shopping can be hell; Especially with my pint sized assistants in tow. In one tantrum they can zap all of the fun out of my favourite sport. Life can be cruel.

  1. I have been searching for the perfect Chelsea boot (like y’do) for an age. I think I may have finally found it this season… sigh.
aldo-boot
Aldo, £90.00

2. Now, my husband would utter that this next beauty is the same as the Chelsea above – Good grief how wrong could he be!

Well, an elegant western, who knew!

office-westerns
Office, £80.00

 

3. Who doesn’t love a black knee high. A staple… ok I don’t actually own a pair YET. But I have been a good girl this year Santa…

black-knee-high
Kurt Geiger, £210.00 (gulp: ok, a VERY good girl this year…!)

And lastly, can we all have a good laugh at these please?! Think of the rain, how would we jump in muddy puddles?!! Topshop, how could you? *Shakes head, folds arms*

furry-boots
Topshop £69.00 – please don’t use this link! Lol!

Bags… 

I can not forget my favourite of all the outerwear garments: THE BAG. Here are my 3 faves for Autumnal-bliss. I’ll go in price order here…

  1. A throw it all in delight – Mmmmm with those black knee highs… I might add that it also has a long strap. Totally dressing it down: 2 bags in 1, so actually only about £44.50 per look. BARGAIN.
kurt-geieger-bag
Kurt Geiger, £89.00

2. Swoon* Grey, my one true love. and isn’t she pretty…

aldo-bag
Aldo, £50.00

3. You know how I mentioned that this was a FANTASY cart, well here’s the fantasy:

PRADA DOUBLE BAG - 1BG775_2EVL_F0002_V_OOO
Prada, Darling, £2,980

See, I wasn’t going to let you down. This right here is a proper bit of bag porn Mumas. We like? We likey a lot? And how practical is it I hear you ask… wipe clean, check. Room for wet wipes & nappies? Check! This is totally Muma proof. There’s just the teensy tiny question of the price tag. ” Cha ching cha ching… ”

So there you have it: my Autumnal round up.

Now I’m off to get back into my Primark jeans before I hit the nursery run. Keeping it real chicks, keeping this shizzle real.

Let me know what you think…

Life Love and Dirty Dishes

 

DomesticatedMomster
Pink Pear Bear

Cash splashing baby must-not-haves

There is SO much baby crap out there, all gleaming and shiny just waiting for unsuspecting adoring (petrified) new parents to splash their cash on. 

Sharing is caring, and with this in mind I thought I’d divulge our top 5 parenting purchase nightmares with you… It’s not pretty.

1)A rocking crib.


What a seriously bonkers invention.

This at No.1 because it is without doubt the most rookie of all the bad purchases we made as parents in-waiting. The helpful teen at ‘Babies R us’ swore blind a rocking crib was a new born essential (I’m sure she knew best). Jolly good; we’ll have one of those then.

The first time I attempted to put the baby-that-did-not-sleep into the rocking crib proved that this ‘essential’ was in fact the polar opposite.

Into the crib she went milk-drunk. I looked just like a member of bomb squad edging nearer and nearer to the crib with the armed device, armed with this sleeping new born. One. False. Move… of course the rocking crib did just that– it bloody rocked all over the place. Bam and that was it: baby rave time, mummy cry time.

We tried it a few more times before we chopped it up and used it to re-board our fireplace


2) Gro-Clock


Desperate times call for desperate measures. And we were just that. Our 2 year old had never slept through the night, and never in her own bed. We were trying everything and anything to try and achieve just one night’s sleep before baby No.2 made her appearance.

Make way for The Gro-Clock. Promising that toddlers will obey its creepy sun face.

The Gro clock should come with a warning that you will only be able to figure out how to program the bloody thing if you have the IQ of a frigging genius. I don’t.

It is not simple to use. Even less simple if you are heavily pregnant, sleep deprived and quite literally a Muma on the Edge. When we eventually did get it working our daughter LAUGHED at it. We basically spent £25 on a night light.

Fu*k you Gro clock.

 3) Skirts n headbands: Baby Accessory Gate


Ok let’s get this straight-

Skirts: They ride up. They look awkward. They show off the nappy to its optimum. And it looks SO uncomfortable.

Headbands: I tried, I really did; to dress up my baby’s wispy bald head. I was always paranoid the gypsy-style headbands would slip down and we’d have a horrific ‘strangled’ situation on our hands. More often than not she would rip it off her head and chuck it overboard. (She clearly has more taste than I do!)

Why did I bother?!

Baby No.2 escaped the wannabe Doll phase, onesies forever.

 

4) Holiday with a baby


(Ok this isn’t strictly an ‘item’ but I just felt I couldn’t leave it out of this Rookie list.)

Just why?! If it isn’t hard enough to look after a sub-1 human at home with the entire contents of Mothercare at your fingertips, how do we convince ourselves that a holiday will ever be just that?!

We were so lucky to go away with my parents and sisters when Darcie was 3 months old. A ratio of 7:1 is the ONLY way I would ever recommend a holiday with a baby.

The heat was too hot for her, the cot was too netted for her, the pool was too cold for her, the air was too airy for her, she wouldn’t sleep OR she only wanted to sleep.

How is that a holiday?! That’s just normal life thrown in with a touch of nightmare.

 5) The baby sling


It was awkward. I swore. The baby cried. We gave up: Back to ebay it went.

I have seen serene ‘Baby Carriers’ in the real so it must be possible to front tie, back tie, strap up and pop the bambino in. I however found it impossible: frustrating and confusing in equal measure, and frankly a complete and utter bloody mystery.

I tried again and again to get to grips with Slinging. I tried different brands with ties, & knots to clips & Velcro. I ended up looking like id been subjected to Mummification; Wrapped up in endless cloth with a screaming baby hanging out of the front of me.Bugaboo I salute you.

So come on- spill the beans on your useless baby impulse buys…!!???? 

Best of Worst
Mummuddlingthrough
Cuddle Fairy

Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com

3 Little Buttons
Life Love and Dirty Dishes

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

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

Jennifer, you legend.

At last: She has spoken.

Jennifer. Jen. Rachel has come right out and said what has been on the tip of the tongues of so many successful woman in the spotlight who just so happen to be outright awesome without *whispers* Being a Mother. Shock horror.

I love Jen’s article, it’s honest, thought provoking and kicks some serious female butt. Read it in full here.

Here are my highlights:

“…This past month in particular has illuminated for me how much we define a woman’s value based on her marital and maternal status…Here’s where I come out on this topic: we are complete with or without a mate, with or without a child…We don’t need to be married or mothers to be complete. We get to determine our own “happily ever after” for ourselves.”

It’s a crying shame that Theresa May couldn’t produce a similar response to Andrea Leasom’s ghastly attempt to get the edge over her opponent this weekend, based on her reproduction ‘achievements’.

I seem to remember a time right after school, probably through to my mid-20’s when a pregnancy was announced it was an ‘OH MY GOD THEY’RE PREGNANT’ moment. We seemed too young to have babies and it was almost a scandal that you would dare to reproduce. I’m now the other side of that (weeps), and this other side is worse. Much worse. Because this other side questions why a woman may not have borne a crying sh*tting machine yet.

Why is this? Why do we as a society, pivot a female’s success around the presence of a child? I feel lucky, not successful, to have 2 children. I certainly wouldn’t measure my success or suitability for a job based on the fact that I have children.

I wonder if Jenifer Aniston’s words will actually hit home to the Paparazzi and magazine bosses? (who might actually be fully grown women without children! IMAGINE!).

 Sadly I think her statement will fall on deaf ears. Inevitably, lining the newsagent’s shelves will continue be glossy post-lunch stomachs belonging to the A-Z listers, complete with speculation over the presence of a bambino within.

All the while we keep buying the Mags or sharing the articles and spreading the hype, they will keep dishing it.

It’s pretty sad when you think about it.

It’s a big day for Women today, a great day. Our 2nd female Prime Minister EVER will take up the reins and is set to be appointing top cabinet roles to some fabulous women. I know their gender is neither here nor there as long as they are the right people for the jobs, but I can’t help doing a little fist pump for Girl Power today.

Mummuddlingthrough

Absolutely fabulously fabulous, Darhling: 

 I remember as a tweenie watching Eddy and Pasty get their swag on; a Stoli-Bolli in one hand and a Marlboro Light in the other, swamped in fur all topped off with a crazed hair do: bigger is better. (It’s their booze, fags n fur I might add, I was all set with a lemon squash thanks – my eyes on stalks.) Let’s just say it set the benchmark for adulthood… although I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere – right into Lynnet Scavo’s  life. *shakes head* The universe had other ideas!

‘Paddy’s’ friendship is infectious. I want in.

 

I want to be their sidekick. To be in their gang wearing a hideous Versace medallion perfectly clashing with my Alexander McQueen cape and Burberry knee highs. Crashing flash parties whilst they desperately try new fads to stay hipity hop hip. They don’t notice that all around them are raised eyebrows, a daughter who must have a great relationship with the receptionist at The Priory by now, and a totally bonkers mother. They are oblivious in their bid to keep up with the twentysomethings, loving life – one bottle of bollie at a time.

“The last mosquito that bit me had the check into the Betty Ford clinic” – Patsy: just saying.

I would actually like to be patsy… For a day. Please?!

This latest instalment is promised to take us right back to the 90’s – which isn’t a bad thing given the shenanigans of 2016 so far. The hey day of our Pats n Eds dahrling; where the cocaine flows, and the fash pack are on speed dial. This time around Eddie gets blamed for killing Kate Moss (accidents will happen…) in true Thema and Louise style the gruesome twosome make a run for it to the playground of the super rich. A little bit silly, bound to be a lot funny.

If the trailers are anything to go by this is going to be worth the gazillion squid for the cinema ticket, the parking, the popcorn and the drinks. Oh yes, seeing these 2 lunatics lording it up on a 2o ft screen for a couple of hours is most definitely worth a score my ‘sweetie dahrlings’.

Who else shares my uber love of this scrumptious double act?

*desperately trying to not be as sweary.

See the trailer here!

Absolutely Fabulous Movie is out Friday 1st July

 

If Fireman Sam did Tinder…

PROFILE


Samuel Jones aka ‘Fireman Sam’

Forever 25

Pontypandy, Wales

About Sam..

Action stations girls:

I am single and ready to mingle

I have extensive experience of using a double harness, and ensure I have my giant hose ready at all times to put out the hottest of flames.

Most of my time is taken up looking after a town full of arsonists and deranged inbred kids. It’s time to show bunny boiler Penny that I, Samuel Jones, is ready for some non-PontypandyPoon.

My spare time is spent waiting for the next shitstorm, I do this whilst keeping a close eye on that fuckwit Elvis.
So, swipe right, and let me show you a good time- in a village more dangerous than Midsomer.

Over and out.

Life Love and Dirty Dishes