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Mummy's Writing, Darling Posts

Give The Stay at Home Mum the Job

Why you should give the stay at home mum the job She’s got a four year gaping hole on her CV and she’s got an interview – she can’t quite believe it. She’s forgotten how people who work dress. She runs off to buy a power-suit with maxi shoulder pads and realises work based fashion has shifted. Just being out of her onesie feels exhilarating. Before she knows it she’s sat in front of an intimidating panel, her dusty resume in front of her, her knees are weak, arms are heavy, there’s every possibility that there’s vomit on her blouse already. The adult humans are asking complex, challenging questions and she’s beaming like a Cheshire cat, buzzing like a fridge, just to be out of the house. How would…

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The Arduous Age of Why

The Age of Why My four year old has reached a mile stone. He has entered the age of ‘Why’. I had heard of this stage but had underestimated the damaging effect of this era on the parents. My sympathy is with you if you are currently in this age. It started about two weeks ago on our way to swimming: “Why do we need roads?” Say what now? “Why do we need roads?” Erm… for the cars to go on? (Phew, dodged that one, glad that’s over!) “Why do we need cars?” Say what now? “Why do we need cars?” To get from A to B? It’s at this point you realise that you’re really and truly not qualified to answer life’s toughest questions, to be a parent…

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The imagined army of shite mothers

The imagined army of shite mothers A few weeks ago I was sat on the bus to work after carting off my kids to strangers at astronomically expensive nurseries when I became aware of numerous passengers avoiding the seat in front of me. The lady next to me and I leant forward at the same time to see what it was that people were avoiding. The offensive item was a Dairylea dunker packet that had been left there. It was surrounded by gooey melted cream cheese all over the leather seat. The lady and I smiled at each other in a ‘aaahhh’ moment and she proceeded to clean it up with her own tissues. What a lovely human being I thought, so I smiled at her and told her…

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How to get through your first parents’ evening

First Parents’ Evening He’s only four, he can’t have done much damage yet can he? Yet the mere idea of Parents’ Evening has immediately filled you with anxiety, not least, because you’re now the bleeding ‘parent’ in this scenario. You can be a Teacher’s pet all you like … unfortunately that now means nothing. They are now measuring your worth on what your precious first born has brought to the classroom and your guard is up straight away ready to prove he is a/ the perfect child b/ any bad aspects are purely from his Father and c/ any good qualities are down to outstanding mothering. Your mind starts to race at what he has been up to when you haven’t been around: has he suffocated the class pet? Has…

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The Secret Saboteur inside of me

The Saboteur Sometimes I watch my boys playing with their toy blocks. The eldest will carefully place one on top of the other, strategically, methodically. In a couple of minutes he has created a perfect tower, strong and steady. Then, like clockwork, the youngest will bound over and smash it to bits. The saboteur! The bricks fall and they both giggle at the hilarity of this process. I understand the youngest’s urges, I really do. The problem is it’s not so hilarious when it’s your life you’re destroying. Part of my depression over the years has included impulsive behaviour and a sort of self sabotage – especially when my tower is strong and steady. Everything going ok now? Great – what can I do to royally feck it up?…

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