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Category: parenting

I’d be sexy if…

I’d be sexy if it weren’t for these nipple pads right now, no amount of make up can get rid of these bags. I’d be sexy if it weren’t for the scar and the overhang my big baggy pants and my nursing bra. I’d be sexy in skinny jeans without the outline of my maternity towel Plus bloated ankles in compression stockings don’t half look foul. The surgeon made me go pop leaving a deflated muffin top a complete absence of tone or ability to make out my bones and all parts of me are leaking and my nipples take an all day tweaking You say breast feeding will get down my weight like I haven’t got enough on my plate You say I’m getting back my figure like…

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That awkward moment when your child gets walloped

I’ll never forget the first time my son was walloped. We were at a ‘mum meet up’ at the local church hall. He was not yet two and running around happily, not a care in the world, safe in the knowledge that he had a blissful, blessed life. Another, larger boy looked him up and down, thought for a moment, before opening his palm wide and pushing it with full force, very slowly, into my son’s face – forcing my son’s head back a good ten inches. I saw the expression on my only child’s sweet, innocent face- utter devastation; shock, confusion. In his eyes was a flash of a new realisation – that life is actually pretty shite – and it’s full of bastards! I watched the child…

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Dear Chicco, About Your Advert

After my 3.40am wake up on a Saturday morning I like to watch some Dawson’s Creek on Sony TV. In between the sickly sweet, utterly false, utopian, fictional drama – I have become aware of your advert. This one … I feel we need to have a little chat about it. The woman in it appears to be well rested, her hair is done and she has a lovely face of make up. Where are her bags? Where are her wrinkles? Where is the mascara smudged across her pale, sleep deprived, dry, pained face? Where are her roots? Why isn’t her hair matted and greasy? Why does she appear to have showered in the last day? Why does she look so happy? Why doesn’t she look like an extra…

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Children, in twenty years, guess who’s coming to dinner?

Guess who’s coming to dinner? Sons, I want you to prepare yourself for your father and I coming to dinner in around twenty years time (or whenever you hopefully move out). I’ll ring ahead of time and insist you make my favourite – lasagne – from scratch, and your dad’s favourite – apple crumble. As soon as we arrive your dad will take off one shoe: Just one mind. I’ll ask for red wine but will only drink it if it is given to me in a very specific cup and if you hold it to my lips whenever I shout. I will jut my tongue in and out of it without ever actually drinking it as that’s just how I will roll. Once dinner is served your dad…

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