Welcome and good luck

That is, good luck in trying to follow the ramblings of my muddled, sleep deprived, pureed spag-bol splattered mind. I am, like many other reluctant/disheveled/shit-stained mummies, blogging in an attempt to discover some semblance of order, as I wade through the cloudy, noisy (oh, the noisiness), ‘characterful’ world of raising mini-monsters.


What exactly I’ll blog about, I’m unsure (I’m unsure about most things these days), but hopefully I’ll give you a snapshot into my world with my (actually rather helpful) husband, my (terrible twoing) toddler and my (taken along for the ride) 8-month old. If my blog makes any one person sigh ‘Oh thank god it’s not just me,’ my job will be done!

So snapshot #1

Today I thought I’d attempt to collect monster major from nursery early (4.30 – don’t judge me) following monster minor’s settling in visit. The jam covered face and hands should’ve been the omen I needed to run back to the car, baby in arms, and ask husband dearest to collect him as usual. But no, glutton for punishment and a point to prove to myself, I lead the sticky little horror out to the car and drove home. Well let’s just say, it’s all fun and games until you’ve had tinned  tomato pasta and banana thrown at you, at the baby and all around the kitchen.

Fast-forward three thinking spot visits, one “don’t make me call Daddy!” phonecall and one clothes straight in the wash poonami, I decide, because I’m a dipshit that doesn’t learn lessons fast, to take  both monsters to the shop so I can bake their nursery girls a cake.

Knowing that my horrific cake-filled mummytummy is looking particularly rounded since my stomach muscles split, I decided to strap monster minor to me in the Connecta – exercise and mummytummy hiding. Awesome, now I’ll look like one of those super cool, baby wearing mummies. Go me!

Out of the house attempt one. Forgot the house keys. Out of the house attempt two. Forgot the car keys to get the dog lead reins for the toddler. Oh well, I’ll be one of those super cool, baby wearing mummies whose toddler is compliant enough to walk nicely by her side, holding hands, stopping to ask intelligent questions such as ‘Why Mummy, is that a freesia I see in that garden’. Go me, again!

We reached the local shop *coughofflicencecough*, relatively unscathed; only two or three ‘no lollipop’ threats to keep monster major walking. After squabbling with him about the lollipop needing to stay in the basket until it was paid for, I approached the counter. Oh, hello, nosy friendly old man, eyeballing my monsters with a creepy fond smile.

“Wow, two little ones AND another on the way! Getting them all out of the way fast!?”

It was then that I learnt what the phrase facepalm was invented for.


Said cake. Not too shabby for Monster Mummy.

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