The Undertaker Mum

So, eldest needed to go to the doctors this morning so got him and the tiny terrorist in the car. Nice quiet doctors waiting room, Tommy picks his nose and presents to me on the end of his finger what he found in there, whilst simultaneously shouting 'eeeeugh bogeys mummy!'. Fabulous. In the doctors office and of course Tommy also needs his blood pressure, temp and o2 stats checking as well as Alf 🙄 so we were there twice as long as we needed to be. Get to the pharmacy to collect prescription, and Tommy takes the snack (that he brought with him, he hasn't eaten since HALF AN HOUR AGO) to the counter to pay for it 🤦‍♀️ cue the lovely woman pretending to scan his raisins and breakfast bar whilst I rather poorly try and explain that really isn't what I'm feeding him for breakfast, and that hes already had 3 bowls of cheerios. After I told her hes only 1, and she saw the size of him, I think she believed me. Get to the car, and some massive (literally, MASSIVE) ...

When I hear couples are expecting, my initial reaction is to congratulate them - what wonderful news! They are bringing the miracle of life into their own little world. What a magical experience. My happiness and joy for them soon vanishes, and a smugness fills my heart. For after the newborn phase, the crying, the night feeds, the shitty nappies, the weaning, the crawling... they will start to see light at the end of the tunnel. Then, overnight, something happens to their little cherub. The gorgeous little smiling bundle of joy will be replaced by a screaming, bad tempered, irrational pint sized sleep terrorist that doesn't know what it wants, but it knows that it wants it now. Now I've raised three toddlers. Not easy. The first one, I still had that new mum vibe about me - I'd get embarrassed when he kicked off in public (not that he did that very often), and I'd do anything to make him happy. I hardened up with child two and three; so by the time I was expe...

Today is World Mental Health Day The fact that we need a 'day' to raise awareness stresses how dire the situation is. I've seen a lot on social media, online and on the television advising people to 'get help'; 'always ask for the help you need' and telling people 'it's ok not to be ok'. Whilst this advice is absolutely bang on, and I would encourage anyone suffering to always try and get some form of help, the sad fact is that a lot of the time, that help just isn't there. Our wonderful NHS is stretched to the point of collapse, and as a result mental health services are at breaking point - if they're there at all. It sounds like a simple thing to go to the doctors to get help, but the reality is that should you be lucky enough to be taken seriously, the help you need following that appointment is anything up to 12 months away. Most people are struggling to make it to the end of that day, never mind wait a year. During a stay i...

So this morning started off rather normal. Well, as normal as it can be with 4 children in the house. A Peppa Piig marathon to ensure the youngest would comply with getting dressed for nursery. The other three took on the resemblance of the progression from Neanderthal Man to present day Homo Sapien. All children dropped off at their destinations and home by 0800. Not a bad start. Til I got in the house. Eldest had left his house keys and school planner on his bed. He needs his school planner in every lesson otherwise its a detention. Bollocks. Off back to school I go with the keys and planner. Get to school as his bus is pulling into the car park, but obviously because I'm not a member of staff I can't even drive through the fucking school gates for fear of being lynched by the PTFA brigade. Off you sod love. Get to the school building and of course thing one has now gone into school. Finally find a teacher and explain what the hell I'm doing there, wandering around in...

"Childbirth can't hurt that much if you're wanting another baby! You won't catch me ever asking for another kick in the bollocks!" This is one of the many words of wisdom that I have been given by men over the years, which is usually met with the kick in the bollocks they haven't asked for. When you are pregnant with your first child, your main thoughts are getting a nice case to put your pregnancy notes in, stocking up on matching outfits for your baby and buying the latest steriliser for the baby bottles you have bought at Mamas and Papas, because the Tommee Tippee ones from Asda just WILL NOT be enough for your precious new arrival. From your second pregnancy onwards, your maternity notes will be shoved in the bottom of your bag and take on the resemblance of a chewed up dog toy; your first baby's clothes will just be washed and on hand for when thing 2 comes along, sterilising bottles isn't high on the priority list - a quick swill with...

As I'm writing this, I'm watching 3 of my 4 children play outside. (The youngest monster has finally given into sleep after a monumental meltdown). They are shooting each other with Nerf guns, laughing, playing, loving life. Ian is in the front room catching up on some paperwork, and I am in the kitchen making tea for everyone. Today, we have been shopping for new shoes and clothes for the boys. What should have been a relatively swift trip turned into a nightmare when the children turned into gremlins as soon as we walked through the shop door. As any mother will tell you, sometimes the bollocking in the middle of the shop is not very effective. I resorted to the hushed whispered threat that I would, and absolutely would, remove their clothes and make them stand in the shop in their underwear for the remainder of the shopping trip. Worked a treat. Apart from Tommy - he couldn't give a shit what he is or isn't wearing - he just wants to run around like a child possess...