The Undertaker Mum

Summer Holidays. Stress free flight with drinks en route to your destination, beautiful sunshine, sandy beaches, peace and quiet when you want it, rowdy clubs when you fancy them, Sangrias on the beach, lounging pool side and floating up the swim-up bar on your lilo when you can be arsed to take a break from topping up your tan. Absolute paradise. Then you have children. If you are considering having children, please always bare in mind the following; The child, singular, is a precious thing. A miracle of nature. The apple of it's parents eyes. A beautiful being that can melt hearts with one look from those big baby blues, and make the most anti - children person broody. They are lovely. Children, plural,  are arseholes. Now when you have children, and you're insane, once a year you will head down to the travel agents, or look on the internet, and book yourselves a family holiday. If, like me, you have a screw loose, you will do this more than once a year. Be it a h...

Ahhhh pregnancy. Those first few moments where you realise that using a cricket bat for contraception hasn't worked, and you are now with child. What. A. Blessing. I had my first child at age 22. Pregnancy with Alf was a breeze, I didn't have any morning sickness, I was a general delight to be around (as you can imagine) and I was well enough to return to work within two weeks after giving birth. Tommy however, was a different kettle of fish altogether. Pregnancy was nothing short of a fucking nightmare. I had morning sickness so bad that I went on a hunger strike that would have given Terry Waite a run for his money. I ached, I had pains, I had to finish work at 7 months due to sciatica. Basically, I hated the whole bloody thing. Despite two very different pregnancies, the one thing that didn't change with either was that I couldn't wait to meet them. I couldn't wait to see their precious faces, hear their first cries, decide what their names would be, and ...

This blog is dedicated to my absolute warrior mummy friend, who, over the last few weeks has been thrown up and shit on several times by her one year old; the worst one being in the middle of the supermarket in front of everyone whilst her 4 year old sat giggling in the trolley. My dear Lottie; this ones for you xxx Baby poo. The gift that keeps on giving. When baby is first evacuated from your uterus, they shit out maconium. Lots of it. For those non parents who don't know what that is - imagine trying to clean melted liquorice off a carpet with a Kleenex. That's the level of difficulty we're dealing with here. Once you get baby home from hospital, they move on to the sweet popcorn smelling, manageable little parcels that as you clean up, you foolishly think to yourself 'I cant see what all the fuss is about, this nappy changing is a doddle.' You know nothing. When the midwives come to the house to visit you and baby, the conversation will inevitably turn to b...