Remember back in February when you thought you needed more work life balance and then March happened and now boundaries have taken a time out. How long is too long not to shower? Or dress the kids? Clean the house or leave the house? I had to fill the van up for the first time... Continue Reading →
For their Dada
My rules may control the fun, but you inject the fun in to this operation. That came naturally to you. You see the bigger picture. You're not offended if Daddy isn't the favourite, instead propping me up when only Mummy will do. You carry them when their legs are tired and swing them when their... Continue Reading →
The MD and the Unidog
One day the MD, the Unidog and Mummy took a walk. 'So kiddo, what type of cake would you like for your birthday?' asked Mummy. "Unicorn" said the MD decisively. 'That might be a bit tric-' "UNICORN" Mummy was silent for a moment, internally cursing her choice of words. 'What flavour cake' she thought, 'FLAVOUR'.... Continue Reading →
Mrs DD; a CV
Key skills A persistent individual with a diverse, self-taught skillset and an emphasis on attachment methods, interspersed with episodes of screaming in to pillows. Recent achievements include not losing either flight risk at the supermarket, remembering to put the defrosting meat out of the dogs' reach and taking the washing out of the machine within... Continue Reading →
Lesson fourteen: A rant is good for the soul
I could apologise for the following swearing, but I wouldn't mean it. Don't read if you don't like fuck, because I say fuck a lot. Fuck.
My daughter isn't wearing a tutu and tiara and my son isn't head-to-toe in biege and that's hard for you because there's a chance she could be a he, or he a she, or she a she and he a he and you just wouldn't know how to type cast them?
Off you fuck.
About the DDs
The dogs; Spotty Crotch and Poo Monster. The kids; a Mini Dictator and Boob Baby. My sister tells me a mating is considered successful after the offspring has had offspring. That’s setting the bar a bit high so I’m aiming for bedtime, if we all make it to bedtime I’m winning.
Poo Monster
This one's for Poo Monster. Before Boob Baby and the MD there was Poo Monster. I remember looking at him when I was pregnant wondering how I could ever love something more than I loved his little face. Sure, Spotty Crotch was there but he barely tolerates me. He only has eyes for Mr DD,... Continue Reading →
Lesson eight: Our house is a death trap
With a baby crawling about again I'm reminded what a death trap our house is. There's the choking hazards, the poisoning risks, stairs, fire, fury and four little beings hell bent on exploring each one. First up there's everything that goes in their mouths. Spotty Crotch and Boob Baby are determined to steal the MDs... Continue Reading →
Lesson six: I’m out of my depth
I've found myself out of my depth a lot this week. The poor pooches haven't been fairing well in this heat and with my husband away I haven't been able to coordinate an early morning walk for a few days. So this morning when I saw some cloud cover I got us all out of... Continue Reading →
Lesson five: It’s more interrogation than parenting
There’s a show on Channel 4 called SAS Who Dares Wins. It’s a group of civilian males getting yelled at a lot by ex Special Forces servicemen. If you're in the market for some new insults, watch it with a pen and notepad. The show starts with these blokes getting the spanking of their lives... Continue Reading →
Me and my DDs: dogs and dependants 