Saturday, 28 January 2017

Mummy is leaving 'sorry kids' |Top 5 reasons to get away with the girls

This year one of my best friends of fifteen years is getting married. she's my fun friend, my party friend, the friend that I never meet for 'coffee' but the one that I have the most fantastic 5am wine fuelled memories with. The one that I went on girly holidays with and the one that I planned how to get out of sticky situations with.

So when she announced her engagement, my first question was, 'hen party??.' I was hoping to hear her hen party was going to take place in a fun and fabulous holiday destination, somewhere I could relive my pre-baby, carefree, girly holidays! So when I found out that Marbella was the destination of choice, I was not disappointed.

I am not however that single, carefree, twenty-something anymore, I have a whole suitcase full of  mummy-guilt and four very valid little reasons not to go and enjoy what will probably be my only girly holiday of this decade; but I am also a very selfless and a very loyal friend and if the she wants me to jet off to Spain to spend three days dancing and drinking in the sun and leave my four little munchkins in the sole hands of Mr S, then I am prepared to put my own feelings aside and oblige.

So here our my top 5 reasons why us mummies should throw caution to the wind and join our friends on girly weekends away


The red carpet will be out on your return.

On the Friday morning your husband/partner/parent are going to get the children ready for the school run, they are going to be running on time and feeling quite smug, whilst wondering why you make so much fuss about this simple task. Once they get everyone into the car they will realise that someone has removed their underwear, someone has lost their shoe between the front door and the car, there is a peculiar smell of poo and the source is undetectable. They will be reminded that today is the deadline to hand in the twenty consent forms for school trips, the consent forms that have been eternally lost in the 'important paper drawer'. They will discover that the nine-year-old needs fifty-five pence for break time and he will not accept this in two pence pieces or a five-pound note, and the for year old needs her P.E kit, which will be half way through cycle twelve in the washing machine.

After dressing the children.... again, finding a shoe, changing a nappy , drafting their own consent forms, calling at the corner shop to buy another packet of mints for the bloody fifty-five pence change and convincing a screaming four-year-old that know one will notice when she puts on her brothers P.E kit that is five sizes to big. They will arrive at school five minutes late and be faced with the late register that offers a two centimetre space to explain the lateness, they will write, TRAFFIC, and then they will know why you drink wine. Throw in the chaos of the weekend that lies in front of them and on your return they will roll out the red carpet, fan you with ostrich feathers and beg you to never leave again. You will have gone from average mummy to Super Woman in seventy-two hours.


You will stick to your pre-holiday diet.

This is the one and only time you can guarantee that your going to give that bikini diet your best shot.  Your best friend's other friends look like Kate Moss's younger sisters, you were kind of hoping that they had let themselves go after the last time you saw them and you could all stand together sporting your shapewear swimsuits with pride. No such luck! You have stalked their Facebook profiles since the news of the trip and these girls are serious, gym-going, hair-flowing, gorgeous model look-alikes. You are determined to get fit, you are going to give up Chinese take-away and buy yourself one of those snazzy cozzies, covered in holes, to pose in as you stand by the pool sipping a glass of prosecco.............oohhhh but that pie looks nice!


You're like Cinderella, you have to go!

Just like Cinderella put down her broom and went to the ball; you need to put down the hoover and the baby, pack a bag, put on some oversized sunglasses and get on a plane.

For three whole days there will be no washing, there will be no ironing, there will be no cooking, there will be no evenings spent looking for nits in your children's hair. There will be no disappearing favourite bear that needs to be found in order for you to actually sleep. There will be no sick or poo to clean up. There will not be one single bloody chore.

This is your time to shine, go and drink champagne in the sun and spend three glorious hangovers, chid free!


You will actually miss them and that's a good thing. 

Although the idea of a childfree weekend sounds as pleasurable as bathing in pink Moet. The actual reality is you will probably start to miss your little munchkins as soon as you get into the car to leave for the airport. You will miss not checking that your baby is fastened into their seat properly, you will be crossing a road and miss not reaching down to grasp a little hand, you will walk past an ice-cream stand and miss the pleas and cries of delight. Their bedtime hour will creep up on you and while you're on your third cocktail you will be missing not being able to bathe them or put them to bed and you will be crying into your cosmopolitan at the thought of not reading them a bed time story. Your last day will be spent counting down the hours until you get to see them again.

No matter how much you moan about the constant routine of motherhood, a break is a great reality check to remind us how blessed we truly are.

When you are finally reunited with your little ones, there will be a blissful sixty minute reunion filled with kisses and cuddles and promises to never leave them again....until one of them breaks a bottle of your duty free and you make a mental note to start planning your next trip.


The No.1 reason to go away on a girly weekend......

The only bum you will be wiping for seventy-two hours will be your own!


Monday, 9 January 2017

My Niece Hates Me | Daisy and Her Little Piggy.

I don't remember exactly how pregnant I was with my daughter Millie when my sister announced her pregnancy. To our delight she revealed the news with a positive pregnancy test she had pulled from her bag.

I don't know what I said to her when she delivered the news or how we offered our congratulations.

I don't remember much about the hours that followed or how we celebrated the revelation of a new growing human.

What I do remember, was how I instantly knew, the knowledge of my little sisters pregnancy, was the most beautiful, perfect news I would ever hear.

The euphoria that I felt when I realised my unborn baby girl would have a cousin only six months younger - a lifetime friend and companion.

The elation as we worked out her dates and discovered that our unborn children would be in the same school year and our squeals of excitement as we planned how to spend our maternity leave.

I remember my little sister's face as she explained their plans for the baby that was growing inside of her. Her grin was wide, her eyes were glossed - the gloss that comes just before you cry with happiness and her cheeks were flushed and pink. She looked like she had just discovered the entire world was in her corner.

We thought the situation was pretty fantastic. Me and my little sister, pregnancy buddies, and due to give birth within months of each other. A perfect scenario that we imagined couldn't be improved, until at her twenty week scan she discovered that her little bean was in fact a little GIRL!

The last weeks of my pregnancy flew by and on Sunday, 18th November at 5:20 am, Millie made her appearance. She weighed a chunky 8lb 14. One of her first visitors was my sister - Manda - and her growing bump. I watched her  hold and bond with my little girl and my excitement to meet my own niece grew.

The first few months of Millie's life seemed to go on forever and so did my sister's pregnancy; finally, exactly one day before Millie turned six-months-old and after putting my sister through a five-day-labour, my niece made her dramatic entrance into the world....... Daisy had arrived!

Now you probably expect at this point, for me to tell you about the first magical meeting between myself and Daisy. You may be expecting me to describe her as perfect and explain how I heard angels sing when I first held my niece.......... That's not the case!

When I first met Daisy I did look at her and think her doll like features were perfect. She did look like an angel, but, when I first held her.....Oh. My. Life! She screamed harder and louder than I have ever heard a new-born scream. She screamed and she screamed until I gave her back to her parents and then she stopped!! So I tried to hold her again and again she screamed until I gave her back.

Princess Daisy
"She's tired" we all agreed.

"She's probably hungry" we said.

I left after not getting to know my new niece very well.

Over the next few weeks I had ample opportunity to cuddle and bond with Daisy; although she never screamed as loud as that first time, she would always cry, fidget and moan until I handed her back.

As she grew, things between us got worse....

She started to smile, but not at me.

She started to laugh but not in my direction.

She started to speak but the only word she would say to me was 'NO' and would often follow it with an unexpected whack in the face with a doll or toy hammer.

Just before her first birthday she started to frown at me, yes, this 11-month-old frowned at me!! She has frowned at me ever since!

She refused to kiss or hug me unless I bribed her, and we're not just talking a bag of  jelly beans. This three-year-old wants diamonds, fake ones, but diamonds none the less.

I had almost given up hope and my dreams of been a 'cool aunt' to this little girl were starting to fade, when we had a small breakthrough. Daisy referred to me as 'her little piggy'. Now I wasn't overly impressed with been called a pig but knowing that she referred to me as 'hers' gave me hope. She could have referred to me as 'her little bitch' and I would still be happy.

So..........

Little Miss Daisy

I will take being your 'little piggy', I will take being anything, if I am 'yours' and part of your life.  
No matter how much you pretend to dislike me (I hope that it is pretend), I will always love you. 

Millie and Daisy
I love the way that every time I look at your brown pigtails and dark eyes, I'm transported back to my childhood and I'm looking at your mum.

I love that you have the attitude of a teenager and so much confidence to speak your mind.

I love how stubborn and sassy you are.

I love how much you make us all laugh with your fantastic one liners.

I love your little wiggle and the way you flick your hair.

I love the way you dance and perform with more passion and enthusiasm than someone three times your age.

I love that you are my little girl's best friend, that you hug her when she cries, that you hold her hand when she's lonely and that you reassure her when she's scared.

I love you Little Miss Daisy.

From your 'little piggy'

......And luckily for me, seven months ago my sister gave birth to a very beautiful and huge baby boy, he smiles at me constantly and laughs at my every word, so even if Daisy does hate me forever I still have a shot at been a cool auntie. Ha!