Excuse me!

I’ve never farted in front of my husband.

We’ve been together for 10 years. I’ve given birth in front of him. Twice.

But somehow i’ve never been able to bring myself to expel a bit of wind.

Let’s say we’ve opened up on many other fronts since having children. To be honest, there’s not an awful lot that can be kept private when little people are forever opening doors on you unexpectedly.

And i’ll burp away happily. Loud, joyous ones.

But i’d be mortified if anything ever popped out the other end. (Thankfully kids can be useful blame targets).

It’s an amusing fact. Irrational. And frequently inconvenient.

What would you never do in front of your partner?

she can do magic

I’ve decided i’m done. No more kids.

I’m happy with two.

It was hard.

A tough decision to make.

You’re given the power of magic.

To create a person.

How can you decide to pack your wand and cape away?

Addendum: i thought it worth stressing the degree of poetic license here. I did, of course, make this decision with my wonderful husband.  But, as ever, this post is about me.

Get confessing: Part two

As if i hadn’t divulged enough in my first month of blogging , Single Slummy Mummy (check out her site – she’s one F-O-X-Y M-A-M-A) has nominated me for for a Kreativ Blogger Award and challenged me to come clean about 7 more (intimate) things people probably don’t already know.

As if i shy away from these kinds of challenges?

Having confessed to a few parental naughties in Get Confessing! i thought i would switch the focus to the person outside the parent. Even if that person can be a little bit strange at times.
So here goes a few random morsels:

1) I can’t grate cheese without counting. I suppose what i’m saying is that i think i might have a mild form of OCD, which gets worse when i’m anxious. But numerical grating is pretty much a constant. (and if you’re interested, the magic number is 20).
2) I believe i may also have a form of “mental tourettes”. Ok, so i’ve diagnosed and labelled this myself and am probably doing real sufferers of the tourettes a disservice. In any case, the voice inside my head often says unspeakable things.
3) I have a severe phobia of apple cores. I would rather sit in a bath full of maggots than a bath with one, single apple core. Strangely, my sister has the same one.
4) I have never eaten a banana. Or custard. That’s not that strange, i met a 19 yr-old girl once who’d never tried chicken.
5) I have to wear a protective mouth guard at night because i grind my teeth. It makes me lisp and feel very old. However, if i don’t wear it i will lose my teeth, so feeling 90 is better than looking 90.
6) I have an odd yet persistent jinx with regards hospitals and thongs. If i’m ever called to an outpatient’s department i invariably miscalculate the level of attire i will (justifiably, nothing suspect here) be required to remove in order to be examined. The worst case so far saw me running on a treadmill, being filmed, while wearing a rather ill-fitting g-string.
7) I proposed to my husband. I’d been telling him for years i was never getting married, so when i had a change of heart, i realised as i’d scared him off good and proper i’d have to get down on bended knee myself. The rest is history…..

At this point i believe the protocol is to pass on the challenge to some more lovely mother (or father) types, so to some of my favourite bloggers Jo Bart, Deer Baby, Thinly spread and Peta Jo, TRUTH OR DARE??

craft and baking

This is a subject that bugs me a lot.

Just how much craft, baking or other happy family activities are most mothers doing with their children?

The thing is, I don’t. Well i do, sometimes. But it’s usually in short, guilty bursts.

I’m not saying i leave my kids 24/7 to roam the house while i put my feet up and eat muffins. I take them out somewhere every day – indoor play, children’s centre, playground, pub (oops, did i say that?), but when i’m in the house they’re usually either a) watching television or b) playing on their own.

I have visions in my head of all the other mums replete with “kids and hers” aprons, baking cakes, brownies, quiche as the children whoop whoop with delight and lick the leftovers from wooden spoons. That, or finger painting, play dough competitions and vegetable growing demonstrations all before lunch. (which obviously consists of said home grown and home baked food).

The thing is, I’m utterly convinced that this is what all other mothers are up to. While i’m there saying for the 50th time, and oh so innocently “You must be tired darling? How about some quiet time while mummy clears up the lunch things?” As if a) quiet time in front of the tv is a novel treat and b) he hasn’t realised yet that “clearing up” takes mummy at least an hour, and usually involves a lot of time typing on the computer.

Rationally i suspect this is probably another example of me measuring myself up against the “better mums” that i fear i’m losing out to on a daily basis, but that don’t actually exist.

The problem is that when i visit other people’s houses, there is mabel’s artwork on the kitchen wall, out comes the biscuit tin “would you like an apple scone, archie baked them with me this morning”, or there sits impressively a toddler-size car made out of boxes (believe me that has happened to me).

As i mentioned in Get Confessing, I have a sneaking suspicion that some other mums might not be being entirely honest (the biscuits are Annabel Karmel’s and the car was made by dad under duress last night).

Problem is that the rational side of my brain gets overriden by the irrational wonderings of a guilt-ridden mother.

That, and obviously having too much time on my hands to think while i put my feet up and eat muffins.