Martha Mother

When I had two children, the lady in the line didn't bat an eye lid.  When I had two children people walked past me, I blended in nicely to what they deemed as socially acceptable.  I didn't cause a stir.  When I was pregnant with my third daughter, my youngest was only just perfecting her ability to put one foot in front of the other.  The looks started, the comments of 'how would I cope' followed, and the very endearing 'I just couldn't do it, I'd go insane'  Aaahh, cute, thank you for that helpful insight into your family planning. I just wanted to give those people a great big kiss, go sit and have a Costa with them, and hear all the concerns they have for me and my family.   And then after take my Tomme Tipee bottle warmer out of my hold-all sized change bag and smack them round the head with it.  Little darlings.  Hey, I'm a chatter, I'm a people person, I'll talk to you about my kids, I'm even one of those that will let you touch m

Domestic violence, it's alien tapping the keys to form that sentence.  I have never experienced it.  That was my mum. And it makes me angry, my eyes swell with tears, I could smash through a brick wall with nothing but the pure angst that cultivates inside, any time I remember what my own father did. But I should remember, to somehow honour my mother, the lady who endured feeling the force of someone's hand, strike her beautiful, loving face. The face I know as 'home'. The face I see my own reflection in. To remember her past and never forget how much, sole consuming ore, I have for the amazing woman she is, how she raised a daughter, alone, who was oblivious to the pain she once lived, at the hand of my dad. I feel guilt, I feel so far removed from the life my own mother once lived, that often, although it's part of my history, and the culprit is part of my gene pool, it all feels a bit like a tale from someone's else's life tapestry. It's not, but how

We've had good times, great times, some of the best.  But here's the thing. I'm not quite sure how to say this, I need to break up with you.  Wow. This is tougher than I thought. Remember our Elsa themed party last summer?! You showed me how to erect a giant 'pin the carrot on Olaf' You held my hand whilst I wrote 237 stickers saying 'melted snow' on bottles of water... For a party of kids that couldn't read yet.  Good times.  You've been there for me Pinterest,  2am ,  4am , any hour of my sleepless nights, I could count on you to show me a wooden pallet bench that only took 5 steps to make.  It gave me a project, a focus. And we know I love one of those.  All I needed was pallets, a hammer, nails, circular saw, sander, varnish, and, well my husband to do it.. It was going to be immense.  I pinned it. I pinned you. I'd pin all of you, but I try to be selective, realistic, if you will. 

I'm 30 years old. I had my first daughter at a young, naive, fresh faced and lacking a bit of confidence, 22 years old.    I hadn't yet entered my career, I had worked within the police, but left after realising I wasn't the sort of person that could leave that sort of work at the office. It was eating me up.     When I fell pregnant, I had just started to work as a car hire receptionist, a job, until I figured out what I wanted to do.    And then 'H' came along.    Mothering, mothering was what I wanted to do.  And so I did, and I still do, but now to 4 beautiful,  funny girls.    Even though I knew I wanted to be at home with my daughters, I still had the itchy feet syndrome, to do things for myself.    Not to become an investment banker or run the next multi million empire (that would come later..) but just to 'put myself out there' for anything, everything, that I could actually do, small little baby steps to just see where it

I'm so pleased I have been nominated for this by the lovely Clare at   Sons Sand And Sauvignon  as I'm intrigued myself what I'll come up with.. The challenge is simple, to list 10 things you love and 10 you hate. And it gives readers a chance to see a bit more behind the blogger at the other end of the screen. So here we go! 10 things I love My husband and beautiful girls  Festivals Eating a piece of chocolate followed quickly by a ready salted crisp. Yes. Seriously.  The feeling and noise of turning a page over in a book when you have pressed down quite hard on your pen. It crinkles.  Diaries and note books.  My girls giving me hugs out of their own accord. Writing. Music and dancing.  Custard.       Baths that are far too hot   10 things I hate Feeling sick. Soap operas.  Dust in my children's bedrooms. People who don't say thank you. Unvarnished toenails (just my own!)  Me with sho

Controversial. I cannot stand baby classes.    Now please, please don't bite my head off. I know many people reading this will have been to some amazing classes, where your baby could use sign language to tell you she's hungry at just 5 months old and has learnt to count to 100 by the age of 2 because of these £5 a go sessions.  But honestly, who on earth pays to have a complete stranger sing at your child in a fairly high pitched voice for 45 minutes, whilst your made to dance around and 'participate' as its good for bonding?  I have done the above. And when I chatted to some other overly enthusiastic mums as they bashed their tambourine, I got reprimanded by the 'teacher' of said baby class and asked to use the 'tea and biscuit time' after the class for my socialising.  I felt like the worst mother ever.  Now you want me to pay £5 a class where you entertain my child and I can sit back and have fudge cake? (Whilst watching of course)