Mummy simply doesn't have the time to be creating a Master Plan for The New Year.
If ever a woman utters the word "fine," you can be sure of one thing: SHE IS NOT FINE. IT IS NOT FINE. NOTHING IS EVER FINE.
Mummy has indeed enrolled on a variety of courses over the years, only for extraneous things such as babies and life to get in the way. So what was so significant about this time?
How can we become who we so desperately want to be, at the expense of nobody and nothing else?
Perhaps you are lying next to a cold, frigid Mombie in bed. Or perhaps you yourself are a Mombie who hasn't woken up yet from the nightmare.
The Play Centre offers a multitude of options for misplacing a child. Use this piece of information at your own discretion.
Last week, The Terror Tots unanimously declared that they prefer School's meatballs to mine. Despite the fact that my own hand-rolled meatylicious balls, coated in hand-pressed super-six, hidden vegetable ragout, haven't gone down so well of late, I hadn't anticipated the need for a vote and I certainly hadn't expected to fail so miserably. And… Continue reading Spaghetti Betty
Uniform adj remaining the same in all cases and at all times; unchanging in form or character. Uniformity noun quality or state of being uniform. Mummy has decided that in her old age, she rather likes Uniformity. For example, when organising the household and tending to the Terrors, Mummy prefers everything to be Uniform in nature. When loading the… Continue reading Uniformity
"This Mummy would rather mummify herself in soggy toilet paper and bury herself underground in a coffin, rather than Do Halloween"
31st August 2017 Dear Future (wiser and more organised) Self, It's a day before the kids go back to school and I'm in a bad way. Not withstanding the fact that I am already experiencing withdrawal symptoms at the mere thought of being wrenched apart from my Precious Brood at the school gates, I am… Continue reading Back to School