mothers on the verge

I'm teaching a rabble of 7 year olds how to draw dinosaurs tomorrow. What am I letting myself in for? Am I truly insane? I mean, I don't even like dinosaurs. ... Am I turning into an Alpha Mum? Oh sh*t.

OK, I take it back about hating ALL Frenchies everywhere. I have met a nice Frenchie at school who appears to be a normal human being. I know, I know. It's a shocker! I can hear your gasps of surprise. How can this be? you exclaim. This is outside of the natural order of things! If you were French you would say Boof and do that funny pursed lip thing as if you've just been sucking lemons. But thankfully you are (probably) not French so we can all get on with registering normal expressions of shock and saying rude Anglo-Saxon swear words in order to properly express our bewilderment. Anyway, as usual I digress. So I met a brilliantly weird Frenchie who does the following non-Frenchie things: She looks like a human being - in other words is of normal weight with boobs and other female attributes - rather than having the sort of physique more suited to that of a young boy Following on from the above, she EATS! This very morning I saw her drinking a ful...

The Small(er) One is revelling in her newfound ability to write. When she's taking a break from writing Alpha and I little notes to tell us that she'll be moving house as fast as she can pack her bags, mainly due to the fact that we don't give her enough chocolate, she's writing love notes. Here's one we received yesterday: To Mum and Dad, I reele reele love you. I wul mis you wen you dye beecus I love you. I love you. xxx

People who use the last of the milk then put the empty carton back in the fridge. Like I won't notice . Dur.

Am currently embroiled in a Herculean attempt to have my cooker repaired. So far it has taken nigh on three weeks and two different sets of 'technicians' - possibly misnamed as so far they have failed to display much in the way of any kind of technique (except for champion level ar*e and head scratching, and a dose of dumb insolence) - and my oven is still refusing to cook anything properly. Plus the knobs are in the early stages of melting due to the seal having broken (the one thing they have so far managed to repair, whoopee) and the timer doesn't work. One technician announced that he couldn't fix the problem as he wasn't an oven specialist (then what are you doing in my house under the pretence that you are here to fix that particular appliance, eh? Explain me that, sunny Jim!) Another one, a self-professed 'oven expert', insisted that there is nothing wrong with my cr*ppy oven despite the fact that the gas flame stays the same whate...

OK. I've had enough. I am declaring war on all ze Frenchies. Not just the gaggle of Frenchies in Dubai. But every Frenchie in the world that I might come across one day in the near or distant future. And I will be especially merciless towards French women. Why, you ask? What could these charming, affable, wine-quaffing cultured creatures possibly have done to offend me so? Well, first off they may be wine-quaffing, and charming when they wish to be (a bit like cats are cute and cuddly when they want something), but after having had the misfortune to attend a distress sale this morning with about 50 Frenchies, I am yet to be convinced that they possess any other redeeming qualities. My Britishness was a bit of a problem when faced with a gang of Frenchwomen salivating over the prospect of cut-price hand-embroidered French linens. Here are my complaints: Gratuitous rudeness : ze French have no concept of what it means to queue, hence their shameless pushing to ...

People who send me annoying emails using multiple !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! marks. Grrrrr.

Having had no babies in our house for half a decade Alpha and I are in dire need of a refresher course before the arrival of Peanut this summer. So we've been hanging out with as many small babies as possible in an effort to ease ourselves back in gently prior to the Big Event. This is what we've figured out: Babies are really cute. Especially when they smile. And they smell really good. Plus they feel nice to cuddle. And persuading a baby to fall asleep with minimal screeching feels a bit like winning the lottery. But all this is only really great in the context of other people's babies. Because then you can hand them back when they shout or if they've done one of those really nasty up-the-back-of-the-babygro yellow poos. Or if you want to do something nice and solitary, like go for a wee. This is because babies are tiny dictators. Their weapons of choice are noise pollution, sleep deprivation and projectile poo - and they have no moral qualms about launching the...

Lie #1: "You're really blooming."  Translation: "You're actually ballooning. Like a huge blimp. Euww." Lie #2: "No, no, you cry if you need too. Pregnancy hormones, hey? Quite normal, I'm sure."  Translation: "You're a total nutter. Unhinged and insane. How soon can I make my excuses and leave, never to return?" Lie #3: "Of course you look sexy. I love your pregnant shape, darling." Translation: "Actually, your new gigantic boobs are kind of fun but your inflatable bum is a bit of a turn-off. But if I told you the truth you'd probably kill me and use your crazy pregnancy hormones as a defence." Lie #4: "Oh, you're just three months pregnant? Gosh, you must have a big baby in there!" Translation: "Who's been eating all the pies then? You're only eating for two, you're not Octomom. Take it down a notch, piggie-chops." Lie #5 (to first time mothers): "Lab...

Apparently it's a gourmet delicacy.  Er, yum?

Usually this would be the time for me to be writing down my New Year's resolutions but since I rarely give any of them a second thought after mid January I've decided not to bother at all this year. Also, being pregnant I can't do any of the fun stuff I usually feel obliged to give up every January anyway (you know, ciggies, booze, feasting on delicious food, the usual sort of thing... sob ...) so frankly it would be an even bigger, fatter waste of time than it usually is. Thus I resolve to make no resolutions whatsover. I shall remain as  cr*ap as I usually am but unapologetically so - meaning I have no added reason to feel more guilty about said cr*pness. Now there's a cause for celebration! Happy New Year y'all.