Six weeks off; amazing, great!
It’s only the last five you’ll fucking hate.
You’ve done everything in week one, you filled your days,
With crafting and baking, it was gone in a haze.
The house is a tip now and you can’t see the floor,
But it’ll soon pass, there’s only five more.
Week two draws in and you wake filled with dread,
What do we do now? My head is a shed.
A family day out, a lovely idea!
It pisses it down with rain, pass me a beer.
Three weeks in and you’re going mad,
You didn’t think finding shit to do would be so bad.
You’re nagged and you’re moaned at more and more,
Can we? Can we? Can we? It’s becoming a bore.
Week four can fuck off, this is the worst,
Just over half way and an empty purse.
You’ve been uniform shopping and you’ve spent all your cash,
And all you want is a night on the lash.
Week five is strop week, you’ve heard and seen it all,
Get them in bed so you can stare at the wall.
Week six and more moaning that there’s nothing to do,
And you hide behind the fridge door mouthing ‘fuck you’.
But inside you’re smug, smug as can be,
Because it’s back to school next week, you’ve survived – yippee!!
So, here we go again. More mum bashing. This time Victoria Beckham is in the firing line for giving her five-year-old daughter a birthday kiss on the lips.
Although the mum of four has received a lot of support, with thousands of mums now sharing snaps of themselves kissing their children on the lips, she’s also faced backlash from the internet’s parenting police who find it ‘disgusting’, ‘weird’ and ‘wrong’. Since when was kissing your child on the lips a controversial act? I kiss my four-year-old on the lips all the time (my 14-week-old less so, because he’s a bit drooley). It’s so normal in our house that I was shocked when people began calling her out on it, it’s even been sexualised, with people saying they look like lesbians. What absolute, utter rubbish.
What kind of world do we live in where someone can look at a photo of a mum giving her daughter a kiss and think that? I find it weird that people find it weird. And the only time it’s wrong, in my opinion, is when my kid’s face is covered in Nutella or beans (no thanks), or when I’ve managed to find the time to put make up on and I don’t want him ruining my lipstick (step away, son, you can kiss the cheek but not the pout).
It’s a sweet, innocent picture showing the bond between mother and daughter. I’m sure Vicky B has more important things to worry about than what others think of her parenting, but all the same, leave the woman alone!
PS I tried to get a photo of myself kissing my son to go with this feature… he told me I could only have a kiss if he could have an ice lolly. Maybe Harper did the same, but unlike my son, she got her lolly?
1. You used to think you were tired all the time. HAHA. Baby number two is going to make a stint in Guantanamo Bay look like fucking Butlins.
2. Pelvic floor… fucked. Don’t laugh, you’ll wet yourself.
3. Stomach muscles… fucked. Don’t wear a bikini.
4. Social life… fucked. Nobody wants to babysit a four year old and a baby at the same time.
5. Nappies are expensive. Were they this expensive four years ago? Or does this child just shit more than the first one?
6. Baby milk is expensive. Wonder how you’ve managed to wrack up 50 quid in Tesco with naff all in your basket? It’s baby number two’s fault.
7. You still need to look after the first child you gave birth to. Even if you’ve been up all night with baby number two, baby number one is still going to be waking you up at 6am to tell you he’s pissed the bed and he wants to play dinosaurs and he wants you to be the mummy dinosaur and he will be the baby dinosaur and he wants his breakfast right now but not toast because he doesn’t like toast any more and not cereal because cereal isn’t what baby dinosaurs eat.
8. Cereal is all mummy dinosaurs eat.
9. Your first child will inevitably feel a bit left out and start doing stuff for attention when baby number two is crying – ‘look what I can do mummy, I can put my todgy between my legs’, ‘look what I can do mummy, I can kick this ball at the window really hard’, ‘look what I can do mummy, I can spin around really fast without even falling over’.
10. Your washing basket will never, ever be empty again. There’s dirty pants circa December 2015 at the bottom of mine.
11. You’ll start to see going to the toilet on your own as a real luxury; a lonesome toilet break is the equivalent of an afternoon in a spa.
12. Nobody comes to see your second child. They came to see your first one – what do you want? Blood?
13. Remember the memory box you’ve got in the loft? The one with a million things to show your first born when he’s older; a newspaper from the day he was born, cards you received on his arrival, scan photos. You can’t be arsed the second time round.