Seven types of mum you’ll meet in the playground/ playgroup.
1. The piss-head one.
Roughly 70 per cent alcohol in her veins at all times. If you need a rant about your husband being a tosser, your kids being little shits or your family being arseholes, she’s there waiting with a triple measure gin and a punchbag. Carries a hip flask. Everyone’s seen her tits.
2. The hippy one.
The one that uses wipes made from angel wings and fairy dust and only feeds her baby organic, pureed green gloop that makes you feel bad for chucking a couple of Wotsits at your child and calling it ‘baby-led weaning’. Terrible wind. Stinks. Wears paisley.
3. The know-it-all one.
She’s read the books so she KNOWS. EVERYTHING. She’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong with a smile on her face than doesn’t quite reach her soulless eyes. Nobody likes her. Secretly has marriage problems and a hairy muff.
4. The ‘my kid is perfect and I love everything about my life’ one.
Don’t be fooled by what she posts on Facebook, she’s losing her shit like the rest of us. Probably on Prozac.
5. The immaculate one.
HOW. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK is she wearing full make up, heels and clothes without food stains or creases at 9am when I’ve not even brushed my hair and my breath smells of farts? Cries herself to sleep at night.
6. The career one
Don’t know, never seen her. Loves PowerPoint more than her kids.
7. The soulmate one.
You’d still be mates even without the kiddies. You’ve laughed, cried and got angry together. You know what each other is thinking with just a look and you generally dislike other people’s kids but think your own are awesome. Delusional outsiders but don’t give a shit.