Dear Diary 27th April 2017

Date: 27/4/17

Number of times I’ve been called Mum: 4832

Number of fights broken up: 20

Dear Diary…Mum and I went to see the Sister Act Musical in Cardiff Millennium Centre. ‘Twas amazing. At the end there was an explosion of shiny foil pieces showering down on us. It was late when I got home so I crawled into bed in my vest top & bra, only in the morning I woke up with one of the gold pieces in my cleavage and the colour had rubbed off so am now sporting gold boobies. Awesome.


I offered to take the kids out for tea. Anywhere they wanted. They chose Morrison’s cafe?! After work I nipped home to pick them up walked into Morrison’s only to spot Little Lady’s trousers on backwards. Tell the OH off through gritted teeth and he sulked while I scoffed my Macaroni Cheese. Turned out kids eat free with an adult meal so it was £10 for the 4 of us. My kids are a lot of things and now frugal is one of them.


Walked into the kids bedroom to tidy only to find shit on the carpet. WTAF though. Who and why? Little Lady has been known to do it in a Lego storage head before but that was a good while ago when she was potty training. On closer inspection (I get the best jobs) turns out it was not, in fact, shit but blobs of mashed up banana. Since both kids had been moaning they were hungry just before bed (standard) they’d had half a banana each. Only ‘nobody’ did it. That bastard again. My money is on Little Lady though because it was also on her duvet cover. Funny that.


Went to a kids party today. You either love them or hate them. I hate them. Well most of them, some aren’t so bad. This one though was really bad. Not the fault of the Mum who threw it at all but my daughter sat on my lap and refused to move the entire time (apart from to shove chocolate mini rolls in her gob at buffet time) on 2 occasions I tried to strike up conversations with people, on both occasions I was blanked. So there I was stone dead from embarrassment and shunned into the deepest darkest corner of no friend-dom with a clingon, not even Let It Go would shift her. Or the Spider-Man that jumped out of the curtain.  To make it worse I looked even more weird when rescued via messages back and fore from a friend and giggled like a pillock to myself. It’s in those moments you realise that those people really don’t matter. I tried. I failed. I moved on. But there will always be the ones who have your back when you really need it.


Really must remember to empty out the naughty snack rubbish from my car door pocket. Telling the OH I’m eating lots of salad in attempt to lose weight and be healthy isn’t going to wash when he finds 10 Haribo wrappers hidden under the shammy or a Galaxy bar the size of my youngest child in the glove box. Rookie mistake that, am most ashamed of myself.


OH isn’t feeling well. Does he naff off to bed to rest and recuperate? Does he hell. He’d rather stay downstairs sighing and moaning and telling me how much he’s dying. And being grumpy. Good god man just go to bed. I wouldn’t need telling twice I can tell you!


julie-x-2

One thought on “Dear Diary 27th April 2017

  1. Pingback: They’re Not Your Friend | PickingUpToys

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