The Throwaway Comment

Inspired by Daddy Poppins recent child free holiday to Ibiza I remembered my own visit. There I was, San Antonio 2002, let loose for a week, my Dad had my little boy and it was going to be the best holiday ever. Right? Well, not really. A simple throwaway comment threw me completely. I was in Es Paradis some garage night or other, totally not my thing but my mate was so excited I thought she’d combust leaving only a white lace bikini. God she looked amazing in that bikini, all blonde hair and bronzed skin, couldn’t get it wet mind you but nevertheless she looked like a Goddess. Anyway on with the story…

I was dancing, I’d never thought about whether I was a good dancer or not before, I just did it. I’d held loads of dance competitions in front of my Nana and she’d never said I was crap! In the midst of me throwing some kind of gin, lime and lemonade enhanced shapes a random bloke beckoned me over. I thought “oh here we go, he wants to know if the Goddess is single, this is getting boring now”. But no, that’s not he wanted at all.

He leant over, next to my ear because the music was loud and shouted “fuck sake love, you can’t dance, why are you even here?” he laughed, his mates laughed, I didn’t laugh.  Well I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t say a word, I didn’t know what to say anyway. Like one of those Facebook posts where everyone is outraged and says “well I would have…” “you should have…” but in the moment what happens, happens and you can’t change it. I just turned my back to him and walked away. Continue reading

The Birthday Party

There was once a Mum, a birthday party virgin if you like. Full of hope and excited expectation at their offspring being invited to a jelly and icecream filled shindig. Their child will be the most popular, being welcomed into the cool kid crew, join in all the party games and maybe, just maybe be the Musical Chairs champion of the world! She’d burst with pride she thought to herself. It’ll be so amazing she mused strapping her little bundle of joy into the car. The poor cow would soon learn she was very, very wrong.

She would come to realise kids parties are NOT fun. They are in fact the opposite of fun, they are almost as fun as having a giant cactus inserted into your rectum and twisted (righty tighty, lefty loosey)  but not quite. She would have a rude awakening of the rudest kind.

For she would soon find out that she would not be welcomed into the party by Mum’s high fiving her, handing her prosecco and kids elbowing each other, whispering about the amazingly cool Mum that just walked in. Instead she would have the card and present unceremoniously snatched out of her hand, she’d spent hours in The Entertainer mulling over that sodding present. Did she go cheap because after all she didn’t even know this kid? Did she go extravagant so she wasn’t forever seen as that cheapskate cow that went to the pound shop? She went middle of the road in the end and just hoped that Birthday Kid wouldn’t be allowed to open it in front of her and show her the huge, huge disappointment in his eyes.

She would then find no friendly faces and slink off to the darkest corner and there she would stay. Sometimes with her kid, the one who refuses to join in, clinging snottily to the front of her painstakingly chosen blouse or all alone like a cast aside bag of bollocks.

12 times the kid will want to go to the toilet so she has to do the crossing the dancefloor walk of shame while everyone wonders who the hell she is and why she was invited. If she’s lucky she might burst a balloon on the way over so everyone eyerolls  at her inadequacy and fat feet.

To her horror when the super fun character makes an appearance Kid will run screaming from the building like Freddy Krueger just rocked up  and asked for a Gangnam Style dance lesson. To be fair Peppa Pig does look as though she’s spent the last few months in a crack house but who is she to judge.

The food though, they’ll eat the food, of course they will, when the buffet announcement rings out the kids will smash each other out the way for their sugar rush, like a bunch of mini football hooligans clawing each others eyes out for a jammy coconut biscuit. The poor kid who takes the last chocolate finger can look out – they’ll get a bonk to the brain with a pinata stick because how bloody dare they?

The poor Mum clinging to the last little bit of hope that’s slowly but surely pouring out of her and pooling at her feet like a puddle of piss would make a last ditch attempt to join in by dragging the kid up to Cha Cha Slide like the other Mum’s who have their shit and coordination together. Kid will not be impressed. Kid will kick off and pull away screaming that they don’t want to, out of the corner of her eye she sees pompous Mum dialing the number for social services whilst tutting along to the Justin Bieber song that’s just blasted it’s way into everyone’s ears.

She will thank her lucky stars when the lights go up and everyone is expected to bugger off, Kid grabs a party bag on the way out and she’s wondering why Party Mum had that weird smirk on her face. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out as the minute she sits relieved in her car seat she will be deafened by the high pitched squeal of a bastarding plastic yellow whistle.

For the love of God. Now she understood.

julie-x-2 (1)

Lucy At Home

Bad Day? No Way!

Now I’m not one of those nutters who professes to be able to cure depression in 24 easy steps, this is purely meant as a light hearted post when you’ve had a bad day whether that’s grumpy shouty people at work, nightmare at home with the kids trying to drown each other in the downstairs bog or your supermarket of choice delivering your shopping and substituting your kids size 4 nappies for a multipack of yellow dusters. Want some ideas for taking your mind off it? Strap yourself in and here we go.

• Four finger kit-kat? Dairy Milk the size of your oldest child? Double Decker eaten the naughty way with the chewy bit first? Whatever floats your boat… get it in your gob. In the airing cupboard obviously, we’ll have none of that sharing nonsense, thankyou very much.

• Gin? Prosecco? Mad Dog 20/20? What’s your tipple? Drink it til you get that ‘just stepped off a waltzer at Porthcawl fair’ feeling. Just try not to spew, or your bad day will turn into 2 bad days when you’re scraping Tuna ‘n’ Pasta chunks off the bedroom carpet the next morning and stumbling into work with a monster headache.

• Give the kids a cuddle. They might fart in your lap or throw up their Turkey Drumsticks if you squeeze too hard but those little buggers give good hugs don’t they? Continue reading

The School Disco With A 90’s Lyrics Quiz

The good old school disco, who didn’t love it? None of your prom nonsense in gorgeous dresses and coiffed hair, in the 90’s when I was a teen we wore Hypercolour t-shirts, shell suits, ruffle front white chiffon blouses or maybe if you had “one of those Mum’s” a neon pink Bridesmaids dress you wore to Aunty Sarah’s wedding in the late 80’s. If your hair hadn’t been crimped or scrunch dried rock solid you just didn’t cut it. Go big or go home. The boys had wet look gel. The whole gigantic tub of it in one go. As slick as Uncle Mick’s frying pan styled quiff.

90's-school-disco-perm

Continue reading

Knobheads, Knobheads Everywhere

Over the years I’ve come across many of lifes, um…lovely people. You know the type, the ones who make your eyes roll so hard they fall out and you have to chase them up the road but you can’t see though can you so you trip over your own daps and headbutt a dog poo bin. Here are some of the particularly knobby ones I’ve attracted recently.

• Mcdonalds Chav Crew – look, I’m 40 now. Which is old as fudge, meaning gangs of lairy cross body bagged teens are a bit intimidatey (nope don’t care it’s not a word) when you’re fighting your way through the purple grape vape fog just to get a poxy Happy Meal. Not to be confused with the kids who sit having a chat with their mates, I’m talking about the ones where 1 kid is ALWAYS on a bike, 1 uses the c word every other and there’s 2 laughing about their latest fight and how they kicked Callum’s head right in while fist bumping. Continue reading

Anyone Seen My Confidence?

I love my children and I love being a Mum. Like most parents I often doubt how good I am at it though. My confidence seems to have buggered off on holiday and is currently getting smashed in a bar in Ibiza, dancing to the Macarena & fending off pissed up admirers who’ve had a little too much Dutch courage.  Do I do enough? Am I bringing them up the right way? Am I ballsing it up? Do they eat enough fruit, get enough sleep?It’s easy to doubt yourself though, probably far easier than it is to convince yourself that actually you’re doing your best and that your best IS good enough. When I had children I think my confidence took a knock as also spoken about by the lovely Lianne at Anklebiters Adventures, whilst I’ve never been much of a gobby cow I’m sure I was never quite as reserved as a kid/teen and would speak up if I needed to.

Sometimes you find yourself watching ‘that parent’ the one who just seems to constantly have their shit together and wish you could be just like them. They just have that air of togetherness about them and you just can’t imagine them flapping about forgetting to rub their concealer in or leaving shaving foam all over their chin. Have they though? Are they showing a calm and collected exterior when in reality they’ve spent the morning scraping shit off the bathroom floor or wondering how the feck they’re meant to remove the Sharpie drawn poo emoji from the hallway wall.

There’s a work colleague that I’ve known for a good few years that I’d love to be more like. Absolute opposite of me, he oozes confidence and lives his life not giving two f**ks what anyone thinks of him, not in a ‘he’s a bit of an arrogant twat’ kind of way, just the take no shit kind of way. For the purpose of this post we’ll call him Dave, I would like to be like him.

But I’m not.

I’m actually an anxious and quite shy person. People who know me well would probably read this and think “huh?” forgetting that when they first met me I would have been the one sat in the corner, not saying a word. I hate being the centre of attention, having all eyes on me – one of the reasons I’d never want a big wedding. I hate being picked for role play scenarios during training at work, when my name is called I want to get up and run. Of course I can’t and don’t, mainly because my arse would wobble about way too much and draw even more attention to me but enough about that.

Some time ago I read a post by Amy Treasure about faking confidence and have kept it in mind ever since. In the post she talks about thinking of someone that you think of as really confident and do what you think they would. So I think of Dave and what he would do. I use it to stop myself from legging it away from something that makes me nervous.

I have started to force myself to be more confident even though I don’t really feel it. I find it quite easy to jump in and make myself heard when it’s anything to do with my children however if someone is upsetting me personally I tend to bite my tongue and fume inside. With age I’m finding I’m quicker to say my peace but I still go over things in my mind and wish I’d said this or that. I hope that in the years to come I’ll begin to feel more at ease with myself and find my long lost confidence.

Do you feel more or less confident after having children? Do you think you’re exactly the same as before or do you have ways of faking it til you make it too?

julie-x-2 (1)

The Old Man Is Snoring


 If, like me,you spend most nights trying not to bludgeon your hubby (or wife, dog or anyone else for that matter) to death with your favourite shoes (tip – use the daps they’re stingy and deliver a satisfying slap) then I totally feel your pain!

I’m talking the kind of snoring that could wake the dead, that you can imagine the Little Green Men hearing from Mars, wondering what on earth that bloody noise is and whether they’re being threatened or asked down for a pint. At some point you lose patience and think “sod this for a laugh” and bugger off downstairs to the settee. Only if you’re anything like me then a few too many episodes of Stranger Things means you don’t really fancy being stuck downstairs on your own in the dark. How is it possible for it to be so bloody loud?! I’ve often wondered if the neighbours can hear it but then I doubt it as they tend to watch Westerns on TV rather loudly in bed. Which in all honesty can be preferable to Snorting Sid to the left of me.

My kids are now of the age that aside from staying out too late (the teen) and keeping me up worrying and perhaps waking due to illness on occasion (littler ones) that I should actually be getting a decent nights kip. Fat chance of that.

I seem to end up in the kids room most nights, with my daughter the human optopus where it’s not unusual to wake up with a foot or arse to the face.  Little Man snores too, mind you it’s like a form of torture. Hubby gets to starfish in the bed by himself and then has the cheek to say “that was an awful night’s sleep” while scratching his arse and seeking out the cup of tea which I will undoubtedly have made him. I, on the other hand, am spooning, no – make that ladling – coffee into a cup and inhaling it.

We have tried everything going to stop it but none of the magic lotions and potions have helped one iota and those nose strips do look a bit stupid – let’s be fair. To be honest I’m quite surprised he has any ribs left with the amount of elbowing they’ve taken over the years and no, that doesn’t work either, well apart from the 3 seconds he stays awake to shout at me for digging him again. Getting him to turn over just makes him snort a bit and start again.

Sales of energy drinks and coffee must be through the roof because of me to be truthful! Maybe I should try and invent one of my own and call it Snoring Stamina, that’s one for Dragon’s Den right there! So, since we’re not rich enough to own a 10 bedroom mansion where I can have my own private haven and I don’t really fancy a long stretch in the nick I’ll just have to put up with it unless anyone can suggest a magic cure that doesn’t involve smothering with a pillow?!

How do you deal with snoring? Any suggestions welcome!

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Getting To Work In The Snow

❄️ Open the curtains, look outside and see a rectangular lump of snow where the car should be. Decide that even though other cars have attempted to get out of the cul-de-sac on a hill and I quite fancy a day off I don’t really want it to be because I’m dead.

❄️ Choose to risk a mega bollocking of doom by not wearing uniform. They want me in? I’m wearing a jumper. It’s happening. I’m a big girl, I can take it. I hope.

❄️ Get the wellies out from under the mountain of other shoes or at the back of the shed with the huge spiders. Those smelly, rubbery, heavy sods that are meant to keep you dry. With a handy strap to widen them to get your leg in. Lying bastards, I literally force my sausage legs into them and know it’ll be murder to get them off but I’ll have to worry about it later and walk along with half my calf muffin topping them. Sexy.

❄️ Take your life in your hands. Walk on the snow and risk slipping undaintily on your arse or walk on the road and risk getting squashed by a wayward bus or splattered by shit coloured gritty slush. Feel glad there’s not a soul around to hear your mutterings of “shit nearly slipped then” and “yeah, cheers then snow, sitting there looking pretty when really you’re hiding a huge pile of dog shit”

❄️ Realise that by driving to work you miss all the best scenery.

Like this:

And this:

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❄️ Realising you are one lazy, unfit bastard. Being unused to wearing wellies and trudging through snow I swear my thighs will be worthy of any Welsh rugby player by the end of the day. If I ever get there that is.

❄️Arrive at work and feel very deflated at the lack of fanfare or medal bearing Mayor to clap you through the door. My cheeks are bright red, my hair like Worzel’s and I’m a hot, sweaty mess (damn you HR enraging jumper) but I made it and I was on time.

❄️ Feel secretly glad that the boss hasn’t made it in as there’s a huge probability of a welly wanging their way past their gob. They won’t see the funny side. They won’t. That’s if you can get them off of course. It’s like they’ve moulded to you. They are at one with you. Polyvinyl pricks.

❄️ Feel smug that while everyone else is in for losing a days pay you’re still in the money. Yeah it’s all fun and games to turn over in bed send that “I’m not coming in bitches” email and go back to sleep. That is until you get your payslip and realise there’s no money for Quality Street induced comas for Christmas. More like multi pack Smart Price chocolate that tastes like old shoes.

❄️ Forget until home time that your car is not all snugged up in the carpark. You’ve got to get those bloody wellies back on and walk home again. This time it’s even more fun though ‘cos it’s dark. Or maybe catch a bus. Exciting.

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How Our School Holidays Are Going…

We are well and truly into the swing of the six week holidays now aren’t we? Kids have spent approx 40% of their time grassing on each other 50% kicking shite out each other and 10% playing nicely. This is how our School Holidays are going…

Pro: Lie-in’s, mine have been treating me to staying in bed til 8.30ish on the days I’m not working. Heaven.

Con: The sods won’t go to sleep until at least 10pm because of the lie-in and it will probably take me weeks to undo the damage. Me time? What’s that?


Pro: Not doing the dreaded school run, I hate all the “I can’t find my white t-shirt,the world will implode and everyone will die if you don’t find it and iron it”  “you gave me 127 Coco Pops and I wanted 128” and “my homework was meant to be in a week last Wednesday”

Con: Lounging around in your Jim-Jams all day gets you some pitying looks from the Postman who thinks you’re a right lazy cow. Knob off and bother Mrs Goggins won’t you.


Pro: Getting to do some fun things with all the kids, well, when you can bribe the teen into it and he doesn’t spend the whole day moaning how long it’ll be before we go home. Important Snapchat business to attend to don’t you know.

Con: 10 mins into driving to said activity I’m threatening to turn around and go home as the kids are playing who can pinch the hardest and squeal the loudest in the back of the car.


Pro: Desperation to amuse the kids sees you making up all sorts of games like hide the Shopkins.

Con: You want to kill said Shopkins after playing for 3 hours on the trot. Shove your cuteness where the sun doesn’t shine!


Pro: Reading up on other blogs to get some inspiration for crafty things to do.

Con: Realising you’re pretty crap at this crafty stuff ‘cos you haven’t yet made a fully functional caravan from lollipop sticks and PVA glue.


Pro: Thinking you’ve done well going to the park for a “free” day out.

Con: Ohhhhh no,it’s not sodding well free, is it? There’s always an ice cream van complete with jolly ice cream man manically grinning away whilst taking your purse,emptying it and throwing it back at you.


Pro: You plan your activities for the week #BestMumEverrrrrr

Con: The days you planned to do something that involves being outdoors all day it chucks it down monsoon style.


How’s your Summer going? Have you kept your sanity?

Julie x (2)

Monday Stumble Linky

Annoying Kids Youtube Videos

If you have kids who love Youtube, (we use Youtube Kids, weeds out most of the adult and weird ones you don’t want the kids watching) you’re sure to have come across at least one video that’s made you want to stab your ears with a fork. Here I list the top 5 that are guaranteed to mash your head.

Pop See Ko This is one that you will find yourself singing all day every day after you’ve heard it. Annoying but catchy and the kids will love it when you join in and make up stupid dance moves to go with it. Honest.

Mash rating ⭐⭐⭐


Johnny Johnny Yes Papa Not sure whether Johnny is one of the most bloody annoying kids on the planet or to be impressed at his ability to consume everything he did. It goes on forever and the food isn’t the only thing sickly sweet.

Mash rating ⭐⭐⭐


Pokemon Pikachu Song This Pikachu/Pokemon horror is just on that pitch. The one that makes you want to through the Wifi hub in the sea. Even my son screams “make it stop” when my daughter puts this on. Even the cuteness that is Pikachu cannot save this monstrosity.

Mash rating ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Nom Nom Nom Nom song Undecided which is more annoyingly awful with this one. The fact that you find yourself saying aww about the animals or the song. Make it stop please.

Mash rating ⭐⭐⭐⭐


Nyan Cat This makes my ears bleed. Nothing can save this one. High pitched freakiness. And when you see there’s a 10 hour version it’s obviously saved for “where the hell have you hidden my chocolate” torture purposes.

Mash rating ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐


I do however love most of Parry Gripp’s stuff and this one in particular:

Do your kids love any of these videos? Have they got another annoying favourite?

julie-x-2

Monday Stumble Linky