Hi.

Mum from Bow, London.  Fan of food, my kids, coffee, cheese & gin.  Not necessarily in that order.

Life pre-kids versus post-kids.  What the judgy lady doesn't know.

Life pre-kids versus post-kids. What the judgy lady doesn't know.

To the non-mum in the playground, huffily telling her boyfriend that she’d never let her child eat a lolly that’s dropped on the floor, I’m going to tell you that my imaginary children didn’t eat food off the floor either.  My imaginary children were immaculately dressed (and probably coordinating), said please and thank you, and never watched telly.  They weren’t wearing yesterday’s clothes, shouting “But I want it NOW mummy!’, and scrabbling for the iPad.  But as I said last week, we need to stop beating ourselves up about this stuff.  Do you love your kids? Yes.  Are they warm and dressed? Yes.  Are they disciplined when they are little buggers (because you don’t get to be the parent who smiles on as little Sarah bashes a stranger on the back of the legs with a stick)?  Yes.  In that case, you are doing ok. 

And about the lolly on the floor?  My toddler once licked a dog poo.  He seems healthy enough. And I don’t think he’s keen to repeat the experience.  So, lady in the playground, here are some other ways our lives differ.  Come and join our club though.  It’s fun.  And messy.  And pretty unhygienic.

Pre-kids:
Michelin stars, white tablecloths and a long leisurely lunch.

Post-kids:
Stop being snobby about Pizza Express, the food is great, the wine list is long enough for variety but not too long to read, and they provide stickers and crayons.

Pre-kids:
The latest Booker nomination.

Post-kids:
The four-month old version of CLOSER magazine in the doctor’s waiting room where you spend too much time due to weird rashes and vaccination schedules.  And at 7pm, endless renditions of The Gruffalo, which you end up hiding behind the radiator.

Pre-kids:
Weekends of leisurely lie ins, a guaranteed shag and a regular gym routine.

Post-kids:
Ripped into consciousness at a time not of your choosing, wiping toddler bums and chasing them on their scooters as they head at speed for the main road.

Pre-kids:
Cocktails with friends, cosy dinner parties, tables at new restaurants

Post-kids:
Endless bloody birthday parties for Maisie/Ava/Mason, none of whom you recognise.  Your Amazon Prime account is invaluable for buying PlayDoh as a last-minute gift.  Helpful for finding your tribe – the best parties are in the afternoon with drinking opportunities for the adults.

Pre-kids:
Your imaginary kids ate organic broccoli dipped in hummus.  No ready meals.  No sugar or salt.

Post-kids:
They’ve already tried McDonalds and Dominos.  Only KFC remains to complete the trinity.  Oh god, the shame.  Don't tell my mum.  Or the judgy couple in the park.  They'll be there soon enough.

 

Winter is coming - the good and the bad about the changing of seasons when you're a parent

Winter is coming - the good and the bad about the changing of seasons when you're a parent

The truth about parenting and sleep deprivation.  It's not pretty.

The truth about parenting and sleep deprivation. It's not pretty.