love Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

Happy Valentine’s… to me.

Anna — Thu, 01 Feb 2018 19:26:32 +0000

Just last year I wrote about how we don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day, whilst I stand by all the reasons we choose not to celebrate I have a confession to make. I secretly DO love the idea of Valentine’s Day. My head talks sense but my heart gets sucked up in all the romance and hype. I like the idea of grand romantic gestures, declarations of love and surprises! Of the two of us, I am the one with my head firmly stuck in the clouds, Rory is more grounded. He REALLY isn’t bothered with Valentine’s Day. Or Anniversaries. Or any display of romance at all. Ever. Our first Valentine’s Day together he bought us a trip to New York. It was amazing, the best Valetine’s gift EVER. He’s been milking it ever since though. What is a girl to do? Well, there is but one answer… Slip into something comfortable, turn the lights low, pour a glass of wine and start shopping. Yes, I have decided to treat myself to some Valentine’s gifts. Where to begin? Since I was a child Debenhams has always felt really ‘fancy’ to me, (I think it’s all the well made up ladies squirting perfume at everyone). I’d had a wine, I was feeling fancy, I decided to check out their Valentine’s offerings. Lingerie, jewellery, clothing, beauty, tech and more -their Valentine’s shop is full of beautiful things for the one you love and, most importantly, ME! I’m not going to lie, I spent a very long time looking at beautiful things that I might like to buy. Did I want lingerie or quality make up? A handbag or a watch? So. Much. Choice. After much deliberation I opted for a Fitbit Flex. 20 years ago I’d have punched someone for buying me that but given I’m approaching 40 I figured it was time to start loving myself a little more. I also bought myself some ‘sexy lingerie’. I’ve not included that in the picture for obvious reasons. I don’t have a wide angle lens… Seriously, no one needs to see my pants but they are very nice. I decided I would share the love as I felt guilty for buying myself wonderful things am a good and loving girlfriend. Rory is now the proud owner of a Ben Sherman cardigan that I really rather liked. And I’m sure he will too. Amongst the abundance of Valentine’s gifts, Debenhams also sell gift experiences. I’m sure you’re familiar with these little boxes of joy. You pay for an ‘experience’ and the recipent can choose what they’d like to do. Once Rory found out I had the Ultimate Time Together, gift experience he was surprisingly on board with Valentine’s Day… “What will we do? Where will we go?” “Oh, we DO do Valentine’s now eh?” Showboat cruises, gourmet meals, bungee jumping, zip wires and Zombie apocolypses were all options in the package. We decided to rule those out, if I’m going away I want a bit of luxury, not something that risks ending in broken bones. As a result we are going to be spending a couple of nights at The Fat Lamb country inn in Cumbria. Two nights, sans enfants, with a chance to explore the lakes, enjoy a meal without eye spy and maybe have a sleep in. It sounds absolutely perfect! Happy Valentine’s Day to me us. I was recieved these items in return for taking part in the Debenham’s Valentine’s campaign. All opinions, as ever, are my own. My full disclaimer can be found here.

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Valentine’s Day – Love is….

Anna — Mon, 13 Feb 2017 07:00:37 +0000

[social_warfare]Valentine’s Day is almost upon us. The day where we remember Saint Valentine, the patron saint of hearts, chocolates, roses and cards…Oh, wait… Now don’t get me wrong I’m not some kind of grinch, OK, maybe a little. I like the idea of celebrating love – I LOVE it but, as with every lovely idea, commercialism has come along and just ruined it for everyone. The run up to Valentine’s day is an abundance of adverts for meals for two, pretty outfits to impress the love of your life, jewellery, pink wine (because pink is LOVE obviously), chocolates and tacky cards. Couples are made to feel they have to do something ‘fantastic’ on a bleak day in February to SHOW their love. Just being there for one another is no longer enough, it needs proving. Single folk are made to feel inferior for being so terrible a person that no one loves them. They are ‘cheered’ with a patronising “Well you OWN it, you don’t NEED someone else to be happy right?” Neither of these are very loving attitudes to have really. As a couple, and more specifically as parents, we don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day. We don’t go out for a meal as we’re Yorkshire folk and we’re not paying the over inflated prices when we can eat at that very same place for less a different day thankyouverymuch! A cinema date is pointless, sitting in silence is not really a show of love, enduring some God awful ‘romantic’ film just makes me want to sick in my mouth a little, though Rory might enjoy the peace and quiet for a couple of hours. We cook ourselves nice meals together regularly so that’s not really a ‘special’ thing to do, although the Two Dine for £20 looks might fine. Besides, Rory will be out playing football so it’s quick and simple for dinner. I have since discovered this to be untrue as Rory has rescheduled football. ROMANCE IS ALIVE – HALLELUJAH! As parents, there’s not a lot else we can do on a Tuesday evening and to be honest, if we do do something ‘nice’ we tend to feel bad that we’re not including the children. I know, losers right! Last week Aoife’s school had a staff and parent party. It was a fabulous night with quizzes, raffles and Mr & Mrs. We won Family Fortunes, Huzzah, our teams combined knowledge of box sets and dead people did us proud. We lost Mr & Mrs…..GUTTED. Rory thought his favourite ice cream was mint choc chip when it’s CLEARLY strawberry, even Aoife knew that. THEN he thought his procrastination was worse than leaving cupboard doors open. As if! Yes, it’s pretty bloody annoying but not as painful as a jab from a door corner! After discussing the other couple’s questions we realised we don’t have ‘a song’, we don’t recall the first film we saw together and I didn’t know it took him five attempts to pass his driving test. He’s a perfectionist and good at everything so I figured he passed before he even took his test! We only got 2 questions wrong in total but the other couple got a clean sweep and won flights. They seem like lovely people and I truly hope the lucky blighters enjoy their flights… For a short while after the game our result was playing on my mind. After nine years do we know nothing about each other? Are we not compatible? Aren’t we, dun dun durrrr… In Love?? Then I really thought about it. We started a family. We still live together. We laugh together lots. We always have something to talk about. Rory plays football a lot less than he did before we met (this is a big deal). He buys me wine (another big deal). He works hard to provide a roof over our head so that I can look after our children. He’s always home for bedtime (the children’s) even if he has loads on at work. He supports me in everything I do and he never says or does anything he knows will upset me, even if it maybe needs saying. He’s always putting me, us, first. In the very same way every choice I make and everything I do is done with him, and the children first and foremost in mind. What would he like? What would make them happy? We stopped thinking of ourselves and started thinking of each other, not because we HAD to, because we wanted to. We stand united, our little family is the most important thing to both of us. We both put ourselves second, the happiness of the other and our family is most important to us. That is so much more important than songs, films and extravagant gifts. (Although….) That’s how I know we’re in love. Ultimately love isn’t about romance, love isn’t about showing someone you care once a year, love isn’t something just for couples. It’s for everyone, everywhere at all times. Our capacity to love isn’t limited to just one person and we’re all more than capable of putting ourselves second every now and then. We love our families, our friends, our communities, people who share things in common with us. The love varies but it’s all love and we should be appreciating and embracing these loves every day. Sunday saw the beginning of Random Acts of Kindness week, a time to think about our actions and the kind things we can do for other with no personal gain for ourselves. THAT’S the kind of love that should be being promoted shared, embraced and advertised. The love that is for all, the love that leaves no-one out, the love that benefits others and doesn’t just make card and chocolate manufacturers richer. And so, dear friend, I wish you a Happy Valentine’s day and send you lots of love x

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The hardest thing about being a parent..IMO

Anna — Tue, 03 Jan 2017 21:29:49 +0000

Order is restored! Or at least something resembling order is restored. Aoife is back at school, Rory is back at work and Seth is watching Toy Story 2 back to back whilst dressed as Buzz Lightyear. Standard. Having been a lazy bum and taking a couple of weeks away from blogging and shameless self promotion I’m a bit tired so I decided to ease myself back into it gently and go for a Top Ten. Here’s the Top Ten things I found hardest about becoming a parent, or more specifically a Mummy for that’s what I am. Child Birth Yes, I know this is obvious but I didn’t read past week 33 in my ‘How to be pregnant’ book. It wasn’t all “oh my gosh, I peed myself…no wait my waters broke”…*scream like a banshee*….baby after 30 mins. It took days, neither child was in a hurry. It was painful, I sparkled, I cried, I was rude to the midwife, it was undignified, it was exhausting! Shitty Nappies Again yes, I’d HEARD about them but nothing. NOTHING can prepare you for an explosive, up the back, out the sides shitty nappy. The one where you have to hold legs in the air, cut baby out of the vest and wipe all at the same time.It’s on their hands, it’s on their feet, at least it’s not on….no way, how did it get there? IT’S ON THEIR HEAD. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE. Not laughing at ‘not good’ behaviour Obviously the biting and wall drawing isn’t a laughing matter, but the sass. Well, as much as I don’t admit it to Aoife, it’s HILARIOUS. Like the time Rory asked her to pick something up, she replied “Give me a minute woman”. Or the time I put her on the naughty step and took away her treats. “Will I still have food & water?” “Yes” “Oh I’ll be fine then”. Sometimes you just have to walk away and laugh. Without them knowing of course. Sneezing Coughing, laughing, crying, sparkling, running, dancing, jumping. All not just hard, almost impossible! Appreciating the things that are important to them Instead of being a destroyer of dreams and imagination, you have to appreciate every leaf/pine cone/stone/receipt placed into your bag because it’s “really beautiful” or “magic” or “stone”. It’s so hard to not point out your dismay at your handbag or pocket being full of snotty tissues and detritus. Being a parent ALL THE TIME. It’s nonstop! Even if you get some time away you think about them and talk about them. If you don’t think about them then you think how you should take it easy as you’re going to have to go home and be up with them in the night. If you have the kind of children that sleep through then you’re still thinking about looking after them with a hangover. The parenting just doesn’t stop! Finding a babysitter. When you announce you’re pregnant with your first child all your friends will tell you how excited they are and how they’ll babysit. LIES. As soon as baby arrives it becomes “I’ll babysit when they sleep through” then “I’ll take them to the pub at 18”. It’s not like the Babysitter Club books I read as a child!! Guilt Mummy Guilt/Daddy Guilt, call it what you want. It’s intense! Before children I didn’t do guilt but childbirth brings this whole new emotion. Every decision you make leads to a feeling of guilt. Everything you say leads to a feeling of guilt. Every time you leave them, every time you don’t. Every time you tell them off, every time you don’t. “I am too hard on them, I’m too soft on them, I’m abandoning them , I mollycoddle them” OH MY GOSH. I will also put crying in here. I have cried so much more in the last 6 years than I ever did in my previous 32! I have even cried at Four Weddings and CSI. Dealing with your body and mind It changes so much, at first it feels like it’s not your own. It gets big, it starts to behave differently. If you’re breast feeding it can feel like it’s completely someone else’s. It gets fatter due to ‘baby weight’, loneliness, sadness, boredom, habit. Your mind can be vicious, making you question everything. Making you paranoid. Making you feel bad about you and your parenting. Mix the two together and it’s a pretty rough time. I’d love to say you deal with it like this….but I still don’t have an answer. Baby groups/School playgrounds URGH. All these other Mummy’s just being amazing, looking fantastic and coping. They breastfeed so well, they look amazing, their children behave, some of them have actual jobs as well as being a mum. Their children love Baby Einstein and only listen to Beethoven, in fact, give Sebastian a toy piano and he can compose a tune, HE’S ONLY 8 MONTHS OLD! They never look harassed and have never dropped the F-Bomb in front of their children. When you’re tired, feeling fat and lonely THIS is one of the hardest things, this leads me to Pretending OK, I know I said Top Ten but I don’t like to conform. Being a parent is pretending all the time. We pretend we’re coping, we pretend we know what we’re doing, we pretend we’re happy with our smock dress, we pretend we’re not comparing ourselves to every other parent we see, we pretend every single minute of parenting is a breeze. It’s a tough act to keep up. We should all probably drop the pretending and then my Top Ten would be a legit Top Ten. Aside from all that, this parenting lark is a piece of cake.

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It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

Anna — Thu, 22 Dec 2016 15:04:26 +0000

Christmas is my favourite time of year, definitely my hap-happiest season of all. I watch too many made for TV Christmas films and aspire to romance that doesn’t exist that way, to live in a lovely lodge type home in Perfectville USA where everyone knows everyone and it snows at Christmas. To have garlands round the open fire, a Christmas tree in every room and throw amazing Christmas parties. Oh a girl can dream. We may not have parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting or caroling out in the snow. Aside from our dying tree (it looks OK from afar, like outside) we are Christmas ready. Our bakes have been baked and our makes made. Gifts have been sent to the big man to see if we’re good enough to get them back. Aoife has broken up from school and both children are getting suitably giddy. Trev the turkey will arrive tomorrow, as will my parents, Rory will be off work and we will start a fun few festive days with lovely events, friends, family and good cheer. Hearts will be glowing as loved ones will be near. As I will be busy with all these holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call, and wine, my little blog will be taking a break until New Year. But before I smother myself in eggnog and dive into a vat of rum (let the festivities begin!!) I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you. This year has been one of parenting ups and downs, mountains – ups and downs, running – ups and downs. It’s been an up and down kind of year and yet you’re still here. Although I’ve been at this for 11 months my blog still feels pretty new and I feel like a total noob, despite that, folk have still been reading and, for the most part, enjoying so thank you for taking the time out of your life and bothering to read what I write. My family and I wish you the most Merry Christmas and prosperous New Year. I hope yours is a time filled with good company, peace, joy, love and wine (or whatever it is that makes you truly happy). See you in 2017!

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Sweet child o’ mine.

Anna — Mon, 12 Dec 2016 13:41:18 +0000

In 2010 I was pregnant, I would have told you that if my child were a girl she wouldn’t always wear pink, if it were a boy he wouldn’t always wear blue. I would have told you that my child would always show good manners. My child wouldn’t have a snot encrusted face. My child wouldn’t have massive public meltdowns. My child and I would have an amazing, love fuelled relationship. My child and I would do many different activities every day. My child wouldn’t watch TV. My child would never be mean. My child would never act spoilt. My child would be a kind child who recognised that they were blessed with a loving family and a lovely life. Here I am six years down the line. Mine is the child who likes to lay down in the middle of the street, maybe even eating stones. Mine is the child who scooched along the floor on his back and got stuck under a clothes rail in Primark. Mine is the child trying to hold the hands of strangers to take them home. Mine is the child constantly looking for a means of escape. Mine is the child telling me how unfair I am because her pillows are all wrong. Mine is the child kicking the bath because we had the audacity to ask her to have a shower. Mine is the child who threw the biscuit across the playground because I bought the wrong one. Mine is the child who looks like their wardrobe exploded at them. Mine is the child eating yogurt covered raisins from the wet floor. Mine is the child who speaks to me in a way I would never dream of speaking to my parents even at this age. Mine is the child walking away from me when I ask for a hand. Mine is the child wearing clothes inappropriate for the season. Mine is the with pasta sauce in their hair at least I hope it’s pasta sauce. Mine is the child who doesn’t stop all day, every day. Until we need to be somewhere then he barely starts. Mine is the child who bites in anger. Mine is the child who walks under my feet so I trip up in public, usually in front of people. Mine is the child who ignores what I say in public leading me to talk in that low, whisper type voice that means business but is still dutifully ignored. Mine is the child having a tantrum because I have no snacks left. Mine is the child who makes other people look up from what they’re doing to see what the commotion is about. I am the mum often looking harassed. I am the mum, sometimes exhausted even though her children should be sleeping through. I am the mum who often wants the earth to open up and swallow her. I am the mum who tries hard to placate her children and make sure they don’t spoil your day. I am the mum who constantly reminds her children not to be mean. I am the mum who tries to encourage her children to have manners and be respectful to others. I am the mum who can feel your judgemental glare. I am the mum who sometimes feels like she isn’t coping at all. I am the mum who sometimes looks like she is letting her children run wild but is actually carefully selecting her battles. I am the mum who sometimes hurries home so she doesn’t cry in public. I am the mum who sometimes feels alone. Mine is the child who smothers me with kisses and cuddles. Mine is the child who tells me I’m the best mummy ever. Mine is the child who tells me they’re sorry they were naughty. Mine is the child who declares family time is the best time. Mine is the child who is still learning how life works. Mine is the child who makes my heart swell with pride simply by existing. I am the mum who forgets childhood is short and lets what others think bother her too much. I am the mum blessed with two beautiful, funny, clever, fiercely independent children. I am the mum lucky enough to snuggle up with her children and watch Mickey Mouse for the 50th time in a day. I am the mum who cries laughing at the funny things her children do. I am the mum who, probably, wouldn’t change a thing. Mine may be the child who often behaves in ways I swore they never would but I am the mum who now realises that childhood isn’t for practising to be a grown up. Mine are also the children who can’t stand still long enough to have a photo taken together.

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Lessons I have learned. Well, some of them.

Anna — Mon, 05 Dec 2016 09:00:00 +0000

Six years ago I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of our first-born (she was late already) and the start of a new and exciting chapter to my life. The chapter where I become a stay at home mummy (or SAHM as we call it in the business). I’ve mentioned before I didn’t have a career and had I gone back to work I would have literally just been paying for childcare so it made sense to stay home. I couldn’t wait, it was going to be a piece of cake after all. Six years down the line I still love that I am home with my babies but I’ll admit being a SAHM is like finally getting invited to that party you really wanted to go to only to discover previous attendees embellished the truth and it wasn’t always as cool as suggested. Here is what I have learned. It’s not all lattes, croissants and lunch dates. All your friends work so you’ve no one to meet up with besides, with not working comes not earning. You accept yourself as a SAHM and deal with it but you consider yourself the exception, other SAHMs are terribly boring and talk about their children and dull stuff like that. People don’t really like to ask too many questions about how you are as you actually are a SAHM and your answers will be about your children and other terribly boring things like that. You feel you have to justify yourself a lot. “I’m lucky enough to be able to stay home with my children” or “I don’t work but I’m not claiming benefits paid for by you”. Firstly It’s not luck that I don’t have to work, Rory has worked bloody hard over the years to be able to make this happen and secondly there’s nothing wrong with claiming benefits anyway, I contributed for years before I stopped working. It’s not all baking cakes. It can be but that just leads to huge weight gain, type 2 diabetes and your taxes covering my healthcare. People forget you have other interests than children and so forget to talk to you like an educated individual with opinions outside of poo and Cbeebies. You forget yourself that your brain once did other stuff and forget that you’re an educated individual with opinions that some might consider valid or at the very least interesting. If someone asks what you’ve done with your day you struggle to come up with important sounding tasks. Somehow watching Masha and the Bear and keeping a small human alive doesn’t seem like a good enough answer. It’s really hard to exercise with a small person around, they hang off your leg and get in the way. It’s pretty lonely, your friends have jobs, their work wardrobe isn’t covered in snot or food and knowing they’re being treated as actual people makes you positively green with envy. People think that because you don’t work you’ve got nothing to do and so can help out at everything. You don’t get a day off, life is like a portable office. ‘Crafting’ is so much messier than you ever imagined it could be. You stop caring that the floor needs hoovering. Your five-year old is probably your best friend and you start to act like them. The idea of going back to work when littlest is at school is both exciting and really bloody scary. You realise you have absolutely no transferable skills, the knowledge you do have is well out of date and you probably SHOULD have got a career rather than a job before children. Even the shittest days are actually pretty fabulous when you have a glass of wine and think about it. You are one of the luckiest people you know because a lot of people would love to be in your position. The Tale of Mummyhood

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For my babies, a letter…

Anna — Tue, 18 Oct 2016 18:40:17 +0000

To my children. I may get uptight, I may seem sharp. I sometimes get cross. I often mutter “forfucksake” a lot under my breath. I get annoyed when you shout me at 3am because you need a wee and want company or even worse when you shout me then you’re asleep by the time I’ve dragged my tired arse to your room. I may spoil all your fun with comments like “get out of that box” “don’t pull the cat’s tail” or “stop leaping all over each other”. I might baby you by not letting you run off ahead with your friends. I may declare a need for wine on a regular basis. I may spend an afternoon wishing it were nearly your bedtime. I may sometimes wish for a holiday, just me and daddy. Or just me, I’m easy. I may seem strict when all you want to do is play. I may sometimes seem fed up or tired. I’m sorry. I spend a lot of time being climbed on and sat on, tiny, pointy elbows and knees jabbing me while you try to get comfortable. I spend a lot of time being hit in the face, sometimes it’s your frustration, sometimes it’s your eagerness to show me something terribly important. I spend a lot of time apologising to other people because you won’t share/you keep kicking/you walk into people/you don’t pay attention. I spend a lot of time listening to you tell me how unreasonable and awful I am because I won’t let you have this or do that (often after you’ve just had or done something pretty cool) I spend a lot of time hearing you shout at me for doing or making something wrong. I often hear how I am entirely responsible for you having the worst day EVER. I spend a lot of time defending myself while you laugh hysterically thinking knocking my glasses off my face is a great game.. I wish you’ll go and nap just so I can take an hour to sit quietly with a little bit of space. I feel like a terrible person for wanting that little bit of space. (Seriously though, an inch would do). I tell the other mum at school how grumpy and difficult you’ve been today because, y’know, naps are for losers. I instantly feel bad and wonder if I talk about your fantastic, hilarious and great moments so readily (these are abundant). I start to feel a bit warm on the inside and feel a tension rise when I feel like everyone is watching you shout and writhe in your buggy while I have no way of placating you. Once again I say to myself “roll on bedtime”. Believe it or not, everything I do is because I believe it’s the best for you. I may be right, I may be wrong. I want you to grow up to be well-mannered and I want you to be grateful for what you have. I want you to be nice people. I worry about how I’m bringing you up and sometimes my grumpiness is me fretting. Finally you’re both in bed, I pour a glass of wine and breathe a big sigh and I feel bad. I feel bad for every uttered swear, every sharp word, every exasperated yell. I wish you weren’t in bed so that I could give you a squishy cuddle and tell you I love you – I worry you’ll forget that. I hear you breathing gently (snoring) and I feel calm. I recall how I used to love the sound of you both breathing and snuffling in the night when you were tiny babies. I remember my heart used to feel so full of love that it could burst. I realise that now it still feels exactly the same. In fact, maybe even more love has squeezed in there. I realise that as you both get older and more independent we’re going to butt heads. You think you know better, I KNOW I know best. After a day like today it’s easy to think that my everyday is like this but as I sit here, feeling thankful you both went straight to sleep, I realise that today stands out and the fact that today stands out as such a bad day is because it’s actually a rarity. Yes We may have some shit days but by gosh kids. I love you so much, I wouldn’t change it*. I love you all the world with all my heart. Mummy *Well, maybe I’d prefer not to see you between midnight and 6.45am. Just a thought.

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Sowing the seeds…

Anna — Mon, 10 Oct 2016 10:49:40 +0000

The other day we took the children to Waitrose cafe for a treat (how terribly posh!?). As we sat, dragging the standards down, a dad and his son who looked about 11 sat at the table next to us ( I assume it was a Dad and son, it was definitely a preteen boy and his responsible adult). As I sat sipping my free coffee I overheard part of their conversation “Do you have homework this weekend?” “Yes” “Well, we’ll get it done when we get in… It’s important you work hard” “Why?” “Well if you don’t, you’ll end up with some crummy job. You don’t want to work in a shop or something crummy like that do you?” “something inaudible” “You want to go to university, you’ll have great fun”* That snippet of conversation made me sad and a little mad on a few counts and not just because the tone in the Dad’s voice made it seem like working in a shop was the worst thing this boy could ever do with his life. “You kicked a dog? Nevermind” “You work in a shop? Why you crummy little good for nothing…” I am totally for letting our children believe they can be anything they want to be . ANYTHING. They can be an astronaut, a teacher, a shop assistant, a waitress, a dental nurse. ANYTHING. We’ve just got to remind them that whatever they choose won’t make them better or worse than anyone else. It’s sad that the adult was instilling into the child that the shop assistant was only such because they didn’t try hard enough at life. If it wasn’t for the lowly shop assistant WHO WOULD SELL HIM HIS ELDERFLOWER AND POMEGRANATE JUICE EH??? The other thing that really sat uncomfortably with me was what if this boy didn’t WANT to go to university in the future? Not everyone does, but would he have the niggling feeling that he was letting his Dad down because he isn’t aspiring to greatness? Will he be considered a failure, deemed to have not worked hard enough? He is basically being told that you work hard, go to university and get a ‘good’ job or you don’t work hard and you get a ‘crummy’ job. Or. There are two very different kinds of people, hard workers and slackers. That’s not how life is. Some people work hard, have ‘menial’ jobs and earn less money. They’re happy because they have a great home and family life. Some people work hard, have great careers, earn lots of money and are terribly unhappy because they’re too busy to enjoy their life and family. Us adults need to remember that we’re also responsible for moulding the minds of our small humans. We’re responsible for making sure our children grow up nice, kind and open minded. We’re responsible for making sure our children treat EVERYONE with respect and as equals. We need to remember that throw away comments can manifest and grow in a negative way. I wanted to say to that little boy “Yes go home and do your homework, try your best at everything you do but remember, you’re just a child. It doesn’t last long so just enjoy it. And when you grow up, do whatever you want to do as long as it makes you happy. Be the best you, you can be.” *Or as my brain heard it “Son, you can either be an obnoxious twat like me or someone who serves obnoxious twats”

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Happy 18th birthday Google (other search engines are available)

Anna — Tue, 27 Sep 2016 11:09:42 +0000

One of the best inventions for any parent/new parent is the smart phone. Not because it keeps you in touch with other adults via phone calls and social media. Not because we can enforce photos of our little angels 24hrs a day on people whether they like it or not. Oh no no no, because it means that Google is right there, in your hand, night or day with all the answers you desire and some you really don’t. I try not to use Google to diagnose illness, we all know you can go from a cough to death in three easy steps if you look at the internet too hard, but I have found myself searching a variety of random things over time. Does my baby sleep enough? Does my baby sleep too much? When do babies get teeth? How to sooth colic. When do I wean? When do babies walk? When do babies talk? Define ‘neurotic’. What should a babies/toddlers/child temperature be? What should a babies/toddlers/child heart BPM be? When do free nursery hours start? Cheap flights to New York. How to tell off your child when the naughty step doesn’t work. Why does my toddler keep pushing his fist into his mouth until he gags? How to stop a toddler running away. How to teach a toddler ‘STOP’ How to lose weight. Cuvee du golfe de Saint Tropez (red) sellers UK. How to prevent tantrums. How to deal with tantrums. Should my two year old talk yet? Why does my five year old constantly talk/sing/make noises? Why are my children attention seeking when they have all my attention? Cheap flights to France. How to stop toddler pulling hair/scratching others. How to stop five year old being mean. Why is my hair falling out? Toddler keeps lying down in road, why? How to explain respect to a five year old. How to make children sleep longer. Property abroad. What to do with a child who doesn’t care about repercussions? How to tell off a toddler who doesn’t care if you shout. How to stop toddler throwing stuff. Cbeebies. How to explain to five year old why they should behave. How to stop children hanging off me/touching me without making them feel unwanted. Engagement rings (it’s good to dream) Cheap flights for one adult. How to stop toddler trying to eat stones. Weather for *current location*. Wine offers. All these questions and dilemmas, despite there being millions of search results to all my queries, only about 4 have ever been successfully resolved. It turns out Google is just like most 18 year olds, think they know it all but actually full of useless information. I jest, of course (please don’t sue me).

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Hi 1993? It’s me, you!

Anna — Tue, 20 Sep 2016 11:17:21 +0000

A friend posted this on my Facebook timeline…. “.on reflection…having lived a fun and interesting ‘couple of years’* since your teens, what 10 things would you tell/teach your 15 year old self if you could? (I imagine your 15 year old self will only listen to you) ❤ *maybe more than a couple ? x” My 15 year old self existed in a town called Hartlepool in 1993/4. 1) Drop this tie-dye/flares shit. It’s shapeless and unflattering, the ‘alternative’ thing really doesn’t suit you. Indie & Emo will be along in a few years, embrace it. Skinny jeans, monochrome and good hair is more you. Two things to remember (i) black or red hair always suits you better (ii) a fringe is never wrong. 2) You’re not fat. For serious, you think you are but you’re not. You are going to get fat in a couple of years then from 2006-8 it will drop off you’ll have a great figure (you’ll still think you’re fat though). Unfortunately you’ll get really fat again after you’ve had children. Yes you have children. Take that look off your face, we’ll talk about that in a minute. Pastry is NOT a craving you should give in to. In the meantime maybe exercise a bit. Running should do. In about 20 years running will be really cool. Stay ahead of the game! 3) Don’t be jealous of those girls from school who seem to be all that. In a couple of years they’ll have a life that completely doesn’t interest you. In 23 years you’ll wonder why you were ever jealous, some of them are grandparents already, that really wouldn’t make you happy. Also, some of them do not age well. 4) Don’t worry about fitting into a group, you don’t and you never will but that’s actually OK. Be happy and comfortable being you and, believe it or not, some people will wish they we’re more like you (try not to put your ‘majorly freaked out face’ on when they tell you-Awkward) 5) Children aren’t actually the spawn of satan. Well YOURS aren’t (others are). Yes you have children. Don’t think about it too hard just yet, you have a long while before you need to think about it.The first born is very much like you, try to remember this when you feel like you’re arguing with a wall when it is five! In 15 years this insistence that you couldn’t possibly have children because you’re too selfish and would be an utterly terrible mother will pass. Until then remain selfish, in fact I suggests you try being MORE selfish. 6) Anyone who treats you badly should be cast aside instantly. You’re going to have some self esteem issues and some people like to play on that. Be strong. They will always be sorry but they will never change. As long as they feel more powerful and superior than you they’ll continue to be a grade A c**t. You don’t need that, you’re a stronger person than you think. 7) DO NOT GET MARRIED*. Move in with him, buy a house, think it’s a love everlasting and see the relationship through but don’t get married. It will seem like the natural progression it’s just a way of trying to justify yourself and feel like you’re worth something. If you find yourself at the altar, crying and the vicar asks “do you want to take a moment” take it. Take it and run. People will be pissed off but they’ll get over it. It’s a massive pain in the arse changing all your details when you get divorced. 8) On Christmas eve 2010, you’ll get a phone call from a very old school friend. You’ll be exhausted with a new baby and breast feeding woes. She’ll be a bit drunk and very unhappy. She’ll tell you things that are making her sad, she’s very lonely. You will listen and feel sad and you’ll tell her you’re there and you’ll mean it. You’ll tell her you’ll ring on Boxing Day but exhaustion means you’ll forget. Then you’ll forget again. PLEASE take a moment, put it in your phone calendar (that’s an actual thing in the future) and call her. 9) Be true to yourself and have confidence in yourself. You don’t have to be mean but you do have to be honest. Don’t waste time with people you don’t want to be with. Don’t waste time doing things that you don’t want to do. Do what makes YOU happy because no one else is thinking about your happiness. Some people just won’t like you, don’t waste time trying to win them over, they probably aren’t worth the effort. From 2006-2008 you will be in a very strange place, you’ll be partying hard just remember to respect yourself and stay safe. 10) You will be given an ultimatum, stay in Leeds or go home. You’ll be happy in Leeds but you MUST go back. It will be your biggest regret, you’ll have a shit job at a call centre, you’ll no longer be in that art loop that you so desperately want to be in for your future career and you’ll be stuck in a silly little town but you HAVE to do it. If you don’t make the same choices I did then you might not end up as ME. Yes you MAY end up in a better place, or you may not. I wouldn’t risk it. To you, right now at 15 I may seem like a frumpy, almost 40 year old but I’m frickin’ awesome. My life is great, I’m happier than I’ve ever been before, I have an amazing man and our family is fantastic. Although you have a LOT of good times to come there will be some tough times along the way. There will be sadness and hurt that you feel like you can’t survive, lows that you feel you can’t escape. I could advise you of paths to take to avoid those things but I’m afraid you need them to become me. A couple of other things Regret the things you’ve done, not those things you haven’t done. Accountants aren’t all boring. Rum is your drink of choice, you’ll never like cider. Learn French. Curry is good. The amount of friends you have is irrelevant, it’s the quality of friend that counts. What 3 things would you tell your 15 year old self? *Before 2016

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