Growing Up....

When I was young, people asked me, "do you have a boyfriend?"
When I had a boyfriend, people asked me "When are you getting married?"
When I got married, people asked me "When are you having a baby?"
When I had a baby, people asked me, "When are you having number two"

The answer should be "None of your bloody business!". Why should we conform?  I was perfectly happy single. Okay I was desperate for a child and if I had not have been blessed, I would have changed my life in some other way. You may have found me selling watermelons on a beach in Thailand. And for the record, again, I am not having a brother or Sister for Charlotte. I am 43 and skint. For goodness sake.

My sister is getting married. Oh dear, I ask the same questions! Woops. Well good luck to them. I look forward to being Matron of Honour. I wanted to be a Maid but it's Matron because I am over the hill, full of wrinkles and have a husband. The hen night was fabulous. A great and proper girls night out - lovely Italian meal, lots of wine, laughter and chatter followed by some Karaoke tunes. All lovely and pleasant. I would hate to be a Stag.. although my future bro-in-law did come home with his eyebrows intact and he was not tied naked to a lamppost.

I was a blubbering mess last week when my little girl left her room at Nursery, "Little Learner Shakers" to start next door the following week at the Early Learning Centre in the same nursery! What am I going to be like next year when she goes to "big school"? Watching my child grow up is so emotional.  It is for all Mums of course and Aunties/God Mother's etc, but wonderful fun at the same time. 

Friendships never end

I was dreading going out on a date with my Benny Boy for my birthday. Since Charlotte was born just over three years ago, we are rarely alone and if we are we always end up talking/disagreeing/rucking about the ginger one. But we had a lovely date at one of the posh curry houses locally. Thank you lovely husband for a great night!

My blog this week is about friendships.  What does it mean when somebody deletes you from Facebook? To be honest, I don't really care. The number of "friends" I have on there changes on a daily basis and I don't really give a toss. I love FB for several reasons. Firstly, I have met some great people in my life that I have failed to keep in touch with because of a number of reasons such as logistics and busy lives. I love that I can keep in touch with old school friends, holiday rep mates and ex work colleagues. I even communicate with some of my best buddies through it and its a great way of networking and building new relationships with some of the Mums that I have met. To be honest, it is my social life as long gone are the days when I was out most evenings. I feel sad about that, but I chose to be a Mother and it has been life changing but well worth it as the love I have for my daughter is the most important thing that as ever happened to me.

Recently someone I care about and grew up with deleted me from FB and it hurt like hell. My own stupid fault. I had a falling out with a close friend a few years ago over a man! Not as you imagine, but this friend was going out with a guy she met through me who I did not realise at the time had psychopathic tendencies. To cut a long story short he ended up moving in with me and Benny Boy and played a manipulative game. He had some mental health issues and I find things hard to handle at a difficult time in my life (miscarriages, fertility issues etc). I told the pair of them to get lost always believing that my friend and I would pick up further along the line. Eventually we spoke again and even had a coffee but our friendship would never be the same again, mostly due to circumstances and the directions our lives had taken.

This girl was one of the nicest people I had ever met and took me under her wing when at 13 I found myself alone.  She is kind, sincere and considerate.  We helped each other with our homework, I stayed at her house and her Mum dealt with my Dad who was very strict and would not let me go to the discos.I was her Dad's girlfriend.  I visited her when she lived in Scotland, fixed her up with loads of guys (okay so they were all rubbish and not suitable), was her sole support at police graduation. We were pulling partners, she was my closest confidante. We went on our first holidays together with Club 18-30, backpacked Europe together. She came to see me in Ibiza and I miss her terribly. Why was I so crap?  Since Charlotte, my communication with her (and lots of friends) has become "We must get together" or "I will email you some dates". I see most of my good friends no more than four times a year. I feel so sad.  I must have really pissed her off as we have about 26 mutual friends on FB including my neigbours, people from school that neither of us have seen for years and years, ex partners of old friends and probably the postman!  Do you get my point here?  Oh well, one day I will send her this just to get off my chest how bad I feel about all this and wish that I could turn back time.

The Future is Orange

It’s my Birthday, I’ll moan if I want to!  Ben has taught Charlotte to say, “Don’t moan Mummy”. Well, I wouldn’t have anything to whinge about if you picked up your dirty pants, wet towels and washed up occasionally!!

Charlotte has been trying to guess my age. She has said, “You are not 2, you are not 3 and you are not 21”. Thanks Princess.

Thinking back to my 21^st Birthday, I remember a band called the OJs serenaded me with “You’ve lost that loving feeling”.  What fun, carefree days and then rushing off to Ibiza to work as a rep.

I actually went out on Saturday night! Yes, what fun it was.  I felt excited and liberated getting ready and on route saw the girls in their high heels and the boys in their stripy shirts and jeans. Nothing changes. So, my night out was a 50^th Wedding Anniversary but it still counts as I had a great boogie in between watching Tom Daley win a fabulous bronze medal. 

So, as my birthday treat, I want to treat myself to some Botox but will have to wait until Charlotte goes to school next year and we no longer have to pay twice our mortgage in nursery fees.

I can’t complete my blog without a rant. This time it is about old people. Well not all old people as most of them are cute, but this one lady really pissed me off. It was in the Slug and Lettuce on the day of my birthday lunch when this lady commented about Charlotte’s hair when we were in the ladies loo!  She then proceeded to say that she had ginger hair the same colour before she had gone grey and how much she hated it. “It was horrible” she said over and over again. Poor little Charlotte just looked sad and confused as normally people compliment her on her ginger locks. I asked this lady if she had dyed it. She said she hadn’t but longed for mousey brown hair. No offence to anyone with mousey brown hair, but that says it all. Gingers rule!!!!

Moan Moan Moan....

Why am I soooo moody?  It could be that I am soon to reach 21 x 2 + 1. Now that is depressing.  Or that I need to loose 2 stone and have no willpower.  I am sad and gutted that my poor Mum is so sick and I feel utterly helpless. My life is lacking romance. I am always knackered, stressed and skint. Working full time, being Mum, Wife, Cleaner, Cook and Gardener (well I lied about the last one as I don't have green fingers), is a little bit tricky.

Are all men useless and compete with their children for your love and attention?  Message to my husband: Charlotte is 3! I have to reach up for her hidden jaffa cakes, warm her milk, give her a bath etc because she cannot do that stuff. You on the other hand are perfectly capable of getting a beer from the fridge and ironing your own shirt. GGRRRR. 

We have been enjoying the Olympics and hurray for Girl Power. We have done so well as a Nation and its brilliant to see the ladies of Britain dominating that medal table.

As a country, has our love affair with football gone sour? I am extremely passionate about football. Arsenal is one of my great loves! When I was at school, I was the only girl in my class that went to football matches.  Happy memories of Frank Stapleton, Liam Brady, Willie Young and co circa 1978.  Team GB were knocked out of the Olympics on penalties, but did anyone really care?  Not really. Why should we when so many of our athletes are doing amazingly well. These athletes are not being paid £100,000 per week. They are doing it because of pride, passion and being proud to be British.  I hate football, well until August 18th anyway.....

A twinkle in my eye

When I drove through Molesey recently, my home town, I took a detour as I always do down Faraday Road to take a look at number 33, where I grew up from 1976 to 1989.  Charlotte was with me so I showed her the house from the car.  "Was I there Mummy?" When I said no: "Was I in your belly?". I  explained that she was a twinkle in my eye. Later on in the day she told me in a very grown up way that she used to live in my eye. She has made that statement a few times and it cracks me up.

I had a Bridget Jones moment this week. I enjoy the soft play centres and Charlotte was at yet another party on Saturday. I am always wary of being dragged around these crazy climbing areas in case I get stuck or freaked out. On Saturday I found myself crawling along a big tube high in the sky to rescue Charlotte who was having a meltdown. My arse must have been on display to all but I am so thankful that the goddamn thing took my weight and didn't come crashing down on the birthday child's dad's head. My rubbish trampolining skills have improved a tad and I don't wet myself like many women do when their pelvic floor muscles have given up on them.  I just can't stay on my feet but I love it!

We got to see a glimpse of the Olympics this weekend up near Box Hill for the Ladies Cycling event. It twas so exciting and a "once in a lifetime" moment. The highlight for me wasn't the woman in Lycra (who were amazing) but the crazy Police Officer on a motorbike given out generous portions of high fives to the spectators and doing mad pornographic poses on his big machine.  Thank you PC Non Ploddy whoever you are for making my day.

Blog Medley

One hundred years ago girls started their periods at 18, got up the duff at 19 and went on to have lots of babies, miscarriages and stillborns.  The life expectancy of the woman was forty three and she often died due to illnesses related to giving birth. How times have changed. We start our periods at twelve. Apparently because we get such good nutrition (I think it is the hormones that end up in the milk we drink).  The average age for a first child is close to thirty. Many of us are having babies over thirty five, which, according to the interview I watched, is not natural and that we should be embracing motherhood in our early twenties.  In an ideal world, that sounds great and I could now be enjoying my career without juggling it around childcare.  I was just petrified of settling down. I was not the person at nineteen or twenty, than I was at thirty four when I married my Benny Boy. Two of my closest friends got married at nineteen and were both divorced with seven years. At nineteen you are still a child. Have you watched Big Fat Gypsy Wedding?  It’s frightening.  I always wanted to leave it until over thirty, but I must admit that a few weeks shy of my 40^th Birthday was leaving it just a tad late and certainly closed the door, along with other reasons, on going for number two!

Well, it has been a crazy few weeks!  Charlotte turned three and we had back to back parties and celebrations including soft play, princesses & pirates, trips to the farm and a lovely party at a very nice gym where Ben and I had passes to use the facilities and made the most of the outside swimming pool in the sunshine.  We also attended the beautiful wedding of Lisa and Jason who are now hitched. Congratulations to Mr and Mrs Hogg.

I have had PMT from hell this week and am very tired and grumpy. I don’t think it’s just down to my hormones.  The temperature has reached 31 degrees and we are in an office above Dry Cleaners with suicide windows and no air con! Yes, we had a twirly wirly fan but I felt like throwing the friggn thing out of the window, only I couldn’t because the window only opens about 2 millimetres. GRRR. I don’t mind working late either when I get the chance as the longer hours you work in recruitment, the more money you will make, however yesterday I stayed late as the IT guy was still here and  has no key. I couldn’t do any work as he was on my PC!  By this time it was like the hottest sauna in here in the history of saunas.  Nice guy our IT guy but then he wanted to have a conversation about trains whilst all I wanted to do was get home and have a cold shower and a magnum.

The Mother-In-Law has not been too bad, good as gold really. However, she does act a bit strange sometimes. Yes, I have a ginger haired kid but am I a really bad Mum for using a sun hat and factor 50 all over when it is hot?  Well, apparently that’s not good enough and the MIL dressed Charlotte in her cousin’s long sleeved top (he is six), so she looked like a freak!  “Can you buy linen trousers and a long sleeve shirt for next week?” Yes, because I am made of money, there is no Primark in Epsom and she has tons of lovely cotton dresses, skirts, tops, leggings and shorts.

I had another dream last night about kissing an ex boyfriend. This time I dreamt of Andrew Trace… just that I bumped into him and we decided to have a snog. The only person I want to snog is my Benny Boy but that rarely happens with a three year old running around our feet!  The highlight of my week was that a man in white van, not only smiled at me but just to prove a point he then gave me a big wink… maybe my skirt was tucked in my knickers, I had a bogey hanging out of my nose or a big lump of carrot between my teeth.

Fifty Shades of Grey

"Mummy Porn" first time novelist E James is earning a tasty £862,000 a week, is liaising with Hollywood producers and has netted a cool £3.2 million in film rights. Wow and good for her. at 48, this Mum of two has managed to re-live her sexual fantasies and experiences and has made herself a fat load of cash.  Now, why didn't I think of that?

The Epsom Cougars of my office (sorry Ashleigh, though 25 and hot, you are still one of us), had a great time out in Southend-On-sea courtesy of our bosses. Uniformed in H&M Blazers, skinny jeans and killer heels we showed Essex that The Only Way is Surrey.  The guys over there were pretty scared of us to be honest - what a disappointment as it took me over an hour to get ready. So many wrinkles. Thank goodness for YSL touche elat.

One of the most interesting things of the night was meeting our cabby Gordon. After all, I did spend nearly four hours in his company, so we got to know each other intimately. he has eight kids!  His wife who is as old as me and on the cusp of the menopause has recently given birth to triplets.  It serves her right for wanting one more child and getting the shock of her life at an early scan.   In my drunken state, I did ask if the pregnancy was natural and Gordon said that it was! Silly Gordon, did you not see your wife popping the fertility pills or is that just me being a cynic again?

Gordon if you are reading this thank you for making the journey on the M25 and Darford tunnel so entertaining.