I am a happy mum.
Luckily, I’m happily married to a brilliant co-parent. I see the best of him in my kids and my kids have made him a better man than I married.
We are nailing the raising four humans together without losing one or destroying each other (mostly). We juggle kids, taxiing for sport, two full-time jobs and making dinner with the seamless choreography of figure skaters … or the Harlem Globetrotters (when we’re feeling more cheerful and energetic). He makes me a better mother.
When the kids go to bed, there is no man I’d rather top and tail with on the couch while I trawl social media and listen to the TV.
Recently, I had the self-indulgent pleasure of going on Ladycation which I cannot recommend highly enough. Four women, one cheap cabin, tea, wine, lighthouse walks and gourmet goodies. We talked clothes, house design, books and other bitches. T’was grand! Time travelling to my formative years.
In the joy, I surprised myself by bitching about my partner. A lot. I have no idea where it came from. I’m happy. He’s cool. We don’t have any major problems but I kept making forehead-smacking remarks.
So it turns out that, with all the love and gratitude in the world, I just want to yell a few things at the top of my lungs in my husband’s face …
7 things I’d like to yell at the top of my lungs in my husband’s face
“PUT THE PACIFIER WHERE I CAN FIND IT!”
FFS! Please … please. Next to the cot would be ideal.
“SECRET TREATS ARE A RECIPE FOR DISASTER!”
Stop giving the kids lollipops with the disclaimer “Don’t tell Mum”. Secrets are fun but Mum is automatically the bad guy and the secret-treat-guilt cycle will last long into adulthood. A personal goal of mine is to raise my kids eating-disorder free if I can help it. Don’t f*ck it up.
“PUT A VEGETABLE IN IT!”
For the love of anything that is good, please try to get a vegetable into a least one of our children. Mac cheese, sausages, potatoes, hash browns, pasta and toast might taste good but all are beige food – the most dangerous of all food groups. Ignore your British roots and feed the kids a rainbow. Good for brain development and not being malnourished or snacky at bedtime!
“PLASTIC BAGS ARE NOT RECYCLABLE!”
I get you’re almost a decade older than me and did not receive the progressive environmental education that I did in the early 90s but come on. The year is 2016, dude! Sort your recycling skills (pun totally intended).
“TRACK PANTS & SKIRTS ARE AN EITHER/OR.”
I can turn a blind eye to a lot of child-fashion catastrophes including, but not exclusive to, tutus with football jerseys (it’s kind of punk), the wrong kid in a wrong clothing size (putting the 5YO in the 2YO’s shirt – seriously?) and mismatched socks (that’s just how we roll). But pairing pink fleece trackies with the silk party dress from a fashionable childless Auntie is something I cannot abide.
“TAKE THE KIDS”
Please leave the house and go far, far away. For 2-3 hours. Do not expect me to have achieved anything on your return! If I nap, exercise, drink tea or do nothing, you are more likely to get laid later.
“I LOVE YOU!”
I really do. I’d never, never be able to parent half as well without you. Please don’t read this and leave me!
P.S. Are you making dinner tonight?