The Lazy Girl's Guide to Life

#DoSomethingYummy What My Kids Mean to Me

2012-01-30T19:19:00.000Z

I'm throwing my blogging ways behind CLIC Sargent's Yummy Mummy Week (which is on between the 10th and 18th March, and which you can find out more about at Typecast and at http://www.yummymummy.org.uk/), by writing as per prompts on various subjects.

This weeks subject is "What Your Children Mean to You" so, here goes:

THE BRATLINGS: Why I Love Them, Tantrums and All

Anyone who has read my blog since it began in 2009 may be forgiven for thinking that my kids drive me insane, and that, at times, I sometimes wonder why I became a Mum in the first place.

The very fact I refer to them as "The Bratlings" only goes further to reinforce this.

However, even in times when I have heard nothing but moans, tantrums and, on really bad days have been bitten, slapped and told (in Mini's best diva voice) "I hate you Mummy", I wouldn't change it for the world.

Times can be tough, with Littlest and his ongoing illness, and worrying about his illness, and sometimes Mini all but drives me into a straight jacket. But for every tantrum, there is a smile. For every bite or moan, there is a cuddle and kiss.

Littlest is cheeky. Very cheeky in fact. At 3 and a bit, he should be growing out of certain more simpler pleasures, like playing boo. But he's not. He has a temperament that can change like a light switch, however it doesn't take much to make him laugh. He is also just beginning to find that boys like cars (he knows every car badge going, from memory) and, of course, girls:

He has a niceness in him that I really hope never goes away.

Then there is Miss Mini herself, number one diva and resident Princess in the house. Kate Moss and the Olsen sisters have nothing on my daughters truly unique sense of style. Lover of lipstick, and of painting her own nails, not to mention artist extraordinaire of recent months. She has her Mother's competitive nature, and her father's persistence. If she finds she cannot do something her classmate can, she will sit and practice, for hours or sometimes days, never giving up until she can do it too.

So, what do my children mean to me? They are a reflection of my self, they are like miniature versions of all the good parts of Elder and I. They are beautiful, loving, everything to me. They are the true loves of my life.

My children, they are my life. And everything that surrounds and encompasses it.

Why not join in and #dosomethingyummy. You can write your own post, with new prompts every Monday from February, and link them back up at Nickie's blog on Thursday.

Silent Sunday

2012-01-29T10:02:00.002Z

Is It Just Me: Who is Still Scared of Head Teachers?

2012-01-25T09:46:00.000Z

Littlest is ill again.

Yes, that's not big news, as he's often quite unwell, just in differing degrees, ranging from "a bit poorly" to "quick, phone 999".

At the moment, both the Bratling's are unwell- Mini had all last week off and was given antibiotics for a rotten chest infection. Most of her class were off last week, so it's obviously being spread between each child. Suffice to say, it was obvious that Littlest would catch it and be back on his steroid and off nursery again.

I have to admit his attendance isn't the best. However, with a child like Littlest, you just can never tell when they will be unwell again, its a waiting game really.

We finally received an answer to the complaint to end all complaints about his pre and post birth care. I made the complaint back in August, and believed that, as it was taking months to receive a reply, they must be properly looking into it.

Hell. No.

We got, surprise surprise, fobbed off. The most the Trust is going to do is "have a talk with staff about their attitude to worried parents". They did, however, admit that mistakes where made when I was pregnant, and a high risk pregnancy such as mine should have been handled very differently to how it was. Not much consolation as its a bit late now, and, as its been over 3 years I have no right to claim any compensation.

Anyway, I digress.

I walked Mini to school as usual this morning, and, on walking to the school gate, the Head, Mrs S, stopped me.

Now, I keep the school updated as to what is going on with Littlest, or about anything else they may need to know. As soon as I know about it, they know about it. Up until now, that's been fine.

This morning though, I got the feeling the school aren't happy. I've been asked to make an appointment for an "official review".

Gulp.

I did kind of tell her that she knows the latest, and what with Christmas and New Year, not much has changed. What annoys me slightly though is the school's attitude to attendance. They say, unless a child has a sickness bug, they should be in school. That's reason 1 that Mini has had such a bad chest infection as everyone is coughing and spluttering, including the teachers.

Reason 2 is something that has annoyed quite a few parents. The fact that the teacher brings all the class to play in an outside area, on climbing frames and with water troughs of freezing cold water, all afternoon, come rain, freezing cold temperatures and the rest. In the summer, that would be great- its warm, let's take them outside. But 4 hours a day outdoors with no roof in winter? Seems a bit much. They both often come home with their jumpers and coats soaking wet with freezing cold water.

Reason 3 is that, added to this hours on end in the cold, if they can't do their own coat up (this is 3 and 4 year olds in Nursery and FS2, so affects both The Bratlings), the teacher wont do it up. They let them out with no coat, or coats undone, with no scarves, hats or gloves on whether they have them or not. Even in yesterdays rain, which was pretty heavy, they were outdoors.

I asked a week and a half back that Littlest be kept indoors. The nursery staff know he has problems with his health. They said they couldn't. Its ridiculous.

So, now, do I tell the Head that I feel they are partly responsible for the time off? Well, that's the problem. Head teachers still make me feel as if I'm in uniform myself being told off for running in the corridors.

I'm lost, and really worried that they may inform the Education Welfare people- they are famous for doing so apparently. That's the issue with moving to an area, as you don't get to know the reputations of school, GPs and the like in advance.

What do I do guys? What are my rights? Is it fair to moan about Littlest's attendance but then refuse to keep him indoors? Do they have to tread carefully due to Littlest being ill?

Let me know what you think.

Is It Just Me Or: Was It Obvious Walliams Would be Smutty on BGT?

2012-01-23T20:35:00.000Z

David Walliams, he's a tame comic isn't he? Never known to be rude, smutty, or controversial at all, right?

Wrong!

I have to say that, on hearing that Simon Cowell had employed his services as a replacement for last year's line up- Michael McIntyre who simply wasn't funny sat behind a desk looking bemused and The Hoff, who is clearly one incident shy of a straight jacket- I was excited.

I have liked his style of comedy since he was on UK Play, on the old On Digital TV service. The first time I saw him, he was dressed as Gary Barlow, and it was incredibly well observed and thus funny. I've always thought that the team behind Bo'Selecta nicked the idea for taking off celebs in a not so flattering way from that early series, but never came close to how good it was.

He's probably better known for Little Britain, which is hardly the tamest comedy out there, and isn't what I'd class as family viewing.

It's in my "comedy similar to the old school sketch and one-liners of the past" list, and I have been known to recite lines from it. "Computer says no" anyone?

He is hardly known for being shy of being a bit close to the mark, and I would have half expected him to turn up for the first audition in one of his "I'm a Laydee" outfits.

Unfortunately, despite a good 80% of under 50s knowing exactly what to expect from David and his style of comedy, Simon Cowell obviously mixed him up with someone else. Its been reported since yesterday that Mr Cowell is less than happy with his latest signing's brand of remarks.

Now, I for one love the idea of someone sarcastic on that judging panel. I know when I watch any TV Talent based show, from this to X Factor, I have to be sarcastic on Twitter. It would be like all our collective and best sarcastic (and occasionally quite mean) tweets would be up there, on stage, as a judge.

Amanda Holden (I don't know why but I always want to affix "Bless her" to the end of Amanda Holden's name) is nice to everyone, and is polite enough to laugh behind her hands at the truly talentless acts. Simon is obviously going to be Mr Nasty, a pantomime alike role he glorifies in. Alesha, well, I think Simon is looking for an edgy injection in the same way as when he added Tulisa to X Factor. Either that or he just wants to annoy the BBC.

So, surely, Walliams fits in by being naughty?

I, for one, have found it boring for quite sometime, Piers was OK, but dull, and the other pair from last year made me turn off the whole series by the end of episode one. It was crap, end of.

Perhaps to breathe life into it, having someone known to be as hilarious in an unconventional way as David Walliams is worth shifting the show to post watershed. Or just edit it out for family viewing at an earlier slot, and show it, uncut, on ITV2 later?

I really hope they don't sack him or tone him down- elsewise what was the point in employing him in the first place?

Let me know your thoughts- who would be your judging dream team?

Was TV Better Before Multi-Channel Programming?

2012-01-20T19:24:00.001Z

As I idly flicked through the channels on my Sky TV last night, I realised that I spend most TV watching time doing exactly that.

Flicking through 60 channels trying to find something, anything, to watch.

You would think with the amount of televisual delights spread over multiple channels on offer for our delectation, we'd find it easy to find something to watch, but night after night (as that's practically the only time I watch TV these days) I give up and pick up a book instead.

What also baffles me is that when I do find something to watch, it's generally something from before I was born. I've become quite the fan of The Professionals, On the Buses, Terry and June and Upstairs Downstairs of late.

Which has led me to question- if we have all these channels with rubbish telly, except the old stuff of the 70s and early 80s, has multi-channel television ruined TV forever?

It seems that whatever time of day or day of the week you switch on the TV, on whatever channel you try, its the same old, tired and over used format rehashed and re-served for our collective boredom.

Home shows annoy me the most. I may be the only one, but I don't wish to watch some smug person showing off how much cash they have to splash on a house (especially when the probability of me ever owning my own home is slim to none). Surely someone with a pocket full of cash is quite capable of finding their own home without the aid of television cameras? There are so many variations on the same theme, with Channel 4 (who have shed loads of programmes already devoted to buying or doing up your home) starting a new one on Monday. The only difference is the smug person looking for the house doesn't choose where they get to look for said property, they're taken to places with no idea as to the location. Very nice, but in my view, you could be shown a lovely house, but if its in the middle of a rotten neighbourhood with crap schools, you're not going to buy it.

Then there are the antique shows. Pitched at bored pensioners or hungover students, if I see one more piece of Staffordshire, Clarice Cliff or Crown Derby I will puke. I don't want to watch people selling family heirlooms to pay for a week in Spain. I have seen enough of these programmes to know that, the first item they value will sell for about the same amount as it was valued at. The second piece (which the greedy beggar selling it will have plonked a massively OTT reserve on) won't sell at all (and yes, I do secretly cackle at this). The third piece will then have been valued at £50 and will then-shockingly-sell for at least 5 times that amount. (Don't believe me- watch Flog It! on BBC 2. Same thing has happened since it started).

Chesney Hawkes: Not a celebrity since 1991

Then there are "I used to be famous but now when I try and get into a club they tell me to get to the back with the other ex-Big Brother contestants and desperado's" shows. I will refuse to watch any programme with "Celebrity" stuck on the title. When they say celebrity, I expect someone who hasn't been in Heat Magazine's Crap Spot in the last two years. Take this year's Dancing on Ice (yes, no celeb in that title but you just know it'll be tat). Chesney Hawkes had one song go in the Top 10 when I was at Primary School. I left school 14 years ago. And the smiley one from Sugababes (version 4.0)? They haven't had a song chart since, will since version 3.0 were around. The Sugababes are a joke. Chico (Chesney's replacement). I don't need to say it do I? These are NOT celebrities. Has beens, maybe. Celebrities, not so much. The lot they take into the jungle most years should be left there (before you argue, I give you Katona, Andre and Price. I rest my case).

TV now is spread so thin between so many pointless, unnecessary channels that clearly, the quality is just not there anymore.

Doyle (L) he always got the girl. We just didn't see him get the girl

Yet old shows like the ones I mentioned may be quaint, with comedy which doesn't need to be crass or downright smutty, and car chases that feature conveniently left in the middle of the road cardboard boxes, but they are cool. They are slick. In The Professionals, Doyle always got the girl, but you never actually had to see his naked backside on the screen. You just knew he was a dog and men and women alike loved him for it.

On The Buses is hilarious. Again, its obvious they fancy all the girls in it (bar Olive) but its just done in a funny way, not a smutty way. It shows what life was like for many low paid manual workers, stuck living in the same house they grew up in, along with their sister and her husband and your Mum. People muddled through, so it's shown that way. There is no swearing, there doesn't have to be.

As for Upstairs Downstairs (which Elder hates. Oh well) it just is so beautifully done with costumes and speech which was properly researched. Downton Abbey isn't a patch on it, and I constantly see historians batter it's inaccuracies.

It says it all that one of my favourite TV programmes of modern times is Life on Mars, a show which borrowed from the old school cop shows of yesteryear.

The other annoyance is, with all these channels, when you get used to a show (Like Glee. American shows seem to be doing OK for quality thus far), it then gets poached, usually by a channel I don't have. Argh! That didn't happen when we had 4 channels. If something on BBC 1 moved to ITV, I just switched over to ITV. Job done.

Life just isn't portrayed as it really is for my generation. It's a long standing joke that, despite everyone being pretty skint in EastEnders, no one owns a washing machine, they all use the laundrette. They all eat breakfast in the cafe, and lunch in the Vic. No one goes to a bargain booze for alcohol, they all go to the pub, sometimes twice a day. It doesn't happen!

Maybe we need to ditch the multiple channels of crap, and go back to four channels of quality, realistic programming and funny, not smut and swear word fuelled comedy, TV.

What do you think- modern or old school, which shows do you class as must see?

Come On, Come On, Let's Get Together

2012-01-18T14:28:00.001Z

I went out to scary London last night, Shoreditch to be precise, to take part in the launch of Oxfam's Get Together.

There was a plethora of lovely well known faces, inspiring women (and me) all happy to drink very nice cocktails, and hear about those less fortunate than ourselves.

Now, we all bemoan our lack of money right now, but, if we were honest, we have our lives pretty cushy compared to similar women in developing countries. We may worry about the bills, but we never have to weigh up the pros and cons of breastfeeding in case we have a life threatening disease we could pass on. We may complain that we perhaps can't go out quite as often as usual when we have over spent in December, but we don't have to try and feed our family on what us lucky lot use for a lunch time snack.

Oxfam are hoping that, by raising awareness (rather than just doing a Bob Geldof and telling us all to give them our money) that people get more acquainted by just how hard life can be for those less fortunate than ourselves.

The lovely Lauren Laverne, a firm supporter of Oxfam and Get Together

By linking up with the media through stars such as Lauren Laverne, Grace Dent and Miquita Oliver, bloggers and online communities such as Mumsnet (who I was in attendance on behalf of last night along with Pants With Names, EggDipDip, Hackney Doula, and Eleanor Mills), and retail companies like Whistles (whose CEO, Jane Shepherdson, was in attendance as well, and gave an empowering speech), Oxfam hopes that people who otherwise wouldn't have a great life can.

BBC3's Cherry Healey, who was absolutely delightful

So, that's where you guys come in.

The 8th of March is International Women's Day, and Oxfam want as many of us as possible to organise a Get Together of our own. You can bake cakes, you can hold a quiz. You can have a day pampering each other. Whatever you do, Oxfam have great ideas and packs you can sign up for at http://www.oxfam.org.uk/womensday. There you can find out more about Oxfam and the work they do, and, should you chose to, you can donate.

The facts speak for themselves- every minute, a woman with no medical care dies giving birth. Raise £46 and Oxfam can train a Midwife in Ghana, who can use these skills to save lives.

Two thirds of those denied an education are girls, but £135 raised via a Get Together, perhaps an auction of your old clothes, can train 5 teachers in Mali, providing a possible education for many children for years to come.

Pictures from last years Get Together events were played through the evening

Don't worry- I'm not going to make you all feel bad and then not do anything myself.

What I would like to do, and am in the very early (and sleep deprived) process of trying to organise is a massive online version of Oxfam's great Get Together idea.

We mums online (and Dads. And non-parents) are all far flung here, there and everywhere about the country, so getting us (and there are loads of us) all in one place at once somewhere we all agree on would be a statistical nightmare of epic proportions. That and my organisational skills don't stretch that far. I'm not Sian or Sally after all.

What I propose is that on the week that International Women's Day happens we have a massive online Twitter hashtag party. So, whether you want to be in pyjamas in Preston, sip champagne in Cambridge or just fancy joining in what I hope will be a fun evening, then you can do so from the comfort of your own sofa. What's even better is, we can all link to the Oxfam site, and really raise some much needed awareness of the way life is for those less fortunate than we are. We might even get #gettogether trending if enough of us join in.

I am currently in talks with all the major online communities I can think of, but, if you know of one then feel free to drop them a line. I hope it can be a mix of Twitter games, chats and possibly little competitions too (if we can ask as many nice brands to help that would be great too!).

The more people who want to help on this, the better.

So, people, let's Get Together.

What'd you say?

· “I am a member of the Mumsnet Blogging Network, a group of parent bloggers picked by Mumsnet to review products, services, events and brands. I have not paid for the product or to attend an event. I have editorial control and retain full editorial integrity”.

Have I been "Maidenhead-ed"?

2012-01-16T18:47:00.001Z

I really hope that title hasn't come out sounding rude. Ah well, if it does at least the stats will fly with all the porn lookers....

Anyway, I was having a conversation with Bestie mate down South (or sarf as I inadvertently end up calling it whilst talking with her) about how some time in the next few months Elder and I plan on having a trip back to Gillingham to pop in on some old mates we haven't seen since moving.

I then had a conversation with Elder about said trip to Gillingham (and how we plan on using the neglected services of Eldest Sister in law for 4 years of back dated babysitting duty) and how nice it will be to see everyone.

I made the same joke to both (I'm not good at jokes and tend to repeat ones I find funny. I'm kind of like Zooey Deschanel in New Girl). I thought it was funny. They did not.

So, what was it I said?

It was basically that if I am going to go home to Gillingham, I shall have to dig out my Argos clown necklace, my Reebok Classics and my scrunchie. (When talking to Bestie Mate Down South it was more "me" than "my" though). Not to mention my market knock off designer handbag (Loeey Votton anyone?) and my fake Juicy Couture tracksuit.

Bestie Mate said I was lucky to be on Facebook or she'd have slapped me. And Elder told me I had become a Maidenhead snob.

Eeek.

Admittedly, the case for the defence is lacking.

I may not have ever been a member of the tracksuit/scrunchie/clown/classics school of fashion. However, I did kind of mooch around in baggy old jeans, with rips. I wasn't great at make up. I never bothered with getting my eyebrows tweezed. I was a slob, just not a chav slob.

I do get slightly anal about taking Mini to school. I have to put my make up on, and have to sort my hair. I also wear nice clothes- I physically can't go out scrufty these days because kids can be cruel if your mum looks like a scruff.

Oh and I don't wear a naff coat. I wear my (fake) fur coat instead.

I have to say though, I'm not the only one in the playground who makes a bit of an effort. One lady I chat to always dresses nicely. The Polish Mummies are all goddesses in nice jeans and jackets (one of them wears a fur coat too). There is a divide between the "fallen out of bed, not brushed hair" Mummies and the likes of me and the "cant leave the house in dirty old tracksuits minus make up" Mummies.

Granted this divide was not helped back in July when good old foot in mouth me was discussing puffa jackets (It being July no one had coats on), and I happened to innocently mention I'd rather die than be seen in a puffa jacket. "Why not just roll up in ill fitting trousers and a duvet" were my added faux pas. I now realise the group I happened to be talking to were of the puffa jacket variety. Death stares anyone?

I think nothing now of swanning round with take out coffee-something completely alien to me in Kent. I'm always on Twitter on my phone. I carry a designer handbag.

My phone in Kent took half hour to send texts. My bags were Primark.

So, yes, perhaps I have become a bit snobbish- or my friends in Kent might think so.

I kind of see it as evolving, as changing. As growing up.

I'm certainly more comfy in my own skin here. Even with my scuzzy clothes in Kent I still stuck out like sore thumb for not being a track suit wearer. I deliberately used to buy any trainer other than Reebok.

I don't see it as fitting in but finding my place.

The old me is still there. Bad jokes and all.

So, your view- snob or not?

Let's hear you!

Since When: Did Being a Celeb Give You a Free Reign to Shoplift?

2012-01-10T10:25:00.002Z

You couldn't have missed yesterday's reports regarding former Ready Steady Cook chef and purveyor of bad cookware, Anthony Worrall Thompson's arrest for shoplifting.

Most reacted with hilarity at the reports of him pinching food from his local Tesco in Henley (that's near me!), with best tweet going to HerMelness:

@HerMelnessHerMelness Speaks

Um, #AntonyWorrallThompsonstealing food. A little like@HughHefner stealing bras, no?

I did for a bit, until I read the full report into his crime. It seems he didn't just help himself to posh (for Tesco) cheese and wine via the old Five Finger Discount trick one time.

No, it's reported that the store detectives and staff watched him on 5 separate occasions being a slippery old thief before they acted and informed the local Police.

Erm, why?

I cannot be the only one who wondered why the store would let someone walk through the door, knowing full well they have pinched high value stock, on 5 visits, without even questioning him.

It kind of makes what Nancy experienced (and the others who commented similar experiences) even harder to fathom. If you aren't aware of what happened to fellow Blogger Nancy, read the full post and comments, but basically what happened was, she went in her local Tesco store, used a self service checkout (so far, so similar), and despite having not nicked anything (that's where the comparison ends), was carted in full view to the back of the store and accused of all sorts.

I understand that they wanted to be sure, but surely that is the point of CCTV, and it didn't require viewing this behaviour 5 times before they did something about it. I know myself that, should it have been me pinching from my local store, they would have apprehended me straight away.

So, why doesn't the same apply if you are an (albeit minor) celebrity?

It also baffles me that, when the store finally reported him to the Police, they didn't drag him through the courts as you'd expect. After all, he is a repeat offender- how many other smaller outlets has he stolen from? How many other places are embarrassed to report him?

In my mind, a formal caution wouldn't have been given to Joe Bloggs from Normaltown. Let's be honest here- quite a number of those who shoplift have good reason for doing so. They are really that badly off that it seems like their only option. They may be a young parent struggling to feed a child, or a drug addict stealing to feed a habit. If they were caught after repeated thefts, I'm sure they would have been up before the courts within seconds of being interviewed and charged at the Police station, regardless of who they are or their reasons.

I think the government needs to make enquiries. I have no sympathy for someone who does it for the thrill (I'm sure he's not skint) and frankly, I hope next time he does it, they lock him up.

What's your view?

The Spartacus Report: DLA Is a Right, Not a Privilege.

2012-01-09T16:52:00.003Z

I am writing this post in response to the Spartacus Report.

I make no secret that Littlest has medical needs. On the outside, he looks like your average three year old child. The reality is very different.

Since he was born at 28 weeks, and diagnosed with Chronic Lung Disease, our lives have never been normal. Having two children makes the issues with his health all the more obvious. Mini is never struck down with worse than a tummy bug, or a cough. If Mini becomes a bit ill, we give her a spoon of calpol and a blankie and she sleeps it off.

If Littlest gets ill, it means ambulances, panic, fits and worry. I constantly fight a losing battle to let him have a normal life. He has less than 50% attendance at nursery (since September 2011). The preferred percentage is 95%.

When he came home from SCBU, we were in a daze. Sure, we'd applied for family allowance, but that was it. Our home nurse D told us we should apply for Disability Living Allowance. She wrote a letter in support, detailing Littlest's illness, his constant need for hospital appointments, that unlike normal, that is to say healthy kids, if he was to slightly spit up milk after a feed (feeds which took over an hour due to him struggling to breathe with a bottle in his mouth), we'd have to change him, bath him, take all the sheets off his bed, the lot. This whether it was 1pm or 1am.

We applied, and we were awarded the higher rate care part of DLA. We had no idea that really, we were entitled to the mobility part due to his constant back and forth by bus to hospital. We were just happy with what we had.

It meant that we could make life a little, not a lot, easier- it paid for an increase in rent to pay for the extra bedroom we felt we needed. Unlike most siblings of 16 months difference in age, Littlest couldn't share a room with Mini as we would constantly disturb her sleep by checking on him, or when (not if- he wakes up every night without fail to this day) he would wake up screaming and/or coughing in his bed at night. You can't switch a light on, however dim the bulb without waking both kids up.

Cut to June this year, and Littlest's DLA was up for review. He hasn't got better, if anything he has got worse. We are still back and forth to different Doctors for a definitive diagnosis, next stop is Oxford.

I filled in his forms and sent them, detailing the daily struggles we have, how we were worried to send him to playschool, etc etc.

I heard back in mid June. His money was being stopped as they felt there was insufficient evidence to suggest Littlest was any different to a child his age.

How had they come to this conclusion? No doctor had seen him from their team. The GP had sent his records. So, you know me guys, I phoned, and demanded an explanation.

They had asked a Consultant to give them a run down. Problem was, the consultant Littlest had had since he was born left just before they sent the letter out, and the guy who filled it out did so with no notes, no history and 5 minutes "knowledge" of Littlest. He even got a fundamental part wrong in that he said Littlest no longer had Chronic Lung Disease. As a Consultant, he should have known that CLD doesn't go away. There is no cure.

Due to this, it was game over for his claim.

I appealed, as you would. Phoning an 0845 number week in, week out. They wouldn't accept a letter from our Health Visitor. They also wouldn't accept that the Consultant was in the wrong- because he wouldn't admit to them he'd made a cock up by firstly not admitting he'd never seen Littlest or his noted before, or by saying he had mistakenly written no longer has about his CLD.

Every time Littlest became ill enough to be rushed to hospital, I phoned. By looking back at the appeal pack, they really didn't like this. Tough! They were often rude and unhelpful. They made me feel like some dirty scrounger.

In the end, in December (bearing in mind the appeal started in July), we were again told our appeal was denied.Again, I went with a fine tooth comb through the appeal notes. I noticed the guy who had gone through it had misquoted our GP. He had written that such is the seriousness of Littlest's illness, even with minor exercise (such as running across our living room) means he ends up breathless. The appeals person had written it as if Littlest has a bit of exercise he becomes a bit out of breath. His quote makes it sound far less serious.

What was worse, I had provided the new, really good consultants details who had agree to inform them fully, but at first they wouldn't contact him as they said he wasn't informed enough, having only seen Littlest once with no notes for 2 hours. I was incensed as they had done exactly that with the original report, and had told me it was my job to disprove it.

When we made them aware of these mistakes, they looked at the claim yet again, and luckily, they changed their mind.

Great, I thought. Well, no not really.

Despite Littlest still needing infinite amounts of care at all times of day and night, they switched his claim from higher rate care to lower rate mobility. That's £50 a week. We are entitled to a car, but, should we go for that option, the £50 is revoked.

This is how hard it is to claim what is someones right when it's a child. It feels as if they are forced to find any excuse they can not to help, and even if they do, they will never own up to what you are entitled to.

It doesn't help that the Government pumps out false information to the masses through the media. It almost feels like a witch hunt against anyone on benefit of any kind, but especially against the disabled. You are made to feel guilty.

What's worse is that, for every child like Littlest whose claims are revoked, this counts as someone knocked back to work. When do the people off benefit figures ever get broken down by age? The Tories look good to the uninformed masses that lazy scroungers are forced back to look for work, little knowing that a high percentage of those in receipt of DLA are more than entitled to it.

The system does need an overhaul, but not in the way the Tories are trying to achieve. The people receiving DLA should not be penalised for the mistakes of the bankers, and lose their right to a tiny income.

I would like to assure you, if I could give up Littlest's DLA and have two healthy children, I'd do it in a heart beat. Sadly, that's not an option, but it feels like just another authority happy to let my little boy down.

So anyone who has ever wondered whether anyone is really entitled, or if you have total misplaced faith in our ruling party, I urge you, read the figures in the Guardian Newspaper.

Then think again.

See also:
False Economy Website:
http://falseeconomy.org.uk/blog/crowdsourced-research-reveals-strong-opposition-disability-benefit-reform
Responsible Reform by the DLA Help group: http://dlahelpgroup.com/downloads/Responsible%20Reform.pdf
Making It Up Blog:
http://liveotherwise.co.uk/makingitup/

Awkward Conversations with Mini Part 1

2012-01-08T13:24:00.001Z

Do you remember the days when the children were so young, they slept in the buggy all the way round the shops? The days when the worst they would do was moan for juice, or try to pick something from a shelf? I do, I remember them fondly.

Because, once these same children reach an age where they no longer need a buggy (however much you beg them to sit in one) and they can talk, shopping becomes awkward.

Mini is racing ever closer to 5 years old now, and, as such, she's pretty independent. She still holds my hand on the pavement, and walks beside me when in the safety of a shop or the precinct. However, she now likes to peruse the aisles as well, asking for things or asking what something is.

Most of the time, it's only toys, or magazines, she's interested in. I'm not stingy with sweets and cookies indoors (although we have strict rules governing when they eat these treats), so it's only the odd time she asks for those.

Recently, she has discovered the joys of lipstick or gloss. Or, more to the point, my lipstick and gloss. After my tool box (yes, I have that much make up, I'm an addict, but it's a cheap little treat) fell off the top of the bathroom cabinet, I moved it into my bedroom. Except she can reach, and regularly appears downstairs with lipstick semi-expertly applied. She favours my Revlon Red brush gloss (which is fine, I was trying to find a red that suited my pale skin. This was not it), and it suits her in a weird way. It's all down to her discovering Wizard of Oz over Christmas and being instantly hooked.

She also likes to paint her nails and toe nails. We know when she's decided to manicure herself when she pops upstairs for ages with the excuse of using the bathroom. Again, she's quite adept at doing the job- quite bad as I'm particularly cack handed at it myself.

I don't mind her exploring girlie activities, all be it at home- I'm not sending her to school with Revlon on any part of her anatomy- as I lived in a home where you never saw my Mum wear any form of beauty product. I don't think my Mum even wore perfume of any kind (I have about 40 bottles), so it's great for her to learn and have fun.

One thing I didn't think she'd be interested in- underwear.

Cue awkward conversation today in Peacocks sale.

I took her in to have a look. I went yesterday with Littlest and he was bought some tops and jumpers for school, so on looking in Mini's wardrobe and seeing a lack of jeans, thought I'd take her and treat her.

We didn't find any we liked, so I had a quick look on the ladies sale rails, picking up some new underwear on the way. At which point Mini picked up a pair of pants, which were a thong style, and asked if she could have them.

Now, this begs the question- how do you explain the functions of a thong to someone who is 4?

I tried to pass it off by saying they aren't her size. Except Mini wears age 6, due to her height, and guess what- the pants were a ladies size 6. They were also rather small. So she didn't buy it.

I told her no, but then she noticed the thong bit and started to laugh, asking why the people who made them forgot to sew on the back. By this time, a pair of teenage girls were standing beside us, killing themselves laughing at Mini. I explained that perhaps that was why they were in the sales, as they were faulty, and then pointed out they weren't as nice as her pants as they don't have Peppa Pig on them.

Thinking I'd got away with it, I manoeuvred her to the till- yet on the way, she spotted more thongs, with Mickey Mouse on them. Thanks Peacocks (and who wears thongs with Mickey Mouse on them? Its hardly two things you'd think went hand in hand).

What did I do?

I promised her a new lipgloss!

So, yes, I lament the lost days of buggy-dom.

*Image: Lavoview / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

*Slaps Forehead on Behalf of Home Town

2012-01-07T17:12:00.001Z

I make no secret (well, online anyway) of my roots, in that I am from the chavtatstic set of towns collectively known as Medway.

Now, Medway, I do miss it- honestly. Yes, it was dirty, run down, with not the greatest schools/facilities/homes going, and with a particularly crap Football team (the Gills) but for 25 years, it was home. Mini was born there too (although, again we don't make this common knowledge very often. And she was a mere 5 months old when we moved). I met Elder there. There were some good times had there, and a few of my mates still live there and the surrounding towns.

Anyway, via the power of the 'net, its pretty easy to keep up to speed with what's going on in my old homestead, and I have a saved search on Twitter for Medway mentions.

It's usually a good way of keeping up with the aforementioned fortunes of the Gills, its always handy to see names crop up who I went to school with (and not necessarily always in the crime round up of the Messenger newspaper Twitter feed), and just to generally get a bit nostalgic.

Today, a link popped up on Twitter which sounded baffling- that the council had dropped an "E" on Medway. That kind of headline, especially coming from the Daily Mail had to be looked at more closely.

It would seem the council, who have been the subject of some harsh budget cuts, have decided that, rather than spend any spare cash they found wisely, they would build this:

Yes. Its a Hollywood style sign, right on the fields that were right near my old house, up on the Great Lines. Its costing £12,000 to put up/build.

Why?

Well, that was the first thought that sprung to mind on ~~picking myself up from the floor where I'd fallen about laughing~~ on first seeing the picture (which is an artist's impression). Reading on through the article, apparently its because not many people outside Medway know that collectively Gillingham, Chatham, Rainham, Rochester and Strood all make up Medway, its not just one giant town, folks.

Why on earth anyone thought this is the solution?

In the last few weeks they had a trial run by erecting one of the letters to see what it looks like. They could have gone for the M, or any other letter. But no, they chose to erect a giant E, on a field, in a town that a lot of people consider full of druggies. A field where a lot of drug deals go on, skate boarders hang out (and which will immediately, if the whole thing gets plonked there, be a taggers paradise).

I can't believe they paid £2000 for a giant E.

Did I mention I'm not really from there at all......

Comment: Have Kids Today Really Got It Easy?

2012-01-06T10:35:00.002Z

There is an interesting article on the BBC News Website, authored by Paul Flatters, which goes hand in hand with his Radio 4 article on how he believes kids today in the UK have it much easier than we ever did.

The comments alone- so many the BBC website shut the forum- agree in the most part with the article, with many blaming old people (so old apparently they have forgotten how hard everyone had it prior to the 21st century) and hip twenty somethings who shouldn't comment as they don't yet have children.

In my view, children do have it much harder than my generation ever did.

One only has to look at the riots of last summer to see how disaffected the youth have become.In London alone, of all those arrested on night two, only 8 people arrested were born between 1960 and 1980. 49 of those arrested were born in the same era as me, the 1980s. But a staggering 98 were born in the 90's, most of whom were teenagers when they went out looting.

Can you imagine our generation doing something like that- over the possibility of a pair or twelve of new trainers?

There is so much pressure on children from a young age to perform- SATS exams at a tender age when most are still watching the 24 hour dedicated TV for their age group, and even more have only just learnt how to write their own name.

The media constantly tells us how the youth of today are overweight, game obsessives who would rather eat fast food than something healthy. Yet the same media then pumps out adverts for the new "must have" console, phone or clothing range.

The old adage kids will be kids to my mind no longer stands for what it did when I was a child. The little bit cheeky climbing of trees, going to the park with friends. Now, if a group of kids hang around their local park, they are not, as we were, there to meet friends in a public place. They are loitering, in a gang.

Its almost as if we goad the youth of today into being thugs- if we make the accusations often enough that the young are all nothing but trouble and one fizzy drink away from a sugar induced mugging, what hope have they got of proving otherwise.

Even those who do well at school might feel as if it was pointless- university fees mean that many will have the option of furthering their education denied. Then there is the same headline every year regarding how exams have got easier, how they have been dumbed down. No credit is given that perhaps, just maybe, kids are smarter than generations before-after all, whereas we had to read through Library catalogues to find the subject we were studying. It now takes 5 minutes and a basic knowledge of Google to gain the same information for today's young people.

They cannot go out in the same way and play "out" like we did. They sadly live within a culture of fear of paedophiles on every street, and traffic, and drug dealers, and every other reason why they are now relegated to sitting indoors on a games console for fun, rather than when we were allowed out until tea time as kids, your parent's safe in the knowledge that so and so's Mum's were looking out their windows watching everyones kids whilst they watched their own. Our parent's knew our neighbours.

Its not even just the culture of living in estates- Elder remembers vividly playing out with all the kids on his block- the older ones looking out for the younger ones, all the Mum's knew all the other Mums. He recalls that you knew your Mum wanted you indoors as you'd hear your Mum's voice echo round the block. There were no mobile phones back then. You did what you were told. In the most part! You had respect for elders, 100%. You had to- all the parent's knew who you were and who your parent was.

Its not like that now. I know very few of my neighbours, I knew even fewer of the parent's in my daughter's play ground. We don't look out for each others kids as we were looked out for. Its not our job, none of our business and, more importantly, we haven't been CRB checked to make sure we are safe.

Never had it so good? Never had it so miserable, more like.

Right to Chose Bill- How Do You Feel?

2012-01-05T13:20:00.001Z

The top news story on the TV this morning (before Diane Abbott tweeted her sweeping and racist generalisation about white people) was the committee exploring the case for assisted suicide in terminally ill patients.

It's something that divides opinion in most people, with the yes vote insisting a person has a right to choose and the no vote saying that its not assisting someone to die but murdering them.

I'm very much in the yes camp.

It's always baffled me that we don't have more say on our own bodies on things such as assisted suicide, yet we can inflate our lips, arse and boobs, or smoke our lungs black, or eat unhealthy food until we become the size of a house, and when things inevitably go wrong, the NHS steps in.

We can make a choice on behalf of our pets- ending their suffering as they are unable to voice the request themselves.

Yet we have to watch relatives and friends who lose the ability to care for themselves, stuck in a hospital bed in pain and agony, whilst we stand around them inadequately and unable to do anything to help. Our hands are tied.

Personally, I would not want to be a burden to my family, (that's not to say I feel anyone in that position is a burden, it would be how I'd feel), I am a wuss over the slightest bit of pain, and the idea of my children or an unknown nurse having to help me care for "personal things" like washing, dressing or going to the loo fills me with horror. The very idea of suffering from an illness, such as that suffered by Terry Pratchett, well, I couldn't stomach the end result of losing my mind and mobility. To fear that my chosen helper would face criminal charges, for acting out my wishes, and with the best intentions at heart, well, it makes the decision that much harder to make.

I am not in any way saying that anyone who happens to find out they are terminally ill should be handed a syringe full of drugs to end it all, far from it. However, we should reserve the right to make that choice and, if we cannot do it ourselves for what ever reason, a named and agreeing party should be allowed to help us, in a clinic or similar. I'm thinking our own version of Dignitas here.

I can't help feeling that the only way assisted suicide will be legalised is if someone within parliament realises it will save the NHS lots of money and mean more bed space on certain wards.

Perhaps its a simple case of altering the Donor card scheme to include a yes box for being in agreement to not suffering a slow, agonising death but choosing when to go?

It will never be easy for many to stomach, but things do need to change.

2012- Out With the Negative, In With the Positive

2012-01-03T10:20:00.000Z

Come on people, humour me here. Let's all take a collective deep breath and let it all out. Doesn't that feel better?

Now, don't be alarmed- I've not become some spiritual mumbo jumbo spouting annoying type over the holiday season. I shall not be driving you mad with hocus pocus drivel. Promise.

What I am saying is that it's a new year, its a big one, what with the Queen being in her billionth year and some sports people running about London in the summer. It's bound to create the opportunity for laughs a plenty as something inevitably goes wrong, led by Boris Johnson. I personally would love "God Save the Queen" by the Sex Pistols be released again, to really annoy all the Royal lovers.

Personally, this is a big year for me too. I'm turning 30 in February, and I kind of feel the excuse of being in my twenties has worn a bit thin now. Its time to pull my socks up. Its time to stop sweating the small stuff. Its time to, dare I say it, let the positivity in.

2011 was bit of a mixed bag. Yes, I was nominated for a MAD award. Yes, the blog grew (a tiny bit. Hardly noticeable). However, I found myself caring less and less about the whole social media thing which I have pitched myself at for a number of years.

I think seeing the last two Tots lists- the Twitter and overall top blogs one really made me think- why am I doing this for? I don't seem to be getting further, just going backwards if anything. I don't feel the same way about it as I used to.

So, what is the point?

Life should make you happy. Sure, there are things we cannot control, sucks but there are always going to be tough times. I think the bigger picture for me occurred when I was all miserable about blogging and my seeming lack of actual success at it. Then the TV offered up a massive bitch slap in the form of a Highlights of Comic Relief show. Then I felt like a right cow for actually feeling like it was that important.

Anyway, there are changes coming.

For starters, the name is changing very soon (once I'm happy with tweaking it and the logo). I'm not going to be twenty something for much longer, and I feel there is too much negativity caught up in the name of this blog, its kind of become a millstone round my neck and an alter-ego I can do without.

Positivity is the word. No more scraps. No more caring just a tiny bit too much. I'm so over that stuff. Let some other bugger care too much for a change!

Let the good times roll and other similar popular phrases!

Here's one last tip from me. If you are feeling a bit like I am, like everything is just a little bit dragging you down, go out and buy a book I've been reading called "Is It Just Me Or Is Everything Shit?" I swear, this book says what I think, its almost like I wrote the thing. I happened across it just after Christmas in a second hand shop, and you can buy the whole series from EBay for a few pounds. Its as if someone listened to Blurs "Modern Life is Rubbish" album and turned it into a book.

Certainly makes for inspired reading and lots of belly laughs.

In summary let's all get a bit more positive. You know it makes sense!

Dear So and So- The Late Late Edition

2011-12-18T11:52:00.002Z

Yeah so me being rubbish at keeping up with posts and such, here's my late edition of Dear So and So. So expect my Silent Sunday to be posted a week on Tuesday.

Dear Mini

Mummy was very proud of you at your carol concert. You behaved yourself (a wondrous event in itself these days, you have become rather the lippy early pre-teen of late), sang beautifully and got all the moves down to a tee. I very nearly blubbed.

Please can you now quit with the repetitive singing sessions love. Whilst I love hearing you sing, shouting the shouty bits of certain songs at 8am will not be welcomed.

Love Mummy x

Dear Littlest

Yes, I agree- it sucks that you're ill again. It wasn't good timing, and I know you missed out on all the last week frolics at Nursery. However, Mummy hopes that keeping you indoors out of the bad weather will mean come Christmas Day, you wont be so ill that you can't open your presents.
See, son, there is method to your Mother's madness.

Love Mummy x

Dear Virgin Media

Well, another day another rubbish customer service received. When Elder missed Mini's first ever carol concert waiting in for you, that was bad enough. Not being able to fit our phoneline (sorted out or so we thought so when we need to make important Littlest related calls to doctors we wont have to worry about credit on mobiles) on the day was bad. To then go completely silent on when this phoneline (which no doubt we are still being charged for) is inexcusable. Your Twitter and Facebook people are useless, and I am damned if I am going to ring a premium rate number when other customers have a free number when their phone is set up.

Yours about to tell you to stick your service up your TiVo and naff off to Sky

Dear Elder

I didn't buy you a record last year. I bought you Joop!

So there
Love me

Dear Christmas

So bored (and not to mention poor) now.

Please hurry up and get here, I have my meal planned, and the recipes sorted and cannot wait to cook it all.
Lazy Girl will have some new recipes soon.

Thanks!

Dear Readers

Happy Christmas people- and thanks again for sticking with me for another year. Much appreciated guys.

Have a large gin and tonic for me x

Cheers!

Image: digitalart / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Oi- Cosmicgirlie- I Wants Me a Calendar!

2011-12-09T12:38:00.001Z

Way back when it was warm enough to wear flip flops, I went on the train to Cybermummy and ~~was shouted at by a drill Sargent dressed as Mochabeanie Mummy~~ had my picture taken by sauce pot and purveyor of all things bacon and photography related, Cosmic Girlie Jay of Mochabeanie Mummy for her "Blogger Calendar."

It was a ~~harrowing experience I still suffer nightmares about to this day~~ right old laugh and now, if we who starred in it (and you who didn't) want a copy, we have to bid via Post. The lovely Tara at Sticky Fingers ~~(who Jay also probably scared the Grandmother out of)~~ has got her PR cap firmly on and has asked the lovely people at Snapfish to print the calendar for us all, but in limited numbers, so here's my reason for getting a nearly free copy! Hooray!

Firstly, we have to have a picture of our inspiration and reason for blogging, so here's mine:

Simply, its shows the friendships, and not to mention silliness, that blogging can bring. When I feel a bit phfft about it all, I look at the pics I have from blogging events and carry on.

Next we have to give a brief Blogging CV. I usually lie on CVs but I'm pleased to say I didn't have to:

Name:
Claire "20somethingmum" Curran

From:
Chatham, Kent. But shhhh don't tell anyone.

Age
29 forever for the purposes of not losing my hard worked for Klout brand thingy wotsit.

About me:
Known to be fond of the odd rant, but a good team player, not great at maths (as some like to point out), but always happy to share the odd freebie, glass of wine, and hug when needed. Started blogging through boredom in 2006, pre-bratlings, now continues to stop her brain rotting away with inappropriate or kid friendly songs, to chat with similar minded, slightly geeky fellow owners of warped senses of humour who hide out on the underworld that is Online.

Skills:
Some say her inability to shut it. Oh hang on skills, not weaknesses. Erm, I'm good at music and other pointless knowledge. I know how to use spell checker. And I also know Nickie Typecast can do HTML which I can then pretend I did.

Achievements:
Damn, if you'd have asked last year I'd have said the bloody Gurgle Award ~~which meant sod all really but looked good on my business cards~~ I was a Finalist in the MADS. But I lost. Sob. But I'm over that now.
Managed to nick lots of wine whilst wearing crippling shoes at Cybermummy.

So, there we have it.

Hope that counts Jay?

Massive Mummy Fail, or Why I Shouldn't Teach Mini Alternative Carols

2011-12-09T12:09:00.001Z

Opps.

You know one of those moments when you can't help but slap the palm of your hand against your forehead, Homer Simpson style? Its usually that you've completely forgotten something important. Or you've gone out without brushing your hair and look like you've just been dragged through a hedge. Or possibly (as in my house) one of the Bratling's has overheard a ranty swear word you hadn't meant to say quite so loud.

Well, I'm having a Doh moment.

There is something about Christmas carols, any and all of them in fact, that makes me forget I am a close to 30 year old and regress to my 7 year old self.

I think its the fact that, as a child, no song was sacred at my school- we had to make up a witty alternative which made us laugh lots as we sang it (our Music teacher, we thought, was deaf. It was only years afterwards whilst at a wedding on bumping into her as a guest that she told my sister and I that she had always known what we were up to- sorry Mrs Richardson), or one of the class had an older brother or sister who told them a version they knew.

I have never quite been able to get any of them from my head- I once had to stop myself singing "Cucumber" at a church event I went to when a friend's child was being given a certificate and I went with her to watch. I couldn't help it, I was nearly dying with the effort of not laughing by the end. She was not impressed and never asked me again.

Next week, Mini is going to be singing, along with the whole of FS2 for the parents. They are considered too new to join in the nativity, so they let them do some carols for the parent's so they don't feel left out.

Suffice to say, our house has been alive with the sound of music (or Mini's imitable version of), as she practices, over and over again, the songs they are singing. It is like living in a Christmas store, such is the "on a loop" nature of the singing.

The problem started when I was brushing her hair after a bath- she was singing Jingle Bells. I absent mindedly started singing along. My "childhood" version. About how Batman smells, and Father Christmas lost his knickers on the M1 motorway. Not the "Traditional" version.

As I said, oops.

Of course, she wanted to hear what other silly songs Mummy knows. So I told her.

These included versions of "We Three Kings" (of Leamington Spa in my version). Which includes Santa catching his pants alight. Or While Shepherds Wash Their Socks by Night. Not quite the versions her teacher has taught her for next week.

I thought, wrongly, that after only telling her once, she'd forget.

Oops again.

As I left her in the class this morning, I saw her run up to her bestie mate K, and tell her about her songs. The Jingle Bells one. Not the original.

Bugger.

I really will have to teach her the proper ones again now, or I may get quite told off on Wednesday. Either that or all the other parent's will have been in classes as a kid like me and join in.

Never going to happen.

Dear Anon Poster. This is Just For You

2011-11-30T11:25:00.005Z

To all my regular readers, the following post, which you are welcome to read, is not about you. Its specifically for the person or group of people who have, for quite some time now, been trying to make my life just that little bit harder by bullying me, playground style, via the web. Now, this sad, lonely person or group thinks its hilarious (I imagine) to use many different ways to harass and abuse me (and I'd imagine others) including using search engines to leave nasty comments about me, knowing I will find them, or by using Twitter and other message boards to impersonate me. Or by just leaving narky comments on my blog. However, this person or group is so brave in what they are doing, they don't put their name to it. They hide behind "Anonymous". Brave, really brave.

Here's an open invite to them:

Dear Sad Act Troll(s)

See this:

Its a screen shot, taken directly from my stat counter. It tells me where you were at 11.20 last night. In a hotel, The Atlantic Hotel in Essex to be exact.

This was easy to find. You see, you may think I'm thick, not good at spelling or maths or grammar (granted, the maths one- I often take the mickey out of myself over my appalling lack of maths skills, but then, I'm number blind so it can't be helped. For future reference you may wish to comment on my Geography skills being lacking, despite my good GCSE grade in the subject. Just a heads up for next time you are so kindly pointing out my faults and failures), but when someone leaves a comment on my blog, the time is recorded.

On the 21st of November you somehow come up with 3 weeks to Christmas. Your "blog" is boring (apart from the interesting spelling and abuse of grammar) but your maths provide some entertainment.

By Anonymous on Christmas is Coming... Look Busy on 29/11/11

Its then just a hop, skip and jump over to my stat counter to see where the comment i-frame is recorded, then its simply a case of drilling down to the IP address and location of the person who commented. And, as you can see, how they came to find my blog (you know, you don't actually have to put "That idiot 20somethingmum" into Google, I see you can find me via searching for Chavette, young mums and even, Lord help us, "Dr Dawn Harper's breasts").

So, a hotel. Why you were sitting in your hotel room at 11.20 at night, and thought of me, I can only guess. Perhaps the naughty night away with the hubby wasn't all it was meant to be? Maybe you were alone, and bored, and having no life, thought "oh what fun, I'll be abusive to and about Claire again, what jolly good times". Maybe you are mentally ill? I can only guess why someone, who clearly finds my blog boring, and thinks of me as an idiot or worse would spend that time wasting 7 minutes on my blog? By the way, you read about my son too- you can see I genuinely don't need someone being a nasty piece of work, but at least you had the sense not to be abusive about that post.

Did you sit there laughing? What sort of person thinks "well, I know she'll find it, she may even cry!" (for the record, nope, didn't cry, just thought "yawn, here we go again") and carries on, month after month being as nasty as possible?

I'm going to stop speculating on the why's and wherefores of your mentally ill self. What I am going to do is invite you to email me to let me know exactly what it is that I've done which has led you to behave like a child. I've also contacted the hotel- so if you happen to be on a jolly with a PR firm footing the bill, I'm assuming that this will be your last one.

Can I point you in the direction of the guy who also thought he was funny writing nasty things on sites- he was the first no-mark to be found guilty of trolling and sent to prison. If you continue, you'll be joining him.

Bullying of any kind has to be stopped, it also has to be held up.

As for being anonymous, my advice to you is this- grow a pair and put your name to it.

Another piece of advice: hate me and my blog so much, then toddle off elsewhere. I'd rather you didn't bother coming over, I don't need the stats.

My email address is familypanel@yahoo.co.uk

Christmas is Coming... Look Busy

2011-11-21T16:49:00.003Z

Bloody hell.

Sorry to begin in a less than customary fashion, but there I was, idly sitting in watching X Factor, with not a glass of vino nor a crisp in sight (Grrr Elder. Best not to ask), when Dermot O'lushbuttocks (sorry that's my own personal name for him there) declared that there are a mere 3 weeks left of the competition.

Three weeks of X Factor can only mean one thing.

Christmas.

In just over 3 weeks time.

Eek!

To be fair, being ~~thick at maths~~ number blind I hadn't realised it was so near. Yes, I knew we were into November, but the ratio of shopping days in relation to reaching Christmas morning itself had pretty much evaded my brain.

Which makes for one thing: Panic.

Now, I don't mind Christmas. I am one of those people who liked it prior to the kids as it meant a whole two days excuse to get ~~drunk~~ all our friends round the table and eat stupid amounts of food until you couldn't move from the sofa except to use the loo. Kids make it an entirely different affair though.

For a start, if its just you and your mates, there's no need to buy the equivalent of a small toy shop, knowing full well that by January most of these toys will be dumped in the toy box, replaced by their usual fave teddy or dolly. Usually these are the moth eaten, half missing stuffing toys with dodgy over played with hair that you bought in a moment of trying to quell a headache inducing strop in your nearest cheap shop. To see these become permanent fixture over something which cost the equivalent of the national debt of a Third World country is not a great experience.

You have to make sure all the food is proper food- its not like the days when you could feed your mates onion rings and what was left of an Iceland Chicken platter by day 3 of Christmas Season. No, you need to buy all the nice party fayre, plus your usual weekly Asda shop on top.

And woe betide if you run out of milk or bread. Try finding a shop open on Boxing Day. Not an easy thing to manage. Unless Next (practically the only shop open in Maidenhead on Boxing day) has started a grocery concession, you're pretty stuck.

Then there is the tree. Which I will spend hours lovingly dressing with the twenty boxes of dangly things I buy every year, enough tinsel to scare Julian Clary and finally, ending in a flourish with lights so strong, Blackpool rings to ask for them back.

Only to find that, two hours after the grand unveiling,aforementioned tree has been pulled, poked and knocked over by two over zealous, bored kids until only the top half remains covered in half sagging finery.

Then there is the "who gets to have a few glasses of wine on the day itself" debate. Which, in our house I always lose. Even when the kids have finally gone to bed, at least 4 hours after their usual bedtime, you know full well that any possibility of having a drink is non existent as the kids will be over tired and over excited and will not go off to the land of nod until at least 1am.

Christmas needs lists, planning and re-planning. Of which I have none of.

I think it shall be Christmas in a hurry this year.

*20somethingmum would like to point out that a) she is not a lush and b) she really loves spending Christmas with her children. Honest.

Image: Stuart Miles / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

World Prematurity Awareness Day: Life on SCBU...And Beyond

2011-11-17T10:06:00.002Z

If you've been reading my blog for a few years now, you'll know that Littlest was born at 28 weeks.

That's pretty early- its only babies born after 22 weeks who Doctors will actually try and help. Which is shocking, as there have been a few now who have been born at that gestation and have survived, and in my opinion it should be up to the parent, but that's another post for another time so I wont get into that.

Today, its Worldwide Prematurity Awareness Day, and I felt compelled to write about life with a Preemie and beyond.

Nothing prepares you for the moment you're told that there is no way you'll reach full term in a pregnancy. When a Doctor you've know for five minutes pops in, and does that signing, sympathetic talk, sat on the edge of your hospital bed, tells you that they will aim for 35 weeks.

My water part broke on a Sunday night, and all that night I lay in bed, more scared than I have ever felt before. It was a bank holiday Monday the next day, so my sister in law drove me over to the hospital, and they confirmed that I was not going anywhere.

All in all, with time going back and forth to see Littlest, I was forced to visit my dreaded hospital (I hate them. Really, the smell, the hurry, the hush, I really hate them. They're hardly the most jolly of places after all) for over 4 months.

An Incubator costs £25,000 new, and nearly as much to fix. It was a dark, hot place, full of electronic noise, hushed conversations, and occasionally the noise of a baby crying quietly. Its a strange place, everyone should be happy as there are lots of newborns everywhere, but apart from the "Same boat" smiles, its a subdued environment.

We rarely took our hyperactive toddler Mini with us to SCBU. The family room was tiny, with a small kitchenette , and a barely working TV DVD player shoved in a corner. There were a few broken toys, but not much else, and six chairs, the school kind so not designed for comfort, 3 each side of the room. Not the right place to introduce a baffled child to her brother.

In another, even smaller room, was what became known as the Boobie Room- strictly off limits to any Dads on the ward, it contained 3 electronic breast pumps. Although at first SCBU babies are fed through tubes, as they are too small to know how to suck, if you can feed them breast milk its the best thing for them. In cruel irony, most can't express as the body hasn't kicked in to lactate yet. Second step on the road to feeling like a gigantic failure. Again, these machines cost thousands, and at our SCBU there was generally only 1 working. Have you ever sat next to a woman, with your boob being violently sucked by a machine, as hers is treated to the same, and tried to think of a normal conversation to hold while this goes on? The weather was a good choice.

To my mind, prematurity should be taught in school. We're taught how a baby is conceived, how it grows, how it is born if full term. My only knowledge of prematurity was what I'd seen on TV. The stark reality is far removed from what is shown on TV.

When Littlest was born, at around the same time, Eastenders carried a prematurity story, as Roxy Mitchell had her daughter at 28 weeks too. Whilst Littlest stayed in SCBU for 4 months, and remains with varying degrees of health issues to this day, Roxy's child stayed in the imagined SCBU for a mere two weeks, and in a storyline so far from truth it made me laugh and cry in equal measures, left the hospital a healthy looking child with no problems whatsoever. There was no neurotic Mum wrapping her up warmer than any child needs to be, then worrying so much that they stay home instead. No oxygen at night, no drugs, no daily Nurse visits. I recall one young Mum asking one of the SCBU nurses why her child was still in hospital but Roxy off the tellies wasn't ill at all. To my mind, if a TV show wishes to carry a storyline, it should be told properly, else wise it gives false hope.

Christmas came and Littlest came home. It was a lovely day, leaving, and jokes were made that whilst we like you all we really hope we don't see you again soon. Even on leaving, there is always the fear that something could happen and you end up back on the ward.

Bringing home a preemie is joyous. But it's also full of fear, worry and anxiety of what may happen, what could go wrong.

It was cold when we brought Littlest home, and snowed us in for many weeks over that winter. I recall heating being on, sitting in a t-shirt as I was so warm, but still thinking that maybe I needed to check Littlest's temperature just once more. Perhaps we should stay home instead of all going out as a family. I began to lose my mind, with worry and upset and depression kicked in. I would go to bed, but I would lay there watching Littlest sleep, sure that if I fell asleep, then he would get ill.

Prematurity is something which changes a whole family- Littlest still suffers illness, and has been in and out of ambulances during the last few months. It terrifies me as a Mum that I send him to playschool, but I have to let him go. I have to let him enjoy himself and behave like a normal child. Whereas Mini gets a cold and I reach for the calpol and a hug, with Littlest it drives me into panic mode.

Its now thought Littlest has an illness similar to Cystic Fibrosis, he has a patch which doesn't work properly and remove germs from the lungs in the normal way. There is no cure, its just how its managed.

To look at, most of the time Littlest is a cheeky, funny 3 year old, obsessed by cars. He is quite clever, and smiley, and not at all as miserable as he could have been in his circumstances. When he is ill, he can barely move his head off the floor. He gets hot and tired out easily. He cannot walk to school, or to town or he gets out of breath. He is on and off steroids. Its an on going part of his life, of his day to day.

Prematurity is scary, sad, a nightmare. It is filled with funny moments of friendship where you try and find something to joke about in SCBU (we used to treat the babies in our ward as Big Brother housemates- one of the Dads was great at the voice over!).

Its something we need to be aware of.

You can donate to BLISS the premature Baby Charity, by clicking the button above

Its So Funny How We Don't Talk Anymore

2011-11-16T18:02:00.001Z

*This post came about after a conversation at Twitter with my fellow blogging babes @Cosmicgirlie, @BarenakedMummy and @CrystalJigsaw.

Twitter.

I used to love Twitter.

It was the one place where you could jump into a conversation, have a lively debate, make inappropriate (and widely retweeted) jokes regarding Cheryl Cole, and generally have a chat. It was, to me, the social media equivalent of a coffee and cake chat with my mates, all from the relative comfort of my own computer chair.

No matter what time of day or night- literally as I was online at midnight new years eve both this and the year before (#PyjamaPartyTweets, anyone?) there was bound to be someone online to have a natter with.

Not so now.

Perhaps its because Twitter has become an Internet version of whispering into a crowded, noisy room. Perhaps there is too much passive aggression being played out. I know I've tapped out more than my share of gritted teeth tweets. Or maybe there are just too many people there for self promotion.

Take the blog link tweet. To my mind, tweeting a link to your newest post every ten minutes is just that side of obsessive that makes me want to unfollow you. There is no definitive etiquette on this, but surely tweeting a link 4 times in the space of 24 hours is sufficient?

Another is the needy, some may say greedy #PRRequest. Used in the right sense these can be great, but the kind where you basically ask a PR to buy your whole Christmas or seriously say "I've not had a holiday this year, wanna buy me one?" are simply not on and will not help win you friends in PR, brands or bloggers.

It doesn't help that Twitter has the 140 character limit, and sometimes, that's just not enough to get a point across. I think if its worth saying, its worth saying properly, so I use Facebook instead. Or don't bother at all.

I'm no fan of needy Klout related tweets. Please give me klout/follow my blog/retweet this link will make me do the exact opposite. The only time I will ask for a retweet or anything, it'll be charity related.

Conversation wise, it's something I miss, and with coming up for 2,600 followers you'd think I'd be overwhelmed with chatter. Not the case- I do think that perhaps a large majority of non PR or brands who follow me do so these days purely because Twitter has suggested me.

That's the issue with Twitter- the new Twitter tells you who everyone else has followed, what people who are like you it feels you should have on your mates list, etc etc. In the olden days, the only suggestions you got were from Follow Friday, and when others suggested people, they generally came from a wide network, not just one community.

What can be done? I wish I knew, but I miss our chats, people. I'd also prefer people to follow me after reading my blog and knowing who I am and what I'm about- not just because I'm a "face" in Parent Blogging, or because Twitter has told them to.

So, please, bring back the art of conversation, step away from the blog links, the PR requests and the rest, and lets have a chat. Brew a cuppa, grab a big bar of chocolate and settle down.

What do you think?

My Bloggers Charter

2011-11-14T13:00:00.000Z

* I am joining in with Michelle from Mummy From the Heart, therefore if you wish to moan go moan at her*

Blogging, who'd do it?

Well, me for one, as funnily enough despite the crazy ass foolery it often causes, I do actually love being a blogger.

For all the mentalists doing it, there are some great people who take the whole thing with a large pinch of salt and an even bigger dollop of fun. Which is why I begged Michelle to let me join in with her Bloggers Charter.

Now, please be aware that I in no way feel anyone should actually take a blind bit of notice of me- I'm not God (or whoever your preferred dude upstairs is), so please, take them in jest.

1 THOU SHALT HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR

Well, at least when you read my blog or twitter. D'you know, for all the people who follow me for taking the pee out of X Factor, every week I have someone unfollow in a flouncey "you should be ashamed/ disgusted/hung from the highest tree for not getting that I am joking. Of course I do not think that Justin Bieber should be locked up for crimes against humanity. Nor do I think that Craig Colton's idea of rock or indeed roll is a tube of Pringles and a Family sized Tobelerone. I am joking, and for the most part, I hope you get that from me. Life is too short to take everything seriously.

2 THOU SHALT GROW A PAIR

Oh seriously guys. In blogging, as in life, people may not like you. Hell I could name quite of few fellow blogger's who really hate my guts. Do I care? No! I have seen far too much side taking nonsense, and its got to bloody stop! And another thing- if someone acts an arse, then say so yourself. Or move on and chalk it up to experience or madness. Or a full moon. And go eat some chocolate.

3 THOU SHALT REMEMBER WE'RE NOT AT SCHOOL ANYMORE

Now, I know some bloggers are young, but correct me if I'm wrong, we're not so young as to still be at school. I really get bored of the whole old versus new debates. So what if you have been blogging since the dawn of time, and equally so what if you are new? I know of blogs which are years old and they really are boring, with dreadful spelling and are written in a way my Mum would find enjoyable. I've also seen some cracking new blogs which I can't wait to see develop into something more. Age (of blog) is but a number. Join in, chat, comment, don't. It doesn't matter. It all starts somewhere. If we come across as cliquey, then apologies, but we've had time to get to know each other, and give it a while, you'll get the same moans and grumbles off the next stable of newbies.

4 THOU SHALT NOT BLOG DURING PMT OUTBREAKS

Sorry if that's sexist, but I think I can pinpoint when some bloggers have PMT. They get the arse over everything. I am personally not going to write here when I have PMT. It makes us unable to process jokes, silliness and other stuff that when not visited by the monthly madness, we'd not even notice.

5 THOU SHALT NOT LISTEN TO PEOPLE TELLING YOU WHAT TO BLOG ABOUT

This is my biggest blog related bug-bear. There are times when I have no idea what to write here. I just leave it for a few days, then come back when I have something interesting to say. I don't quite get those people who have to be told, or in fact listen to those who tell them, what is and isn't acceptable on their blog. Its your blog. If you want to tell us things to make the day go quicker and how to have fun with your kids, do it. If you wish to tell us about decorating sex toys, do it. If you love shoes, then blog it. If you can't work out what you want to write, don't blog, find another hobby. You may even find that a joke about being a rubbish cook will lead to a blog- I did, hence Lazy Girl Cooks came about. I would never tell people what they should or shouldn't say. It's just plain stupid.

6 THOU SHALT NOT NICK OTHER'S BLOG NAMES FOR EVIL DOING

Yeah, that happened to me this year. For about five minutes I felt like Britney Spears with my own copycat. Then I felt peeved off as they weren't being very nice to people when they did it. Then I felt quite sad for the person that bored as to do it. Likewise, if you are launching a blog, it's always a good idea to check no one else has already used the name you are thinking of using. Chances are the person already known with your name will not be happy about it. Google helps!

7 THOU SHALT NOT PASS JUDGEMENT ON OTHERS. EVER

If someone reviews, writes about their sex life on another blog or finds lice in their kids hair of quite an old age, do not feel its your right to rip into them via their blog or twitter. Its about support, nothing more, nothing less. The great thing is, as a community, we are really good together in times when an outside force is being a bit mean about us as a group. Its about personal choice, and if you aren't a fan of something, no one forces you to read. Simple.

8 THOU SHALT NOT WORRY ABOUT COMMENTS

Why do I keep seeing people banging on about "delurking?" What on earth is a lurker? It sounds like someone who stands by girl's schools in a mac and nothing else. If someone pops on over via a link, that's great! If they comment, that's nice of them. What's not great is feeling that if I haven't commented, I am something called a lurker. And seen as what I feel a lurker sounds like, I'm not going to pop over to your blog if I feel forced to comment. I'm just pleased when someone comes and reads.

9 THOU SHALT NOT MOAN ABOUT TWIBBONS OR MY LACK OF THEM

If there's one thing which really annoys me its being forced to sign up for a charidee drive just because someone higher up the food chain says we all should. I much prefer to make my own mind up over who or what I support. I'm not a twibbon fan, purely because I hate the way they ruin the rest of my avatar and I can't take the blooming things off again. I hate when, at times, I haven't plonked one of these on my Twitter, so people assume I'm not supporting it, yet, without asking they unfollow me for not being a part of the Twibbon club. Ridiculous. Not everyone can afford to join in with huge charity drives.

10 THOU SHALT NEVER, EVER TWEET/BLOG OR OTHERWISE WHILST DRUNK

Trust me, never a good idea.

And lastly...

11 THOU SHALT ENJOY ONESELF WHILST BLOGGING

Klout, Technogrotti, the whole thing- who cares? Personally I think I may start a Klout list for "Not actually giving a feck about Klout" (feel free to ask to be added!). Like anything in life, if you don't enjoy it, don't do it! If its something that makes you lose sleep, then you need to re-assess why you give a frick enough to bother. With stats and any list which comes off the back of them, I take a look, and say Oh I'm number..... this month. That's nice". Then I go laugh as people run around on Twitter getting hysterical over it. Especially the Tots 100 as I can personally tell the moment when The Overlord has reached the point of drinking neat alcohol and biting her tongue. Its hilarious (to me anyway). Stats are stats. We have them to give us an idea of how many people were bored enough on Twitter to click your link. There are no prizes.

What would be in your charter? Pop your link below.

* And in the interest of fairness, another on the list would be Thou Shalt Never EVER take anything I say as serious or act upon it".

Charity Tuesday: How We Can All Give Back This Christmas

2011-11-08T10:37:00.003Z

Let's draw a line under the whole blag/blog/PR stuff, except to say, if you blog, review or not, then its great. Lets all stick together, we blogger's rock, 99.9% of Pr's and brands rock too, lets hope Sorted have learned from this error in judgement.

Moving on!

Charity Tuesday is something I see mentioned on Twitter quite often. Its just where people, not necessarily charities themselves but supporters of, will tweet a link to the charity they support. I try and re-tweet as many as I can, as its just a minute out of my day and most charities are run by busy volunteers who give their time to help out.

It got me thinking.

Recently, I've been moaning that the kids have too many toys, which they've pulled out of boxes and played with for a few hours before getting bored. There's nothing wrong with the toys, but its such a waste.

One thing I learned from my time sitting with Littlest in SCBU, hospitals are boring places for kids. The hospitals budgets are slashed, budget by budget, so something as trivial as toys and books are the least of their concerns.

When Littlest was leaving, we had lots of prem baby clothes he'd thankfully grown out of. We asked if they were any use to the hospital, and they were, in fact, Cindy who ran the ward was over joyed at us offering.

What has this to do with Charity Tuesday and Christmas, I hear you ask?

I can't be the only Mum who is thinking, prior to Christmas, that if we don't sort out some toys, books, DVDs and games, we'll have to move out.

What I'd love to suggest is this. Before you bag it up for the tip, for EBay, or for second hand shops, perhaps give your local hospital a call, and find out if they can use it.

In SCBU one thing that was lacking, as there was one between 30 babies was mobiles. You know the cot things with sheep or similar dangling. When Littlest got out of his Incubator, he was in a cot, and to help him to lie straight, and to entertain him, he'd have a mobile attached to the cot for an hour a day. However, the Nurses told me they'd like all the cot dwellers to have one, as it soothes the baby.

Family rooms can be a sad uninviting place, but the inclusion of pictures, books and other bits can brighten up a child's day. It saves the hospitals money, and even better you can feel safe in the knowledge that its the best form of up-cycling you can get.

Let me know if you join in! Would love to see some blogs about this so feel free to blog it if you do.

I'm calling it #BloggersGivingBack, and would love as much support as possible. No money needs to be given, just time and a few old toys.

Reviews: The Root of all Writing Evil?

2011-11-05T12:31:00.001Z

OK, now I'm going to speak my mind here.

I review.

Not here- although if I'm paid I put my hand up I will post a sponsored piece here, but you'll know it's sponsored as I will tell you on the piece itself and I will warn you at Twitter and Facebook that you may not want to grace the page as the following piece I sold my writing soul for and was paid to write.

I'm paid not very much for these pieces. The money generally goes towards the bills in the house. The last time I did one was for Disney and the little bit I was paid, paid for Mini's school uniform.

I've reviewed stuff, big, small, cheap or otherwise, for about two years now. I remember the first time I was offered something- which I didn't get.

It was a very nice Buggy. I was chuffed as mine was third hand, but all our cash at that time went into moving from Gillingham to Maidenhead. I waited for a number of weeks, kept my side of things by tweeting about the company (and they were very well known).

Did I get the said buggy. No, I didn't. I know others did. I was disappointed for sure, but I chalked it up to experience and moved on.

Back then, and it was way back, I was relatively new to the Mum stable of blogging. Things were different. I wasn't asked by aforementioned big name company for my stats (I wouldn't have known how to find them out. I was just chuffed with a comment). I had about 10 followers. I was amazed by that, and still love seeing a new face has decided to follow even now.

The next thing I was offered was by a fellow blogger who is also a PR. A bag of pasta shapes for kids. The excitement at being sent them was brilliant. I wrote about them honestly, just as I still do now, and was chuffed to have been asked.

I joined up for Great Toy Guide. Then I left and joined Mummy Reviews.

That was in December 2009. At that point, Brands and PR firms were falling over themselves to work with us green, easily pleased Mums. I'm not silly- I went into it knowing that we were free advertising. Yes, you get a product, most of the time we get to keep them, although that's not guaranteed. The only thing I've always said I couldn't give back is toys as it would be too upsetting for the Bratlings to have a toy then give it back.

What you must remember though is these products don't cost to produce what we pay in the supermarket or online. They cost a fraction of that. I worked in enough shops and saw enough lists of products with cost price to the shop and the recommended retail price passed onto the consumer.

Magazines will review products all the time. The difference is, the people who write about them are paid minimum wage plus for doing so. We're not.

January 2010 I started Family Panel. I honestly wanted to have a separate space for reviews from here at the blog as the first backlash over reviews had begun as the network grew. I thought I may be offered the odd item every few months at best. I signed up, after a tip from a blogger, to Response Source. I never thought I'd be approved being that I wasn't a serious media type.

The month before Family Panel went live, my inbox nearly exploded. I never accepted every pitch- if something didn't suit me, I'd offer it out to whoever wanted it on Twitter- I still do that now. I'm not going to be the greedy cow who gets offered a do in Manchester and cannot get there so just declines. What would be the point? There are always bloggers looking to make links with brands and PRs, as it's an ever growing pool and increasingly hard when another thousand mums have the same USP as you. I know of a fair few bloggers who review now who made links through me, which I've never charged for, not the Blogger, the PR or the brand, yet I know of a few high profile people who earn money by charging brands and PRs to link up with their list of bloggers. Some own up and are transparent, others keep it quiet. That's up to them, of course and I'm not knocking that.

More recently, quite a few Blogs have very obviously started up just to blag. I don't consider myself a blagger as I write very honestly about anything we review. I also very rarely go to Response Source now, as I know I'm on the books of many brands and PRs as someone who will help them out if I can, and pass it on to someone more suitable if I can't.

My advice is always the same. Get established first. Get your numbers up, make yourself stand out (very hard but still possible).

There have also been a few sites cropping up from bloggers in the "game" since I began. One has more or less nicked the name of my site. Do I complain- no. Its healthy competition. I love a reason to drive my site to make it the best.

It speaks for itself that, when I took a month off due to Littlest being ill, people stood by me. We've relaunched, quietly, this week.

In this blogging lark, whether you review or not, there will be those who love your blog, those who hate it, and those who really couldn't give a frick either way. No one makes you read something. Its down to personal choice.

My response to Sorted PRs little "stunt" at Response Source? Well, for one I really hope they never email to engage me with one of their list (I looked, its not really aimed at Blogging Mums anyway). To me, it was a cynical publicity stunt for a small company. They don't care that they've been downright rude and offensive to women who constantly have to guard and talk against people like Sorted PR who don't see us all for what we are.

We are great, frankly. It wont be the first time, it wont be the last.

It is getting boring, but oh well.

It'll be last weeks news soon enough.

And, just for the record, I've never had a holiday offered to me, I applied for Butlins and didn't get it. Their loss.

Dear So and So- The Tearing Hair Out Edition

2011-10-28T15:55:00.000+01:00

Its Friday, it's very nearly the least scariest holiday of them all, Halloween, and its also reaching the end of Half Term, so here's a few well timed Dear So and So letters for you all to enjoy.

Dear Half Term

Gah, so over it now, please send both the Bratling's back on Monday, or I'm seriously considering moving into the shed.

Yours, Stressed Mummy

Dear Housing Department

Your stupid lies of three year waiting lists and 1 room temporary accommodation does not scare me. I have had my fill of ten years of private renting, it does not work, I cannot afford it, and I will not pay another feckless, useless, money grabber to live in a hovel. I have seen better appointed dog kennels frankly. How about you just find a little flat, maisonette or, preferably a house for me, Elder and the Bratlings to move into? As for telling em to go via Letting agents- yeah, when you pay £3000 of fees (most of which are non-refundable and reliant on you passing 3 credit and letting checks), I will surely do this. Plus, you can also pay the £1500+ to rent a place per month in Maidenhead.

Otherwise, put as much effort into helping us out as you do to making useless suggestions.

Thanks!
Prospective, poor-due-to-being-repeatedly-ripped-off Tenant.

Dear Eye-Brow Threading Lady

Ouch!
What the hell had peeved you off? I usually near on nod off during an eyebrow threading, not so today. I think you tore off my skin as well as the eyebrow hairs you were removing. You wondered why my eyes watered? Seriously. It was brutal.

Not-Going-To-Your-Chair Again

Dear St Ms Hospital

You still suck. Yes, Littlest's appointment was cancelled in JULY. So why wait until nearly NOVEMBER to try and re-arrange it? And don't ever, ever try and patronise me by referring to me as Mum. I am more than just Littlest's Mum, and your staff are pointless and rude, as well as wholly useless.

Bog off.
Ms C

Dear Ambulance Lady

Just because we have a car on the drive, it does not give you the right to tell me I should have driven Littlest to A+E instead. If you'd have asked, I don't drive, the car is SORN, and it doesn't start since Elder managed to lock the immobiliser on it.Don't ever try to insinuate that car ownership means Littlest doesn't deserve an ambulance when he can't breathe and is having a fit.

You suck too.
Littlest's Mummy

Dear Mini

Anyone for a Mini-Mani-Pedi?

Don't nick my nail polish again. I don't care how skilled you are at manicure and pedicures on yourself. I'm rubbish at doing mine and you have a steadier and than me at 4. So stop showing me up.

Ta, Love oo
Mummy

PS, please remember you and your friends are bigger than Littlest, and don't knock him over again. I do not need any more injuries.

Dear Littlest

Please be well for at least a few weeks. I don't think my body can take much more illness. Seriously. It was so nice to see you run round the park, but then 3 days after you collapsed again. I just want you to be able to enjoy yourself.

Love oo too
Mummy
PS stop saying arse.

Am I the Meanest Mother...Ever?

2011-10-16T12:31:00.000+01:00

.....Mini seems to think so.

As you'll recall from my last post, Mini and her diva like behaviour (making me nickname her Mariah and/or Cher Lloyd depending on the mood at the time) has become such a concern even her teacher, Mrs C, has remarked upon it (and its effect on her education. Not to mention her classmates hearing).

It was decided, between Elder and I that action was needed to curb this, as frankly my head cannot take any more headache inducing screeching.

The very fact that Elder, her staunchest ~~excuse-maker~~ protector, agreed that she has gone too far says it all- usually, Mini and her try it on attitude has been the source of many disagreements between us. He feels that, at her age, kids will be kids and she's still learning. My attitude is that, whilst I agree that she is indeed learning, its now that the boundaries of what is acceptable are taught. So, whilst I ban sweets, telly privelages, and later nights (these being 6.30 rather than 6 on school nights and being allowed to watch Strictly on Saturdays), Elder finds these steps wholly unfair.

However, this Saturday, Mini surpassed herself.

She was due to go to her first ever children's birthday party. The little girl in her class invited her within days of her starting at the school. A gift had been bought, and I had picked out a frock which was somewhere between parties in my 80s/90s school days (think floral and flammable materials), and something a bit more funky and up to date.

All week, operation Brat-No-More had been go, with both us parents showing a united front and behaviour meaning no sweets (Wednesday night) and no Simpsons or sweets (Thursday). Friday she was semi OK, but admitted how tired she was and off she went to bed with little fuss.

Saturday came and I felt rotten- that cold is still here, steadily making its way around my person (I have sticky eyes now. One of the Mums at school thought I was crying but it was the wind stinging my eyes making them watery).

I definitely was not in the mood for a full scale, gale force Mini moan session.

Nor was I in the mood for her pinching and kicking her brother.

By the time she screamed in my ear, and kicked me in the shin, I had had enough.

"That is IT. You are NOT going to the PARTY. Go to your room, NOW!"

Suddenly, the noise stopped. She stood in front of me, about to scream, and realised that Mummy very definitely was not joking.

The fact that then Elder then agreed with me, repeating to her to go to her room, I think it left her a little shell shocked.

"You know, we can't let her go now, or she'll think she do what she likes and we'll give in". I felt now Elder would wuss out, and let her come downstairs after 5 minutes with a grinning apology her only acknowledgement of her poor behaviour.

Instead, he agreed with me again- it was a united front.

So, Mini did not go to the party. She was sure she could go, however, as 1pm came and went and she was still in her play clothes, and by 2pm when I had hung her dress back up in the wardrobe, she sat down, and asked for a hug.

I let her have a hug, and asked her if she knew why she hadn't been allowed to go. "Yes, she said, I was very very naughty, and you were cross with me".

We had a good talk, and I told her that, should she behave like that again, she would not go to any parties, unless she behaved.

A rather subdued Mini went to bed last night, and she went straight off to sleep too. This morning, she has gotten up, had her breakfast and rather than moaning about what she wants for cereal, she dutifully ate what was given to her.

Her friend Oliver is here today with his Dad, and so far she has continued to be quiet and well behaved.

A victory.

So why do I feel appalling?

I know full well that she will go to school tomorrow and will be the only one who couldn't go (of course her friends wont know it was because she was naughty, I told the child's Mum she was ill), and so wont be able to share in the excitement that continues after a party at that age.

I know I was right- her naughtiness has just got beyond a joke, but I do feel rotten. Mean even. I am also shocked at how much I sounded like my Mother when I told her she wasn't going.

What d'you think? Mean Mummy or not?

The Dreaded Parents Evening

2011-10-13T09:09:00.000+01:00

As you'd expect when one of the children starts school, there are a lot of new things, firsts, to contend with.

There are new friends, new classes, new routines, and then there is one that I feel most parents dread- parents evening.

I know my parent's dreaded mine and my sisters (mine mostly, which is surprising as I was such a nerd that only my PE teacher had a bad word for me), and I was no different. It seems I wasn't alone, as many of the other playground Mum's at BH school said the same.

So, with trepidation I went on Tuesday to see Mini's teacher, Mrs C. Elder had wanted to come too, but we couldn't get anyone to stay in with Littlest, and rather than drag us all up to school, I elected to go.

Whilst I don't want you to have the false impression that I worry that Mini is the anti-Christ at school, just recently she has changed in the way she behaves. She's never been perfect, and can throw a strop with the best of them, but I've joked on Twitter that perhaps once children start school, all the children pool their collective wisdom on being naughty as possible and trade hints and tips. So, suddenly my daughter sneers at every possible opportunity- when told off, when she's told to eat her tea, when its bedtime. Even when I have walked into the town with her of a weekend, I wondered why I was receiving strange looks from passers by, then realised it was because my previously mostly angelic daughter was making the most appalling faces at people as they walked by.

She has also discovered the joy (only felt by naughty 4 year olds) of remarking on strangers looks or weight. Which led to my face turning red in the opticians when she saw a man who she decided to shout, top of her lungs, to, to tell him he was immensely ugly. A definite moment filed under "ground, swallow me up now".

The prospect of Parents Evening was not something I looked forward to.

Mrs C sat me down (why do they not find suitable chairs? My chair had a seat the size of a thimble, which anyone who has met me will confirm is not going to mean comfort in my non-thimble sized bottom), and presented me with a home made book with Mini's picture on the front. She then invited me to read through it.

I immediately began to think that, such were my daughter's crimes they'd opened a book on her to remember them all.

However, it turned out to be a photographic record of some of her better activities in the month since she started school, with little anontations beside each.

Feeling somewhat better, Mrs C then told me that Mini is a lovely child, that perhaps her fine motor skills need development (instant guilt as we've banned play-doh due to the last time they played with it), but that her number skills are excellent.

Then came the but.

Apparently, Mini could challenge Mariah Carey in diva strops.

Not really a surprise to me- she is the pampered Princess in our house, and does like to get her own way. Mrs C said that when she started at the school, Mini had screamed and cried so bad they thought that she had really hurt herself.

Not so- a boy had pinched the toy she happened to have been playing with. Mrs C said that, when she had run over, in fear of what had happened, Mini had pointed and stamped her feet. Opps.

Mrs C was polite, and tried to make excuses that perhaps it was frustration, or a new school so she didn't know her classmates names. Bless Mrs C is all I can say.

Now it falls to us to, as the teacher called it "ask Mini to use her words", rather than being an out and out hissy fitting nutcase.

Should be fun.

If I survive, I'll keep you updated!

Since When Did Rape Become a Source of Laughter?

2011-10-11T12:30:00.003+01:00

OK people, now I know I said I was having a break, but my old friend Amazon has been at it again.

You may remember my last campaign to Boycott Amazon in November last year, when they felt it was completely reasonable to sell an offensive how to guide to Paedophilia.

The fact that last time they used a lack of judgement over what is and isn't suitable to profit from led to millions of customers worldwide deleting their accounts, and their share price falling in the UK for the first time ever (not to mention a worldwide media debate where I was asked to appear on the BBC World Service) yet this seems to have made no difference to them.

Its now been brought to my attention that Amazon are now selling this T-shirt.

The mind boggles as to what sensible product buyer looked at the words printed on the front and thought "yep that's a hilarious slogan, lets flog that".

It seems to me, in recent weeks, that rape, one of the most violent acts that can be perpetrated against women (or men) has somehow been twisted into something that its quite OK to joke about.

Facebook, which is used by millions of all ages (some as young as 14), is still refusing to remove the page "You Know She's Playing Hard to get When You're Chasing Her Down an Alley",
despite widespread calls from Facebook users and the media to close the group. One e-petition has close to 6,000 signatures, and many more Facebook users have joined the group to voice their anger at the members of the group who laugh at sexual violence and rape victims. However, the group owner is happy that the site is causing such debate posting on Saturday:

You know shes playing hard to get when your chasing her down an alleyway
Sorry about the statuses but this admin has to write my comeback to thishttp://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/15130624
i d not support rape this group doesnt bbc are obviously made up or a bunch of bored house wifes who like to target this to fill there time such as this " Robin Knowles"
who wrote an article abut this group
thanks for supporting us uve made us get even more likes s i thank u for that but this group has not dne anything wrong according to the terms and cnditions f facebook groups s if it does get taken down it will result in court because it has done nothing wrong
Robin Knowles from 200,000 people who can take a joke please lighten up and have a nice day :)
(dk don boss)

BBC - Newsbeat - Facebook 'rape' page to stay despite charity criticism
www.bbc.co.uk
Facebook is condemned by victim support charities for not removing a page which they say trivialises and jokes about rape.

· · Share · Saturday at 06:48

and then this on Sunday:

You know shes playing hard to get when your chasing her down an alleyway
thank you to the people who are 'trying' to get this group banned. yous are just promoting this group and getting it more likes :D
· · Share · Sunday at 04:49

It becomes more baffling when the same Facebook refuses to bow to public pressure on a group promoting a criminal act, yet sees fit to ban groups supporting breastfeeding for being obscene.

As someone who is involved with the group SOS (Speak Out Support), started by a close friend who herself was the victim of a terrifying gang rape, I am absolutely appalled that, in this day and age, something so despicable has become something which its suddenly OK to mock, to see fun in.

It makes me question the sanity of people who would buy such a t-shirt, or join and comment on such a group? It also makes me question the motives of such big names as Facebook and Amazon, who have had their practices called into question by this very blog previously and saw their profits and memberships decrease as a result?

Rape is not funny, it is not something that I believe my friend will ever see a funny side to. It has affected her whole life, her families life.

So, just as before, as you were great last time, when you happen to be on Twitter or Facebook, or on your blog, lets all stand up and let it be known we do not think profit or fun should be found in promoting rape. Lets Boycott Amazon once again, and tell them with our credit cards that rape is not to be mocked.

I'll be using the hash tags #BoycottAmazonAgain and #RapesNotFunny, so feel free to join in and retweet the hell out of it- lets get it trending.

************UPDATE********************************

After writing this post, being a responsible writer I emailed both Amazon and Chargrilled, who make the t-shirt as well as others including one with the slogan "No+Rophynol (a drug used by attackers in date rape cases as it can be slipped into a drink or food with no taste or alteration to colour) =Yes".

Now, Amazon obviously remembered me from last time, and despite not coming back with a response, or posting a press release on their site (so far, so like last time) they did remove the page (but I'll be watching to make sure it doesn't reappear). Meanwhile, they do still stock other idiotic poor taste tops by the same company.

CharGrilled, responded in what isn't exactly a shocking way considering the level of intelligence it must take to sell that slogan on a t-shirt.

Shortly after my email was sent, about an hour after, Mr Charlie Shiner, owner of Chargrilled, tweeted this:

Charming.

After the ensuing backlash, he has now removed his twitter feed.

However, you can contact Mr Shiner and let him know what you think of his t-shirts, his sense of humour, and his attitude problem- his email is enquiries@shinerplant.co.uk, and they also, helpfully, have a Facebook page. With a public wall. Have fun people.

Feeling a Bit, well, Bleugh, Actually

2011-10-08T08:47:00.000+01:00

You know the times when you've been on such a high for weeks, eagerly anticipating a night out or similar? Then it comes and the day after you're just, well, bleugh?

Yeah, that.

The Mads were, to steal a word now being used by all the Innovative finalists (well done Ruth!) amaze-balls. It was great fun, singing, dancing about, getting glammed.

Even the few weeks before when we kept that video quiet. God knows how we did it, but not one of us slipped up and gave it away.

Seeing the stats go mental, and the Tweets about it was brilliant, and I really hope even my harshest critics now see that, very rare is the occasion when I take anything seriously. Its a laugh, this blogging lark, after all.

The night itself was just as I expected, a laugh a minute. We danced, laughed, sang (badly), ate nice food, and laughed some more.

Come Saturday, the cold I'd been harbouring, lovingly passed to me by both the Bratlings, made it's presence felt, and I felt like death. My ears had both popped, I was coughing, it wasn't pretty. Poor room mate Adele must have been concerned she'd go home with more than just memories of a fun evening, and I hope I didn't pass on the stonking cold!

I hadn't drank very much, not by my usual "free bar" standards, but as I'd taken some strong pain killers, well, 3 glasses made me a bit giddy. I sensibly got back to the hotel (was the "£5 per glass of wine" rumour true?), and had myself a cup of coffee (even though it was met with bemused questions of "you're drinking what?").

By Saturday night, feeling like a walking corpse, I started to get those post party blues I so often suffer from.

It was back to reality with a bump, and with nothing to look forward to until Christmas, it just left me a bit flat.

Personal life wise, Littlest had his first appointment with his new Consultant, at Wycombe Hospital. I started to get the sense of de ja vu when Elder came back (after a £20 each way cab journey) and announced the man had no notes as the old hospital hadn't managed, in 6 weeks, to send them on as yet. He's given Littlest a new medication- which turned out to be the same as he had in summer that he had an allergic reaction to.

Not a good start.

However, the rest is positive as he wants to see Littlest in 6 weeks time, and has told our GP about another medication to try should this one make him react badly again.

So it's been back to the phones, contacting the old rubbish hospital about his notes, the Health Visitor about his referral to the Child Development team, the school to check they aren't giving his spot at nursery up. Same old same old.

I don't mean to sound like caring for him is a chore, not at all, but I do feel a bit out on my own. I know few people in Maidenhead, have no family of my own. And regardless of knowing I can talk to Elder's sisters whenever I want, I always fail to- they are so busy, have kids and lives of their own and I don't want to feel like a burden. Also, if things are also a bit hard with Elder and I (we're not Ma and Pa Walton and stress gets to everyone), I can hardly go moan to his sisters.

Hence I may be a bit quiet for a while, to take stock, to concentrate on sorting out Littlest, the usual.

I will be back, promise!

The MADS: Well, we are in the Innovative Category....

2011-09-30T08:02:00.000+01:00

When I heard I was a finalist in the MADS Most Innovative category, three things sprung to mind: " Am I gobby in an innovative way?" "I hope no one finds out my new snazzy html stuff was done by Nickie" and finally "yay excuse for drinks with my blogging chums".

What I did not think it meant I' be doing, at 7pm on a cold Saturday night in September, whilst Elder practically pee'd himself with mirth, dressed as a cross between Cher Lloyd and Cyndi Lauper was this:

Readers, I give you something which will probably haunt me if I ever become a famous serious journalist, as starring the Nickie, Ruth, Liz and Heather.

MADS Ive got a feeling from John Arnold on Vimeo.

The MADS: One Day to Go!

2011-09-29T09:49:00.001+01:00

Its finally arrived, the MADs awards are announced tomorrow. I have to say my nails will be pleased seen as I've been biting them since the finalists were announced.

I'm off to London tomorrow at 1.45 travelling by train and meeting up with some of my bestest blogging pals for lunch first (Tapas for fact fans).

I've actually been quite lucky as my train travel is being paid for by First Great Western. What happened was that I phoned them ages ago to cheekily ask for a reduction in return for a blog mention, which resulted in a request to email but a definite- we'll let you have free travel. Thinking that it was all sorted, I waited for my tickets to arrive.

When they didn't after a few weeks, I emailed again. Still no freebie tickets.

Not impressed.

So, finally I popped to the station on Monday and bought my tickets. Only to find out I'd been overcharged for them both. Which made me even more miffed as to be offered free tickets, then have to pay and get overcharged really was a bit of a joke.

I tweeted as such, and straight away got an email. So, cheques in the post for my tickets. Power of Twitter once again!

I also have to give a mention to Katie at Best British Bloggers, who has organised a lovely trench mac from Ellos for me to wear over my dress for the awards. Ellos is a great new website that is definitely worth checking out as there are loads of really key wardrobes staples for all budgets.

I am very excited to be going and don't actually care if I win or not! I am up against some of my fave bloggers, so its a tough category, and just to be in the final is fine enough for me.

I will be tweeting (phone permitting) and will update via Facebook during the day so keep up with what's going on that way and through the Mads hash tag on Twitter.

If you're going to be there- see you tomorrow x

SILENT SUNDAY

2011-09-25T07:51:00.000+01:00

Silent Sunday

2011-09-18T07:53:00.000+01:00

For more Silent Sunday pics, check out the Hashtag #SilentSunday on Twitter

COMPETITION! Would you like to win a family break to Disneyland Paris?

2011-09-12T14:10:00.000+01:00

There's one place that every child (and young at heart adult like me) would love to go, and that's Disneyland.

©Disney

What could be better than spending time in a magical land, where favourites new and old from Disney Gems are there to see and hug? Whether you love Mickey and Minnie, or prefer new characters like Princess Jasmine, there is something or all ages and tastes at Disneyland Paris. Just a short hop across the channel, its a destination high on most kids wish lists, and now P&O Ferries are giving YOU the chance to win!

©Disney

P&O Ferries are running a competition on their Facebook page and giving away two sets of family tickets to Disneyland Paris. To enter just upload a video or photograph of you and your family having fun, and get people voting – I bet you have a picture you could enter.

©Disney

There are two prizes on offer – one for the most popular video and one for the most popular photo – and the entries with the most votes will win. When I checked today the highest number of votes was still low (only 142 for the photo category) so you really might win.

The closing date for the competition is 21st September 2011, so get your skates on!

As a bonus for everyone looking for ferries to France, P&O Ferries are giving everyone booking a car crossing before 29th September 2011 (for travel anytime up to 31st March 2012) a free Disneyland Paris adult ticket.

Find out more about the competition and free Disney ticket promotion on the P&O Ferries Facebook page

Good luck!

Conversations With Littlest

2011-09-12T12:42:00.000+01:00

At 3, Littlest is very different to his elder sister. Whereas Mini would out do most stage school kids for boundless confidence, and is happy to chat away all day (and all night- she talks in her sleep too), Littlest has always been the far more quiet of the two.

He can be quite shy, preferring to let Mini take the lead on games, songs and toys.

So, I was quite nervous about him going off to Nursery. Not only would he not have us parents there, even worse, for him, Mini wouldn't be around, at nursery or at home, all day.

However, I felt this would be a great opportunity for some quality Mummy and Boy bonding time.

Not so.

Despite having a good vocab these days, a typical, lunchtime walk home conversation goes like this:

ME: Did you have a nice time?
HIM: Yes
ME:Did you make any friends today?
HIM: Yes.
ME: What are they called?
HIM: Don't know.
ME: What about the little boy you were talking to at the gate?
HIM: Don't know
ME: OK, then, what did you do today?
HIM: Don't know
ME: Did you sing today?
HIM: Yes
ME: What did you sing?
HIM: Don't know.
ME (desperate for some knowledge of what he's been doing between 8.45 and 11.45) Did you do drawing?
HIM: Yes
ME: What did you draw?
HIM: Don't know.

At this point, I give up and we point out cars, trucks and anything else that takes his interest.

I am resigned to the fact that, whilst my ear aches with the chatter of Mini who remembers, and talks about, every single event however insignificant (including going to the loo), Littlest prefers to leave me in the dark.

Perhaps it's a boy thing?

SILENT SUNDAY

2011-09-11T08:08:00.000+01:00

Reflections on School Week 1

2011-09-09T19:31:00.000+01:00

After positively counting down the days, or even seconds, until The Bratlings went to nursery (Littlest) and Infants (Mini), it was excitement that we all left the house at 8.30am on Tuesday.

I packed lunch for Mini the night before, checked and double checked her name tags and set out uniform and smart clothes ready for a relaxed morning.

For once, rather than it being a catastrophe regardless of my forward thinking, it went very well, and Elder took Mini in to her class whilst I walked Littlest round the front of the building to Nursery.

Mrs S, Littlest's teacher is great, and really gets how he may struggle a little with certain things because of his health.He is allowed to use a computer there, although she said he was reluctant at first. May be because generally the idea of him touching my PC fills me with dread- the last time he went near my laptop, he knocked it off a table and broke it.

I feel much better about him going out in the big wide world now without Elder or myself there watching him- I had the odd sleepless night prior to him going as I was worried the staff may not "get" how serious his illness can be. On the contrary, his teacher listened to my detailed explanation, and, to get a proper fell for Littlest, every parent is asked to fill out a questionnaire on their child's strengths, possible weaknesses, likes and dislikes.

He has come home a very happy chappy everyday, has made friends already and has not shed one tear over being left- that's my boy!

Meanwhile, Mini has been getting used to going to school all day long, and she's found it a breeze.

One parent likened her love of Mummying the upset kids in her class as being akin to Julie Andrews! She does like to be bossy, so any excuse to give a hug or help out someone not quite as confident as her, and she jumps right in.

They haven't been having regular lessons, yet, as the school likes to ease them slowly in. They also see the first few weeks as a chance for the children to form friendships and to get to know the school and teachers, especially their own, but I'm sure it wont be long!

She loves having her uniform on, and taking her own little lunchbox in. They also have to have a reading bag which is filled with info from the school- a lot of info. There are so many clubs and stuff to remember. Sadly though most of the clubs are for the year above her, so she'll have to wait until next year.

Overall, its been an easy week, and the Bratlings have really loved it. Phew!

Dear So and So- Tech Advanced Bratlings, DVD Annoyance and Strange Stats

2011-09-02T14:57:00.000+01:00

Its been one of those weeks. You know the sort- nothing seems to go right, everything you plan out goes ass upwards. One of those. Hence here is my sleep deprived Dear So and So post.

Dear Bratlings

Seriously, if school doesn't start next Tuesday, I'm moving out. You have both found new ways of causing me annoyance. Like being far more tech-advanced than me. Stop using the DVD player. It took me months to work it out. It is not there to please you, nor is it there to cause turf wars seldom seen caused in our house due to anything other than CBeebies/Tiny Pop.
As for the birthday present Daddy bought you, Littlest. Batteries are ingenious as they can be bloody removed.

Love you regardless
Mummy xxx

Dear Elder

Seriously-WTF? Do you remember those halcyon days before children, when, on hearing it was one of our God children/mates offspring's birthday, we'd head into town, and laughing at our smug evil plan we'd buy them the most noisy, irritating toy we could find? Yeah, do you remember we used to chuckle at how we, being sans children, didn't have to listen to the racket this inappropriate and frankly evil toy would produce?

Why then did you go out to buy a R/C Car for Littlest, and come back with a bloody PIANO? And not just any piano, oh no, you excelled even the most evil noisy toys of days gone by, by buying a piano that is electric, with built in DRUM MACHINES and a bloody MICROPHONE.

This monstrosity is so loud, that after an hour of it, I had a migraine. Its not funny. The excuse "that's how I roll" does not cut it.

To then go out and buy Mini a magazine with a slide whistle on? That's just cruel.

That's the last time I let you out to buy toys. And the Knight costume- I presume you intended the above as a joke and will never again whilst sober dress in your child's costume? Its very wrong.

Love
Her Indoors (now slightly deaf)

Dear Sleep

Please come back to me. Yes, I know my brain is working overtime over processing everything that we have going on. Yes I know I am so worried to the point of neurosis over Littlest. But if you could see your way clear to letting me sleep for a few hours, that'd be great.

Cheers
The lady practically main lining coffee

Dear Wiggles

Grr. Pee off back to Oz and take your JLS inspired day-glo jumpers and Valium lite smiles with you. Not to mention your 8GB of songs on my hard drive.

Ta very muchly
The Bratlings Mummy

Dear Weird Stat people who find me by accident if Google Mis-adventure

You will not find "Hot bored chavs" (chavs, how very dare you). You will not find "Sexy Posh Mummies gagging for it" (Gagging for sleep, I presume). You will not find "Traveller birds in their skimpy knickers, virgins in caravans", and likewise, nor will you find "Slightly thick girls" (grrr). Please go take your naughty and frankly offensive ways of finding me and my blog elsewhere. I hear that Barenaked Mummy is quite used to you deviants.

Now feck off
20SM

Everyone else, hope you are enjoying this lovely sunshine!

Dear So and So: School, Ghost Towns and Doctors

2011-08-26T09:59:00.000+01:00

Here are this weeks little notes of appreciation or otherwise. Enjoy!

Dear Doctor M

You Sir are a Legend. When Elder and I were ready to go off on one at the slightest hint of ignorance, you listened to all our concerns, answered our questions in detail, and went through books that were the size of Breeze Blocks. Finally, you agreed with us that Wexham has had its chance to help and has lacked the ability, and are now actioning a proper chest specialist hospital to investigate further. You even said you'll mark it as urgent. Thank you so much, you have started to restore my faith in the ability of Doctor's to help out and to listen.

Littlest's Mummy

Dear PCT Lady

Thank you for forwarding my frankly HUGE complaint to not one but two different departments, by passing the first 3 steps of the confusing complaints procedure in the process. When I wrote it out, it took me nearly 2 hours to get it all in, and then I read it through and thought of other mishaps and mistakes I'd forgotten. It must have taken a while to plough through, but clearly you did as you were as disgusted as me. Thanks for your help,

Ms C

Dear DLA Man

Since the decision came through, which quite rightly we know is based on wrong information, I have rung your 0845 number at least twice a week, with updates and names of other, better informed medical people to back up our appeal. At no point in the last month have I been asked 8 security questions. I am asked my son's name, his reference number and who I am. Asking me the kind of pointless questions you did, apparently which I must have been asked every time I have rung, got us nowhere (although it took 5 minutes so that's more money you can grab from me for the cost of a premium rate number).
To then call me a liar twice when I said I'd never been asked any of the questions before, well, when I find out who you were, a complaint will be sent. Arsehole.
All I wanted to do, which would have taken no time at all, was to check my letter, sent two weeks ago, had finally made its way through your ten day mail system. What happens to mail there that it takes ten days to get there? No wonder I'm told the average appeal takes 11 weeks. Also, when I want to inform you that, a child who you wrongly believe has nothing wrong with him, is so fine he has to see a specialist chest doctor, yes, I do feel that's important. Its also important that the same "healthy" and "normal" two year old collapsed unable to breathe on Saturday. Why you cannot just contact the useless Consultant who denies he meant to imply my son is now in full health, bypassing the need to stop Littlest's money and go through a pointless appeal is beyond me. In fact, if the Government wants to save money on Benefits, how about sort out the over complicated and over long wait time the admin causes?

You suck.
Ms C, Angry in Maidenhead

Dear Maidenhead Town Centre

I'm not sure why the town planners want to make the town centre bigger. To accommodate what? There are no shops in the centre. We have hair dressers, about 2 coffee shops per 100 residents. That is it. No kids clothes shops. No decent shops at all. How is it possible that a town that was booming, where rents remain high, has no shops? I literally had to get on a train and go to Slough. Which most Maidenhead residents poke fun of, as the chav fly in the ointment. You'd think it was a ghetto. However, Slough has not one but two Malls, heaving with shops, as well as a High Street, also heaving with shops.Maidenhead, sort it out!

Mummy, disgruntled at having to go three towns away for uniform.

Dear Mini

No, you cannot wear a Roary the Racing Car outfit to school.

Love you, Mummy

Dear Name Tapes

You are a pain in the arse. Yes, I cannot sew so thought iron on name tapes were a better option. Burning my fingers was not what I had in mind.

Thanks!
Mum with sore fingers

Dear Holidays

Seriously, bored of you now. Please hurry up and be over.
Cheers
Turning greyer by the day Mum.

Dear Littlest

When I ask what do you want for your birthday (which is on Monday), please stop just saying cake. Its not helpful.

Love You
Mummy

What Do You Do When the NHS Let's Your Child Down?

2011-08-21T11:23:00.001+01:00

Apologies if this ends up as rather a ranty post, but I didn't get any sleep last night and the reason will become apparent.

Yesterday, we had a normal day, did a bit of shopping, got some nice food in, ready for the start of the X Factor. Anyone who has followed me on Twitter for the last year or two knows that I look forward to the X Factor, and generally join in with the banter that ensues. Last year I went to Twitter jail 3 times, and my follows went up week after week- even being retweeted by MSN.

But at 5pm, sat at the computer, Littlest started to cough.

This is nothing unusual for him- a tiny bit of running around, or even laughing, makes him cough. Its become something we have mentioned until we're horse with talking to doctors and Consultants. But it falls on either deaf, or in my opinion, uninterested ears.

Yesterday, though, he couldn't stop coughing. He could barely breathe for coughing. Concern turned to panic.

First we tried his inhaler. For a while now I've firmly believed and voiced that his inhaler does nothing. Again, that was true yesterday. I tried his other "reliever" inhaler. Again, still no use. I may as well have given the inhaler to the sofa for the lack of effect it had.

By now, petrified as to why he wouldn't stop coughing, Elder grabbed him and put him on his lap. We tried to give him a cup of water, but he couldn't drink it.

Then, he went floppy. He couldn't hold his head up, his eyes were rolling. I screamed. Then I rang 999.

The operator asked me for my address, which I gave clearly- years of first aid training dictates that however frightened or upset you are, your address is vital, so you say it clearly, spelling any awkward words.

5 minutes turned to ten, Littlest getting worse and worse. I cannot put into words how frightened I was. The operator told me the Ambulance Rapid Response Car was outside the house, but I looked in the street- there were no cars, let alone a paramedic one, outside the house. She said "Its probably on your road, it wont be long".

Ten minutes turned to 15, and still no ambulance. By this time I asked her where this "on our road" ambulance team was- they had actioned an ambulance and a rapid response car, and neither were there.

"They're just at the roundabout at the corner of your road" she said. "What roundabout?" I asked, "there is no roadabout near my house, nowhere near it". "The Great Missenden Roundabout".

So, we had wasted nearly 15 minutes, whilst my son struggled for breath, waiting for two emergency vehicles which this woman had, inexplicably sent to the wrong town. A wrong town 12 miles away, 38 minutes (when not rush hour), and which does not sound, whatever way you say it, like Maidenhead.

I told her my address. Twice. I gave my Postcode. Twice. Our postcode starts SL6. A Great Missenden one, I checked this morning via Royal Mail, starts HP16.

They hardly sound alike do they?

I passed the phone to Elder, I was speechless, angry, disbelieving that we had wasted 15 vital minutes. That this idiot who I plan on getting sacked wasted 15 vital minutes.

What makes it worse was that Elder then had to repeatedly correct her on what number we live at.

Five minutes later, an ambulance finally arrived.

Littlest was carried to the Ambulance, and was put straight on a nebuliser. I rushed around, picking up night clothes, shoes, pants and trousers for him. He had been playing after dinner and so his trousers from the daytime had been thrown off (he never wears trousers indoors, rips them straight off the minute he gets home), so I made sure he had those.

Then I jumped in the back, leaving Elder with a crying Mini.

You will not believe how ignorant Berkshire drivers are, refusing to move for an ambulance with the sirens blaring- one guy even had a go at the driver out his window for daring to overtake him.

Littlest's monitor showed his pulse and blood pressure was all wrong, something like 154 over 80 (or maybe I heard that wrong). By the time we reached the hospital, it was more normal, and he was telling the Paramedic about his birthday and his new playschool.

We saw a Doctor after an hour, and were free to go.

I am just beside myself. For years we have said he needs more help then we are given. For years we have said, pleaded that inhalers do nothing, that he cannot lead a normal life as he cannot run or laugh without coughing. Its plain unfair, considering the ignorance of a Consultant before he was born led to me not being monitored as I should have been and the inevitable born at 28 weeks happening.

As he was born at 28 weeks, he has Chronic Lung Disease, but not one Consultant seems prepared to adequately monitor our child. The Doctor we saw in A+E last night was baffled as to why he has never, since leaving Neonatal care in December 2008, had a chest x-ray. But that doesn't surprise me.

It seems that, with the NHS struggling, paperwork takes precedent over patient care and proper investigation into a patients illness.

I now am unsure whether I want him to start playschool, couldn't sleep last night for fear it would happen again, am unsure what the hell I'm meant to do- go see more uninterested consultants?

One recently on seeing Littlest for under ten minutes with none of his notes spent the whole appointment not writing down any concerns, and then was so well informed he filled out a Disability Allowance update form claiming my son "previously had" Chronic Lung Disease. CLD does not go away, ever. It can be managed, where Consultants can be bothered, but he had it for life. So, Littlest's money was stopped, and I now face up to 22 weeks of appeal. When I questioned the Consultant on his slip up, he said that he hadn't meant to imply that Littlest no longer has CLD. Yet that's exactly how "previously had" reads. When I questioned his knowledge of written English, he gave me a mouthful of abuse, and told me to "challenge him" by way of complaint. Yes, me, his Mum, who sees him 24/7. Over a idiot misinformed and obviously lacking basic written skills Consultant, puffed up with a few letters after his name who saw him for under ten minutes with no previous knowledge of him, and who showed not one iota of interest in our concerns. He then had his secretary ring and tell me he was now refusing to see Littlest again.

This is a two year old boy. My son, who not one NHS person seems to care about. Not one.

Get Some SATC Tips! Interviews with Patricia Field

2011-08-16T08:46:00.002+01:00

If you loved Sex and The City, whether it was Samantha's 80s power dressing and naughty antics, Carrie's funky and fashion forward looks, Miranda's sensible lawyer attire or Charlotte's 50's meets modern day look, there was one woman who brought all those looks together.

Patricia Field is responsible for our fashion cravings for Jimmy Choo and Louboutin. She styled Ugly Betty and films such as Confessions of a Shopaholic, and The Devil Wears Prada. She's a native New Yorker, and brings all those eclectic style trends and both vintage and modern to create styles that had us all trying to mimic them from the High Street.

And so, when I got asked if I'd like to put a question to Ms Field, well, being a SATC fan, it was a no brainer!

I asked Patricia what she would recommend for young mums wardrobes?

Here's her reply:

Thanks Patricia- next time I'm having a "can't be arsed" day in a tracksuit hoodie stolen from Elder, I shall gad about knowing that Patricia thinks its fashionable!

And if she's OK for Carrie Bradshaw, then she's OK for me too.

Want to Help After the Riot?

2011-08-12T18:41:00.001+01:00

After my frankly angry post towards our useless Prime Minister (who quoted exactly what I said he would about lessons being learned. Grr) it was brilliant to see the riot clean up posts on Twitter. People taking the time to go to the places hit, with brooms and bin bags, making tea and really showing that the UK can be a place that thrives on community.

Now, being that I wasn't near enough to help, sucked. I wanted to do my bit, help the people who through no fault of their own got hit by the thuggery.

Then, Elder called me over to the computer, as he was quite upset. It seems one of his close friends, who he's known since childhood, woke up to find out her nephew had been one of those to lose his home.

Worse still, he was being interviewed by the BBC, as he stood helpless in the street watching his flat, and all his possessions burn. Its lucky that he got out alive, but he has lost literally everything.

So, if you'd like to help out, I'd love to collect some money for him, to send as a gesture that, whilst certain members of the UK have let him down spectacularly, there are people who care, who want to reignite his belief in society.

If you want to give as little or much as you can, then please do. We will deposit money into Paypal, and forward it and any messages of support on.

And just so you can see how hard it was for him, here's the clip http://t.co/Zt3ecjf

Get in touch via email if you'd like to donate.

Thank you.

An Open Letter to Our Prime Minister

2011-08-08T22:38:00.002+01:00

Dear Mr Cameron

Frankly, you have let your country down immeasurably, almost but not quite in the same league as these petty mindless thugs who have brought our civilised country to its knees.

In times like we have seen over the last 4 nights, the people should be able to look to our elected representative for reassurance. Instead, we have seen your people tell us that you didn't feel it necessary to cut short your holiday abroad.

Answer me this, Mr Cameron- when you wanted us to vote you in, you promised us a better society- a big society in fact. You promised increase in Police power to deal with hooligans. You promised us alot, sir, yet I fail to see you deliver it thus far.

Tell me, sir, how you would feel if you were trapped inside your home with your children? If a business you spent more than just money on was the latest building on Sky on fire? How would you feel to see the Police do little if anything to protect your streets, your community?

This is not our anger, this is nobodies. This is a mindless attack by mindless thugs. This is what happens when you let criminals do pretty much what they like, where they like, as long as its not in your back yard.

I am disgusted to be British. I am disappointed that this is the way we had to find out how much our Prime Minister cares for us all.

Frankly, you may as well join in with the rioters. By staying away, by not helping or guiding or leading your country, you have let us down.

You will eventually appear on TV, and say that lessons will be learned from this. But the lesson I have learned is that you are a poor leader, a poor choice.

I for one, am appalled, baffled, and disgusted.

SILENT SUNDAY

2011-08-07T08:17:00.000+01:00

THE GUEST SPOT:Two Children + Two Parents= Right Decision?

2011-08-06T09:21:00.001+01:00

After a brief break due to no laptop last week at the Hotel(!) we're back with this weeks GUEST SPOT. It comes this week from Amanda from the blog "Having Fun-Spending Less". the post is called Two Children + Two Parents = Right Decision?" and concerns a motherly wobble on the decisions we make that effect us as a family. You can find Amanda at Twitter.

Have you ever questioned a decision that you’ve whole heartedly stood by for the past 8 years? Yesterday I had a bit of a wobble on a pretty major decision that we made.

We had a ‘strike induced day of freedom’ resulting in a house full of 5 noisy, funny and articulate girls. It was wonderful…and made me think, were were hasty in deciding that our family was complete with two children? It’s a hypothetical question, I’m not at all broody and have no desire to start all over again with night feeds and broken sleep. Yet having a house full of similar age children was a delight. They have such unique views of the world.

I always thought that I wanted to have three children – until I had one! Does anything really prepare you for the nocturnal creature that spends at least 12 hours a day attached to your breast and only requires sleep in one hour bursts? I can reminisce with humour…but take a look at the photographic evidence and crikey we looked rough!

Baby number two was a welcomed and planned edition and we felt that our family was complete. Baby number two also slept much better, meaning that we returned to normal human form much quicker! We talked a lot about knowing our family was complete. In fact we compiled a list of reasons why two children was the right number for us:

1. Two children + two parents = evenly matched teams. Any more and we’d be outnumbered!

2. We felt immensely grateful that I had two healthy pregnancies and amazing home births. I have never personally experienced a pregnancy loss or birth complication, yet have friends that have suffered many heart breaks. We felt that we should accept our fortune with good grace and not push our luck.

3. A family of four fits nicely (if a bit snug) in an average 3 bed semi – which is what we have.

4. A normal sized family car is also adequate.

5. When we travel we can all fit in one family hotel room without too much hassle.

6. It was important to us that we could provide equal love, opportunity, financial support to each of our children. At the time we felt that there was enough of everything to share with our two girls.

I’ve never really questioned our decision, apart from the odd micro-episode of broodiness which passed quickly. Yet now I think, should we have had more children? Are any of the above important? We have lots of friends with large broods..and they all seem very happy and work around practicalities with cars, bedrooms etc.

Was two adults + two children just a boring, sensible decision?

Should we have thrown caution (and condoms!) to the wind?

Remember, if you'd like to post in the GUEST SPOT, then email me with a link to your post. You can be a new or old blogger, so get posting!

Dear So And So: Wasps, Wardrobes and Cher bloody Lloyd

2011-08-05T17:24:00.001+01:00

Its time for a few Dear So and So letters- this time on the right day!

Dear Garden Wasp

Cheers for making me scared out of my wits by stinging poor Littlest. He did nothing to deserve your furry wasp wrath, he didn't swing at you, scream or act a tit, he stood still and you stung him regardless. I had to straight away get on the net doctor and check he wasn't going to go into a weird fish and pea eating shock. I also had to flurry around my kitchen looking for after bite cream (which I had no of), Savlon and ice to make ice packs for it.
What is the reason for your existence? You don't give us honey like the bees do (who have the good grace to die if they sting us), so may I respectfully ask you to not sting my kids again. Or me.

Thank you
Slightly hysterical Mother in garden

Dear Wardrobe (now deceased)

I won. Ha ha. Sorry but a 4 year old no matter how many clothes she owns does not need two adult sized wardrobes. You had to go I'm afraid.

Her with the screwdriver set

Dear Littlest

Whilst I remain impressed in only a way a Mother can at your ability to perform headstands in one leap on the back of the sofa (something I've never quite mastered myself), please refrain from doing so whilst naked. And while we're on the subject on nakedness, please stop playing with your willy. Its just plain wrong.

Love oo
Mummy

Dear Mini

Whilst you made a beautiful bridesmaid last week (as did Jess, Rita, Neve, Annabel, Elise and Sophie) please do not imagine this gives you rights to become a drama queen. Its not good. It wont be tolerated.

Love oo too
Mummy

Dear Cher (bloody) Lloyd

Why? Seriously, why? How on earth you feel qualified to sing a song the melody of which you stole from a kids nursery rhyme, whilst gurning in the most unsettling way, and wearing clothes copied from Cheryl Cole and with a haircut shaved at the sides like Cyndi Lauper had (prior to you being born I grant you) about stealing someone else's style (or swagger) and advising them to get their own whilst stealing all of the above, well, its baffling, frankly. If that single (do they still refer to them as such?) goes to number 1, I shall forewith cease listening to the radio in protest. With the exception of Reg Yates request show on Saturday, the only time decent music is played these days. Not saying your song is annoying, but I actually want to remove my ears when its on TV/radio. Swagger Jagger? My arse.

Yours grudgingly
C from Maidenhead

Costumes for All the Family from Fancy Dress Ball

2011-08-03T19:46:00.002+01:00

Costume parties and fancy dress days at your child's school can be fun for those getting dressed up, but a nightmare for the poor Mum tasked with finding the perfect costume. If you lack even the most basic of sewing skills, then making the costume is out (for fear of scaring the Bratlings for life!), then buying a full, or part costume is the answer.

These can be expensive- but not with online costume specialist Fancy Dress Ball.

Whether you know what costume you are looking for, or need help to pick the outfit that will make you the talk of the party, Fancy Dress Ball can help. There is a handy search tool, headlined "what do you want to be" which will take even the vaguest idea and give you a whole selection of great selections. Its also split into easy to view sections, from Halloween Costumes for all the family, kids costumes and wigs and accessories.

If you are prepared to be a little bit daring, how about a sexy fancy dress outfit? They'll definitely raise eyebrows and not to mention temperatures and there are outfits for both sexes too.

Or perhaps you prefer reliving the decade fashion forgot with realistic and garish 80s fancy dress.

There really is something for every occasion no matter what your budget. Its also great to have the option of placing your order online with secure payment, or by telephone if you're not keen on giving bank details online.

Then its as simple as sitting back as your order is dispatched and delivered to your door.

There's no excuse to look drab with this vibrant and colourful website. The images of the outfits cover all angles and can be zoomed in, so you know exactly what you're getting.

A good resource for those not great at costume making!

Selling Your Car? Try wewillbuyyourcar.com

2011-08-03T19:22:00.002+01:00

When I sold Betsy, the VW Golf which had possibly the stickiest gear stick ever invented (not good when you have arthritic joints like me), it took so long I almost scrapped the thing.

I had heard of websites where you can sell your car for a fixed price, but hadn't tried it.

So, when the guys from wewillbuyyourcar.com got in touch and asked me to rate their site, I was intrigued. Being a car novice, I have no idea what a fair price is, nor do I know my car terms, and selling a car to a guy was no fun. Its easy to be ripped off if selling a car via the ad pages.

With wewillbuyyourcar.com, they promise to make the often daunting task to sell my car London easy and stress free, as well as giving you the best price.

Its very easy to use, and you can sell your car in the time it takes to have a cuppa! Its just 4 easy steps, and you can be paid direct to your bank account within 10 minutes of clicking the sell my car button.
They even collect the car for you, so it couldn't be easier.

The site itself is really easy to navigate,and they are so sure of how great their service is, they have a constant roll call of previous customer testimonials on the site for you to read for reassurance.

So, next time I'm looking for someone to buy my car, I'll be visiting We Will Buy Your Car.

Kate Gets "Royaled"

2011-08-01T16:36:00.001+01:00

It wasn't just Nursey Sister in law who got a new husband this weekend- Zara Phillips, daughter of Princess Anne (or Horsey as I like to call her) got married in Edinburgh to Mike Tindall.

It certainly wasn't an A Lister event like Wills and Kate's, that's for sure- with- Gasp- a Pop Bunny from The Saturdays in attendance.

The papers have been quick to post and print the most important information of the day- who wore what.

Firstly, it seems that if you're Royal (or invited to a Royal Event), you must wear nude coloured heels, whether they were all YSL Tribute shoes is another matter, but nude was the colour of the day footwear wise.

Secondly, did anyone see what Kate was wearing? Shocking!

I would like to add at this point that I really like Kate, and her ability to dress in upper High Street threads. But whoever styled her this weekend needs to be sent to the Tower, pronto.

Lets start from the top, shall we?

Its hard for me to describe the head-wear as a hat. It put me in mind of a Sky dish- white, round and HUGE!

It was the first thing I noticed, and lets face it, it could be seen from space- I imagine that NASA thought one of their dishes had fallen out the sky and landed on Kate's head.

As for the Jacket/dress thing.

Another epic fashion fail, it looked very much like Kate had raided Camilla's wardrobe and borrowed it last minute. I've seen nicer event wear on Amy Childs.

It was heavily patterned in some sort of ivory flock- curtains in an old ladies house springs to mind. And yes, Kate does do minimal make up well, but she looked washed out, and the hat just made her hair look flat and boring by comparison.

Has our fave Royal Fashionista been "Royal-ed"? Even Beatrice and Eugenie looked positively stylish by comparison.

What do I mean by Royal-ed?

Its the frock coats, the eye-watering bright colours, awful couture hats and fashions going back decades. True Frock Horrors, as seen worn by Fergie. Totes not rah.

Let's just hope this is a temporary blip for our Kate! Reiss and LK Bennet can surely send in their latest collections, after all, she has been great for business this year so far.

They owe it her- and us common folk, elsewise what on earth will we wear?!

Picture from Yahoo!

Internet Weirdness- Accept No Imitations

2011-07-31T10:40:00.002+01:00

Its not my usual style to post twice in one day, but you'll soon realise why I have.

As you know, on Friday I was at Nursey sister's wedding. It was lovely, as you can see from picture's I've posted on Facebook and Twitpic, as well as today's Silent Sunday offering.

I made a joke about having my phone taken by Elder to make sure I wasn't surreptitiously Tweeting during the vows. He did actually take the phone from me, but it didn't matter as the WiFi in the hotel was down, so I couldn't get online even if I'd wanted to. Which, for the record as I had such a great time, I wouldn't have wanted to anyway.

Saturday I was shattered and ignored the net save for posting a few pics, and went to bed incredibly early.

So, this morning, I got up to do my Silent Sunday, and found a message on Facebook from Typecast, telling me off for winding up her net hate squad on Mumsnet. Which I thought was pretty weird as I've practically been AWOL since Thursday.

Then, I saw a few tweets at me. From someone using my real name.

It seems, people, that some weird person, with too much time on their hands, has been going online to forums and Twitter, and has been using my real name, albeit spelt wrong, to flame people.

Now, I know I'm not backward in saying what I feel. But I do know when enough is enough and I also know how to spell both the name I was christened with, and my 20somethingmum name too.

I have to give credit to Mumsnet- I immediately contacted them and they banned the impostor. But they also revealed this person, who can only be directed to their nearest Doctors Surgery for serious mental help pronto, has been doing this for months, all with variations of my name.

Now, its no secret I'm not a fan of Mumsnet, or forums in general. I don't feel the small traffic influx justifies the bitchiness that prevails many of these forums eventually. I don't bother with it and feel happier for it. I did travel over to defend Nickie on Thursday, but as I tweeted it was like banging my head on a brick wall, and resembled The League of Gentlemen as they really don't want non-Mumsnetters joining the Mumsnet Blog Network. Which is up to them, and enforces my attitude on bitchiness. I told HimUpNorth that I had wished them peace and departed. Life's too short after all.

Now, to the person doing this.

I have suspicions of who you are. I can't be certain, and really, I'm not losing any sleep over it. Impersonation is the highest form of flattery, or so I'm told.

I would also argue that, with my gob and ability to use it in defense of myself or others I don't generally need someone going to forums or Twitter stirring up trouble. I'm quite good at doing that myself.

What I am not, though, is a bully. I don't stand for nastiness online.

Those who know me, and have met me, know who I am, why I do what I do.

Clearly, you think you are incredibly funny , witty even. You also must really not like me to do this, but surely the sensible option is to pretend I don't exist? Do you not think you're a bit, well, ill, to follow me around and stir? To actually set up accounts? Perhaps you need to reassess your life.

One thing made me laugh. When you posted at Mumsnet, pretending to be me, that I "Have no life" hence I do what you were doing. It seems to me someone who sets up accounts, several times over months, and actively goes online to write nastiness pretending to be me, for whatever reason you've done it, well, its more likely to be you who has "no life". I was with my loving family, having a lovely time, while you were sitting at home or on your mobile, writing nastiness using someone else's name.

You've been caught out. If it continues now, I will make it a Police matter.

Everyone else.

If you even think that it's me, or have seen anything a bit weird knocking around, please, get in contact. I've pre-warned other sites of what's going on, but hopefully this very sad and possibly sick individual will now admit defeat and leave us all in peace.

Thank you.

Silent Sunday

2011-07-31T08:47:00.000+01:00

Dear So and So: Lump, Weddings and Mumsnet Nutjobs

2011-07-28T13:23:00.000+01:00

Before you shout "oi, woman, you've got your days wrong again you thick so and so, tis Thursday, not Friday", I shall say, in my defense that I am a) crap at lining up posts to auto-post, and b) at my sister in laws wedding tomorrow. So bog off.

Only kidding, here's my Dear So and So's for this last week in July.

Dear Weather

Sort it out! Where oh where is the sun? And, if he can (because the sun is bound to be male as he's such a cantankerousness thing) could he see fit to be shining in Ascot tomorrow, it is Nursey sister in laws wedding tomorrow and if it rains my hair will turn to frizz rather than carefully constructed lush curliness.

Ta

Dear Littlest

No, your imaginary friend Lump did not mess up your bedroom, draw on your face with marker pen or spill food on the floor. Nor was it Lumps teeth which bit my kneecap yesterday. While we are discussing Lump, why can you not have a friend with a nice name?

Love you Scruff
Mummy

Dear Lump

It better not be you doing those naughty things.

Hmmm
Littlest's Mummy

Dear Mini

Leave my bathroom cupboard alone missus. Its a bloomin' good job I went in the upstairs bathroom, and not your Uncle or cousin, elsewise I think they may have been embarrassed by the sight of my Sanitary Towels stuck artistically to the wall. You hooligan.

Love you

Mummy

Dear Mumsnet Trolls

You're mental. And for people trying to shed the nasty image, you are failing abysmally.
Cheers for knocking the stats on my "sh*t, Boll**ks, decidedly meh, poor constructed and badly spelt" blog up.

Arseholes.

20somethingmumuk, better known than any of you bi-ayt-ches.

Dear Non-Mumsnet Blog Network Members

Seriously, don't join it. Its littered with the kind of trolls seldom seen since 1991 and twice as ugly.
Its kind of like Royston Vassey. And its tag should be- "you don't have to be a brainless knob with no life to join here, but it helps".

Badges declaring "Mumsnet Throws Scorn on my Blog" coming soon.

You have been warned
20SM

Dear Nursey Sister-in-law, and Hubby to be

Have a great one. No S your fringe is fine. And thanks for picking my daughter as a bridesmaid.

Cannot wait for tomorrow.

Lovely readers

You know who you are- have a great weekend and if Elder doesn't nick my phone and ban me from Twitter or G+ I shall give you the odd pic/update.

Mwah for now
Me

Silent Sunday

2011-07-24T09:52:00.000+01:00

RIP

2011-07-23T17:50:00.000+01:00

Younger than me.

What a waste- Amy, God bless you.

My heart goes out to your family and friends.

RIP

The Lazy Girl's Guide to Life

#DoSomethingYummy What My Kids Mean to Me

Silent Sunday

Is It Just Me: Who is Still Scared of Head Teachers?

Is It Just Me Or: Was It Obvious Walliams Would be Smutty on BGT?

Was TV Better Before Multi-Channel Programming?

Come On, Come On, Let's Get Together

Have I been "Maidenhead-ed"?

Since When: Did Being a Celeb Give You a Free Reign to Shoplift?

The Spartacus Report: DLA Is a Right, Not a Privilege.

Awkward Conversations with Mini Part 1

*Slaps Forehead on Behalf of Home Town

Comment: Have Kids Today Really Got It Easy?

Right to Chose Bill- How Do You Feel?

2012- Out With the Negative, In With the Positive

Dear So and So- The Late Late Edition

Oi- Cosmicgirlie- I Wants Me a Calendar!

Massive Mummy Fail, or Why I Shouldn't Teach Mini Alternative Carols

Dear Anon Poster. This is Just For You

Christmas is Coming... Look Busy

World Prematurity Awareness Day: Life on SCBU...And Beyond

Its So Funny How We Don't Talk Anymore

My Bloggers Charter

Charity Tuesday: How We Can All Give Back This Christmas

Reviews: The Root of all Writing Evil?

Dear So and So- The Tearing Hair Out Edition

Am I the Meanest Mother...Ever?

The Dreaded Parents Evening

Since When Did Rape Become a Source of Laughter?

You know shes playing hard to get when your chasing her down an alleywaythank you to the people who are 'trying' to get this group banned. yous are just promoting this group and getting it more likes :D

Feeling a Bit, well, Bleugh, Actually

The MADS: Well, we are in the Innovative Category....

The MADS: One Day to Go!

SILENT SUNDAY

Silent Sunday

COMPETITION! Would you like to win a family break to Disneyland Paris?

Conversations With Littlest

SILENT SUNDAY

Reflections on School Week 1

Dear So and So- Tech Advanced Bratlings, DVD Annoyance and Strange Stats

Dear So and So: School, Ghost Towns and Doctors

What Do You Do When the NHS Let's Your Child Down?

Get Some SATC Tips! Interviews with Patricia Field

Want to Help After the Riot?

An Open Letter to Our Prime Minister

SILENT SUNDAY

THE GUEST SPOT:Two Children + Two Parents= Right Decision?

Dear So And So: Wasps, Wardrobes and Cher bloody Lloyd

Costumes for All the Family from Fancy Dress Ball

Selling Your Car? Try wewillbuyyourcar.com

Kate Gets "Royaled"

Internet Weirdness- Accept No Imitations

Silent Sunday

Dear So and So: Lump, Weddings and Mumsnet Nutjobs

Silent Sunday

RIP

You know shes playing hard to get when your chasing her down an alleyway
thank you to the people who are 'trying' to get this group banned. yous are just promoting this group and getting it more likes :D