Why my toddler should be the next Prime Minister

As election fever grips the nation once again (ok, it’s not exactly a fever, more of a light chill) we’re gearing up for another six weeks of political hoo-ha, puzzling polls and excruciating ‘on the street’ interviews with Beryl from the arse-end of nowhere explaining that she’s voting UKIP because bananas don’t smell the same anymore…

So, will our next leader be May, Corbyn or that other bloke?

I’m considering mixing it up a bit and throwing another candidate’s hat into the ring…here’s why I think my 18 month old has all the makings of an excellent Prime Minister:

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Miss O working on her campaign manifesto…

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Doing the Mum Maths

My guilty conscience has never been a nagging little voice in my head; it’s Miley Cyrus swinging about on a giant flippin’ wrecking ball screaming at me until I do the right thing. The guilt festers inside me until I HAVE to fess up, even with really minor things – I just can’t hack it!

One of the most difficult things about motherhood for me is managing those seemingly constant guilty feelings – did we do enough stimulating activities today, could I have handled that situation better, did I make the right choice there?

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“I’ll look after the remote mummy…”

As the day draws to a close I can feel myself doing the ‘Mum Maths’ and tallying up my score; five points for taking Miss O to the farm today, -10 for the part when she lobbed food pellets at a cow and almost blinded it (she’s got one hell of a right arm on her). Eight points for getting two types of vegetables onto her lunch plate, -10 for letting her have an Easter Egg before 8am because she’d been up for 4 HOURS already and it’s the only known cure for incessant whinging…

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Nursery report vs mum report

Miss O goes to nursery two days a week, and she absolutely loves it. We both found it a bit tough when she first started, but now she runs in every morning without so much as a backwards glance in my direction (heartless little creature)…

At the end of each day, I get sent a little report on what she’s been up to, which seems to be fairly standard practice these days. Does anybody else read these and worry that they’ve mixed your child up with another, less feral, classmate?

Here are some examples, with my ‘mum report’ extracts for comparison (thank God we don’t actually have to submit one of these; I’d have OFSTED banging on my door within the week!): Read more

‘What to Expect’ – 10 things the baby books didn’t cover

Lambing season also seems to be baby season this year – my lovely friends and family are popping out sprogs left, right and centre at the moment! What surprises me the most when they ask for advice (aside from the fact that they’re actually asking ME; they clearly don’t read this blog) is how shockingly little of the detail I remember! The products we used, the routines we had in place, the tips we tried; it’s all a bit of a blur now…

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FYI – that’s a ‘she’s just crapped herself in her sleep’ smile…

What I DO remember, however, are the following glaring omissions from those ‘What To Expect Once Your Hoo-ha’s Been Hijacked‘ type books: Read more

Hurrah for cousins!

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“…so I said ‘mama; if you don’t hand over those chocolate buttons right now, it’s gonna get REAL frickin’ screamy in here…”

J and I were a bit late to the whole parenting game compared to our other siblings, so by the time Miss O rocked up, she was lucky cousin number 7 (in that everyone else felt damn lucky that their child actually slept occasionally. Fun fact – did you know that giraffes only sleep for 30 minutes a day, max?? Remember a time when it seemed IMPOSSIBLE that any being could function on so little sleep? Yeah, me neither…).

Anyhoo, here are some of the definite pluses of arriving fashionably late to the procreation party (which with hindsight sounds a lot dirtier than I meant it to…) Read more

When being at work doesn’t seem as hard work!

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First item on the agenda; you’ve got to up your game mummy, it’s a f*cking tip in here…

I’m always a bit hesitant to describe myself as a ‘working mother’, for fear it implies that I think stay-at-home mothers are not working, when I know all too well that being in charge of tiny hoodlums all day is by far the hardest job of all!

In fact, as much as I miss my little girl and look forward to the days I get to spend with her, there are certain aspects of the work environment that I have a whole new appreciation for since becoming a mother. For example: Read more

A shout out for my ‘Team Parent’ comrade

It’s Mother’s Day, and I’ve treated myself to a raging hangover courtesy of a rare night out with the girls yesterday. It wasn’t exactly hard core; I was even home by midnight, Cinderella-stylee. Although I’m pretty sure when she was reunited with her Prince, his first words weren’t “She’s in the bloody pan cupboard again, I’m off for a poo”…

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Speaking of J, he didn’t really go all-out this year gift-wise – nothing says ‘I love you mama’ like a scratch card from the Co-op. But having thought about it a bit (once my Prosecco-soaked brain cells could finally string coherent thoughts together again), I realised that I’m not massively bothered. Overall, he’s a pretty high-performing member of Team Butel.

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The poultry punch-up

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Miss O being escorted from the scene of the crime…

Earlier this week, the ridiculously funny Matt Coyne (aka Man vs Baby) shared his struggle with his son’s ‘smacking phase’ on his Facebook page.

Now I can really sympathise here, what with having my very own home-grown hellraiser, so I commented:

“Worried that my child (also 18 months) is basically feral – we’ve had 3 biting-related incident letters from nursery this year already, and when we visited a farm this weekend, I sh*t you not, she punched a chicken…”

And that’s when about a thousand other people got involved… Read more

Assembling your parent posse – 6 key questions

There’s been a lot of buzz in the press lately about Mush, a new app to help like-minded parents find each other for local play dates and such. Inspired by this, I’ve put together a short questionnaire to help me assemble my very own parent posse…

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“Have fun sweetie – mama’s off to the bar…”

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“The day off”

“Do much on your day off?” A (fresh-faced/well-rested/child-free) colleague asked breezily as I sat down at my desk this morning…

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To clarify, I work four days a week and am lucky enough to spend the other day at home with Miss O. But, as much as I appreciate being able to do this, there is NO WAY that what transpires every Wednesday could possibly be described as ‘a day off’.

And on days like yesterday, when Miss O essentially dicked about from sunrise to sunset, it’s about as ‘on’ as it gets. Here are some highlights:

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