Fuck the naughty step!

I've just been doing something online and I was asked what category my blog comes under.
 I don't even know. My only option anywhere near close to what I write about was a parenting blog.
I went all 'deer in headlights' and panicked at the thought of it. I'm definitely not to be idolised or listened to when it comes to my blogs, please take them with a pinch of salt.
This little task set off a train of thought about parenting blogs and the people that write them. The blogs I'm talking about are the ones with nanny 911 advice and recipes for dinners containing your entire 5-a-day, organic ingredients, magic chickens and an entire virgin vegan that has performed opera at the royal albert.
I could never compare to these people and sprinkle out advice about raising perfect children. But what I do have is a realistic stance when it comes to parenting. Experience of what happens when shit goes wrong and your child does not comply with perfect parent regulations.
I have endured enough tantrums and ruined enough recipes to write a solid Bible on how to survive the 'dark side'.

The main thing I want to reassure you with here is that sometimes,  just sometimes, the naughty step doesn't bloody work. I have discovered this on several occasions.
No matter how many times you calmly place your child on the step, she just runs. Upstairs, under your legs, she's like a fucking greyhound.
So what the fuck do you do next?!  Nothing, I say. This is the time when I just give up and go and find something less stressful to do. Fuck the naughty step.
The tantrum will soon cease without an audience and everyone will be friends again. Until you make lunch on the wrong coloured plate or you can't sing along to their freshly made up song because you don't know the words.
I'm sure if nanny 911 read this she would probably put me on the naughty step.
The other issue I have with the naughty step is that it's unreliable. It's never bloody there when I need it.
Tantrum in a shop? Where the fuck's the naughty step at?!

Today, Olivia is spending alot of time on the naughty step. However, she hasn't actually been naughty.
Apparently, her imaginary friend Fiona lives on the stairs and Olivia is visiting her and having the time of her life on the naughty step. So if Olivia decides to play up today I'm fucked.

I guess it boils down to the fact that some people have natural patience and some people don't (me, for example) and some people are lucky enough to have placid children who hardly ever see the naughty step.
I'm definitely not unlucky though. I adore Olivia's fire and attitude (most of the time).  I hope that one day it will mould her into someone with the ability to make big changes.
Although she can be unruly and frustrating at times,  Olivia has the biggest heart that I have ever had the pleasure of being touched by.

I am not, in any way, preaching that we should not discipline our children. I believe in balance.
Enough discipline that your child grows to learn right from wrong, but no so much that their fire is put out.
Sometimes I think we spend so much times obsessing over how to produce a perfect child that we don't stop to think about what kind of adult it will result in.
 I want our future generations to question what they are being told to do and stand up if they believe it is wrong, not fall in line and keep quiet just because they're told to.

Raise leaders, not followers.

Kelsey x

Mummy's workout

I keep seeing videos of really fit mums with 2-3 kids, doing a workout that involves their kids. You know the ones I'm on about right? The ones where they do really cute things like squats with their kids or planks with the kids on their back.
First of all, the planks are really hard. Secondly, Olivia is a bit of a wrestling expert and she turns all hulk hogan on me as soon as I get into plank position.
So, at the moment, my home workouts are far from YouTube material.

Today's workout was a perfect example, so I've listed the steps of my workout that probably should have taken half the time :

- Spend 10 minutes clearing all the toys and picking up 2838595947 pencils that Olivia has sprinkled around, then listen to her break down because I tidied up her friends (the pencils)

- Spend a further 10 minutes hoovering the rug because Olivia has just charged in with a cup full of crushed Crisps, tripped on her own two feet and dropped them everywhere

- Area is finally ready. Pick up weights and attempt to start on your arms.

- 30 seconds into the workout Olivia announces that she needs a poo and she can't open the door. Open door and return to workout.

- 2 minutes later, Olivia comes into the room and announces that she has dropped her friend in the toilet. Go to bathroom to sort situation and discover that Olivia's friend is imaginary and there is nothing in the toilet that needs saving.

-Return to workout. What the fuck is that smell?!
Baby has shit. Lovely.

-Quickly change nappy and proceed to workout.

-Crunches! I'm pretty good at these! Get into position and start ploughing through them before I'm required elsewhere.

-Olivia starts climbing under my legs and saying "this is my tunnel. I am a rabbit and I live in a hole", followed by "Mummy your bum us really big and it's in the way of my rabbit bed"..  Cheers babe 👍

-Finish crunches, start planking.
Plank for ten seconds, then experience your 3 year old complete a running seat-drop onto your back. Ouch. "Mummy your the dolphin and I'm the child!".

- Stand up,  put weights away before someone trips and loses a toe.

- Turn around amd discover 3 year old drinking your water with a mouthful of mini cheddars. Water now looks like the river Thames.

-Make fresh water, sit down and decide to finish workout later when the girls are in bed.

Typically,  the minute I sat down, Delilah fell asleep and Olivia went upstairs and started fighting monsters with her sword and sheild. So now I'm sat here in silence,  with all the space in the world!

I'm going to see the positive in this though!  I still fit a workout in regardless!
Sometimes, having kids is a bigger challenge than even 1000 crunches, but I try my fucking hardest and that's all that matters. Even if it means sharing my water after a mini cheddar attack.

Kelsey x

What is on my mind tonight?

I sat down this evening feeling emotional, confused and a little bit empty.
I have sat and questioned whether or not I should write this, let alone publish it for others to read. Partly because it's not my usual bad mouthed blog about parenting quirks, and partly because it's very personal.
It's something that plays with my mind every day and leaves me questioning so much about myself.
This post is a plea. A plea to every parent reading this to never stop trying. Even when your child is 14 years old, full of attitude and belief that the world owes them a favour. Never, ever give up on them.
A childs mind is so fragile and confused, but their heart is so full of forgiveness and love. They should never be blamed or punished for abusive, neglectful or unstable relationships. This probably sounds obvious, but for those who have actually experienced this, it is far more damaging than you could ever imagine.

I look at people around me and I envy so much. I envy that they remember their teenage years. The crucial years that help define you. The years that were basically invented for rebellion, attitude and finding yourself as a person. I don't have a lot to remember, as these were the years that damaged me the most. The years that give reason to my social anxiety, my severe self hate, my fear of judgement and extreme need to make people like me and accept me.
I envy those who can relax, laugh and make eye contact with their close family.

It's impossible to tell what exactly defines a personality, and I hope and pray every day that my girls will grow to be good people. One thing I can be certain of is that if you love, understand and forgive more than you ever thought possible, every single day, your kids will learn to do the same. Be their idol, their support system and their biggest source of love. Be their teacher, carer and friend.
Never let them down and they will reward you later in life with the same gifts.

I have been let down, forgotten about and  damaged by the people who are supposed to love me the most and this makes me question why every single day. One thing I can be certain of is that I have learnt from this. I have promised myself I will never let my girls feel unloved.

I spend a lot of time pretending that it doesn't matter to me that my past two birthdays have been forgotten, that I did not once get a message when I was sick and suffering in hospital or that I was blamed for a bad relationship. But honestly, it kills.
So this is my plea.
Don't blame your kids.
Even when their behaviour is out of control and they are being unreasonable beyond words. You can damage them more than you think.

Kelsey x

My inquisitive little human

I've been a little quiet because, in all honesty, I'm fucking knackered.
My brain probably looks like ones of my dads omlettes right now because Delilah has decided that she doesn't want to sleep. Like, ever. Crying has been her favourite past time for the past three days so as you can imagine, I've probably aged by at least 30 years.

So yesterday, in my tired desperation, I took the girls to the park with Crisps to watch the circus tent being put up.
It's times like this that I realise how different our minds work as we get older.
As I sat there wondering how I'm going to pay my phone bill, Olivia watched in awe as the tent slowly took shape. She truly appreciated everything around her in this moment and I couldn't help but love her a little more for being such an innocent, inquisitive little human.
Maybe this is why she asks so many random questions; because she notices more than I do. The world is so new to her still,  and she has so much to experience.
I forget this alot, so the other day when Olivia asked me to show her over the wall where the train tracks are I was genuinely surprised at how amazed she was.

She then made up a game, in which we had to guess what caravan the clown lives in. Naturally, all my guesses were wrong.
Olivia even took the opportunity to ask me one of her extra special questions that she likes to save for when my brain is extra fucking frazzled; "Mummy,  why is it called a circus?" "How old is the clown?" "where is the clowns mum?"

So, two hours later, Delilah finally had a nap, Olivia laid on the sofa picking her nose and watching peppa pig and I sat and googled about circuses.
(FYI, the word circus has something to do with the word circle, where all the acts are performed in the tent. You're welcome)

Kelsey x

My fuck it bucket list

I've seen alot of people talking about a fuckit list, so I thought I'd make my own!
My fuck it bucket list isn't very big. It's just a couple of things I found I worried a little too much about.

Breastfeeding-
I should probably start by saying that I'm not slating those who breastfeed in any way, and if you can breastfeed then you should!  There are so many benefits and I think you're a saint if you can stick to it!
I'm just saying, it's no big deal if you don't.
I tried, and failed, to breastfeed. I beat myself up about it for months, because I was so desperate to give my child what I thought was the only good food.
I look back now and realise it's really not a big deal, my daughter thrived off formula and has grown up an unfussy eater. So by the time I had my second I was confident in my decision that sometimes breast really isn't best.
Sometimes breast is extremely painful and stressful. Sometimes,  giving your child a bottle means you can share night feeds and not have to worry about your nipples feeling like gateways to fucking hell.
So don't beat yourself up about it if breastfeeding really isn't for you!

-Baby groups and baby massage-
With both babies I swore to myself I would socialise at the local babygroups and attend certain classes that would theoretically make me a better mum (bullshit).
I usually attend one or two then forget for the next six months.
Baby groups are brilliant if you're lonely, or bored, or want to learn a particular skill. But, if you decide to fuck them off, it's really no big deal.

-Timed feeds
The ever-so-delightful cluster feeding is how both of my girls decided to feed. For those of you that don't know, cluster feeding is drinking smaller amounts of milk closer together.  I'll admit, its a pain in the arse.
My girls were happy doing it this way and they were weaned easily, so it worked for us.
Don't let people tell you you're doing it wrong if your baby isn't feeding religiously every four hours! Where has this routine stemmed from? Its fucking bullshit. Do what you like. If your baby is feeding, that's all that matters.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is, don't let anyone make you think you're doing parenting wrong just because you're not doing it the same as them. Fuck em. That's what I say.

Kelsey x

I'm having a bad day!

Today is one of those days where I phone my husband for some much needed sympathy.
It is the kind of day when I realise that being a mum of two is fucking hard and that I would really like to go back to work.
Sometimes motherhood isn't all pretty pictures and learning to walk. Sometimes it's your child crying and demanding soup whilst the other is screaming for a bottle, and you're trying your hardest to do both whilst simultaneously trying to put your shopping away and fighting the urge to pee yourself. As you can probably guess, this is what happened to me today. I had a wild 10 minutes when I got home and I felt like hiding away.  To top it all, my house was an absolute state because,  despite me saying no, Olivia made a huge den in the kitchen.
After the madness ended I took myself into the kitchen to make tea and my own lunch, to then find out I'd only gone and bought a fucking microwave burger for my lunch and my bastard microwave doesn't even work (cue meltdown. Major meltdown over a microwave burger).
Then, just as I sit down, Delilah fills her nappy and Olivia announces that she's hungry again. It's days like this that exhaust me emotionally.
It's also days like today that I feel awful for not appreciating my girls enough, and for not having as much patience as I'd like.
I'm 99% sure that I'm not the only person who has these days (at least I hope). I usually have some kind of teary meltdown in the bedroom, and beat myself up about not being as supermum as everyone else seems to be.

One thing I am good at though is bouncing back. I can have a major meltdown, then pull myself together and tell myself to straighten the motherfucking crown and get on with it.
I remind myself I'm amazing, caring, persistent and, most importantly, I'm only human.
It's OK to cry. It's OK have days where you can't handle your kids. You're still a good mum.
You know that little guilty feeling you have after you shout really loud at your toddler or after you shut yourself in your room and cry? The guilty feeling when you think your child has probably watched too much telly and not done enough crafty things today? Or when you give them another biscuit instead of encouraging an apple?
That guilty feeling is the little sign that your a good mum, regardless of your crazy stress-out days. You care and love way more than you realise and way more than you could ever imagine possible.
Trust me sister, you're not alone.

Besides,  it goes without saying that all this shit is completely forgotten the day your child comes home from nursery with a family portrait, or when your child tells you she loves you. That's the best part. Kids speak from the heart and are passionate about everything. So even when Olivia is being a complete shit, I love her unconditionally because she is her own little person with her own little mind.
Kelsey x

Mum's night out

Its not often I have a night out. But when I do, I can't help but notice the difference between now and before I had kids.
Its funny how every aspect of your life changes, even the parts that dont actually involve your kids. I mean, its not like I drag the girls out with me on my rare night out.
A night in town will now require weeks of planning, saving and preparing myself for socialising with non-toddlers.
My weekend will usually happen like this:

-Firstly, I will spend the whole day saying to Aiden "are you sure you don't mind?!".
I don't know if this is because I'm waiting for a reason to not go out, but I'm not really sure how I'd react if Aiden did actually turn around and say "actually yes I do mind"

-My hair will take most of the day to prepare for and I will still end up looking like beetlejuice (Aidens words), despite my best efforts to copy a YouTube video on how to create 'natural waves in seconds'. Fucking bullshit.

-I will throw the all-famous female hissy fit over my outfit. I have nothing to wear.

-I always settle on a dress, after promising myself to try something different, and then realise I forgot to shave my legs. This results in an awkward, edge of the bath shaving session,and I will 100% end up with a shaving cut.

-Anyone that knows me knows that I'm shit at predrinking. I get over excited and drink everything in sight before I've left the house. This always results in me throwing up and swaying in the corner eating toast and trying to sober up.

-I'm a mother. That never really leaves me when I go out. I worry alot about whether my friends are all together, no ones strayed off and no one is being talked into smoking crack in an alleyway (joking. I think.)
I vaguely remember sitting on the dirty dancefloor trying to work out how to tie my friends shoe laces so that she doesnt fall over, despite that fact that the alcohol will probably get to her first and knock her on her arse. It's alot like looking after toddlers I suppose. Minus the alcohol.

Let the fun commence! 😉
Kelsey x

Women wars!

International women's day seems to have sparked up some serious bitching.  As women,  we seem to take any opportunity to show the world how awesome we are and how any woman living life different to us is not a real woman. Not cool guys.

I am a married mother of two, and I seem to have taken up the role as a full time house wife. I cook and clean and look after the girls most of the time whilst aiden goes to work. This fell into place when we had our second child and Aiden started pursuing his career as a paramedic.
I have been a working mother, a stay at home mother, a housewife, an independent woman and at times, just a pure lazy bitch. I can honestly tell you that during each of these ventures, my vagina did not once fade or disappear. I have always been just as much of a woman as every other female around me.
Our place is not in the kitchen,  and we were not born to be a housewife. We were born to boss the fuck out of life, regardless of how we chose to do it.
Informing the world of your decisions and saying why they make you better than other women does not make you admirable, desirable or in any way right. It makes you a twat. It makes you look desperate to convince everyone of your self worth.

Live and let live! Focus on your happiness and congratulate those who do the same.
These women wars are getting boring now and if I roll my eyes anymore I'm scared they're going to roll out of my fucking head!

Bitterness and spite are the two most unattractive traits in a woman.  Remember that.

Kelsey x

Mother's day expectations

In the build up to mothers day, I always picture this:
Waking up feeling refreshed on a Sunday morning, having my husband bring me breakfast in bed and a cup of tea. Olivia will then run in, climb on the bed a give me my present.  It's usually something mumsy like a mug or chocolate or some sort of poem in a frame.
I will then spend my day in my beautiful tidy house or going on a woods walk whilst everyone looks after me. I won't once lose my shit and the whole day is full of sprinkles and confetti.
This is not how it pans out at all.

Granted, there is a chance Aiden will bring me tea. But there is also a chance liv will come and dive on the bed, causing my tea to explode fucking everywhere. She will then give me a present, which she likes so much that she will insist she keeps it.
I will go downstairs and realise that hurricane bastard katrina must have come for a visit whilst I was sleeping. It can't have been Olivia that made the mess because when I ask her she always says no.
Then the day will go on like any normal day.

Please don't misinterpret this, I absolutely love that I get to celebrate mothers day and I'm grateful to have the opportunity. Growing up without a mum has meant that mothers day is usually pretty shit. Since having kids I've found that mothers day is a little better, it's just funny how I have such high expectations from a three year old who doesn't actually know what mothers day is. Maybe one day I will get a trip to the spa, but for now I'm happy with cold tea and a present that I'm allowed to own for a maximum of ten seconds before it's taken back.

Happy Mothers day!  😘

Straying from the truth

Don't ever try and fool your 3 year old and think you'll get away with it!
These little masterminds are like sherlock fucking holmes with an sd card inserted into their brain.
 Most of us tell little lies to our kids; the cake shop doesn't have any cakes left, peppa pig doesn't work today etc etc.
 If you're good enough at lying that your child actually believes you then I take my fucking hat off to you! Olivia is not easily tricked and I'm shit at lying, its as simple as that.
 Today is supposed to be ballet day, but Delilah had other ideas. Seeing as Delilah likes to be up before the crack of dawn these days, I'm knackered. Especially today.  So I decided today we would skip ballet, and I hadn't mentioned anything about ballet to Olivia as I thought it was best.
 I was so fucking wrong to think she wouldn't realise. Surely she doesn't know it's a Saturday?!  Who fucking spilled?!
Anyway, this is what happened :
I'm sorting through some washing and Olivia approaches me and says "mum am I going to ballet today?"
Me: *deer in headlights expression" "erm, not today babe"
Olivia: Yeah it's ballet today!
Here we go. So I just mumble something about no ballet today, it's cancelled,  plague outbreak, LETS DO SOME STICKING AND GLUEING!

We have also told Olivia that we can't go into McDonald's because it's too full up and there's no room, for her to then point and shout "yes there is! Look!  I can see a table"  😒 fuck.

I should probably be a responsible parent and just explain things to liv. But sometimes it's really not worth the argument. Sometimes she's none the wiser, sometimes it just makes the argument worse.  It's a risk I'm willing to take!
Don't sweat it, and most importantly; don't get fucking caught, for the love of christ, don't get caught!

Kelsey x

Motherhood unity, girl power and all that!

My blog was a spontaneous decision, made one night when my husband was out. My days are always filled with the kinds of scenes you would find in an Adam Sandler movie and this particular evening I just happened to ask myself why the fuck am I not writing this stuff down.
So it happened. I threw some ideas together and managed to find myself a small fan base of people who can either relate to my blogs or they just want to laugh at my expense.

When the readers started flooding in I panicked and asked myself what the fuck im doing. I felt under pressure to please everyone and I kept wondering if im 'doing it right'.
After an evening on Google I just thought "fuck it". My blog is not a service, and I can guarantee there will be times where I may go at least a week without posting anything.
I picture my blog (and Facebook page) as a safe place, or a snug. It's a place where I can go and talk without being judged. I can swear as much as I like without being told off (I can even say cunt, yay!) and I don't have to wonder if I'm talking too much, because I do that alot.
I see it alot like having a wine evening with moody bitches, tired mothers and realistic women.

We can moan as much as we like without being judged and without having to worry whether tiny ears are listening and taking notes.

I want mums like me to read my blogs and realise that they're not the only ones who have let themselves go, regularly lose their shit and are not very good at housework.
So, you know,  feel free to tell me I still look hot, my house isn't too horrific and I'm still a good mum!

Have you ever looked at that women in tescos, frog marching her screaming toddler around and judged her for having a misbehaved child? I have.
Have you ever thought that maybe she's just having a shitty day and her toddler decided to skip a nap?

Our kids will be moving out before we know it and I'd personally like to have some friends left to keep me company when this happens.
Remember my blog about Cheyenne?  Rest assured that your friends tantruming child will grow out of that stage and probably turn out like any normal human.
So instead of bitching about her, help a mother out today! Distract her tantruming child, make her tea and let her know you'd still bang her!

Motherhood unity, girl power and all that!
Kelsey x

Monday morning antics

It's Monday morning, liv is fighting monsters with a broom and Delilah is getting angry with her own lack of co ordination skills. My front room is half hoovered (I was hoovering when I felt a blog coming on) and there's a huge den in the kitchen. I have a feeling today will be filled with housework and Olivia's make believe games where I will probably have to be a Wolf or a dinosaur.
Does anyone else ever have to be a dinosaur? Liv makes me do it all the time.
Its not attractive.  Sometimes my neighbours even walk past the window when I'm mid roar, doing my best t Rex arms and kicking shit out of the front room.

I often think about how I acted around kids before I became a mum. If a baby looked me I'd feel awkward and have no idea what to say to them. So I'd find myself repeating the same sentence over and over, "Hello! Hello! Hello!" "what ya doin? What ya doin?", like an absolute nob (I can see that now).
Then you have your own kids and will do absolutely anything to make them smile.
I can now say I have gained a very particular set of skills. Some of these skills include:
- The ability to opera sing any Disney song
- t-rex impressions
- Various voices to suit any character in a kids book
- Fake hysterical laughter
- Tribal dancing to any cbeebies theme song
However,  since having a toddler I seem to have lost any skill in playing hide and seek. It takes a good couple of minutes of wondering around my tiny front room shouting "where's Olivia gone? I can't find her anywhere!" before I actually manage to find her, curled up in the middle of the rug hiding underneath a cushion.

I always find it funny how, as a mother, I cringe at the thought of being seen around town with messy hair and no make up but I don't think twice about skipping across the swimming pool car park.

I'm going to take my own advice today and join in with livs games and try and ignore my ever growing washing pile.

Happy Monday 😉

Saturday morning ballet

I have recently started taking Olivia to a ballet class in Kingsdown, a lovely little village full of expensive houses and well dressed people.
This was the image we created this morning in this beautiful little village:
The venue is a pretty little Hall, surrounded by cottages. If you looked along both ends of the road you can see little ballerinas skipping along in their pink leotards, skirts and cardigans with neat little buns, holding their mums hands who are also unusually well dressed and fresh for this time in the morning.
Our silver focus (now almost black with dirt) pulls up outside. I get out, rocking a scruffy pair of trackies and a tie dyed hoodie, and managed to bring an empty macdonalds cup with me that rolls along the floor. Biggie Smalls is blasting from the radio. I pick up the cup, look over and Olivia is stood next to the car krumping and performing her best ratchet dance. To top it of I realise I have a huge mark on the front of my hoodie. All I can do is laugh.
Sometimes these situations embarrass me. Sometimes I say 'fuck it' and get over it.  Today was a day where I complimented livs fabulous twerking skills, grabbed her hand and skipped into ballet with zero fucks to give.

Kelsey x

Liebster Award

I was nominated for the liebster award! Yay!
For those that don't know,  it's not a massive award. It's more of a positive recognition between new bloggers and a way to discover new blogs. The award is passed around and the idea is to answer random questions given to you by the person who nominated you.
Once completed,  you have to nominate more people to pass on the award!

I was nominated by bibek kafle, a creative and imaginative writer.  His blogs are completely different to mine, so I found them refreshing to flick through. Have a look!  myimaginativewritings.blogspot.co.uk
Here's my answers:

a. Why did you choose to blog?
I enjoy writing and I have a lot buzzing around in my mind! I decided to write down what what was on my mind one evening,  then 3 hours later I had a website, Facebook page and my first blog post!

b.  Do you take blogging as a profession or a passion?
Definitely a passion.  It's my little hobby to keep me sane.

c. What's you favorite food and why?
Most people may not believe this, but I'm not really a lover of food anymore. If I had to choose something I enjoy eating,  I'd probably say tea and biscuits!

d. Besides your own niche, what other topics interests you?
I love reading blogs about real life. I'm not generally interested in product reviews. I love reading about day to day life, travelling etc

e. If you had $1 million, how would you spend it?
I'd be sensible!  I'd buy a house and invest the rest.
I can't promise I wouldn't go on some kind of shopping spree though 😉

f. Let's say you're being attacked by zombie. Grab what's on your right and what's on your left. Answer whether it would be enough to save you and why?
I have a TV remote on my left and a sofa cushion on my right.  I'm pretty fucked.

g. If you get a chance to take a tour around for free, name 4 places you would visit. And why?
Buckingham palace! I had an obsession with the Queen when I was younger and I've always wondered if she has a normal part of the palace that looks like a normal, cosy house.
Despite the fact that I'm shit at history,  it still interests me. So my other three choices would be historic places. Catacombs, Ann Franks house, that kind of thing.
Also, I don't know if this counts, but I've always wanted to do a ghost tour.

h. Any life changing events ever occurred to you?
Having my two girls definitely change my whole life.

i. Dog or cat, why?
Dog. I've grown up with dogs and I'm allergic to cats.

j. Have you ever imagined you being the famous figure of the world?
Definitely not. I have no motivation to make an effort for cameras,  so I would constantly look like a drug addict in the newspapers 🙊🙊

Here's my nominations :
1: http://foundandgathered.com
2:
http//:www.facebook.com/robsshelter
3: https://www.facebook.com/Random.Losers/
4: provokeasmile.com
5: www.lauraxloves.com
6: www.CyphersDenBlog.com
7: footloosedev.com
8: https://nezaustavljiv.wordpress.com/
9: https://motivationalmahesh.wordpress.com/2016/02/24/the-reunion-2/
10: http://www.reporterontheroad.com
11: www.primeeventschatterbox.blogspot.com

My questions for my nominations :

1) Other than blogging, do you have a hobby?

2) Which would you prefer, kids or pets?

3) You're stuck on an island. You have two choices; blogging essentials or a friend. Which do you choose?

4) If you could choose an era to be born into, which would it be?

5) What are your favourite kinds of blogs to read?

6) If you could spend 1 hour with anyone in the world, from the past or present, who would it be?

7) Who is your blogging inspiration/idol, if you have one?

8) Favourite flavour milkshake?

9) Rain or Sun?

10) Where would you like to visit most in the world?

11) Aliens visit earth and you can only ask them one question.  What is it?

Answer the questions then pass on the award! 😊

So many questions...

I'm sure most of you can relate to this! Olivia likes to ask questions.  Lots of fucking questions.
Wise people tell me that my toddler can never ask enough questions and that it's good for their development.  This peice of information doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes or wanting to slam my head in the door.
Olivia likes to ask me the sort of questions that literally hurt my brain.
One particular day, when I was feeling extra delicate after a night out, Olivia asks me "mum how do shadows move?". I thought I was going to throw up right there in the car.
I guess it's a good sign that they're so desperate for knowledge. Unfortunately, I must have been ill the day my teacher taught us how cows make milk or why we don't walk backwards.  Olivia doesn't accept "I don't know" as an answer either.  She will just repeat the question until she is satisfied with the answer. So I often find myself using the distraction method,  where I quickly shout something like "oh my God, is that cinderella?!", then I run away and busy myself.
I have tried answering EVERY SINGLE QUESTION, but it just opens more questions. Every answer usually leads to "whyyyyyy?".
Motherhood should come with an encyclopedia, or access to a 24 hour phone line that's manned by geniuses. I might even write to my mp.
However,  for now, our kids are just going to have to be satisfied with made up answers or don't knows!

Kelsey x

Aiden

A few weeks ago I managed get pneumonia, so my role as a mother ceased for a few days and Aiden was left to run the house and make sure the kids stayed alive.
During this time the house completely went to shit. The hoover was neglected in the corner, the kids didn't have a single bath and the washing pile consumed the fucking landing.  Safe to say, once I got my energy back, I lost my shit.  I spent days trying to get the house back to normal and I was so stressed I was probably a bitch to live with.
The usual thoughts ran through my mind (and were often voiced, really fucking loud).
"Why the fuck am I the only person in this house that knows how to use a hoover?!  Look at this place!  Fuck sake!"

Then I think about what Aiden actually does when I'm out of action.
He will do necessary housework (wash up, put toys away, sterilise bottles) and make sure the kids are well fed. Then he will spend the rest of the day entertaining them and cuddling on the sofa watching films.
I like to think I can juggle housework and spending time with my girls, but I don't spend half as much time with them as Aiden does on his day off.
They adore their daddy and Aiden is the go-to man if you fancy a wrestle or you just generally want to terrorise someone. He has even been talked into playing with ponies and wearing pretty hair clips.
I think we could all take a leaf out of our partners book sometimes. Washing can wait, our kids can't. I honestly don't remember whether the house I spent my childhood in was messy. I do, however,  remember my mum doing a handstand in the front room and smashing the lightbulb.

One thing I can be sure about is that my husband is my fucking hero.
He's not afraid to change a shitty nappy and he's never complained about the fact that my road to motherhood made me chubby and lose my boobs.
He knows the bat signal for 'Im in such a shit mood, I'm probably going to punch someone in the throat '. That's the cue to leave me to hide under the covers, child free, for half an hour to sulk it out.

I feel like I should appreciate the things he already does and work on my stress levels, rather than working on Aiden's housework skills.
Plus, if I keep being a bitch, he might leave me. Then who will do his washing?
 Kelsey x

Morning people

Today is the kind of day where we stay at home and spend the day trying to keep each other alive and sane. When you become a parent, your sanity is something that doesn't stick around often and I'm guaranteed to lose my shit today.
It's so easy to get comfortable with a routine or habit, and up until now Delilah has been a little angel. She has been a well rested, happy baby. So we got comfortable, thinking that having two kids was a fucking breeze. Pffft.
One day I might wake up feeling refreshed and optimistic about life. That day is not today.
I admire mothers who wake up in the morning, make breakfast around the table in a tidy kitchen, fully dressed, quirky and generally fucking loving life. I want what they're having. Unicorn dust, maybe?  Some kind of drug?  Whatever it is, I'll have some.
On a day like today,  I will put the telly on, position the kids in front of it, make cereal and a bottle, then when the kids are satisfied I will curl on the sofa with a blanket and slowly die. What even is a morning person?

My sister

No matter what my kids do,  I always tell myself they will turn out just fine. Even though Olivia has an obsession with the words bum, boob and poo. Even though her wrestling skills are now verging on WWE level.

Do you know how I know this?  Because my sister, Cheyenne, was the biggest pain in the arse when we were kids and she turned out OK.
Im not talking about your usual sibling bullshit. This demon ran me over with a fucking quad!
One particular heart breaking memory I had was when I was about 8. Our family own a peice of land that we spent our childhood on climbing trees and generally rolling in the dirt. One day I came across an old lead and collar in the trees and I managed to convince myself I owned an invisible dog. This dog bought me so much happiness as I dragged it around in the dirt all day.
Cheyenne was obviously in a shitty mood because on this particular day, whilst I was completely caught off guard, she stormed up to me, grabbed my invisible dog and threw him over the fence as if she was competing for a gold fucking medal.
I was devastated.
I could go on all day telling you stories about how my sister used to smack herself and blame it on us etc etc. But the point I'm making is that she is now the nicest person you will probably ever meet. Granted, she's still cranky as fuck, but she couldn't care less.
Cheyenne is the meaning of quirky and the image of originality.
So when your demon child is beating the shit out of their siblings just think of Cheyenne. There is hope!
Kelsey x
 

The day I felt like a good mum.

How many times a day do you compare yourself to other mothers? I do it all the time.
I find myself admiring a mother who looks immaculate,  and their kids look immaculate and I think to myself that they must really have their shit together.
 I'll have the odd day here and there where I wear a really nice outfit that actually matches. Ill do my hair and make up and then walk around like a fucking boss. I might even get a cookbook out and make caviar or courgette gratin or whatever. Then after a long day I'll realise that Olivia still had a tantrum, Delilah's shit still exploded from her nappy and my husband didn't actually notice my attempt to look like Kim Kardashian.
 Im a scruff bag with zero fashion sense, who sometimes forgets to wipe chocolate spread from her childs face before she goes to nursery. I can't cook potatoes in any form and housework is not my forte.
 Just as I start to think that I'll probably never win an award for the world's best mum, this happens:

Olivia is playing sleepovers with all her toys and lion has a hard time squeezing into one of livs nighties. She then spends the next few minutes trying to make him feel better. Livs words: " aw babes are you OK? Sometimes you are chubby but its OK because we are all best friends"

That moment made me feel like a good mum.
These are the moments to look out for. The small moments that are so easy to miss, that tell you that you're doing OK. You're child is just fine, even if you haven't brushed her hair for five days and she had biscuits for breakfast.
Chin up you bloody supermum!
Kelsey x

  I'm a ranty kind of person. Always have been.

I don't know exactly why or where it comes from but my wild guess is that it's a mixture of my angry dad's genes and the constant need for acceptance from other people.

My language is foul and my parenting skills are far from Mary Poppins at times.

One positive thing I can proudly say about myself is that I've always liked to write. Whether I'm any good at it or not is something I'm yet to discover but I've always admired the honesty of the female bloggers that I follow,  especially the mothers.

Thing is, it's no secret that motherhood turns into a massive fucking competition. My newsfeed is full of perfect lives, perfect relationships,  perfect children and perfect houses. I'm no exception to this. When in reality, my daughter is no stranger to Netflix and a bag of Crisps and half the time she can't even wipe her own arse properly. 

I admire mothers who will happily post a picture of their snotty, half naked child wading through three days worth of untouched housework, even when every other fucker will only post a picture online if they've bleached their child, got the backdrop out and taught them French poetry. 

Motherhood shouldn't be a competition. It should be a journey.  Learning to embrace the things that make you cringe the most and learning to laugh off the things that would make most of your Facebook mothers faint in disgust.

I don't want to hear how Abigail learnt to recite the alphabet in sign language.  I want to hear about the kids that tell you they've got an itchy bum in the line at the bank, or the kids that call their toys a dickhead because they won't sit up properly.  Those are the kids I love.  The quirky ones.

So if you get anything from this piece of shit, thrown together blog (that I didn't even spellcheck), make it this: at least once, post a picture, story,  whatever online about your kids. But don't make it a time when they've been cute and clever. Make it a time when they've been a little twat and you want to throw them out the window, or a time when they've made you die with embarrassment. 

I'll start!

When my biggest small was 2 we went swimming. I was due on my period so I thought it would be wise to be safe. So when Olivia was rummaging through my bag I saw my opportunity to swiftly put a tampon in. Wrong move.  Mid-squat she turns around and shouts "mum why are you putting that in your bum?" *changing rooms go completely fucking quiet *

Why the fuck did I teach you to talk?! 

This is probably the only parenting advice you'll get from me, and you probably won't want to take it after you've heard some of my stories but here goes anyways. Don't sweat the small stuff. They won't remember the age you taught them the alphabet or how to tell the time. They'll be most grateful for the way you taught them to be confident, original and outspoken.

Teach them to be the person you'd love to be yourself. Teach them to survive in a world of opinionated wankers and judgmental arseholes.

Thanks for listening to me try and feel better about my parenting 😉

Stay honest!

Kelsey x