Bad mother confession #318 - A half-baked idea

I know kids... Let's bake some cakes! Now, go stand over there and watch. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!

I hate baking with my kids. There, I've said it, that's a load off my mind now. Not least because I fear for my own calorie consumption when I finish off the remaining 19 of the two dozen cupcakes we argued over, but mostly because my inner control-freak gets unleashed. "Don't touch that! Don't make a mess! No you can't crack an egg... you know what happened last time! Get your fingers out of the butter!". My heart-rate increases, sweat pours from my forehead and my stomach twists in knots as I contemplate scrubbing the icing sugar off the floor and how I will ever clean it from under the washing machine?!

I have a reasonably ample bosom and derrière that suggest I should be the real heart-of-the-home home-maker... But I'm not. My hatred of cleaning out-trumps any feelings for realising the ideals thrown at us from every image of domestic bliss to which we're subjected. Just pass me the surface wipes, please, and all will be well.

Confession #81 - Sometimes, shoes can be resisted

Confession #81 - Sometimes, shoes can be resisted

Especially when there are only 11 days of the school year left and we're talking about school shoes.  His current shoes have massive holes in them and it's the wettest summer on record.  But £30 for a pair of shoes he'll wear for three weeks?!  I call it character building.

Confession #173 - A Mother's love is unconditional

Bad mother confession #173: A mother's love is unconditional. 


But even that gets pushed to the limits at half 9 at night when the kids are hanging over the edge of your bath after you've resigned yourself to call an early end to the day, dinnerless, having endured two and a half hours of madness and mayhem and faced with two trashed bedrooms, post-bedtime. And then they have the cheek to say they're tired in the morning. *drums fingers on the table*