London Mums Blog

Unspoken parental roles

I seem to have an unspoken agreement with hubby that I watch the kids at all times. I say unspoken because I don't remember agreeing to be on a heightened sense of alert at all hours, in all places.  I tell the girls that I have eyes on the back of my head, so maybe that's where he got the idea.

On Sunday we decided last minute to drive down to Regatta. It was about 11 am, and the crowds were just starting to arrive.

I should have known when hubby stopped at the Telegraph stand and picked up a paper and an umbrella as a free gift.

Shoe management

How many shoes does a child need?!

This is not a trick question. It's a plea for sanity.

A pair for school, a pair for parties. A pair of trainers (that's tennis shoes for you yanks). Slippers. Oh yeah, and wellies. Sandals for the summer. That should just about cover it. Tops six pairs of footware per child.

I have three children.  So why the heck do I have 82 PAIRS of shoes in the children's wardrobe? This doesn't count the 13 pairs of "in use" shoes that clutter our entry way. And I won't even go into how many I have, though this does make me curious and I might go count them.

How to annoy a modern mother

It is only now that I am sitting down with a giant Kath Kidson mug of fresh ground Lavazza coffee with lots of steaming milk can I write about this. I can feel the stress levels lower with each sip.

Big picture, think picture.

About ten minutes ago I could have torn apart anything that was in my path, including my poor husband, who was going about his own business quietly.

It was a particularly hectic morning, the girls were still suffering from PNPS (Post Nativity Play Syndrome) -- similar to PMS, but for kids, and only during Christmas.

Please, don't send your sick kids to school!

First, check out the Best of the British Mummy Bloggers. It's up over at Potty's and is a nice collection of cries tales from the trenches of motherhood.

Second, I want to plead with my fellow mums -- PLEASE, if your child threw up last night’s dinner or had the loo permanently stuck to their bottom, DO NOT SEND HIM TO SCHOOL.

I don’t care if you asked him if he wanted to stay home and he said no. I would want to get out of the house too if I was faced with the choice of helping a grumpy, tired mummy with the growing mountain of laundry the size of Everest or playing with my friends.

The thing is, when you send your sick child to school, they spread their germs. They don’t do it intentionally – they cough or sneeze and the virus suspends itself in mid air, non discriminate on where, or on whom, it lands.