It’s Alex’s first proper, proper, proper day at playschool today, without me skulking about in the shadows, making sure the playschool teachers to child ratio remains intact. As I left him in the care of someone other than me, I avoided all eye contact with other mothers, friends of mine, who were keen to chat about Christmas and New Year events. Was I crying silent tears and was I avoiding discussing my baby growing up and becomming independent and not needing me as much anymore? No. I just had 3 precious hours to myself and I wanted every last minute of those MoFo’s accounted for.
Sounds harsh? Undoubtedly. Honest? Yes. 4 1/2 years I have waited to loaf about in front of This Morning without someone moaning at me about how it doesn’t have a puppet or OTT storylines (er, hello, look at Holly nodding along like the Winston Churchil dog and didn’t you see that the main feature was a “I’m a woman and I married the Berlin Wall”, kids?).
So, today, I am going to do what the Government think I have been doing all day long as a Stay at Home Mum for the past 4 plus years anyway, and sit on the sofa drinking tea in my PJ’s (I have put my PJ’s back on) and read crappy entertainment news.
1) Angelica Houston and her pillow face.
“Holy Moly. Why?! Bloody hell what has she done to herself?! Why do women feel this pressure to look young and end up looking like the bulgey bit in the middle of a worm?” I declare!
Oh wait…same night, another shot
So, actually her face isn’t that bad and the first photo was just a vile photo taken from the Devil’s armpit of an angle. I too have have a photo of me looking like I ate only pies and chips for a year then smelt a bad fart. *Click* when the camera. *Click* when the laptop upload button. Unflattering and vile and branded all over the internet (facebook).
2) Courtney Cox says “I’m game for anything”! Ooooh, a sex story I think! Filthy stories about sordid affairs with Gunther that would make even me blush. But no. All she is telling me is that she is “Up for surgery in the future”. Is she KIDDING ME?! I’m not BLIND. Her lips look like two lilo’s pushed together! She has a mouth like a macroon.
Courtney, don’t promise me Champagne and deliver me Lamrini you fish-mouthed tease! Dish something decent. Like who really hated who on Friends. And back it up with copies of handbags-at-dawn emails and texts.
3) Kim Kardashian and Kanye West are “not doing an Angelina and Brad and are not going to sell the first photo of baby KimKan to a magazine”. What do they want? A bloody medal?! It’s normal to not sell a snap of your baby to the world. It’s normal for parents to pay other people to take the first official snap of their offspring. That’s what hospital photographers are for. They skulk the hospital corridors and prey on weepy, leaky women still in shock, still off their faces on morphine and pethadine and charge them a small fortune for what could really be anyone’s baby at that point. But back to baby KimKam – they could just use this one that is already in circulation in the media, thanks to software which mixes parents faces together (creepy)
Intrigued as to know what our kids should look like according to the laws of software, not nature, I morphed Smudge’s and my faces. This is our baby, Morph
Then, carried away, I morphed me and Jake Gyllenhall…
Basically, Jake and I just “did it” online. And made a really ugly baby.
(go to www.morphthing.com for fun an games. I am off to make a baby with Barak Obama later)
4) The Womans Super woman pill – a new pill on the circuit for women who are feeling the pressure of it all. “Stressed at work? Overwhelmed at home?”. Why, yes of course. Ask my mother, and her mother and her mother’s mother you patronising arseholes. Do I take my own version of a super pill? Yes. I take this reguarly. It’s called “Sauvignon Blanc and Mars Bars” and is available without prescription.
So, yeah, there you go, my morning. I have enjoyed it, especially “doing it” with Jake. I am aware it was a bit sweary (sorry mum) but that is something else David Cameron assumes us Stay at Home parents do, effing and blinding, threatening kids with a “clip round the bloody ear” and believing their five-a-day can come from a packet of Fruit Pastels. I’m off now for a quick run before picking the kids up from playschool. And all joking aside, I am pretty sad that my youngest is now starting his own journey, independent from me. But the gut wrench and massive gapping hole in my heart has been soothed by the knowledge that he is taken exceptionally good care of where he is (we have known and trusted these playschool teachers for 2 years now), that his older brother is with him, and that he really is “ready” for it all.
Plus I have a stone to shift before my birthday and running during the day and not in the dark means less chance of falling down a massive hole, being attacked by a dirty pervert and running through dog poo. So I am going to join the slip stream of the swarm of other overweight mothers, jumping and dry heaving their way round the village in bright luminous running gear, looking like a pack of fat sausages sizzling in a pan, and head off now. Crying.