Category Archives: Humour

Parent Confessions:


Because secretly we’re all a bit shit sometimes…

NB: Some of these may or may not be me

1. Once I was too tired to bath my child, so I wiped her down with a pack of baby wipes and sprayed perfume in her hair.

2. I have, in an act of desperation, used the palm of my hand to wipe dribble and snot from my child’s face before entering play group.

3. I have given my child cereal for tea. A lot.

4. My child thinks that parks shut when it rains. 

5. I hate other people’s children…

6. My child believes there is a man at the super market who comes and arrests naughty children who aren’t sitting nicely in the trolley.

7. When my child was around 18 months old, if I was hungover we would play the “Where’s the ?” game, which would literally entail me sat on the sofa under a blanket, asking her to find and bring me as many items as I could think of. We would then play the “Put the *** back” game, which would be her putting the various objects she had brought me back in the right place. If she got them all right she got a piece of my hangover chocolate.

8. I have dropped my mobile on my child’s head while breast feeding. Twice.

9. The first time I took my child shopping sat in the upright chair, I looked down and caught her licking the hand bar.

10. I once caught my kid eating biscuits from the dog bowl


Pepper Pig is a Tw*t


So, curse me, my kid watches TV. Whilst I’d love to jump up and say we aren’t ruled by digital means, that would be a lie.

Phones, iPads, TVs, Video games and online surfing all feature heavily in our home (we do read a lot too, we’re not complete droids).

I applaud the parents that blanket ban all media from their young child’s lives in favour of more educational means but I’m a realist. We live in The Digital Age. There’s no escaping it forever. 

Plus, sometimes it’s nice to have 20 minutes to cook dinner without trying to stop the toddler clinging to your leg from burning themselves on the cooker. 

And so, my child watches TV. 

And so, as a result, I’ve happened upon a few different childrens programmes. 

And so, I thought I’d take this opportunity to tell you the reasons why *prepare yourself now the next few words you read may shock you to your very core* 


1. George Pig is a cry baby

He cries when he loses, he cries when he doesn’t get his own way, he cries when he misplaces “Dinosaawww!” he cries, he cries, he cries!

I understand he’s a baby, but isn’t this just teaching children that it’s ok or even normal to cry when things don’t go exactly your way? It’s just sending a bad message in my books.

2. Mummy Pig needs to get a life

She’s a passive aggressive bitch. She bullies poor old Daddy Pig relentlessly making him feel fat and useless at every possibility, and mocking him in front of the kids and her parents equally. 

She claims to have a job but after 4 series were yet to learn what this “job” is apart from the fact that she has a computer in a room… 
Wikipedia doesn’t even know (seriously check it out!) I’m lead to believe she just spends all day online shopping or possibly trolling face book and Twitter accounts- which would explain her sullen nature.

It takes the whole episode for her to finally crack a true smile, at which point the rest of the family are so shocked (or possibly relived in Daddy Pigs case) that they pass out on the floor…

She needs some girl mates and some vino, pronto. 

3. Daddy Pig is pretty fat and useless

Bringing us smoothly to the undeniable fact that Daddy Pig is pretty fat and useless. While I’m always rooting for the under dog- and under he bloody well is, under the angry, presumably hormonal hoof of Mummy Pig and her crushing regular belittle-lings- he doesn’t make things easier for himself! 

Daddy Pig- stand up for yourself! Gain some confidence! Do whatever it takes to stop you being such a clumsy oaf 90% of the time. 

Don’t let the ENTIRE family (in one memorable episode) including your inlaws take the piss out of you by using the words “Daddy’s Big Tummy” as a password!

Don’t let them take the piss out of you by burying you in the sand, up to your neck (urm, turn of the century torture method anyone?) and then bogging off to the shops, leaving you there in the sand alone with only a straw hat for company. 

Don’t let them take the piss out of you for falling into a pond on a cold autumnal day, when all you were doing was trying to retrieve your child’s ball. They should be helping you out and handing you a towel not laughing at you!

You are a hard working, lovable man who tries and tries and tries to please your family, despite their obvious indifference for your feelings. Show them that you really won’t take it anymore!

4. George Pig really should have seen some sort of speech therapist by now

It doesn’t take a doctor to tell you that his speech really should have progressed past “Dinosaawww!” by now. Not to mention the fact that I can’t say the word dinosaur anymore without hearing it in my head in George Pigs irritating voice. 

5. Where are Daddy Pigs parents?

Are they dead? 
Did they fall out?

Maybe they didn’t approve of the marriage to Mummy Pig?

Maybe Daddy and Mummy Pig are actually brother and sister, so Grandpa and Granny Pig are his parents too?! 

Maybe Daddy Pig is some kind of clone pig and, thus, has no parents?


6. Peppa Pig is a rude little twat

I can’t be the only to have noticed this! 

Not only is she the bossiest little cow that ever did exist, she bullies her baby brother constantly, whinges when she loses and she’s rude to her parents.


She regularly body shames Daddy Pig for his “big tummy” which is fairly below the belt in my opinion. Every time she brings it up I want to punch her in the snout… Or maybe that’s because after giving birth twice, I acutely feel Daddy’s pigs pain over his less-than-perfect-body-part.

All this AND she does one of my most hated mannerisms in a child- stamping her feet when she doesn’t get her own way.

7. “Everyone loves jumping in muddy puddles”

Yes, everyone except the parent who has to clean the muddy wellies, wash the muddy clothes and clear up the mud that’s found its way all through the house and car. Bravo Peppa Pig.


8. Grandpa Pig is an insufferable know-it-all…

And doesn’t he make sure Daddy Pig knows that he knows it all?! And thus, knows that Daddy Pig actually knows nothing?! At least we see where Mummy Pig got it from. Dick.


9. Miss Rabbit… When does she sleep?

She works at the coffee shop, the aquarium, as a bus driver, a supermarket assistant, a librarian, a helicopter pilot, a firefighter, an ice cream seller, a shoe shop assistant, a nurse, a car crusher, a ticket seller and a china shop worker.

It’s a little OTT. I can only think she survives on a diet of pro plus pills and modafinil. Either that, or shes actually committing some kind of fraud but I can’t quite work out how…

Maybe she has a secret drug habit and needs thousands of jobs to pay for her thousands of drugs or maybe she’s just trapped in a cycle of paying out so much for pro plus pills that she needs more work and she needs more pro plus pills to ensure she does all her work? 

She should probably speak to one of her multiple Union reps. Or a doctor.

10. All the animals are the same size

Elephants are the same size as pigs, pigs are the same size as rabbits. They either live in a world where elephants are tiny or rabbits are monstrously large. 

And some animals are unfathomably still animals- like Polly the parent and Goldy the goldfish.


11. There are hills everywhere and everyone inexplicably lives on the top of one

So, why then, is Daddy Pig on the chubby side? Surely hiking up a major hill everyday would strip off the pounds? 

Leave the car at home for a week Daddy Pig, you’d soon shift that “big belly”! But in all seriousness whats the deal with all the hills? They should all have calves of steel by now. 

12. Why is George Pig called George? 

All the other characters seem to have names that start with the first letter of the type of animal they are- Peppa Pig, Zoe Zebra, Rebecca Rabbit, so why is George Pig called George and not Peter, Patrick or Paul?  


13. Everyone has a convertible


Is there only one car dealership in Peppa Pig world and unfortunately, that car dealership only sells convertibles? 

It can’t be because it doesn’t rain in Peppa Pig world because we know it does, fairly regularly. 

So why all the convertibles?! 


And now you know. 

This is why I hate Peppa Pig. 

Now for the flip side, Peppa Pig keeps The Lamb (albeit momentarily) entertained which is fantastic when I have jobs to do that simply can’t wait. So she does watch it.

Imagine my horror when I discovered that Nick Jr. Too pretty much just plays Peppa Pig. I didn’t know whether to praise them for giving me 5 minutes of peace or curse them into a fiery oblivion… 

But by God, I have got to the stage where I’d rather let her watch Mr Tumble- I hate that guy too, but at least his programmes have a slight educational value to them! 

My first TV viewing choice for The Lamb remains the same, and currently is The Twirly Woos. At least they don’t drive me insane… Yet. Though I can’t quite understand why the Very Important Lady needs to knock so loudly on the door, but that’s a post for another day.


Types of Mums You Meet at Baby Groups


Sixteen months in and it’s safe to say I’ve been around the block with these groups. 

It’s bizzare that while we all have one massive thing in common- our kids- we’re all completely different in how we parent. 

Baby groups can be worse than the play ground, so I’ve complied a list of the stereotypical mums you’ll find most commonly at these groups and what to avoid saying with each one. 

Of course, some mums are a mix of a couple of stereotypes and some might not fall into any category but you can bet your last quid that you’ll have met a few of these…

The Crunchy One

She’s one of the most obvious to spot. Baby will most likely be carried in a sling, wearing cloth nappies and probably having a drop of boob. Organic is the only option and coconut oil will fix everything. 

She gave birth at home with no meds and a doula. She would never buy or dress the baby in anything mainstream and little Cosmo quite possibly will be dressed in hand me downs or second hand clothes that were definitely not made in China. 

Co-sleeping is the way forward and circumcision should be punishable by law. She will be homeschooling her kids. 

Her child is completely Baby-Led. Baby led weaning, baby led napping, baby led boob feeds, baby led bed times. 

Amongst the most hardcore of the group are the anti-vaccers and herbalists. 

Do not mention routines, mainstream purchases or recycling.

The Designer One

Dressed to the nines, her and her LO look immaculate leaving you to wonder how she does it? Does she keep tons of crisp, clean, ironed reserve clothes in the car in order to change herself and baby as soon as any speck of dirt touches them? Or does she actually have the only toddler in the world who isn’t a magnet for dirt?! I don’t know… I’m still trying to work it out.

This ones quite easy to spot. Mother and Daughter might be wearing matching clothes. The child will most definitely have something “pretty” on and her hair will be adorned with clips and hair bands. 

Her and Designer Dad spent about 2k on Paola’s first birthday party alone; which included a Pinterest perfect birthday cake, a professional photographer, a baby sensory party and about £500 worth of balloons. Of course, all the decorations matched to perfection, down to the personalised party boxes for the kids. 

Paola’s presents included a mini Lamborghini with a personalised number plate, a new puppy and several thousand pounds worth of designer clothes that she’ll grow out of in a month. 

Do not mention gender stereotypes or attempt to buy anything that isn’t pink for the girl.

The Fun One

This is the one who gets down and plays with the kids and not just plays but absolutely loves playing! This one is most likely found running after a child that’s screaming in delight, possibly dressed in gym gear.

She can be a bit full on but all the kids love her and little Lucy and Charlie go to support her and Fun Dad at marathons and charity fun runs every weekend. 

Fun Mum will be active at all future school events and will probably volunteer to go on all school trips as she just can’t bear to parted from her children for a moment.

Do not mention discipline. 

The Gina One

This one has followed The Book from day dot. Her toddler is massively routine based. 

She credits Gina Ford with her child sleeping through early and won’t mess with routine for shit. 

She doesn’t come to any groups/coffee meets which could interfere with nap schedules or snack times.

Do not slag off routines in a negative light. This woman’s world runs on routines and she loves it. 

The Knackered One

Baby does NOT sleep through. This is evident from her appearance, mood and probably because she’s sat there yawning her head off. 

Millie wakes on the hour, every hour and has done so for the past 18 months. I’m just impressed she managed to get dressed in the morning. 

Do not mention sleeping or sleep training or routines- she’s probably tried everything. 

The Silky One

She’s the opposite of The Crunchy One. Baby will be pushed around in the latest Bug-a-boo, formula isn’t thought of as poison and circumcision is a must. 

Max has slept in a crib or cot from the word go in his own room and will be weaned on jars and most definitely not home schooled. 

The Silky One opted for an elective caesarean, Max’s vaccinations will be up to date and she doesn’t home cook.

Don’t mention how great you felt for  giving birth medication free.

The New First Time Mum One

She’s a worrier. She’s a bit insecure. If baby starts crying she panics and promptly shoves a dummy at baby- causing The Judgey One to raise her perfectly arched brow. 

Little Bertie is only 8 weeks old so she’s new to the game and doesn’t know what to expect or what she’s doing. 

She’s terrified of messing up. Be nice to her. Complement her. Tell her she’s doing a fab job. (We were all her once).

The Mum With 3 Or More

I love this one. She doesn’t give a shit what you think. She’s raised at least 3, maybe 4 or 5 and knows what she’s doing. 

She knows she’s not perfect and doesn’t try to pretend otherwise. Her kids are probably wrestling in the corner or running around having a whale of a time, while The Judgey One and Competitive One look on. 

The Mum With 3 Or More doesn’t care though. She’s just happy they’re giving her 5 minutes to drink a cuppa in peace. 

Her house is covered in Lego and Play Dough and more often than not she co-sleeps just to get some much needed peace. 

No need to avoid any topics, it’s an open house.

The Judgey One

Blossom and Artie are perfect. Perfect. They have never had a temper tantrum or any kind of faux pas in public, so when your kids having an off day and decides instead of clapping along to the music she wants to go over by the door and inspect the contents of all the prams, she looks at you in disgust. 

The Judgey One always has her child’s hair perfectly gripped in place so if you’re unfortunate enough to have a child who likes to pull out hair grips you’re out of luck. The Judgey One will eye your child up like she’s a hardened criminal and poor Blossom will milk the incident for all its worth while your left looking and feeling like a bit of a tit. 

You won’t be invited to any play dates or birthday parties in future when she checks out your little hooligan but rest assured, 10+ years down the line when your kids are all at secondary school, your child will come home one day and casually mention that Blossom has fallen pregnant and that Judgey Dad has had an affair and left Judgey Mum. Not so perfect after all. 

Don’t mention well, anything, really. 

The Harassed One 

If you see her be nice (I’m probably in this category and maybe a bit Scrunchy). Chances are her child is going through an uncooperative phase and she’s not quite managing to get anything done. She’ll probably arrive late to the group or will have forgotten something. 

Her kid may be quite high maintenance, vocal, boisterous, nosey and probably doesn’t pay much attention to Mummy in public. No the child doesn’t have ADHD and no the mum isn’t useless at discipline, she’s just decided there are some battles she doesn’t need to win. And screaming at a child in public isn’t fun, not to mention that it doesn’t work and leaves you looking like cock.

Avoid talking about how well behaved your child is. 

The Domestic One

She’s a full time stay at home mum, she goes to baby groups daily in between keeping a spotless house and baking. 

She probably has a vegetable patch and a rich husband.

She’s a bit Crunchy but not enough to be a full on Crunchy mum, she’s a Scrunchy mum, which is a mixture between Crunchy and Silky. 

She uses eco friendly disposable nappies and shops at Waitrose but recycles and bakes her own snacks for baby. 

They holiday abroad three times a year, have a Merc and Grace and Henry attend a variety of music and sports classes. 

Do not ask her if she gets bored. 

The Kind One

She’s lush. She doesn’t judge. She smiles at everyone and never mentions milestones or routines or sleeping through or formula. She laughs when your kid knocks her kid over and says “Don’t worry!” She’s a rare creature, so if you find her befriend her and dear god, don’t let her go! 

The Competitive One

Julie is 9 months old and can already count to 10. In French. Grayson is 5 and plays Beetovens Symphony 9 to perfection on the piano. They are both district champions at Gymnastics and were walking at 7 months old. Slept through from birth. 

Did you know Grayson’s been shortlisted for MENSA? Quite surprising considering he’s sat in corner with one finger up his nose and the other stuck in a wedge of play dough whilst staring vacantly into space… In all seriousness she’s not that bad- just uber proud of her kids. 

Don’t mention any milestones in front of her. 

The Corporate One

Rarely seen at an actual baby group, she’s mostly seen picking the kids up from holiday clubs or any type of club which doesn’t involve mummies direct participation. 

She has a hands free stapled to her ear, wears a crisp dry cleaned suit and her nails are perfectly painted. She mainly communicates by hand squeezing and pointed stares at the kids, as she’s still on the phone. 

You wonder how she found the time to actually get pregnant by Corporate Dad, who you see every now and then and your sure he hasn’t the slightest clue which kid is his as he appears to collect them. 

Maybe they synced iPhone calendars and had their secretary schedule a 5 minute coffee break between big-important-business-meetings and they had a frigid quickie right there? With hands free still intact, of course. 

You don’t need to avoid any topics with this one as you most definitely won’t get the chance to even have a conversation with them.

The Dad 

Now I know it’s a post about mums but you can’t forget the Dads. The Dads are great. 

They tend to be nervous at first, and you can’t blame them really what with the mental array of women on offer at these things, but once they’ve been a few times they happily get stuck in with all the fun. 

All the fun, none of the bitchiness. Must be the Y Chromosome. 

Avoid talking about anything too womanly. Men get scared in social groups at the mention of episiotomies and breast pumps. 

Although you will find that frightening type of Dad (I call him Far Too Open Dad) who will merrily discuss his poor wives hemmeroids and ask if your boobs are still tender and how many stitches you had. 

The Grandparents

They’re awesome. Chances are monkey music and baby sensory classes didn’t exist 30+ years ago and if they did, they probably wouldn’t have had the time or the money to take their kids so they relish doing it with their Grandkids! 

Not much to avoid here, they’re usually quite friendly.

So did I miss anyone?

Pictures all from Google

One of those days…


Recently I had one of those days.

You know, the type where everything just seems to go wrong?

The day was Thursday. As some of you may know Thursday is mummy & Lamb day. We always do something fun and have lunch out, so we began to have breakfast and get dressed ready for our outing. 

The Lamb was a little emosh. 

I didn’t get breakfast ready quick enough- dramatic temper tantrum.

I didn’t read the right book- dramatic temper tantrum.

I gave her the wrong sippy cup- dramatic temper tantrum.

I didn’t dress quick enough- dramatic temper tantrum. 

And in between all the temper tantrums I was showered with love and the majority of the morning had a little person gripping my leg so tight it was like she was afraid she’d wash away if she let go.


Mid tantrum…

Off we went to Nuffield- our gym. The Lamb was going to have an hour in the Creche while I did a spin class then we were going for a swim. 

I arrived sweaty and stressed from trying to carry the millions of bags, life jacket and baby into the gym, only to bend my nail back painfully whilst trying to manoeuvre the thousands of bags to get to my pass. 

My pass!

Where is it?! Crap. We’ve been members less than a month and I’ve already lost it. 

I casually ask the reception guy if anyone’s handed it in. He looks at me with concern. Possibly he mistakes the tears in my eyes for emotion and regret at losing my pass and not from the painful bending of nail experience moments before… and…. winner! It’s there! 

Relieved, The Lamb and I bundle into the creche when The Lamb suddenly decides we must never be parted and grips me tightly whilst wailing mildly. 

I manage to untangle us, put my pass on the side and sort out our many many bags. All signed in and now happy, The Lamb scoots off to play. I turn to pick up my pass…

My pass! 

Gone! Again! How?! 

A frantic search proves it’s not in any of my bags and is no where in sight. I can only conclude someone else has picked it up thinking it was theirs when dropping off their child. 


I slope off to reception and explain that I’ve lost the card I claimed mere minutes before and am met with a sympathetic look from reception guy. I think he fears for my sanity. Guest pass in hand I run and just make spin in time. Joy! 

After an excellent class, I’m feeling thoroughly destressed, I go to pick The Lamb up from the creche- still no sign off my pass- and off we go to the changing rooms. 

We’re in our suits before I realise the next mistake of the day. 

We only have one towel. 


Nether the less, off we go to swim, The Lamb all bundled up in her life jacket and we have a whale of a time! As its term end, there’s loads of toys in the pool and The Lamb really enjoys herself.

Enjoying a post-swim smoothie

40 minutes later, suitably tired out, we make for the changing rooms again wrapped up in the one towel. 

I manage to get all our shower bits out whilst not losing grip of The Lamb- score- and we head for the showers. 

Here’s where I made the next mistake of the day. I decide to shower first whilst strapping The Lamb into the convenient baby chair in the shower. 

Half way through, I realise she’s shivering and decide shes big enough to stand in the shower with me. So out she gets. I decide to wash my hair and all hell breaks loose! 

The shampoo creates a slippery surface, which, thanks to my years of life learning to walk and balance, I manage to carefully manoeuvre and stay upright. The Lamb- with all 3 months of walking practice under her belt- does not, and begins to slide around, falling around on the tiled floors. 

I proceed to launch myself at her, trying to hold her upright while trying to avoid spraying her with shampoo and simultaneously trying, by wiggling my eyebrows, (no free hands!) to stop the shampoo dripping in my eye.

Have you ever tried to stop something going in your eye by wiggling your eyebrows? 

Don’t. It doesn’t work. And you look a fool. 

The Lamb safely strapped up again, I finish our shower with my burning shampoo eye and wrap us both in our one towel. 

By the time we get back to our changing room, the towel is very damp. We dress in a private changing room, not just because I’m a massive prude but because it’s easier to control The Lamb in a small area.

I whack my underwear on (and thank god I did) before drying off The Lamb. Stupidly, I think I’ll dress her while she stands up right and take her nappy off. Only then do I realise she has pooed in said nappy. 

Awkwardly, I try to keep her still while reaching around for a nappy and then it happens. 

The door isn’t shut properly.

Off Lamb goes. Naked Lamb with poo smeared bum running free amongst the startled gym-goers and here I come. Semi-naked woman, with bright red eye, dripping wet hair and mascara streaked face chasing her around the room.

What a delight for all involved.

Finally, I squeeze my slightly damp -but mercifully clean- child into her clothes and attempt to dress myself with dripping wet hair whilst cursing myself for only bringing one towel. 

The moment I stood in a wet patch in just my socks might have been the final low point of the day, or it could have been when my child (terrified of hair dryers) proceeded to run up to anyone with a hair dryer in hand and scream and point at them in an agressive manner- I couldn’t say, all I know is around that time I just stopped caring. 

The lunch that followed was nice and uneventful- thankfully. And our afternoon was peaceful. 

Best part of the day? Nap time. 


Bizarre Sentences I’ve Said Since Becoming a Mum That I Never Thought I’d Say…


1. Don’t snort your chicken!

2. Please don’t lick the trolley.

3. Don’t come crying to me when your sausage is all furry.

4. How did you get a pepper in your nappy?!

5. You can’t lick the cats tail.

6. Stop smearing noodles on your stomach.

7. Please don’t kick mummy in the vagina…

8. We don’t put peanut butter in our ears, do we?

9. You mustn’t do head stands on the cat, she doesn’t like it! 

10. You can moan all you want but I’m never going be cool with you poking a spoon in my eye…