Our first home. 

That probably sounds like we are hobos, we aren’t. But we are getting a new house. Properly new, brand spanking. And prior to this after leaving home I lived with my ex in his house which I never felt was my home, even though I was there for 6 years; I then moved back home before going to London (more on that in a mo); home again (my poor parents, I’m the boomerang kid); and then to the rented house we are in now which was really a means to an end. Pete lived in staff accommodation; then with a friend; then briefly with me at my parents’ house etc as I mentioned.

I have to say, even though my “home” has always been my beloved parents’ house, our little flat in London really felt like a first home to me. Mine, Pete and Moon’s home. Wow, this is harder to write than I thought, she was so always so happy there and I have the most incredible memories of that year. The flat was fully furnished but somehow it fitted me and Moon so well. It was my Sex and The City flat. I say my because Pete was hardly there and he would tell you the same. He will also tell you how much the rent was; £1500 a month for anyone wondering. Yeh, I know. I don’t think Pete has the same rose tinted memories as me about it either. But I’m keeping my version. 

The house we are in now, although fucking awful, makes me feel somewhat bittersweet about leaving. I can’t wait to get away from the parking issues, the crazy guy across the road and the fucking Thursday night bell ringing but at the same time my baby boy came home here, my Moon died here. But overall I can’t wait to leave. To go to a place of our own. And Moon is with us obviously, we have her ashes in a little box, someone suggested scattering them in her favourite place, her favourite place was bed so she is staying with us in our bedroom anywhere and everywhere we go. To be scattered outside would be hell for my Maggie! She was an indoor girl. Sorry, digression there. 

In 6 weeks it’ll be ready (all being well) and we have picked the paint, flooring, tiles, kitchen and it’s just so much fun and so exciting. It’s finally going to feel like we can settle a little. My feeling of living in rented properties is that you never fully settle in, you know there is ultimately going to be an end point and so you never feel like there is much point in fully doing anything. 

So now I’m going to turn over a new leaf, stop living like a student and be extremely tidy and organised and house wife extraordinaire. That’s my plan. I wouldn’t put money on me if I’m honest 😂

Life before Frankie. 

I can hardly remember or even imagine life before Frankie. Is what I should say. I do remember. And I do miss it in many ways. I don’t feel I have to defend or justify that, it doesn’t detract from how much I love my son but my life is forever changed. 

I miss being selfish. And spending hours doing my make up or watching crap on tv without interruption. Or staying in bed. Fuck all that, I just miss sleeping. 

But I mainly miss nights out. I miss getting dressed up and going out with my Pete. And dancing. And we danced, and snogged on the dance floor. And ultimately, that’s how we ended up with Frankie 😊 (not on the dance floor may I add!) 

I do however think that because I hadn’t had that life of going out when I was younger and started at 25, I really enjoyed every single night out. I really feel I made the most of it and as such if I were to never go out and dance again, I have the most amazing memories and know I had some of the best nights ever. With Pete. 

I can’t say I don’t resent that Pete can go out still and drink and dance the night away. Cos I do. He doesn’t very often, in fact I think he’s gone out 2 or 3 times since Frankie was born. But the fact that he just can makes me jealous. 

And now dancing is with a little mini Pete, to the tune of Thomas the Tank Engine. And watching his enthralled little face as he watches In The Night Garden. And you know what, that’s pretty cool too. Life just changes and adjusts in motherhood. It’s only taken me nearly 14 months to embrace it but we all get there eventually! 

Life gets in the way. 

I’ve started writing a few posts over the last month or so and the tone has felt really negative even tho I’ve been feeling quite positive lately so not sure what that’s about. 

There’s been a few big changes since I last wrote. We have bought a house!! It’s a lovely brand spanker as well so it’ll be all fresh and new and we move in a few weeks! I’m so excited. Finally a place to call our own instead of renting! I cant wait to just hang a picture on the wall or put up a shelf! It’s the little things! I think I’ll do some posts about that as it’s an experience that’s for sure!! 

Due to a few changes in circumstance I’ve had to finish at my job with the charity. I was gutted as I was really enjoying it but sadly sometimes you have to make a choice that is right for your family and not just for you. I feel so grateful to them though and am in the process of organising a charity walk to try and give back a bit. 

Pete is busier and busier, being a chef WAG is hard. Harder than anyone who hasn’t experienced it can ever imagine. He is basically working 7 days a week at the moment and it’s sad. He is misisng out on so much with Frankie. Maybe this is the subject for a post all of its own. I know it’s all working towards a better future for us but I’m afraid for the here and now, it’s just a bit shit. Frankie will only be this little once. 

Talking of which, little dude got his first haircut!! 

I don’t think I need to say anymore cos just look at him. I made that 😊 He was so good and I managed not to cry. He looks so grown up now though! And he’s wandering round even more like the baby thug he is. 

I can’t even remember if I’ve mentioned the new dog. Juno, Miniature Dachshund, Massive Twat. I didn’t want to replace Moon, and she never will. She’s a bit of a dick but she’s starting to settle down a bit and make me stop hating her being in my house. Honestly, she’s been a right test!! 

I think that about catches you up!! And to Nat, thank you for giving me the gentle nudge I needed. Love you lots. 😘 some friends are just so special that you know you want to keep them forever. 

Valentines Day. 

Apologies for the quick succession of posts after being silent for ages!! I’m all or nothing 😂

I like Valentines Day, I think it’s nice. I used to put a lot of emphasis on it, hoping that this would be the year my ex would show his love for me, cos he didn’t do it any other time of the year. In fact it was the phrase “fuck Valentines Day” that effectively gave me the push to leave him. I left 2 months later. 

Now, I have Peter. Who lets me know how much he loves me all the time. And I feel so lucky everyday. Last year we had just had Little Man and so it was a bit of a blur but we were in a love bubble. Before that I was all about the gifts! I can’t lie, to finally have someone spoil me was incredible and I enjoyed being able to post a picture of my “love loot” for all the world to see and be jealous of haha! 

This year, I don’t care. As long as I have my card I’m happy. And I feel like my lack of gushy post showing off my gifts actually says more this time. I think this must be contentment. 

I’m sorry for being a twat again 😂 you all must hate me and Pete. He is a dick quite often I promise. And he rarely washes up 😒

Frankie is One. 

How did that even happen? He makes me so proud every single day; his happy little face, his dirty little laugh and the clever little things he does. 

He’s so bright I don’t want to miss a single thing. Everytime he passes me a piece of lego, rubs his hands together to copy me using hand sanitiser or learning to Indian call (Native American?) I don’t want to not be there to see it or pretend a piece of lego is a phone. 
We threw him a monster party, a full soft play set up and cowboy and Indian theme. It was awesome. And he had the best day ever. I thought i had gone a bit stupid and spent to much for a birthday he won’t remember but just seeing him playing with everything and revelling in the attention just made it all worthwhile. Cos I’ll remember. And when he’s 35, I’ll still remember my beautiful little boy grinning at everyone singing happy birthday to him. 

I feel like we had a shaky start but we are a team now. I feel like I’m being a good mum to him now and I think I’m finally getting better. Fingers crossed anyway. 

Who’s reading…?

Anytime someone tells me they’ve read my blog I am a combination of embarrassed, amazed and chuffed to bits. Mainly embarrassed. But it got me thinking, for all those people who I know or have known in real life that have read this, I wonder how many read it but don’t tell me? I wonder if anyone reads my struggles and actually revels in it? I wouldn’t be surprised to be honest. 

There have been times in my life where I have said things a little close to the knuckle, or spoken out of turn, of course there has. But there are also times that things said have been said totally out of context of changed to suit someone else’s story. And because I am a self proclaimed loud mouthed bitch, it’s a bit too easy to believe that I’m nasty too. Which I’m not. Pretty much anything I say, good or bad, is honest or at least what I believe. 

I don’t think honesty is always the best policy. I think there are many times I should have just shut the fuck up; I know there are many times that Pete wishes I would have just shut the fuck up. But I’m me, and I can’t be told. Or quieted. 

Except I don’t know if I am still me. And I’ve put myself on here in a very raw and vulnerable state and this is not the bitchy facade that people are used to, so to feel that anyone may be reading this and feeling pleased that I am struggling or even taking the piss is pretty shit really. 

But know this, it says a lot more about you than me and always remember; karma is a bigger bitch than I am. So good luck with that. 

This ones a downer…soz. 

I feel like I’m leaving this year as a pretty sorry excuse for a human being. I’m 30 years old, I should have my shit together by now. And I’m sat on the floor crying my eyes out because the baby is being clingy and moaning and the puppy is a yappy little fuck. The dual noise has sent me to a point that I have just had to sit and cry in the shower and let the noise carry on. Both are fine, just clingy as fuck and I can’t deal! I think I should maybe knock coffee on the head cos it makes my anxiety levels through the roof. 

I just feel sad going into a new year. I feel like I have no close friends. I have an amazing family but I think I must be such a burden on them cos I never leave them alone, I have nowhere else to go. I have an awesome boyfriend who I never see. And every so often it really fucks me off even though it’s what I signed up for. I just wish I had a good group of girlfriends I could call upon. I think in reality I wish my life resembled Sex and the City or Friends. Instead of being friendless and skint. I’m sorry to any of my friends reading this, but you know what I mean, we aren’t involved enough in each other’s lives to help. It sucks. 

I’m sorry for such a woe is me post on what should be a happy and sparkly night but I’m feeling very shit knowing that I am literally on my own tonight whilst everyone else is singing Auld Lang Syne and drinking champagne. 


2016 has been a memorable and pivotal year, one that I know will remain as such for my lifetime. Most years pass by quite unremarkably but this one has now massively “Trumped” (see what I did there, a little topical, political pun) 2012 which was my previous big year.

I knew it was going to be a big one as I was pregnant for the majority of 2015 and so it wasn’t a surprise that I was going to have my world turned upside down by my Frankie Turdblossom. What I wasn’t at all prepared for and still can’t comprehend was that I would lose my Maggie Moon. An event which has shaken me to my core and I worry I may never fully be the same without my little squirrel rat. Again, if you think I am being overdramatic then you are reading the wrong blog. I won’t dwell on that further for now as I think it’s pretty clear how that has affected me.

This year has also seen further loss in the shape of best friends and my beloved job. Whilst I didn’t “lose” my job, I was put in a situation that made me feel that I was unable to return. However, that loss has lead to a new position working for an incredibly inspiring and humbling charity and as a role based mainly from home, I feel extremely lucky to be able to spend more time with my little boy.

All in all, it’s been an odd one with the highest highs and the lowest lows and to be honest I’m going into 2017 with trepidation. It’s difficult to look forward to a new year when the last one gave you a beating. But I want to wish anyone and everyone reading this a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, have a fabulous one and I hope it’s full of family time and loveliness. 

Baby interaction…

I’ve had a few instances with various people; health visitors, tattooists, strangers; that have commented on how well Frankie interacts and engages with people and that must be because I interact with him. I have found this so strange a comment, because well of course I do! Is this not odd that people would need to mention it? The friends of mine that read this that have babies I know are exactly the same so who are the people that don’t interact with their child?! Why have them otherwise? And let’s face it, who else would we talk to on those long maternity leave days!!

Frankie recently had his 9-12 month review and was such a good little performing monkey; doing everything on the questionnaire whilst she was there just so she was under no illusion that he is the best baby ever! He’s such a bloody show off! Obviously judging by the questionnaire he’s not totally out of the realms of muggle-dom by walking already and stuff. He’s just in a hurry. Which makes me sad, I miss my little baby sometimes but seeing him work things out and do things for himself is incredible.

Yeh ok, I have a wizard  There I said it. Frankie Garlick does sound like he could be in Hogwarts. Pretty sure he’d be Slytherin though, sorry Pete.

This post got weird, sorry guys.

Knowing me, knowing you. (A-ha).

There have been a couple of times quite recently that Pete has said things about me that I have been really shocked and initially felt that he didn’t know me at all. One such time was his revelation that I loved Christmas. I wasn’t making myself out to be a Scrooge or anything but I wouldn’t have ever described myself as a total Christmas fan. Turns out, he had a number of examples where I have indeed gone all gooey at the sight of a bit of tinsel or the tell tale “Twas Christmas Eve babe…” start of a certain festive tune that if you don’t love you have no soul. I was washing up earlier and reflecting on this, as you do, and I have come to a couple of conclusions which I thought would be good to blog since I’ve been proper shit lately and it may jig me along to get back into it.

I was previously in a relationship for 8 years, I met him when I was 18 and he was 30 and when I was 22, we got married. Within that relationship I was never really fully myself. I think that may be because I was so young when I met him and was still working out who “myself” was and also because I was quite happy to slot into his life. It’s not that I was a totally different person, but there were certainly a lot of compromises that I didn’t even realise I had made until I left him.

He was a huge Metallica fan, and in turn after going to see them for the first time, so was I. And I really am, I do love them. But I became so consumed with being a “rock chick” that I pushed aside other musical tastes. Whilst my iPod was still eclectic, it was nothing compared to the epic selection of random it is now. Again, perhaps due to age but when I was a teenager I was big into gangster rap, hip hop and R n’ B. I really didn’t embrace that again until I left him. This is just one example, and I don’t really know why I suppressed a lot of myself, I think perhaps subconsciously I just wanted to be what he wanted me to be. Even though I was never really going to be as I am very high maintenance and he can’t be dealing with that.

A big thing for me was how I saw and described myself to other people. I thought I was a bitch; I have been told often that I am a bitch. Not bitchy, but a proper bitch. I would freely give my opinion and not care if that meant that feelings were hurt; I was straight down the line, no bullshit. I was hard faced; resting bitch face is my natural expression. I felt that I wasn’t a very nice person because I didn’t worry about what other people thought of me and if you didn’t like me or my opinion then that was your problem. I don’t believe in making an effort with people that I can’t stand, I really don’t see the point. Actually, on reflection, a lot of this was a defence mechanism that I put up after I got beaten up as a 14 year old. I’m not going to go into that as I spent 10 years living in fear from it and I really am ok now so to mention it is enough. I wanted to seem unapproachable, I didn’t want to be talked to. And my boyfriend and eventual husband at the time was kind of the same so it worked well to remain like that.

And then I left my husband. And I started to find myself again. And I apologise for this in advance but a lot of it is down to Pete. That cocky little fucker who came into my place of work in 2011 and made me start to question my relationship (he didn’t even know that until much later and for the record, I didn’t leave my husband for him, we got together a while later) and then started to take me out to clubs and bars. I hadn’t gone out at all really except to pubs as I was pretty troubled from my beating. I just didn’t feel safe. Until Pete. Whilst my ex was 6’2″ and 16 stone, he didn’t look after me like I need looking after. The attraction was a big burly bloke but the reality was very different. And then along comes 19 year old (at the time) 5’7″ Peter, with his cockiness and beautiful face. And he rescued me. I’m gagging at this myself so I apologise to anyone reading this. He allowed me to be myself in all my contradictions and ridiculousness. My independent, needy ways that must confuse the hell out of him but he deals. And after a few years of working it out, he knows me better than I know myself.

Hence the point of this post, I had forgotten who I am because I’ve been the other version for so long. In reality, I think I can sum myself up a bit better now. Whilst I am a bitch, I don’t say things to be hurtful, I think that truth hurts but eventually you’ll thank me. Or never speak to me again. Either way. I am quite a nice person. I am caring and compassionate and if I love you, then I love you with all my heart. But if you screw me over in any way, I’m done. Completely. There is no in between. I am a humungous contradiction. Pretty much everything about me contradicts another thing about me. And you can know me for years and I’ll drop a random bombshell on you that you never knew and it’ll make you question my entire being. Its ok, just go with it, you’ll never be bored. I am independent and outgoing but also extremely needy and insecure; that’s really fun to deal with myself, so sorry Pete.

I have learnt so much about myself this year and I thought that by 30 I’d be pretty much who I am. But no, I’m ever evolving. I often get told by people I went to school with that I haven’t changed. I think maybe I just am a little bit of a chameleon, more so that I ever realised and because that’s the me you knew, I am reflecting that. Or maybe I’ve just changed back to my teenage self. Which would explain a lot actually; the spots, the rage, the ridiculous trainers. Yeh, fuck it, I’m 16 again.