Soooooooo….Happy New Year, my fellow ex pat “Hong Kong’ites” and new London mates/slummy mummies.
Yes, yes, yes…. its been far faaaaaaar too long. The reason? And I have to just say, you know…get the small talk out the way….before I digress (as you know, I tend to do), for the delay in writing/horrific writers/cookers block….. since I last wrote…well, divorce, over the past year, has become my shocking reality.
Yes….I said it….before you all nod your heads in sure justification that I deserved it….DIVORCE. My insane, painful, almost maiming reality, for the past couple of years. And that is all I am (legally) allowed to write on the matter. To be fair, that’s all I will/want to write, out of respect for my kids and myself.
So….. my old Hong Kong’ites….. what can I say?!
As its been such a long, yet, if I’m honest, REAL, period in my world/life…..
No nannies (shocker), no “help” of any kind (and I use that term very sarcastically) unless… and I do have to say this… my Mum’s been involved.
Mum…if you read this and ignore the fucking bullshit mutha fucking swearing that this fucking website clearly promotes (along with shagging, drinking and Tourette’s syndrome} …you’re a superstar, and deserve a proper mention, simply for being an amazing parent, cancer survivor, widow and more importantly my mum/Grandma to our “next generation of criminal masterminds” (your proud words, not mine) .
My kids….I recently discovered, on losing my 5 yr old daughters trousers while staying with my Mum… decided, best to call the local POLICE in order to find out what happened to them. Yes, the local Police in SW London (probably having a cuppa tea at some posh birds house in Barnes while retrieving her cat from the Maple tree next door as her Butler was off for the evening).
Anyhow…Mum, my Mum, the lady full of advice the minute she walks through my front door, failed to mention, my 5 year old twins, took it upon themselves, to call the local Police (based in Wandsworth) in order to locate my 5 year old daughters trousers. They rang the Police THREE times. The Police then RANG BACK. They rang my Mums flat in Putney at around 8pm to ask about some missing trousers.
I had no idea this incident occurred for a month as Mum was shocked by her grandkids brazen gobby, cheeky BS. When she did fess up and tell me…I smirked, laughed, smirked, laughed… I thought…Ive raised my kids the right way!! Little Londoners through and through. Streetwise, winding up their Grandma…full of bs and yet, only 5 years old. Proud doesn’t come close to what I experienced when I heard how they tried to pass the buck, snitch (I hate a snitch) and then drop the blame on their 3 year old sister who is just starting to speak but knows how to say “IT WASNT ME Mummy!!!”
Actually, speaking of parents… I just want to share a word (or two) with all Mums, (and listen clearly people), you are sooo amazing for all you do daily as a parent (yes, yes, Dads too).
My Mum? Well…lets just say, I used to call her by her first name as a teenager (yes, I was a total wanker), and yet now, I pretty much bow/curtsey when she walks in the front door. She’s such an amazing role model. Mum (literally) lifted me off the floor in my kitchen (where the fuck else is a single mum going to be found, to be fair!?), and told me ” NO MORE FACKING CRYING. NO MORE!!!!!” She was furious. Livid. Disgusted actually. An amazingly, strong, wise, woman. A stroke and cancer survivor (ask her and she claims “I dont know what the “Fak you are talking about“. Iranians cant say “Fuck” like the Brits ..so “Fak” is close enough. That said, we do find it hard to take her seriously when she swears or calls someone a “facking sheet” (meant to be “fucking shit”).
My Mum’s never been one to do the cuddly, “Come here baby girl, don’t cry, tell me your problems….bla bla bla…” Nope.
The first night I understood my marriage was over, I was not allowed ONE tear. Not one. Mum was furious that I was upset. FURIOUS. Over “THAT man?!”
She couldn’t understand what the hell I was upset about, but she pointed out (with BBC News topics and graphic photos…may I add) how shit life is, that people are suffering with war and starvation and illness, daily. Hey, I’m Iranian, I know about war…kinda…even though I grew up shielded from, well anything newsworthy, in Putney. She quite rightly pointed out, how some people are single parents raising “12 children” . I think she was talking about the kids story of “The old lady who lived in a shoe, who had a zillion kids….and didn’t know what to do…”
Errr….”get some Benadryl for the kids before purchasing Xanax on the local high street for oneself?” ! Just thinking “out loud” (Ed Sheeran stylie….)
To be fair…she turned up with a shovel in her coat, no questions asked by her at all (not even, “do you fancy a cuppa “…. Or “what the fek just happened with that bastard?”)…
This one night, well….she showed up very late, while The Captain was still living there, after catching 3 buses to get to my house, and asked to see him for a “talk”. After explaining he was MICA (“Missing in Corporate Action”), Mum then asked me if I was comfortable doing “some gardening” (at 4am). Basically, gardening “Sopranos” stylie…and btw..if I have to explain who the “Sopranos” are, you need to get the fuck off my blog immediately and hide in a corner, ashamed of yourself (and beating yourself)….Next you’ll be asking me what the fuck “Game of Thrones” is….unforgivable.
Sooo…. Once I explained to Mum…who resembled a Mafioso Mob Mummy (with a Morrisons shopping bag, peeking out of her waterproof, black, long coat collar) that the Captain wasn’t actually there that night, I noticed the “shovel & gun” being re-arranged from under her Mummy Raincoat and back into her Morrisons Shopping Bag (retractable/unnoticeable/genius really) …old-school.
** DISCLAIMER –
If anyone in Law enforcement (ok, sounds better American than English “Police”) is reading this, I must stress….this NEVER ACTUALLY HAPPENED. My Mother is a law abiding, tax paying, albeit, slightly angry, 5ft 3 stunner whose just a little angry/protective of her only daughter (as I’ve got “Middle Child syndrome”….I appreciate any attention chucked my way to be honest) . She also has a “Free Bus Pass” and is not afraid to travel from SW London to NW Hell ….she loves that bloody bus pass. Its like finally, all those years of working hard, while the Inland revenue stole (I mean “deducted tax”) off her, made some difference. I didnt have the heart to explain that she had worked for The Inland Revenue annually(like all of us) for free until May.
Anyhow…. I digressed.
We lost my Dad 3 years ago, when my writing allegedly turned “dark”…. I guess my sense of humour got lost along with giving birth and having one of my twins in hospital with pneumonia. All in the same year. Good times. It made me a ridiculously strong, kamikaze, yet bizarrely selfless, intuitive human being. In fact, it made me a better Mum actually…. I realised, women give birth for a reason. Yes, for those men reading this by accident (I know who you are…you accidentally “stumble” upon my blog when looking for filthy Mummy porn….its highlighted in my search engines….weirdos). DO keep reading though boys!
Women HAVE to give birth. Men cannot do this.
We are the only ones, Humans (!) capable of dealing with this stuff….birth…I mean!!? BIRTH!!!? How hard core is birth?! Pushing ANYTHING out of a body, that doesn’t fit…is going to hurt. Doing that naturally?! Seriously …. I take my flat cap off to you ladies who go natural, no injections etc, or just natural which means all the drugs, lubes, birthing pools, but still the fanny exit….HARD CORE. No man can do that
You deserve MEDALS. Our children SHOULD worship us. Our men should too. C Section Mums (I’m in that apparently lazy, posh, cant-be-arsed-to-push, crew), we were/are cut at least TEN layers to get to our babies….TEN. That’s a seriously HARD CORE OPERATION. Hence the 6 week recovery needed before you can drive, lift, have sex etc.
And yet, the day you give birth, your husband and the Nurses walk in, with a new born CHILD. I mean, what the FUCK, am I supposed to do with that?! If you handed a baby to a man….what do you think he would do? Pull out his moob and breastfeed? or shit himself, and call him Mum?!
Yet, there I am, being patronised and educated and shouted at (in my own emotionally hormonal just-had-a-baby-its day three hormone release-mind) telling you, “Breast feed, you selfish, posh, uncaring bitch”. It was at that point I requested more Morphine (didn’t need it) and I then asked about vaginal lubrication as I was intending to have some form of “action” before the 6 week period of abstinence they recommend for C section wimps. Everyone, even Medical staff, hate that sort of random, inappropriate, blatantly “wrong” request.
Saying that… I got morphined out of my head. Look, don’t judge. I mean…hey…TEN LAYERS of human flesh was cut to remove a HUMAN BEING (two humans on the first occasion for fucks sake…not that anyone gave a shit aside from the Dr pulling those shocked, afraid of light babies from my stomach) …not that anyone gave a shit, because apparently, people do this horrific act alone, without pain killers, all over the world….for “centuries”.
And I LOVE how its always some dumb arse Man, usually with a small knob, who quotes this shit to you. Simply to wind you up, or perhaps see, how crazy a woman can be, three days after birth (its always day THREE according to books, google, friends etc) and hormones are on a level one does NOT FUCK WITH.
When I gave birth to twins, I remember following one of my best friends (sister really, although she was trying to disown me this particular day) to the lift as she attempted escaping her visit to the Hospital, and left following a 45 minute visit to see me and 2 babies, who were mine….but I clearly was terrified of.
I held onto her hands, cried, begged her to stay with me and then, do you know what she did?! She knows who she is…
She pulled out of her handbag a HUGE bottle of “Rescue Remedy” (natural shit people)…and sprayed it into my mouth while I cried and told her I was afraid. This discussion was not with my husband but my sister/best friend. She saw the desperation in my eyes/face/soul. Id had not just a c section but a previous(unexpected) op before the babies popped out. I was terrified of going home.
She had not had a child (when she did she went all friggin natural to make me look like a lazy gimp) at that time so had no idea what the fuck I was on about, BUT, her hug, her reassurance, her kindness…. well… its all ive known from her for over 30 odd years to be fair. It sorted me out.
I stole her Rescue Remedy (that stuff worked better than anything else, simply because SHE had given it to me). I settled, slept, cried, looked at two babies in the cot next to me, decided “fucking no breast feeding” and then finally slept. That was DAY ONE. Now….nearly 6 years later and I’m doing this shit alone…. PIECE OF FUCKING CAKE. A mum runs the show always. ALWAYS!
Its the man/men who always commnt on us women… joke about us, undermine our mental state, physical ability (they forget they fell out of their mums vaignas) and the comments these Neanderthal men make…well…look at the wet ones who get ill! These are the ones who get a slight blocked nose or high fever, and the world stops, his mothers called for chicken soup/cuddles and works been notified of his “Man Flu”. BUT, I give birth to two babies in a row (2 mins apart fuckers. TWO MINUTES TO GIVE BIRTH TO TWO HUMANS), and I’m looking unreasonable for requesting, diazepam, morphine, Xanax, some fucking space…. etc. Fuck off boys. You know we rule so you make up any story you can to bring us down…
Us girls have this role for a reason. You lot (men) would never, ever, EVER, procreate and the world would end. We humans would be extinct if Men gave birth.
In fact, I think that the reason dinosaurs went extinct is because only Male dinosaurs could give birth, not the females.
Men = no life.
Women = joyous centuries of procreation.
I reckon, there was a meeting with God, Moses (dunno why but his name always pops up in biblical times) and a Tyrannosaurus Rex…
The conversation went something like this:
God: ” Now listen boys….someones going to have to start procreating before everything alive disappears. Whose up for the job?”
TRex: “Nope. No way hosay…too painful mate. Why do us blokes have to do everything? Already we’re hunting and killing. Plus shagging anything that looks remotely attractive or has huge boobs. I’m exhausted mate. Its over mate. I’m done giving birth. Its painful, and I hate feeling all fat and unattractive for months while something inside me eats everything I digest and gives me headaches, wind, blocks my sinuses so I snore like a mutha fucker and my ankles resemble cankles before that little sod of a dinosaur arrives. I’m not pushing any more dinos out my penis again. Have you seen how small the hole is that that baby dino has to come out of?! IM NOT DOING IT ANY MORE. Its over. “
Moses : ” I don’t know why I’m involved but maybe, just maybe, a female, you know, those long haired creatures we penetrate whenever we need a shag….perhaps they can do this God? I mean, I dont want to sound like a wimp or anything, but quite frankly…I’m with T Rex on this issue.
I am NOT giving birth to any more dinosaurs either mate. They bite and breast feeding is a bitch on my nipples. My nipples look like friggin Twiglets…mutilated mate. The calories alone are impossible to sustain while breast feeding, especially at this time of month…with harvesting and Jesus has stopped producing wine & all that free shit….. Get the women to do something for a change, rather than just sitting there crying, brushing their hair and trying to avoid us blokes for sex. Theyre annoying as it is.”
God: “OK OK BOYS. IT SHALL BE DONE!
Lets see if those long haired lunatics who are clearly emotionally unstable, can do like us males. If they are capable….we shall allow them to push humans out of their bodies. I don’t think they can do it. But ok, sod it….you men are obviously exhausted, sitting around, eating, fighting, spitting, killing, hunting, scratching your arses…and moaning. LET THE WOMEN DO IT”.
Female dinosaurs were notified of God, Moses & T-Rex’s conversation. Their response?
“NO FUCKING WAY ARE US GIRL DINOS DOING ANY OF THAT BULLSHIT. NOPE. EITHER THE BOY DINOS CONTINUE, OR OUR SPECIEIS IS DOOMED. I mean…have you seen our vaginas and the SIZE of those babies? Nope, never ever. I want to keep my vag in tact and unless we get morphine, us girls refuse to take on this role. The boy dinosaurs need to keep procreating or extinction is inevitable”.
There you go. Dinosaurs became extinct the minute the males didn’t want to do it anymore.
Us women took over the human birthing side of things and did what needed to be done, in order for life on planet Earth to continue. We rule the world.
Anyway…back to reality….ish…
I had TWO epidurals before hearing a leading Consultant at The Queen Mary Hospital in the Lindo Wing, in Paddington (yes where Prince William & Kate…future King had Prince George…I think that’s his name?!). Before beginning my C Sec, this TOP Consultant said words no expectant Mum in labour should ever hear:
“Ive never seen this before….”
He then performed a 45 minute surgery before beginning the C Sec as they discovered something unusual pre C sec…I think it was a Unicorn in my Vagina and of course, that had to be removed first. Then they began the joyous process of cutting 2 babies out my tummy. Yep…the twins…..
Did my husband stay there with me that night, stroking my hair and telling me how amazingly proud he was of me? No. Of course not. It wasn’t about me. Women give birth every day you silly cow….get over yourself!
If a man gave birth….we’d know about it literally every 0.0 seconds (at least)…yet WE give birth and its expected.
One of my friend’s fella’s was sooo tired “waiting around” he popped to a KFC ….and missed the whole thing. Then told her off for being so “precious” about it. Twat. I ran him over that night in the car park, with my 4×4 Mummy wagon…”by accident”, of course. Ungrateful, selfish, c@nt.
I’m amazed at how life can change you, almost cyclically. Who I assumed I was, as a wife, Mother, daughter, even friend…changed in the space of a couple of years. My smug “ex-patness” disappeared the minute I returned home to freezing, high taxes, traffic filled roads, chavtastic London.
My blog…well, I couldn’t write when we returned, as some of you discovered. I stopped cooking, something I love possibly even more than writing, and yet, above all this….I felt, well, for those of you who have gone through divorce, or the throes of it….empty, or should I say, destitute?
Devoid, blank, barren, deflated, clear, hollow….exhausted. I couldn’t write a single word of piss take (which you know I normally live off!), nor could I raise anything but a depleted dry smile, when anyone asked me if I was “Ok?”
My unceasingly painful divorce brought out, a new, able-bodied hale (not hell….I’m not going all Southern on y’all) of a woman. Suddenly my new circumstance brought an exuberant, passionate spark back into my world .
I’ve surprised myself in what I can do daily (yes, ladies, minus staff, of any kind), 3 young children under FIVE YEARS OLD (THREE CHILDREN…in case this didn’t sink in before!!!!), cooking, cleaning, driving (fuck me, do I drive some miles daily, in London school-run traffic), everything alone….and yet….so genuinely, healthily, realistically, happy. I’m finally home, and content.
Content that I haven’t got anyone living in my home anymore. ie. Domestic Help…that didn’t cook any meal ever, “help” properly anyway… unless you want shit ruined or burnt or lost, a person who listened to zero/anything I said yet listened to everything the “Captain” said, clean my own home properly, nor did she drive…therefore I was always her bitch anyway.
The day our “Help” of 4 years left London, was the best day of my life. I was finally free to run my own house, my own family, my kids were mine again, they were safe, without being suffocated by middle class guilt, apologetic queries, constant intrusion, and a continuous spying eye on my guilt-free, normal life. I was gullible in how much I trusted these people (“Help”), any person, in my home, that wasn’t my family, or my friends. And I was right to do so.
Do not, if I can state one thing in this New Years blog, for those newbie ex-pats, trust any of your staff. Ever. Respond as you may, and I know you will. BUT, I had someone, who I thought was a kind, wonderful trusted person in my home (oldish, and missing teeth people), yet, turned nasty at the last post. Lied and reported incorrectly, on things that are even now…still, upsetting me. Pleased they left? Yep yep yep…Au pair in the New Year? Never ever fucking again will I have another woman in my home, whether I work 100 hours a week, I will make sure, I am the one who puts my children to sleep at night, feeds them and bathes them… no one else gets that pleasure, or memory, but their mother. Me.
Therefore….moving forward…. no mentions of The Captain, nor the ex Helper (questions privately always welcome though on the Helper side, but zero on the ex please) moving forward. Also, before I get some sort of legal bullshit through… I’m not in any way stating The Captain and Helper had some sort of “situation”. In case that becomes some Trolls issue. I’m stating clearly, 2 very different issues and neither relate to the other.
So….I’ve had numerous emails, letters, and parcels (thank you!!) and would love to hear how the Hong Kong Wags\Hags are doing. Ive got to say, London is amazing. I’m finally home. HOME…I bet some of you miss “home”.
I’m a Londoner born and bred after all….
First…British Humour…well….I missed this. Ive got to say…British humour is a gift. A style. An understanding that only us “Brits” appreciate, reflect on, giggle at, despite how rude, disgusting, anti PC it is….G-d did I miss that. We have zero shame in laughing at other peoples misfortune. Zero shame in laughing, full stop, at sarcasm, wind-ups, slap-stick bullshit….we have ZERO shame full stop. Its genius when you think about it.
We laugh, a lot, at things other nations find disturbing. We’re quite friggin brilliant, because of our perception on what others find disrespectful, we “Brits” find, austere, yet contemptuous. Our appreciation of having “a laugh” is sardonic, mocking, offensive….brilliance if I could be that honest without pissing other nations off. I missed that vulgar, mordant air. People don’t seem to understand humour unless they’re from Great Britain…or Scotland (I love the Scotts…related to a gazillion of them).
Second, and this seems shit but I still need to air/share….we have the shitty/horrendous London traffic which is a shocker. A real piss take.
I need to (in theory) travel 15 minutes up the road to drop the twins (theoretically…I stress again) and yet, this journey takes approximately 1.2 hours (round trip) to drop the twins in the morning (& I can manoeuvre my massive 4×4 around those roads like a pro), then another 45 minutes to go 20 minutes (35/40 in traffic) further up the road to drop my baby, No.3 child (for those of you who remember the surprise bundle, lovingly named “Mrs Chan”…simply because she knows Kung Fu, burps, beats staff, and is blatantly rude to everyone, despite being 3 yrs old. Shes basically like a lot of Chinese mainlanders….Rude, aggressive…yet surprisingly cute (unless you annoy her). Err…did I just cross the un PC line? Probably. Do I give a fuck? Nope. Not even a smidge….that country ruined my family.
I have to say, as this is my first write up after a very long time…and writers block is a mother fucker….its been nice getting back into the swing of things.
You guys, living abroad, in that bubble of ex-patdom….it can or will, explode eventually. I have thought for a while now, when asked, “do I miss Hong Kong?”
My answer, in my knackered, pre-divorce (soon “post divorce”), 3 kids under 5 years old, state of mind, is this how life is?….. not for one single minute do I ever want to be an ex-pat again…unless I’m certain I’m comfortable with what the routine/people involved are going to be.
I don’t ever want to go back to that bubble again. It was destructive to my life, my marriage and my… core…for a while. If I’m allowed to be honest. Pissing you off there in HK? Probably. Do I sound bitter? I think you’d hope I am, just to understand my thought process. But…. I’m genuinely, from the bottom of my soul, not at all. I never ever want to return to that period, or life again. I’m happy to be home. Even, with the casualties and minus The Captain.
I don’t want to upset you guys by writing this from London, my home….my “beloved London” if I want to quote words I’ve used before, when back home for a summer.
My history, my family, my friends….me….this is who I am. This is where I belong, in order to recover from divorce, and in order to regroup. I have, or should I say, had, the most incredible friends, and experience, in Hong Kong. A life and the most loyal people, that have been constant in my life, even when I left, 3 long, eventful years ago.
One thing, if I can pass this on, without people getting pissed off (and yes, I sound slightly beaten, but trust me, I’ve never felt stronger in my entire life), BE WHO YOU WANT TO BE. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world, the sky is always going to be blue, and your character, your soul….well….it’s always going to remain the same.
Ive got recipes to write up….some good ones now the cooking juices are FINALLY flowing (yep…cookers block to for over a year)…and again, to those whove written the most amazing emails and messages, thank you for pulling me out of one of the toughest times ever. I’m off the floor now, and ready and to fucking kick some NW London arse….I’m soooo over being polite to wankers who don’t fucking give a shit about how rude they are to people. Nonces poncing around in flash cars, with expensive gear (watches, bags, earings, personalities…).
In fact…. my blog over the next term of my kids school, is going to be based on NW rudeness.
There’s soo much vile behaviour daily here…. even my kids, all aged under 5, point things out. I stopped at traffic lights the other day and gave a “Big Issue” seller (he was approx. 55 years old), a fiver (that’s a £5 note to you ex-pats) without taking a mag. This seller now, whenever he sees me stuck in joyous traffic, will grab “Nobbly Bobblies” if I just “waited a minute luv” because he saw me buy these for my 3 munchkins one day. He told me how horrible people are in the area.
” No one ever does that luv, while sat in traffic”… My response? “What a load of wankers” were my words (whispered obviously as I always, always, always, always, always have three children with me) while he was a lot kinder. He said it again, that “no one had ever stopped at traffic lights” and handed him a fiver and didn’t take a magazine…
It was cold, he was stood outside a Tesco Express… I was sat in my Mum Mobile (which I LOVE, don’t get me wrong… I LOVE a fast car, especially one that ferries 7 people around & plays music loud/irresponsibly)….
I do, however, if I’m allowed to be honest, hate the area I live in right now. My kids though, love it…and this is where they are schooled. This is where I cannot, as a single parent, change or shift their lives any more than has already been done. They need to keep a grasp on some form of continuity. Their school, their area, their friends…. I have to do this for them. Bad Mum? No. I’m doing everything right now, including breathing this toxic air, for my kids. They are my only priority. My daily priority. My sole responsibility…I love I have no “Helper” or Au Pair, here to ruin or confuse that. This is my role as a Mum, and Ive got this. I’m always, from now on, going to get this. I spent years trying to fall pregnant with the twins, the No.3 was my surprise…. why would I hand the most joyous sweetest taste in the world, to put your heart & soul to bed, to anyone but me, their Mum. I want to do that. I never did that enough in Hong Kong, because we were out….or I was in hospital with one of my children, and felt I was neglecting the other two. As a Mum, my role….. its so clear now. And this clarity, is because of my own, amazing, mother.
At the age of 38 years old…. my Mum, travels nearly 2 hours by bus (health reasons) to come and make sure her child (Me…the dumbass fuckwit) is ok. My response and appreciation to this? I act like a pathetic, cringe worthy 9 year old, literally requesting (I did ask this btw) if I could “climb back into the womb for 2 years until the shit has settled”….Mum asked me for a Divorce there and then. I explained kids are “for life, not just for Xmas”. She didn’t give a shit and is now filing a claim for my being a selfish dick. ” A Son is a son until he finds a wife…a daughters a daughter for the rest of yo ur life ….” As the tale goes..unless its me….then youre kinda fucked as I LOVE my Mum (call her about 28 times a day at least, and that’s before 10am….) my Mum loves me (of course she does!?) but I think we’re exhausting her…just like my three kids are doing to me. Anyhow….
There is some pitiable shit going on daily, that I personally, find unacceptable as a human being. Snobbery and cliques, do have, on a level that is deplorable, no right (no one does to be fair) to be arseholes. I respect NO ONE, in this realm. Nor, do my children.
I know my blog portrays someone who loves to swear and bitch but one thing I hate more than anything else in the world, is rudeness. Rude people…. OMG.
I hate bullies and anyone who thinks they’ve go the right to be a dick, simply because they drive a 4×4 of any kind…namely a Range Rover. Wanker and c%nt come to mind…most of the time. Do I keep this thought in….?? Nope.
I don’t stand there talking about it either. I’m just surprised people still assume its the 80’s and we give a shit what you drive… Loving my new found free style thinking. Share your thought’s everyone. If people are rude, dress them down….OPENLY. Turns out….they don’t like that. They’re bullies. I HATE bullies.
Minus a husband, armed with 3 wonderful kids,2016 for me…well…its a whole new healthier chapter….
And to my HK Mums/Dads…..
You girls/boys are my heros.
Those of you ….who stay at home…entertain, look after your kids alongside the annoying intrusion of “Help” that’s meant to alleviate the stress, you guys…. your job is JUST as important, if not more, with or without anyone else in your house. Don’t undermine yourselves ever. I’ve had soo many conversations with people about this when I lived in HK. Your role is not “redundant”…run the show. Kids are hard work. Only a parent whose with them all the time, with or without the intrusive/belligerent help, knows this.
2016…..its going to be a great, yet very interesting year. When the kids go to bed, and I’m done cleaning, washing, ironing, defrosting, organising school bags, sorting diaries, waking continuously every night from a cold, cough, water bottle refill, night terror….I’m still the fucking Don of my Castle. Just me..and my three (I think I’ll make that up as a Doormat for the new house we have to move to eventually!). Single Mums rule.
I’m going to accept this year….alone…with 3 children to rear, raise, corrupt and educate. I couldn’t be prouder of them for their resilience, and kindness, and, also my own “old-school” parenting style. My “entourage” have done me so, soo proud. I never knew how amazing my kids were, until I had to grab a life raft and hold on….and yet, it was my three children who threw it out to me, and pulled me back in.
Happy New Year YYTM readers….. I’m off the floor, and waiting to hear how you all are.
Recipes and horrific date stories to follow…if I can ever leave the house….