#Blogtober17 ~ Day 11 ~ Kitchen

Today is day 11 of Blogtober 2017, and the theme is…….Kitchen!


My kitchen is unfortunately not officially mine.  We live in a rented house, and most of our fixtures and fittings are integrated (which I do still love by the way).  I especially love my dishwasher and tumble dryer (which is mine) and literally couldn’t imagine life without them-let alone remember what life was like prior to having them!

When I was younger-I used to dream about my first home, and what would be in it.  I’d spend hours, searching the Argos catalogue, choosing my future products, in a “money is no issue” situation.

So-today’s theme of “Kitchen” is a really easy one.  Let me take you around my dream kitchen, using the power of the Argos website, and internet links! Continue reading “#Blogtober17 ~ Day 11 ~ Kitchen”

#Blogtober17 ~ Day 7 ~ Goals

Today is day 7 of Blogtober 2017!  The theme today is ‘Goals’.


Obviously I could’ve got the football loving husband involved, and asked him about his all time favourite goals, scored since he’s been watching the big game….  However, I decided not to bore you all to tears with that-and instead, discuss my idea of goals, not just as a blogger, but also with regards to all aspects of my life.
Goals Continue reading “#Blogtober17 ~ Day 7 ~ Goals”

#Blogtober17 ~ Day 6 ~ Flowers

Today is day 6 of Blogtober 2017, and the theme is Flowers!


I don’t have a favourite flower-I often think this is weird, because everyone seems to have a favourite.  I love them all-all colours, styles, types-you name them, I love them.

I also love it when people bring me flowers (hint hint hubs, it’s been a while…).

However (yep there’s a however-there’s always a however), I do have some issues with flowers.

Continue reading “#Blogtober17 ~ Day 6 ~ Flowers”

#Blogtober17 ~ Day 4 ~ Date

Today is day 4 of Blogtober 2017!  The theme today is Date!

I deliberated over and over about which kind of date I was going to write about-the word is super vague when you think about it.  I had pretty much decided on writing about the dating scene-how it was when I was in it, and how it would be now…..

….In the end however, I decided to write about important dates to me-dates of things I treasure the most-because those are more important than the other kind! Continue reading “#Blogtober17 ~ Day 4 ~ Date”

All About You – #Blogtober17 – Day 1

Hello-and welcome to the first day of #Blogtober17!  If you didn’t catch my Facebook post yesterday, then you may not have the first idea about what’s happening right now.

Blogtober is basically a-blog-a-day!  I’ll be blogging about a variety of random subjects, every day throughout this month-but don’t worry-there will still be the usual reviews and ramblings of my mind!

Today’s theme, as the title suggests, is, All About You. (Which is All About ME!)

Continue reading “All About You – #Blogtober17 – Day 1”

BritMums-Ecover Laundry Challenge

If you’re anything like me, you’ll have washing coming out of your ears.  Genuinely, I can’t work out, how the children go through so many items of clothing-especially considering my son wears a school uniform five days a week!

So when BritMums challenged us to put Ecover’s New Non Bio Laundry Detergent to the test, I thought, hey-whatever makes my life easier! Continue reading “BritMums-Ecover Laundry Challenge”

Alcoholism, My Mum and Me

I found the above quote on Pinterest when trying to find something profound to start this blog off with.

In all honesty-I don’t know enough about the subject from an alcoholics point of view to be profound, but I know how it is to be the victim of alcoholism.
I haven’t got it, I should add that, I barely actually drink.  Maybe that’s because I’m so scared of being the person that is suffering from it right now.

That person is biologically, my Mother. 

I have to say it like that now.  I have to say biologically because she is-biologically my Mother.  But that’s all she now is.  We have no relationship anymore.  We haven’t done for over three years. And even prior to that, the relationship was fraught.

All because she chose to make her decisions under the influence of alcohol. 

My parents divorced when I was 13.  My sister was 10.  My brother was 8.

I woke one night to hear them rowing,  I crept to the top of the stairs and as I did, my Dad came up, on his way to the bathroom, murmuring as he passed me to go back to bed-that everything was fine.

I’m unsure if she did it to spite him, but my Mum shouted up to me “he’s leaving me-your Dad is leaving us!”

Unable to process this, considering my Dad, my idol, had just told me everything was fine, I rushed back to my bedroom, and got back into bed.

Within minutes, the feeling of worry crept over me and I remember the panic taking over. My Dad came in and I didn’t give him chance to explain. I just kept asking him if it was true.
He confirmed it was, but he wasn’t leaving us, he was leaving my Mum.  Nothing would change between him and his children, it was his wife he’d fallen out of love with, not us.

Shortly after he moved out, leaving us with someone grieving the loss of her marriage. 

I get this, I really do. 20 years of marriage thrown away like that, you’re going to struggle.

Unfortunately, my understanding didn’t last as long as I hoped it would, because, although I understood she was sad, my 13 year old self assumed we, her children, would remain her driving force to stay strong and keep going because she had us.

It didn’t happen like that at all. 

Within a week, she was out every night. She was spending all of her money on drinking in her local pub. I was left at home, at 13, cooking for me and my siblings, getting them into bed on time when she would go out prior to their bedtimes, and making sure all was ready for our school days.

On occasions, she wouldn’t come home until the early hours, on other occasions she’d bring random men back with her and I’d have to try and sleep through loud music, while she continued her party downstairs.

I was effectively a Mum. At the age of 13. 

I did this for 5 years.  We saw my Dad on a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday one week, then a Wednesday Thursday and Friday the next.  When he met his now, wife, he would holiday with her,, so, in August he’d be away for 3 weeks.  I’d dread it.

Not only was it the Summer holidays, so we’d have no school to break up our day, she’d have spent all her money on alcohol so there’d be no days out, no treats.

We’d just count down until he got home. 

When I was 18, I got with my husband. For a few months we’d stay at my house every night, because I had the children to look after.  Within a year we were engaged, and he made the decision we would get a flat.

If he hadn’t done this, I don’t know where I’d be today. 

She was upset when I left, I can never be sure whether it was because I was leaving and her daughter was growing up, or she’d lost her babysitter.

She married again, I didn’t go to her wedding-I wasn’t invited, and I didn’t want to go.  Her husband is also alcohol dependent, and openly told her he wished she hadn’t had kids, something he repeated to me during a drunken rant down the phone one night.

During my wedding, which her and her husband attended with my late Grandad, she spent the day with a face like thunder.  I can’t watch my wedding video because she taints it in the background constantly.  An hour into my reception, following the food and the first dance, she left, to go to her local pub. 

During my sons christening, which I also invited her to, she didn’t speak to me or my husband.  She sat in the pew in front of us and didn’t even acknowledge my son.  At the drinks afterwards, she made her excuses to my Dad and left without speaking to me. 

When I lost my three babies after having my son, she wasn’t there-she doesn’t even know she could’ve had three other grandchildren. 

The day my daughter was born, I messaged her to tell her the name and weight of her new Granddaughter.  She didn’t reply.  I messaged again and she responded asking why I’d chosen the name.  She was angry my daughter was named after mine and my husbands grandmothers-there was no congratulatory message, no plans to visit and meet my daughter.

She refused to be part of her life unless I allowed both of my children to call her Nanny-something I’d made very clear during many previous arguments, fuelled by her decisions made during drunken phone calls, that she’d not earned that right-that her constant flippant relationship with me and my son, didn’t warrant her to have that title-that it had to be earned.  At the time of those conversations she’d agreed.

But suddenly that agreement wasn’t accepted anymore. 

She’s never met my daughter. My son doesn’t remember her.

Around 18 months ago, I messaged her during a clear-out of my old photos, to tell her I had pictures of her with her late parents, and I’d give them to my brother to give her if she would like them.  She responded telling me to f*** off out of her life.

So I did. 

Honestly, I’ve never found a decision so easy but hard, so upsetting but elating, and so final.

There’s a certain element of grief in it.  I’m grieving for the Mum I had as a young child.  The one who spent time with us, as a family.

But I’m also grieving for the life I never had.  For the love I never felt from her.  For the cuddles I never had. For the relationship I’ll never have again.

Yes, alcohol did this, but her choice to drink that alcohol, to get through a divorce, caused her to end up addicted to it.  She not only make her decisions under that influence, but showed no remorse the following days upon realising her mistakes.

And I’ll never forgive her for that. 

Ultimately throughout all of this, I’m left with peace. I have a doting Mother-in-Law, Step-Mum and Auntie (who ironically is my Mother’s sister-another family member alienated by poor life decisions) who play the role of a Mum better than I have ever known.

I have two children who are shielded from a relationship they could have had, with an unhinged adult I couldn’t have allowed to influence their lives.

I am proud of what I do, decisions I make and relationships I have, and I’ve made those decisions based on a need to never act how she has.

Kitchen Essentials/Wish List

Today, I’m writing a Home Essentials post for kitchens, including things I already have,  but also things I’d really like!

All three of these things save money on electricity too, so they really pay for themselves in the end!
I have three things in my kitchen, and you’ll be surprised because they’re not everyone’s cup of tea (its not a kettle).
Slow cooker
I literally couldn’t live without my slow cooker.  I use it more than I use my microwave or oven!  I’m part of several hundred, (slight over exaggeration-  but it’s a lot) slow cooker groups on Facebook, and I’ve come to realise you can do A LOT in a slow cooker.
So much in fact, that I’ve ended up with two-one 6.5L one and one 3.5L one.
I love being able to stick a load of ingredients in, and hop off to the shops or school runs not worried about have to be back to get dinner on or stand over a hob.

I have really basic slow cookers at the moment, both are Supermarket own brand ones, but I thought I’d add a quick picture of my dream slow cooker, you know, just in case anyone wants to gift me an £80 at any point in the near future.  (It stirs itself people, come on!)

Crock-Pot 5.7L Autostir Slow Cooker



I hear you, I hear you-this isn’t classed as an essential in most people’s homes.  However, I have come to realise, this really is something we should all have.  It’s cheap to run, you can add whatever you like to what you make, so you know what’s going into your bread, and most importantly (to me anyway), you save money not buying tons of loaves each week (we eat a lot of bread)!

I’m on the lookout for a new bread maker, and have come across these-a new range of Breadmakers by Panasonic! Genuinely believing they only made TVs etc, I was interested to see they actually do a lot more, and these Breadmakers look amazing!

I couldn’t choose which one I wanted more, so here’s a screen grab of them all, and a link to their page for you to see for yourself!  Check them out HERE.

Breadmakers by Panasonic

And finally……A Steamer

Why did I not use one of these from the moment I became a grown up?
The amount of saucepans and hob space I need to cook the amount of vegetables my kids go through, and all that time I could’ve been using a three tiered steamer that also cooks rice, chicken and fish and!

I have a basic supermarket one of these too, and assumed they’re all pretty much the same, but how’s is for a dream steamer.

Philips HD Steamer

Those are my kitchen essentials, but I’m intrigued as to what yours are?

Let me know via the comments section or via my social media!


Elf on the Shelf-Day 19

Soooooooo sorry this is such a late one!

After an afternoon consisting of a meeting in Canterbury, Mummy duties back home, then phone calls and rather irritating messages that threw me out this evening, I’m a little behind!!!

As I mentioned, I went to the beautiful town of Canterbury today, for a meeting with a lovely lady called Sarah, who works at the Marlowe Theatre.
I couldn’t resist a sneaky photo of the beautiful building as it came into view when I turned the corner!




Back to this morning……and the children woke to find Jingles and Jangles had left a gingerbread house for them to build!



Now, as you will see from the video below, I did say about making it once Kye had finishes school.  What I hadn’t planned on was being late home from my meeting, then having other things to do with the children that took priority!

So there’s no photo of a beautifully made gingerbread house tonight-because a) my children don’t make beautiful gingerbread houses anyway, and b) because we haven’t even started to make it!

So here’s the video of the children’s reaction from this morning-do note the unbelievably cute “Thank You’s” from Olivia!!!!

Tomorrow, the plan most definitely is to make the house!!!

And tonight, the elves are leaving Skittles, to make the Skittles Rainbow!!!!!

Come back tomorrow to see how that went (but lets not hold our breaths shall we….)


Until tomorrow……….Elf you laterrrrrrr

The Mummy He Used To Know


Baby Loss Awareness Week-Day 6

When I had my son, I’m not ashamed to say I was pretty petrified.

I was 23, had taken the pregnancy for granted, (not that I thought that then obviously), and it was our first baby, so we really had no idea what we were doing.

We did all the things you don’t do with your following babies, we were overcautious, over worried, frequent flyers to the doctors for every sniffle our little baby picked up.

Overcautionsness aside, I was a good Mum, I did everything by the book (literally, I had every baby book going).  We were good parents, we loved being parents, it felt natural, even though he hadn’t been planned, it felt planned once he was born.


Fast forward a year and a half and we fell pregnant again!  This one also wasn’t planned, but as soon as we knew, we once again, without realising, took it all for granted.  Our first was straight forward, no issues, no complications, no need for worry, so we began planning.

Names chosen, double pushchairs looked at, a loan applied for (and accepted) so we could move somewhere bigger for our growing brood, how we were going to announce the news, due date estimation, scan date estimation, the list is endless.

We told a fair amount people (because why wouldn’t we when we’d had such a great pregnancy with our first baby!). Then, 8 weeks later, we had to tell them that all we’d planned was basically for nothing.  We’d taken it all for granted, and now, we weren’t having a baby.

To our son, everything was normal, nothing had changed, he was still him and we were still us.  I never cried in front of him, even through the toughest times, not once.


Fast forward another year, and the year that passed slowly, with us trying to have another baby.  It consumed us, it made me neurotic, wanting something so badly, that I didn’t know I wanted until we’d lost our second baby.

Then came the day the two lines appeared, and the emptiness, nothingness was there, because I’d lost hope.  We told the bare minimum this time, barely feeling a reason to tell people in case it happened again, but doing so because we thought we might need support.  3 days later, we told them the news we’d been expecting.  Another lost baby.  We’d been expecting it, but we still felt the loss like the last.

Once again, our son knew nothing, I didn’t cry in front of him, even through the toughest times, not once.

2 months later, those lines came up again, and this time there was no hope.  I was waiting for the blood, the pain, the agony, the devastation.  And, as with the other two, that day came once more.

I was done.  A shell of the woman I once was, but no less of a Mother, and once again, my son never saw me cry, not even through the toughest times, not once.

We stopped trying, and I know what everyone says, “just stop trying and it’ll happen”.  The issue being with that bullshit unhelpful advice, was, that it wasn’t getting pregnant that was our issue, it was me keeping my babies in!

Oh the advice, the advice that people gave me, or the reasons they concocted for why they thought we we’re having so much trouble-it was constant, and constantly not needed.

Christmas came around, and because we weren’t “trying”, I ate too much, and got well and truly drunk!  For the whole of that festive period, I relaxed, and instead of being the fake Mum that hides her feelings and puts on her funny Mummy voice, I had fun with my boy and my family, and blocked out the last year and a half of hell.


A month later, and those two lines came back, and even though we’d stopped “trying” I still felt nothing once more.

Every day, I spent every toilet trip checking for signs of another baby that didn’t want to stick.  Every day, I would look for symptoms of something going wrong like it had with the others. 

As the pregnancy progressed, so did the anxiety.  And as it progressed, day by day, the Mummy that our boy knew before, was lost a little bit more.

There were tears, but still never in front of him, that’s something I managed to hold back until he was in bed, then I’d sob for the babies I’d lost and for the possibility of hope, I didn’t want to lose once again.

His 4th Birthday came, and I had a little bump showing, but still hadn’t told anyone except parents and best friends, because I’d convinced myself the “bump” was a bad thing, that it meant something bad was going to happen.  I was sick, but i convinced myself that instead of that being a pregnancy progressing well sign, it was something bad happening that would eventually culminate in my now “normal” fear.

Our little boy had lost another part of his Mummy on that birthday.  I didn’t know then, but the fear, the sickness, the anxiety, had made me forget how to override my emotions, and, although we celebrated his special day-and I have photos proving we did-I barely remember it.  I pretty much missed my sons 4th birthday because of what was happening to me. 

8 more months of this feeling, 8 more months of a daily anxiety, a panic actually, that this would be my last day of being pregnant.  Every time the baby moved, I worried it would be the last one I felt.  Dreams, terrible horrible nightmares, of bleeding, pain, lost babies, plagued me for months.

I don’t remember those months for anything other than the fear and emotion.  I couldn’t tell you from memory, what we did with our son for the majority of it, but once again, I have photos convincing and reassuring me that we did do things!
Our daughter was born, easily, with little complication, and all the fear and anxiety from the pregnancy was gone.  My son could have had his Mummy back.  Instead, she was replaced with a sad Mummy.  A Mummy that was anxious and sad in general, rather that for the reasons she’d felt during her pregnancies.

He still never saw me cry. Not even on the worst days. 

And he’s never seen me cry.  Now, 6 years (and 8 months) old, he’s not seen me cry once.
The Mummy he once knew, however, when he was his sisters age, is gone.  He doesn’t remember her, he was too small.  He assumes this is always the Mummy he’s had.  And, I think that hurts me more than anything.  Because, I’d love to be that Mummy I once was.  I’m still fun (his friends say I’m hilarious-and I’d have to agree with them-I’m a hoot!)  But I miss that person, that woman, that wife, that daughter, that friend, I used to be.

 Following my miscarriages, not once was I offered aftercare in the form of someone to speak to, someone to listen, helplines, information leaflets-nothing.  I firmly believe I would not suffer with mental health issues now, so badly, had I been offered these aftercare services as soon as I’d had my miscarriages.

This needs to change.  People, women, partners, families, they need help following such an awful trauma, and there shouldn’t be any reason why they’re not offered any.

Help save someones mummy, someones wife, friend, daughter, and help raise awareness and funds to aid research into these aftercare services and baby loss.


For support and advice from Tommy’s the baby charity, click here

For support and advice from The Miscarriage Association, click here