Mummy's Rant

We're going out tonight. We've got plans. And no children (thanks mum and dad). As it's OH's big birthday coming up, the exact terms of engagement remain a mystery, which has caused some dilemmas on the "what to wear" front, so I have two options from which to choose. Casual chic, or deconstructed elegance. If they don't hit the mark, there's the reserve option too - whatever I can get into. I know how it's going to work out, there's a pattern. I start well, plenty of time to get into the shower and enjoy the luxurious rainfall experience without a small person (one of mine obviously, anyone else's would just be weird) sitting on the loo (please God with the lid down), giving me a running commentary about something of great importance interspersed with observations about my boobs. Or sharing the shower. By which I mean standing under the full force of the water like an outtake from a Herbal Essences ad, while I try and wash myself under...

There's less than a week to go until my husband turns 40, and I have to say, he's taking it remarkably well (so far). My 40th was a blast. We had a family trip to Rome (him, me, my parents and the mini-RMs), a surprise until we reached the departure lounge. There was also THE BEST FILM TRAILER EVER MADE, which my husband arranged, wrote, starred in, directed and presented to me with my family at an exclusive dinner in a boutique venue in Kent. While we were in Rome, we managed to escape the minis and have a couple of hours, just us, to meander, eat and reminisce on our previous visits to the boot of Europe. Our first-ever holiday together was to Lake Garda. This was back in the day when we dressed up to fly, I'd taken 17 pairs of shoes, and we arrived in blazing sun. After checking into our hotel, we headed in our linen trousers to find a seat with a view of the lake and indulged in a bottle of white wine and a bowl of the most decadent olives. The heat was sult...

Next week, it's all change in our house. Again. OH begins a new, dream role (more on that story later) and the Mini-RMs finally go back to school. Not that I'm looking forward to it or anything. I've done this back to school stuff before, in varying degrees of ineptitude, so this year I was adamant I would take full advantage of the unique factor for 2018 - namely that I work from home and therefore have more spare time thanks to a minute commute and downtime when I want it - and make like a boy scout... be prepared. Let's be honest, that preparedness is shot to shit.  I started so well, but perhaps peaked a little too early. There was a short period where we got loads done. I was a powerhouse of organisation - in the run up to the Maldives I smashed work, blitzed life admin, micro-packed an extraordinary number of clothes in two suitcases (our friends took four, one of which was full of shoes) and left the house in a state that can only be described as...

Tomorrow, I'll be on my holi-bobs. And I can't wait. It's the first time I've been on a big holiday since I founded my PR company, and it's been a flat-out few weeks to complete everything I needed to, bearing in mind I don't intend to be working from the Maldives. I'm fairly well prepared. The spare room has been off limits to the family for the last week while I lay out the packing. And I've already got the mini-RMs' case sorted, packed like a jenga masterpiece with all the vulnerable items cushioned within using a micro-packing system that has taken the internet by storm. I haven't weighed it yet. I've invested in a couple of new bikini bottoms to wear with my tankini , packed my sparkly flip-flops (don't panic, I've also packed some wicked wedges, I've not gone completely heel-free) and primped to the point of as-near-to-perfection as I can manage. It's DIY beauty remember . Why the hell we've booked the Maldiv...

Something incredible has happened - I've actually lost a bit of weight. Well, quite a lot of weight - I've dropped another dress size. All those months of deprivation, self-flagellation and it turns out all I needed was to get back to playing tennis once a week. And eat a few fewer crisps. The heady feeling of success was mine to savour (briefly) last week. A play date in a park in hot weather had me dithering over what to wear. Parks require mummies to be prepared. Although it's unlikely you'll be asked to, you should dress ready for action. Always start with your footwear choice in this circumstance. So for me that was Converse and a pair of shorts. Obviously a top too, but that's incidental to this story. Rifling through my summer clothes I happened upon a pair of shorts I bought last year but never wore (they were too small, something to do with the cut I think). I'm a little superstitious with clothes - if they're too snug, I will leave them in my...

I won't lie to you, the past few months have been a tough gig for me and mine. It started off with a terminal cancer, progressed through blatant emotional abuse and subsequent lifestyle changes, with a couple of deaths and some pretty dark times to boot. Fast forward to July 2018, and it's good. There have been some significant moments for us all, and the hard work is paying off. Add to that, I've rediscovered my love for musical theatre. Life is more than okay. But things have changed. The mouse has roared, as my husband so wonderfully put it. And she's about to roar again. You see, there's one thing that becomes clearer than anything when the chips are down. And that's who your friends are. If you're really lucky, there'll be one or two constants who stick with you through all the shit - they're the ones that will let you cry yourself out, talk yourself out and in extreme circumstances, drink yourself out. They've seen you at your w...

Do you ever get to a stage where you can no longer see the point in doing something? I'm there. Those of you that have been with me since the beginning will know of my forays into fitness; the pain and the (weight) gain because it hasn't worked. I started the year full of best intentions - I was going to play tennis every week, I was going to swim every day, I was going to go on my holidays sleek, toned and ready to tan. Regrettably, six months later with a month to go until bikini-day I am more Capri than Caprice. So I've invested in a tankini. I'm a mother of two beautiful, talented, kind and funny little girls. I have every right to be proud of my mummy-tummy and wear my pregnancy-ravaged skin with pride. In my head, I'm not 40-something (I'm not being coy, I genuinely can't remember if it's 3 or 4), I'm not invisible, I'm not OLD and the sag and drag of my middle-aged body feels alien. But it's here to stay. We changed our wardrob...