Tuesday, 14 April 2015

How To Use Social Media Now You've Had a Baby.

So.

You've had a baby.

And it is now yours and your-multi-human-producing-vagina's god given right to social media the living shit out of your parenting journey. As smugly as possible. And here's my guide on how to do it. *smug face** 

(**and fanny)
  1. Just in case someone misses the photo you just posted of your baby, be sure to provide an entire selection of almost identical BUT CLEARLY VERY OBVIOUSLY ENTIRELY DIFFERENT poses. And if you still aren't receiving an appropriate amount of likes and comments, start liking your own photos. And tagging everyone you know. They'll like that. 
  2. No. You can't answer phone calls. BECAUSE YOU'VE HAD A F@*KING BABY. So you're far too busy using your phone to tweet about how shit your life is now you can't wear a real bra anymore. (hashtag sad face) 
  3. Dedicate at least one Pinterest board to what your house would look like if you hadn't had children... With cushions, faeces-free surfaces and a living room that isn't arranged primarily around a Jumperoo… Feel free to cry and do shots while pinning. 
  4. No-one gets bored of babies in sun glasses. Or hats. Ever. (But they still prefer kittens)
  5. In the same way they absolutely NEVER get bored of your witty baby related hashtags. #myfannymadehim 
  6. When your baby doesn't look cute enough…? Don't worry. There's an Instagram filter for that. 
  7. Instagram likes are more important than real friends. Who go on long haul holidays and have labias on the inside and shit. F@*kers. 
  8. You now sell everything your baby no longer needs through a Facebook site. Which means spending about three hours a day telling people NO. You won't take a tenner for your £600 buggy, and pointing out that if they want something in brand new condition that's never been used they will have to GO TO A F@*KING SHOP AND BUY A NEW ONE LIKE THE REST OF US. 
  9. When you need a simple question answered be sure to post it in every Facebook mummy forum you belong to... Because that is far quicker than just googling it... Yeah...
  10. You used to need 12 white wines and a pint of tequila to be up for a fight. Now all you need is for someone to criticise your parenting abilities or call your baby ugly on facebook and YOU WILL F@*KING HUNT THEM DOWN AND CUT THEM. Or unfriend them and just fantasise about the other stuff in bed. While you're not sleeping. Forever. 
  11. Shit. Someone you went to school with has a really frigging cute baby and their Instagram feed is way better then yours. You'll punish them by not liking a single one of their pictures. Ever. Yeah. TAKE THAT slightly-above-average-attractive people I did my GCSEs with. *cries and does a calpol shot*
  12. Remember. Funny always trumps cute. So if your baby face plants or shits their body weight down your face, don't help them. Take a photo. And get it on facebook. With a witty caption. And be sure to check back every 13 seconds or so throughout the day/night to see how many people like it. 
  13. Purchase at least one outfit a season purely with the intention of making your child look utterly ridiculous for a photo. Nothing says Instagram the shit out of me like a baby dressed as a pumpkin.
  14. Your social life actually is a WhatsApp group. And you don't even care. And when you do, you spend the night tweeting about it. 
  15. You say Snapchat. I say vagina selfie. Or velfie.  
#velfie
#pintoftequila



Saturday, 4 April 2015

An Easter Poem. For Crap Mummies.

The Easter Bunny's been to visit,
There's chocolate all around.
And you've discovered the best way to eat it...
Without the toddler hearing a sound.

You eat it in the kitchen,
When you're supposed to be cooking dinner.
You scoff it in the downstairs loo,
Like a covert choccy-egg-destroying sinner.

You've hidden all the wrappers,
Put the boxes straight in the bin.
You've sucked out the creme from all the creme eggs,
And washed it down with gin.

You've somehow eaten all of it,
Every egg, every bunny, every bit...
You're going straight to Mummy-Hell for this,
Because you don't even give a shit. 

You don't care how many Malteser Bunnies lose their faces,
So long as you get your fix.
What the kids don't know can't hurt them, right...
*heads off and snorts a twix* 

#HappyEaster



Friday, 27 March 2015

3 Months Old... Basics According to the WallyBoy

Mummy,

I’m three months old now. We need to talk.

It’s time I laid out a few baby-basics, just to save the two of us any further embarrassment and all that…

  • First things first… that wasn’t just a fart.
  • Secondly. It never is… You should really know that by now anyway. Dressing me in white is just tempting fate lady.
  • When I work out how to get out of these scratch mitts… I will go straight for your eyes.
  • Dressing me up as a Christmas Pudding on Boxing Day was both tasteless and humiliating. See point above.
  • Do you actually enjoy neck-brie…?! Wipe me. Or face the hug-related cheesy-hair consequences.
  • Jeeeez. Yes. I can smile… get f@*king over it already.
  • Although, that wasn’t a smile. You're gonna need to use Vanish on that.
  • No matter how many neon toys you jingle around my face, it still won’t make any difference as I CAN’T SEE BASTARD COLOURS YET YOU MENTAL WENCH.
  • Thanks for that hour-long 3am feed. Now here’s 45 minutes worth back across your shoulder. You’re welcome.
  • Oh…? We’re going to visit someone…? Well in that case I shall sleep the entire time including the outward and return journey, and then the second we get home. BOOM. I’ll be all up in your shit.
  • Every time you remove my nappy I will wee. EVERY TIME. NO MATTER WHAT. Unless you’re waiting for me to wee. Then I won’t. Out of principal.
  • I don’t actually know why I’m crying but the fact that you don't know is making me beside myself. Oh wait. It was boobs again.   
  • Seriously. You must have enough photos now.
  • Oh and p.s. no-one on facebook wants to f@*king see them either.

Until next time then…

WallyBoy xx

#ginnow





Wednesday, 25 March 2015

The Alternative Baby Glossary… (contains no gloss and lots of disappointment)

Good Sleeper = The empty LIE which tempted you into unprotected sex in the first place… (*note to  self* - in future, just have a Twix.)
Good Feeder = My nipples look like pate.
Bad Latch = My baby ate some of my pate nipple.
Tongue Tie = Nature's way of telling you you're baby's not a pate fan.
Cluster Feeding = Your baby f@*king loves pate.
Combination Feeding = The breast-police are very disappointed in you and you and vagina are going to hell.
Nipple Confusion = You'd be confused too if you had to fit that in your face.
Feeding Position = Yeah, you better be holding your baby at exactly 37 degrees perpendicular to your lap or they will be all up in your shit like a tiny-milky-twat.
Facial Recognition = When they look at you and shit. Yes, your face makes them shit themselves. Let's try not to read into that too much. 
Colic = You won't be leaving the house for a while and when you do, it will be to go and cry behind some bins.
Reflux = The Universe has decided you are a horrific human being and this is your punishment. Along with how your vagina looks now.
Baby Socks = Another one of the Universe's jokes…
Controlled Crying = If you think for a second you are in control of anything then you should probably sell your ovaries on the internet right now.
First Smile = Wind (and denial).
First Laugh = Lots of wind (and denial).
Wind = My baby is really happy (but no-one squeeze them too hard).
Floor Gym = Somewhere to leave your baby so you can go take a shit for the first time in three days.
Jumperoo = Freeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddoooooommmmmmm. Escape to the bathroom now and eat as many Snickers in a row as you can before it's too late…
Tummy-Time = Baby face-planting with tears.
Babble = I'm trying to talk to you, you rancid whore.
Baby Wearing = You don't even need to put down your gin…?! #nobrainer
Skin-to-Skin = Excuse for a bath.
New Baby Smell = When you've washed off the vagina sections with Johnsons.
Baby Bath = You think you're cleaning your baby, but what really happens is you dry them and all their skin falls off. Until you stick it back on with baby oil.
Teething = Run away now while you still can...
Co-Sleeping = Remember when you used to have sex…? No. Probably best.
Sleep Regression = What the internet tells you to say when your baby still thinks 20 minutes sleep per night is acceptable at 4-months old.
Growth Spurt = What the internet tells you to say about everything else...
Positing = When your baby farts milk out of their face. In chunks.
Milestones = The precious moments where your baby begins sitting, eating, crawling and walking… and the moment you realise why baby vests have shoulders like that…


Alternatively, simply apply 'Growth Spurt' to everything on this list. And have some gin while baby-wearing.

#alternativebabyglossary
#gin


Sunday, 22 March 2015

Things you should know about owning a threenager...


  • Firstly. You don't own them, you have just made a really shitty investment that now answers you back and only eats pizza.
  • Secondly. They know when you've put a supermarket own brand pizza in a Domino's box… they know… and you will suffer…
  • Threenagers don't tantrum. Oh no. It's far worse now... Every. Bastard. Thing. Is a serious negotiation… 'I'm too scared to go to the park... I'm too small to walk any more... I'm too big to eat... my tummy hurts so I need to wear your shoes today.' Urgh. #killme
  • No matter how long they've been potty-trained, one wrong move and you will find a shit wrapped around a Barbie when you go through the toy box.
  • But then there's nothing that can't be solved with a packet of Haribo and a pair of sparkly party shoes. For ten minutes or so. Then you're really f@*ked.
  • Yes. They can go to nursery every day this week dressed as Elsa. And they forgive you for being too stupid to initially realise this. 
  • You are now officially the 'sharing police'. Count in one day how many times you tell your 3yr old it's 'nice to share'... If you put a quid in glass each time you will be able to buy Russia by September.
  • No laughing at undesignated times. 
  • And absolutely NO SINGING OVER THE LET IT GO BIT IN FROZEN UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE HAIR, SKIN AND DIGNITY.
  • They can use an iPhone better than you can.
  • And there can never be too many half-face selfies. Ever. 
  • Planning on eating out...?! Don't. It's a trap… The iPad doesn't work anymore… you better set aside some time to mourn this period of your life. You won't be going to cafes/restaurants/out of your living room for playdates anymore. 
  • You can't lie. They have now somehow developed photographic memories. So if you promised a biscuit to get them out of the playground, you better be Hobnobbed-up-to-the-shitting-max at home or you've definitely got a toy-box-turd coming your way…
  • They know injuries mean attention. So you better hide all the knives. 
  • They're really not babies anymore… even though they'll always be your baby... Just a 'baby' that can single handedly knock out an Alsatian and FaceTime themselves doing it. 


#toyboxturds
#threenagers 

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

10 Myths About Newborn Babies and Other Shit to Cry to…

  1. That newborn baby smell…? That’s sections of stuck on vagina and neck-curdled breast milk. Yeah. Kiss my baby now.  
  2. Sterile water and cotton wool balls does not bastardy-well cut it during a projectile poonami. Frankly, this is a job for Cillit Bang and wine.  
  3. You will never leave the house without muslins ever again. No matter how crusty they (or you) are.
  4. Sleep when the baby sleeps… Do you actually want me to stab you?! If you need me, I’ll be doing tequila shots to the face and picking the crispy bits off my leggings during the 45 minutes he’s slept today thanks.
  5. Mirrors (and salad) make you sad now… 
  6. Of course having a baby doesn’t impact negatively in your marriage/relationship… which is why you’ve booked a Hysterectomy, and got some vodka and your episiotomy selfie saved on the iPad in case he tries to come near you with his penis.
  7. You don’t know why your baby is f@*king crying. You just know you have nipples. And that works. #nipplewin
  8. ‘Dreamfeed’ implies some kind of sleep. You’re not ready to laugh about this yet. *heads to a darkened corner and rocks back and forth hugging some gin*
  9. You would do anything for someone to take the baby off your hands for an hour or so… Until someone offers and you want to punch them in the face for even beginning to suggest you are not coping. Wankers.
  10. Whatever the question, the answer really does always begin (and end) with #gin.
##gin
##episiotomyselfie


Sunday, 15 March 2015

Dear Mummy... (A Mother's Day poem)

Dear Mummy... we just wanted to say thank you,
For putting up with all of our shit.
We're sorry for the winging, the crying and the whining,
And all the times we punched you in the tit.

We're sorry you never have time to shave your legs.
We're sorry that you've now grown a tash...
We're sorry you don't get to wear a bra anymore.
And we're sorry about the baggy vag.

We're sorry your tummy looks like a dehydrated scrotum,
We're sorry you leak a bit when you laugh.
We're sorry you never get to eat toast on your own.
We're sorry we've lost seven Sophie the Giraffes.

We're sorry about the Cheerios and human shit in your hair,
We're sorry about the substantial loss of skin...
We're sorry you never get to poo alone,
We're sorry that CBeebies has driven you to gin.

So thank you, our Mummy, for all of the things,
You put up with from us every day.
You're the best f@*king Mummy that we've ever had,
And we love you in every way.


(We also got you this daffodil with fox turd on it that we found in the road. Enjoy.)


#DearMummy
#foxturddaffodils
#gin

Friday, 27 February 2015

The Modern Daddy.

This one's a thank you to the modern Daddy;
The baby carrying, push-chair rocking, changer of the nappy.
The night-time bouncing, muslin dousing, king of the sling,
The story-reading, face-to-get-peed-in, human baby-gym. 
Thank you for the night-feeds, that give my boobs a break,
Thanks for making me cups of tea, while I cry into an enormous cake.
Thanks for ordering pizza, when I've made a total shit of dinner,
Thanks for pretending my dressing gown actually makes me look thinner.
So this one's for you, our modern Daddy,
The night-time driving, colic surviving, chap that still looks happy.
Thanks for Friday night wine-time, where mummy gets a little bit plastered,
And thanks for being such an awesome Dad, and a goddamn lovely bastard.

#moderndaddy



How To Use Social Media Now You've Had a Baby.

So.

You've had a baby.

And it is now yours and your-multi-human-producing-vagina's god given right to social media the living shit out of your parenting journey. As smugly as possible. And here's my guide on how to do it. *smug face** 

(**and fanny)
  1. Just in case someone misses the photo you just posted of your baby, be sure to provide an entire selection of almost identical BUT CLEARLY VERY OBVIOUSLY ENTIRELY DIFFERENT poses. And if you still aren't receiving an appropriate amount of likes and comments, start liking your own photos. And tagging everyone you know. They'll like that. 
  2. No. You can't answer phone calls. BECAUSE YOU'VE HAD A F@*KING BABY. So you're far too busy using your phone to tweet about how shit your life is now you can't wear a real bra anymore. (hashtag sad face) 
  3. Dedicate at least one Pinterest board to what your house would look like if you hadn't had children... With cushions, faeces-free surfaces and a living room that isn't arranged primarily around a Jumperoo… Feel free to cry and do shots while pinning. 
  4. No-one gets bored of babies in sun glasses. Or hats. Ever. (But they still prefer kittens)
  5. In the same way they absolutely NEVER get bored of your witty baby related hashtags. #myfannymadehim 
  6. When your baby doesn't look cute enough…? Don't worry. There's an Instagram filter for that. 
  7. Instagram likes are more important than real friends. Who go on long haul holidays and have labias on the inside and shit. F@*kers. 
  8. You now sell everything your baby no longer needs through a Facebook site. Which means spending about three hours a day telling people NO. You won't take a tenner for your £600 buggy, and pointing out that if they want something in brand new condition that's never been used they will have to GO TO A F@*KING SHOP AND BUY A NEW ONE LIKE THE REST OF US. 
  9. When you need a simple question answered be sure to post it in every Facebook mummy forum you belong to... Because that is far quicker than just googling it... Yeah...
  10. You used to need 12 white wines and a pint of tequila to be up for a fight. Now all you need is for someone to criticise your parenting abilities or call your baby ugly on facebook and YOU WILL F@*KING HUNT THEM DOWN AND CUT THEM. Or unfriend them and just fantasise about the other stuff in bed. While you're not sleeping. Forever. 
  11. Shit. Someone you went to school with has a really frigging cute baby and their Instagram feed is way better then yours. You'll punish them by not liking a single one of their pictures. Ever. Yeah. TAKE THAT slightly-above-average-attractive people I did my GCSEs with. *cries and does a calpol shot*
  12. Remember. Funny always trumps cute. So if your baby face plants or shits their body weight down your face, don't help them. Take a photo. And get it on facebook. With a witty caption. And be sure to check back every 13 seconds or so throughout the day/night to see how many people like it. 
  13. Purchase at least one outfit a season purely with the intention of making your child look utterly ridiculous for a photo. Nothing says Instagram the shit out of me like a baby dressed as a pumpkin.
  14. Your social life actually is a WhatsApp group. And you don't even care. And when you do, you spend the night tweeting about it. 
  15. You say Snapchat. I say vagina selfie. Or velfie.  
#velfie
#pintoftequila



An Easter Poem. For Crap Mummies.

The Easter Bunny's been to visit,
There's chocolate all around.
And you've discovered the best way to eat it...
Without the toddler hearing a sound.

You eat it in the kitchen,
When you're supposed to be cooking dinner.
You scoff it in the downstairs loo,
Like a covert choccy-egg-destroying sinner.

You've hidden all the wrappers,
Put the boxes straight in the bin.
You've sucked out the creme from all the creme eggs,
And washed it down with gin.

You've somehow eaten all of it,
Every egg, every bunny, every bit...
You're going straight to Mummy-Hell for this,
Because you don't even give a shit. 

You don't care how many Malteser Bunnies lose their faces,
So long as you get your fix.
What the kids don't know can't hurt them, right...
*heads off and snorts a twix* 

#HappyEaster



3 Months Old... Basics According to the WallyBoy

Mummy,

I’m three months old now. We need to talk.

It’s time I laid out a few baby-basics, just to save the two of us any further embarrassment and all that…

  • First things first… that wasn’t just a fart.
  • Secondly. It never is… You should really know that by now anyway. Dressing me in white is just tempting fate lady.
  • When I work out how to get out of these scratch mitts… I will go straight for your eyes.
  • Dressing me up as a Christmas Pudding on Boxing Day was both tasteless and humiliating. See point above.
  • Do you actually enjoy neck-brie…?! Wipe me. Or face the hug-related cheesy-hair consequences.
  • Jeeeez. Yes. I can smile… get f@*king over it already.
  • Although, that wasn’t a smile. You're gonna need to use Vanish on that.
  • No matter how many neon toys you jingle around my face, it still won’t make any difference as I CAN’T SEE BASTARD COLOURS YET YOU MENTAL WENCH.
  • Thanks for that hour-long 3am feed. Now here’s 45 minutes worth back across your shoulder. You’re welcome.
  • Oh…? We’re going to visit someone…? Well in that case I shall sleep the entire time including the outward and return journey, and then the second we get home. BOOM. I’ll be all up in your shit.
  • Every time you remove my nappy I will wee. EVERY TIME. NO MATTER WHAT. Unless you’re waiting for me to wee. Then I won’t. Out of principal.
  • I don’t actually know why I’m crying but the fact that you don't know is making me beside myself. Oh wait. It was boobs again.   
  • Seriously. You must have enough photos now.
  • Oh and p.s. no-one on facebook wants to f@*king see them either.

Until next time then…

WallyBoy xx

#ginnow





The Alternative Baby Glossary… (contains no gloss and lots of disappointment)

Good Sleeper = The empty LIE which tempted you into unprotected sex in the first place… (*note to  self* - in future, just have a Twix.)
Good Feeder = My nipples look like pate.
Bad Latch = My baby ate some of my pate nipple.
Tongue Tie = Nature's way of telling you you're baby's not a pate fan.
Cluster Feeding = Your baby f@*king loves pate.
Combination Feeding = The breast-police are very disappointed in you and you and vagina are going to hell.
Nipple Confusion = You'd be confused too if you had to fit that in your face.
Feeding Position = Yeah, you better be holding your baby at exactly 37 degrees perpendicular to your lap or they will be all up in your shit like a tiny-milky-twat.
Facial Recognition = When they look at you and shit. Yes, your face makes them shit themselves. Let's try not to read into that too much. 
Colic = You won't be leaving the house for a while and when you do, it will be to go and cry behind some bins.
Reflux = The Universe has decided you are a horrific human being and this is your punishment. Along with how your vagina looks now.
Baby Socks = Another one of the Universe's jokes…
Controlled Crying = If you think for a second you are in control of anything then you should probably sell your ovaries on the internet right now.
First Smile = Wind (and denial).
First Laugh = Lots of wind (and denial).
Wind = My baby is really happy (but no-one squeeze them too hard).
Floor Gym = Somewhere to leave your baby so you can go take a shit for the first time in three days.
Jumperoo = Freeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddoooooommmmmmm. Escape to the bathroom now and eat as many Snickers in a row as you can before it's too late…
Tummy-Time = Baby face-planting with tears.
Babble = I'm trying to talk to you, you rancid whore.
Baby Wearing = You don't even need to put down your gin…?! #nobrainer
Skin-to-Skin = Excuse for a bath.
New Baby Smell = When you've washed off the vagina sections with Johnsons.
Baby Bath = You think you're cleaning your baby, but what really happens is you dry them and all their skin falls off. Until you stick it back on with baby oil.
Teething = Run away now while you still can...
Co-Sleeping = Remember when you used to have sex…? No. Probably best.
Sleep Regression = What the internet tells you to say when your baby still thinks 20 minutes sleep per night is acceptable at 4-months old.
Growth Spurt = What the internet tells you to say about everything else...
Positing = When your baby farts milk out of their face. In chunks.
Milestones = The precious moments where your baby begins sitting, eating, crawling and walking… and the moment you realise why baby vests have shoulders like that…


Alternatively, simply apply 'Growth Spurt' to everything on this list. And have some gin while baby-wearing.

#alternativebabyglossary
#gin


Things you should know about owning a threenager...


  • Firstly. You don't own them, you have just made a really shitty investment that now answers you back and only eats pizza.
  • Secondly. They know when you've put a supermarket own brand pizza in a Domino's box… they know… and you will suffer…
  • Threenagers don't tantrum. Oh no. It's far worse now... Every. Bastard. Thing. Is a serious negotiation… 'I'm too scared to go to the park... I'm too small to walk any more... I'm too big to eat... my tummy hurts so I need to wear your shoes today.' Urgh. #killme
  • No matter how long they've been potty-trained, one wrong move and you will find a shit wrapped around a Barbie when you go through the toy box.
  • But then there's nothing that can't be solved with a packet of Haribo and a pair of sparkly party shoes. For ten minutes or so. Then you're really f@*ked.
  • Yes. They can go to nursery every day this week dressed as Elsa. And they forgive you for being too stupid to initially realise this. 
  • You are now officially the 'sharing police'. Count in one day how many times you tell your 3yr old it's 'nice to share'... If you put a quid in glass each time you will be able to buy Russia by September.
  • No laughing at undesignated times. 
  • And absolutely NO SINGING OVER THE LET IT GO BIT IN FROZEN UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE HAIR, SKIN AND DIGNITY.
  • They can use an iPhone better than you can.
  • And there can never be too many half-face selfies. Ever. 
  • Planning on eating out...?! Don't. It's a trap… The iPad doesn't work anymore… you better set aside some time to mourn this period of your life. You won't be going to cafes/restaurants/out of your living room for playdates anymore. 
  • You can't lie. They have now somehow developed photographic memories. So if you promised a biscuit to get them out of the playground, you better be Hobnobbed-up-to-the-shitting-max at home or you've definitely got a toy-box-turd coming your way…
  • They know injuries mean attention. So you better hide all the knives. 
  • They're really not babies anymore… even though they'll always be your baby... Just a 'baby' that can single handedly knock out an Alsatian and FaceTime themselves doing it. 


#toyboxturds
#threenagers 

10 Myths About Newborn Babies and Other Shit to Cry to…

  1. That newborn baby smell…? That’s sections of stuck on vagina and neck-curdled breast milk. Yeah. Kiss my baby now.  
  2. Sterile water and cotton wool balls does not bastardy-well cut it during a projectile poonami. Frankly, this is a job for Cillit Bang and wine.  
  3. You will never leave the house without muslins ever again. No matter how crusty they (or you) are.
  4. Sleep when the baby sleeps… Do you actually want me to stab you?! If you need me, I’ll be doing tequila shots to the face and picking the crispy bits off my leggings during the 45 minutes he’s slept today thanks.
  5. Mirrors (and salad) make you sad now… 
  6. Of course having a baby doesn’t impact negatively in your marriage/relationship… which is why you’ve booked a Hysterectomy, and got some vodka and your episiotomy selfie saved on the iPad in case he tries to come near you with his penis.
  7. You don’t know why your baby is f@*king crying. You just know you have nipples. And that works. #nipplewin
  8. ‘Dreamfeed’ implies some kind of sleep. You’re not ready to laugh about this yet. *heads to a darkened corner and rocks back and forth hugging some gin*
  9. You would do anything for someone to take the baby off your hands for an hour or so… Until someone offers and you want to punch them in the face for even beginning to suggest you are not coping. Wankers.
  10. Whatever the question, the answer really does always begin (and end) with #gin.
##gin
##episiotomyselfie


Dear Mummy... (A Mother's Day poem)

Dear Mummy... we just wanted to say thank you,
For putting up with all of our shit.
We're sorry for the winging, the crying and the whining,
And all the times we punched you in the tit.

We're sorry you never have time to shave your legs.
We're sorry that you've now grown a tash...
We're sorry you don't get to wear a bra anymore.
And we're sorry about the baggy vag.

We're sorry your tummy looks like a dehydrated scrotum,
We're sorry you leak a bit when you laugh.
We're sorry you never get to eat toast on your own.
We're sorry we've lost seven Sophie the Giraffes.

We're sorry about the Cheerios and human shit in your hair,
We're sorry about the substantial loss of skin...
We're sorry you never get to poo alone,
We're sorry that CBeebies has driven you to gin.

So thank you, our Mummy, for all of the things,
You put up with from us every day.
You're the best f@*king Mummy that we've ever had,
And we love you in every way.


(We also got you this daffodil with fox turd on it that we found in the road. Enjoy.)


#DearMummy
#foxturddaffodils
#gin

The Modern Daddy.

This one's a thank you to the modern Daddy;
The baby carrying, push-chair rocking, changer of the nappy.
The night-time bouncing, muslin dousing, king of the sling,
The story-reading, face-to-get-peed-in, human baby-gym. 
Thank you for the night-feeds, that give my boobs a break,
Thanks for making me cups of tea, while I cry into an enormous cake.
Thanks for ordering pizza, when I've made a total shit of dinner,
Thanks for pretending my dressing gown actually makes me look thinner.
So this one's for you, our modern Daddy,
The night-time driving, colic surviving, chap that still looks happy.
Thanks for Friday night wine-time, where mummy gets a little bit plastered,
And thanks for being such an awesome Dad, and a goddamn lovely bastard.

#moderndaddy