#4: Postman Crisp and the Doorstep Dance

“What are you doing, Mouse? Why are all the cushions on the coffee table?”

I’m one of those interior over-achievers where everything is aimed towards an aesthetic symmetry, rather than communal enjoyment. Throws are certainly not to be thrown. Cushions are designed to be lightly held atop your lap, or placed on the carpet next to the sofa when you’re in situ. I get very twitchy if someone leans against a cushion. Sit on it, and you won’t be invited back. This makes me sound like a bit of a stern host, but I do rustle up copious amounts of cake – don’t mess with my cushions, and you shall be rewarded. 

#3: Bank Holiday Weekends as Social Constructs

Why is everyone in Cornwall? I mean, I know why – it’s a lovely place. But literally 50% of my acquaintances seem to be going to Cornwall over the Bank Holiday weekend. I want to go to bloody Cornwall. I want to stay in a yurt and buy cheap buckets and spades and Facebook the shit out of Moo’s first trip to the beach. I want to feast on scones and pasties and drink cider. I want to go for a morning run on the sand and have sex in the evenings. Well alright, I don’t like cider, I don’t want to stay in a yurt and actually I definitely don’t want to have sex, I’m too tired. 

#2: Injuries

Moo, thank Christ, has lived out her first three months pretty much injury free. She hasn’t even done the pre-requisite ninja roll off the changing table yet, which I’m taking as a testament to my great parenting (a questionable statement, as you’ll soon learn).

Mouse, on the other hand…that child has encountered more calamitous incidents than me and her father put together. Her latest badge of honour is a sizeable graze on her elbow from pissing about in the garden wearing flip flops on the wrong feet. It blends in nicely with the receding scab borne from a pretty savage slide at soft play. 

#1: Beef Stifado

This blog post doesn’t actually contain a recipe for Beef Stifado – I apologise, dear reader. I have, on many occasions, searched for a recipe online and had to wade through a lengthy blog where the writer sexes up a pasta bake for about 800 words, amidst some pre-oven shots that have been on a date with an Insta filter. When I eventually reach the holy grail that is the ingredients list, I feel like I’ve done a day at the farmer’s market with Nigel Slater. So, if it’s a recipe for Beef Stifado you’re after, just google it and set aside a few minutes for scrolling. Sorry.

Most days, I am haunted by the idea that I’m a Crap Wife because I’m too busy trying to be a Generally Alright Mum, and it’s pretty hard to do both. Excellent Homemaker doesn’t have a chance in hell, frankly. Sometimes I have wonderful ideas that can potentially elevate me to success the field of all three.

Ready…steady…

I am, almost. If you’ve landed here expecting great, knock-your-socks-off things, then you probably took a wrong turn. Maybe you were hoping to find some pictures of a mouse sitting atop a cow, who knows.

Anyway, this is a blog series about parenting, and I’m busy trying to carve out something niche and quirky for my readers. Please check back soon, I’m working on the greatness.