.10 things mums want for Valentines Day.

I don't celebrate Valentine's Day. But if I did, theses are the things I most definitely want (need).

1. Sleep. 

Uninterrupted sleep.

Glorious sleep.

Naked sleep.

As long as I want sleep.

Fall asleep wherever the hell I want sleep.

The only possible reasons you could wake me up:

• There is a fire you can't put out yourself. In which case, you can pick me up and carry me out, still sleeping.

• The zombie apocalypse is here, because I have been training my whole life for that.

• We won the lotto.

• Channing Tatum AND Ryan Gosling are at the door. Not one, but both.

2. A full day of sweet FA. I want to sit on my couch with Netflix, copious amounts of food and wine. (Oh and to not gain weight from said food)

Every Mums dream. Not even kidding. 

3. A 'get of jail' card, to be used at ANY TIME.

That, my friend, is worth Gold. You can only use it once, you can use it any time you choose, your husband/partner is forbidden to say no and you can go for as long as you like (not overnight though).  

4. A cleaner for a whole day.

Declutter the house, bleach every surface and have this house smelling (and looking) like a hospital. So the kids can fuck it up again within 4 minutes.

5. Someone else to do a week's worth of washing.

And by washing I mean: washing, drying, folding, hanging, putting away.

Do you know how long that shit takes? And you can ask my husband, it is my most hated task of all time. Washing and drying is on par. Folding, I do 50% of the time and putting away, I literally do it 2% of the time. 

6. A massage.

I do not want to pay for it, I want it from my husband. Not a 5 minute massage that you try and turn into sex massage. Not a half assed massage that you do for 3 minutes then go back to your phone.

I want a half an hour massage. 

7. A bath.

With candles, music, essential oils and no children. I want to sing my lungs out to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody while bathing, over and over again. I want to do the air guitar solo and maybe have some me time (if ya know what I mean).

8. Diamonds.

Let's be honest. 

9. New kitchenware.

I am not 'mumsy' in the slightest, except for when it comes to kitchenware. You get me any type of cooking utensil or dish and I can be the mumsiest mum you've ever seen. That shit gets me more excited than diamonds.

10. Socks and undies.

Tell me one person who does not love being gifted with something they always have to buy themselves? 

So there you have it men. And women, obviously you don't need to get your men anything because we live in a sexist world where V day is all about the V. 

Get it?

You, me + 3

.they think they know.

Step 1: have children.

Step 2: instantly kick yourself in the face for ever be a judgemental twat towards Mothers.

Why is it that non-parents have the most profound opinions on how to raise my child, or how to be a good mum/house wench? 

Like, really?

You're really gonna give me advice... On parenting, and house wenching?

Oh you keep plants alive.... Well, it's practically the same.

By the way. I can't keep plants alive but my 3 kids have survived. So far.

Do you know how hard it is to vacuum a lounge room while 3 assholes throw cheezels at you? And how long that takes? When you don't have kids to fuck up your lounge room, you really don't appreciate being able to vacuum without picking up 17 socks, ALL the couch cushions and a million ear buds. How easy it used to be for me to vacuum, I miss it. I really took it for granted.

Do you know what I do in the morning before leaving the house? I'm usually the one who doesn't get a shower because everyone else used up the hot water while I'm on Facebook ironing my husbands shirt and making everyone breakfast. I know how easy it was for me, PK (pre-kids) to get up, get myself ready and just leave the fucking house in about 35 minutes. These days, I can't even shovel brekkie into my kids mouths, wash them and dress them in under 1hr 45. 

A comedian by the name of Michael McIntyre knows what I'm talking about.

http://youtu.be/j1cFt2tWsI4

They think they know. Ha. Ha. Ha. If you can't tell, my sarcasm is fierce. 

They think they know how 'easy' it is to keep your house clean, your children well groomed and yourself not smelling like mouldy cheese with salada crackers stuck in your hair and bra. You would think that is easy...... It is not. 

The food in my car could feed the whole of Sydney for a week. The crumbs under my couch could be the dessert and the wine stains on every single one of my shirts could be the night cap.

Having kids is messy, so fucking what! I refuse to stress about the little things.

You see, my kids want to have fun. They want to run around on the sand for hours then go home, empty out pockets full of sand, eat ice blocks with their sticky fingers and enjoy life. You know why? Because THEY ARE KIDS. We only have 24 hours in a day, we are not super women and if we try to be, we burn out. So please stop pressuring us.

Don't be a judgmental twat. I enjoy my life and my kids. Yes, I wish it was A LOT cleaner but my children are going to look back on life and remember how much they were assholes fun we had at the beach, not how our house smelled like disinfectant everyday. Although that would be nice...

Be a free spirit and love every second with your kids. 

And non-parents; please, no more advice. ✌🏼️

.how to out-asshole your child.

I'm 90% sure that I have the biggest asshole as a kid. But, I know I'm not alone finding joy in out-assholing my children. 

My favourite moment of this year (and probably of my life), is when another parent heard me whisper 'fuck off' under my breath before I answered my child. We had a brief moment of locked eyes and I didn't know if she wanted to fight me, until she smirked at me. I then held up my coffee (vodka) in a cheers motion. 

I know I'm not alone.

For example: 

This

Is

Flour.... 

FLOUR! This mum is a fucking legend and I like her. I literally lol'd at this photo for a good 5 minutes. I know that her kid is being an intentional asshole lately so instead of always yelling, she was smart and out-assholed him. 

Mum 1 - toddler - minus 1

And this time. 

My little asshole thought it was funny to climb up the window, before he realised he didn't know how to get down (insert sniggering here)

 

Naturally, I was an asshole and laughed while I took a photo of him suffering #assholeparents

I've said it many times, parenting is hard work. Yes, it's fun and rewarding and kids are greaattt bla bla bla, it's fucking hard. My son has given me concussion, a black eye etc... It's tough. And you know why? Because it's unrewarding, unless you out-asshole them.

My son reached for wasabi peas the other day. I smiled, waited and watched. My friend tried to stop him, I said 'no, let him try it'. I must admit, he was extra assholey that day. Needless to say, he learned his lesson..

Me: 1 - son: 0

#outassholed

I spent majority of 2014 drunk. I have a lot of anxiety built up over the years. No, I'm not proud of it and yes I was self medicating.... But, this year instead of self-medicating, I am going to be smart and continually out-asshole my children. 

My new favourite activity is doing a dance when I say 'no' to something... It's usually a tap dance, or sometimes I do Madonna style, whatever; it's fun!

I know kids are unintentional assholes because they're kids and they don't know any better..... It's still fun to out-asshole them 

.today, i decided not to care.

Today, like every other glorious day, I took my kids to the beach. As I sunscreened their already sun-kissed cheeks, I prepare to sunscreen myself. All the other mums at the beach are toned and fabulous; I feel a little less fabulous because I wobble when I walk. 

But today, I decided not to care.

I flung my dress off with sass (and frustration because I had to get in the water and rescue the surf board).

Today, I decided to play and run with my children instead of self consciously sitting like a potato on my towel. Today, I swam in the water and frolicked on the sand like a lively potato.

Today, I decided that I am strong, not skinny; and I don't care if anyone thinks otherwise. I have moved up to 'men's weights' at the gym and I have never felt so fucking great. I have 'mum-boobs' but to my kids, they're just boobs, boobies, tits. They know no different and if I teach them it doesn't matter, they'll learn to love themselves quicker than I ever did. I am imperfect but I am perfect to my kids. 

I grew and carried 3 children inside my body; my strong, stretched, marked, fucking fabulous body. And I am proud. My stretch marks show the brutal strain my body took and I am strong because I survived. Mentally and physically. 

Today, I decided not to care about my weight but rather how I feel as a Mum, as a Wife and as a person. And I feel fucking fabulous. So I will remain fabulous. 

Today, I decided not to care about the washing piled floor to ceiling in my living room. I decided to play with my kids at the beach for 4 hours then came home and played barbie dolls while my girls laughed at the voices I gave the barbies. 

Today, I decided that I am happy and can remain happy, because my children are healthy, I am healthy (and fucking fabulous) and my family and friends are all I need.

Today, I gave less fucks..... And I enjoyed myself