Posted in Baking, Mr X, parenting

Butter withdrawals…

I have ever thought of myself as much of a cook, or a baker.

I mean, I cook everyday but nothing spectacular, just your run of the mill toad in the hole, sausage and mash etc.

But then after Christmas I started housewifing properly again. And a decision was made that we would no longer buy snacks for the kids – I would make them instead. Nothing like a little bit of pressure to get the baking juices going!

And so, over the last few weeks I have turned my hand to quite a few different creations, each one (so far) has gone down pretty well with the tinies. 

And then this week, something went terribly wrong with the weekly shop, I miscalculated the need for butter and sugar, forgot the boy needed ingredients for food tech and also completely forgot to pick up normal sugar for Mr X’s coffee resulting in the need to fill the sugar pot with my remaining caster sugar. All in all, a complete disaster of a shop. 

So by Wednesday I had completely run out of sugar and butter. And somewhere deep down in side there must have been a secret baker trying to come out because I felt completely lost!! After my housework was done, and the tiniest tiny was having her nap, I sat in the front room with a cup of tea, rocking (slight exaggeration). All I could think of was cooking, I was having withdrawals!!

And so apparently, and without intention or me noticing, it would appear that I have become addicted to making food, as well as eating it. 

Epic (although I’m not sure the scales are going to agree…!)

Mrs X xoxo

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Posted in parenting

So you’re judging me now?

I’m not going to lie to you, I am not very good at stuff.

This isn’t like “woe is me, feel sorry for me” bullshit, this is me being completely honest, with myself as well. 

I have tried my hand at a few things over the years, knitting, crafty stuff, clothes making, working in various different environments etc, etc and every single thing I put my mind to I was simply mediocre at. Not completely rubbish at most, but just not very good. I have never had a “thing”. 

Until I had kids. Kids are my “thing”. I truly adore being a mum and I happen to think I am pretty good at it. So when someone inadvertently calls that into question, it makes me kinda (hopping) mad.

We had people over today, people who we are in the early stages of friendship with. The kind of early stages where you still watch what you say and bite your lip when they piss you off, hence why she left my house completely unscathed…

My tiniest tiny was not herself today, in fact for the last 2 weeks she has been out of sorts but today she was on particularly bad form. I don’t know exactly what it is, whether it is the readjustment after the holidays, or her back teeth or she just has a cold coming, either way she can be somewhat demanding when she feels unwell. As her mum I take it on the chin, I still refuse to pander to her screaming and demands, because then I am setting myself up for a future fail, but I will be more sympathetic to her cries and tend to take an easier approach to avoid a complete meltdown.

As our guests were about to leave, the following comments were made:-

“Seems like someone needs preschool to help them learn to share”

“She wouldn’t last 5 minutes with that attitude in my house, I just wouldn’t put up with it”

“Oh yes, she would have been put in bed a long time ago”…

Ummmmmm, wow. Just wow.

There are no words. 

They left. I went on to tidy up the kitchen and make a coffee, put the oven on etc. Then came back to the office where Mr X was working.

“Wouldn’t last 5 minutes with that attitude???????” To which Mr X responded “I was waiting for that”.

“How dare they insinuate that my child is some sort of roughian yob with an attitutude problem??? How dare they insinuate that I am handling it wrong??? They have one child under one, they don’t know how hard it can be to try to parent three kids, especially when one of them is poorly???”

How dare they judge me?

Because that’s what it is. Whether it be intentional or not, they passed judgement upon me and my child. And without all the bravado and hard it masks that I like to wear, I can honestly say that it fucking hurt. It broke my heart. Being a mum is the one thing that I am happy to say that I am good at. I know I’ve made mistakes, I know I will continue to make them, I think that’s a good thing. It’s good for your children to see you make mistakes and fail sometimes, it teaches them how to learn from them and try differently next time.

I wonder, when her little one is older, whether her attitude may have been changed.

I wonder whether we will still be friends so I will get to see. I wonder whether she even realises that her flippant comment has caused me to call so much in to question.

I am an open person, I will happily discuss work, politics, TV and films. But my children and my parenting skills are not up for discussion. 

I refuse to accept judgement from those who are not yet qualified to pass it on. 

I am a good mum.

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in Friendship, Marriage, parenting, Social, social life

Helpful ideas are always welcomed….

My husband, who I love dearly, comes up with the best suggestions.

An example of one of his little nuggets of genius is the following sentence:-

“I think it would be a great idea to make the kids lunch boxes at the weekend too”…

The above sentence could only ever be uttered by someone who doesn’t have to make lunch boxes every other flipping night of the week.

He is clearly not aware that the only thing that I have to look forward to on a Friday and Saturday night, is a night off from the dreaded lunch box making!!

Making lunches has been the bane of my life for the last 9 years, and thanks to the arrival of the new tiny it doesn’t look set to end any time soon! The fact that the actual act itself only takes about 3 minutes is neither here nor there, it is simply the most mundane job that I have to do! 

I would rather iron…

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in Marriage, Mr X, parenting

Mr and Mrs X

The above picture is quite clearly a picture of myself and Mr X, we tend to dress like this and lean against walls around the home, slight pout for effect, just in case unexpected visitors knock the door. We are always prepared.

This month, Mr X and I will celebrate our 13th wedding anniversary, go us! So married for 13 years and together for another 4 before that, happily married bliss, butterflies in the stomach, goosebumps when we touch – the whole shabanging shit.

Apart from today, today he pissed me off. Big time.

Mr X is going through some stuff, and I get it, I probably honestly have more understanding of it than most, sadly. And normally I am so so sympathetic, always on hand if needed, I want to help. But there are limits.

Today we were having a discussion about a client mix up, or potential mix up, which needs to be sorted. I suggested that he call one of the clients to speak directly rather than emails back and forth, you know, the direct approach. He asked me if I would call, and I said no. Like I say, I am happy to help, but I don’t even call my sister let alone a random client, I absolutely hate phone calls. As far as I am concerned text messages are the best invention ever. Ever. You can say what you want without the possibility of awkward silences, the need to talk about crap to fill the void. I. Hate. It. And so I said no. And he accused me of having “slopey shoulders”.

I mean, what the hell does that even mean??…


We made a decision before Christmas that I would take a step back from our business. There is not currently enough work for the two of us and I sincerely missed being “mum”. And so for the last 3 weeks, I have been full steam ahead with my chores, my children, even as far as starting to “homeschool” the baby (as I am convinced that she is a frickin’ (evil) genius). I have done everything I set out to do. At no point have I passed off any of my responsibilities to anyone else (unless you count the chore chart, but that is a teaching process!).

And so to be told I was in some way shirking by responsibilities really really pissed me off. And rightly so, I think.

And so, I told him so. In no uncertain terms I informed him of all I do, and all I still have to do, and how that is my responsibility and the “admin shit” is his. I am not an on-call secretary for all the crap he just doesn’t want to do. 

He took it on the chin, like a man – ok so actually more like a scalded puppy. So then I felt guilty.

But that’s the thing. 13 years married, 17 years together. We know each other inside and out. We are soul mates, he is my rock, my raisin d’etre (sic!!) and quite simply the love of my life. So I can tell him that he has royally fucked me off and he can take it, and vice versa.

Happy marriage isn’t about never a cross word, or bottling up your emotions. It’s about communication, understanding that by saying you are pissed off you are not saying anything more than that.

13 years married and still truly, madly, deeply in love. We’re doing something right!!

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in Beauty, parenting

The Transformation…

Good evening!

A short and rather late post from me tonight for one simple reason, I decided that tonight was most definitely the right night for “Shave night”.

It was due, in fact it was really rather overdue, I don’t think I have attempted it for about 3 months (don’t judge me, it’s been winter!), being so ridiculously blonde that my eyebrows and lashes are basically see through means that I don’t notice my stubble until it has formed into a full-on Afro on my legs.  And so tonight I ventured into the bathroom – for some a place of peace and serenity, for me a torture chamber from which I tend to shout “mummy is peeing, give me two minutes” and other, just as frustrated sentences.

I entered the bathroom somewhat resembling a grizzly bear (hence the random pic), and to be honest have probably been using my soft downy fur in the same way as that young bear, for warmth and comfort through a long and cold winter.

“The Shave” actually took less time than I had anticipated, as it always does, I set aside about an hour and a half for what turns out to be a 20 minute job (it’s normally about an hour later that I realise I have missed a huge section from the back of my calves, by then it is too late – the moment has passed and there’s no going back). So I took the opportunity of extra time to indulge in a luxurious shower (for other parents, that’s one that lasts longer than three minutes and doesn’t consist of shouting instructions or an array of visitors who “just can’t hold it any longer”.

During my shower I managed to get shampoo in both my eyes, it stings like fuck and I can now understand why the kids whine when it happens to them, and no, holding your face under running water does nothing to ease it – we have been wrong all these years!

And so, I emerged from the bathroom this evening, freshly washed and shaved.

I went in resembling a grizzly bear, and came out looking like a sphynx cat with conjunctivitis. 


Beautiful. Oh well, at least it’s done for another 3 months!

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in Friendship, parenting, Social

What’s up with you?

Every couple of years it seems that there is a new ailment doing the rounds, like you get you bird flu, or your MRSA, or a bit of foot and mouth. 

Well this year a new affliction has been brought to my attention, and I am afraid to say that I have been unfortunate enough to catch it, or have been born with it, either way. 

The sickness goes by the acronym RBF, it’s full medical term, or how it is commonly referred to, is Resting Bitch Face.

There aren’t many symptoms to this disease, in fact pretty much just one. When you are not contorting your face into some form of forced expression, when you are in resting form, you tend to look like an utter bitch.

There are other side-effects, for example, you are unable to go through an entire day without at least 14 people asking you what is wrong. You can’t approach people without first creating some form of upturn with your mouth for fear of scaring them. You have to be constantly aware of your facial expression just in case someone might catch the moment you decide to relax and let your face fall back into its happy state of bitch-dom.

I have noticed that there are indeed plus sides to this ailment, however. 


One is that your kids think that you are pissed off with them even if you are just sat drinking tea and so go above and beyond to make you less annoyed. Today the boy mopped the kitchen floor and the girl dusted.

Another upside is that people tend to avoid trying to make the dreaded “small talk” with you, as you look so completely unapproachable. This can make trips out much more bearable. I must have been the only dog walker in my area to have other walkers cross the street rather than ask me my dogs name, weight, favourite spaghetti dish and star sign, thus avoiding the obligatory nicety bullshit that seems to come as part and parcel with the doggie adoption papers.

The final benefit of being an RBF sufferer is that you tend to only be surrounded by those who actually give a real shit about getting to know you. None of those stragglers or hangers on in my camp, just the people who saw through the hard outer shell and got treated to the wonderfully squishy centre inside (I’m part armadillo…).

And so from writing this list I have come to the definitive conclusion that suffering from Resting Bitch Face is in fact a blessing rather than a curse. So go ahead, embrace your inner bitch, you can thank me once you start to reap the rewards!!

Mrs X xoxo

Posted in Blogging, journal, secret, new blog, blogosphere, no niche here, Mrs X

3rd times the charm…

3rd times the charm, first post from Mrs XSooooooo….

Welcome to my blog, and my first post, on this blog at least!

You see, I have had a blog before, not just one in fact, no siree Bob, but 2, making this darling new baby of mine my third. I would say definitely my last, but as you will see if you continue to read my crap, I am pretty good at saying things and then forgetting about them 2.5 minutes later, only to beat myself up over it for the next 14 years. And so I have learnt to not say these things, and just secretly think them in the hopes that something might click and I might start actually doing the shit that I set out to do.

So, why the three blogs you may ask, (or not, you may not give a monkeys and rightly so, ’tis a land of free will after all). But if you are even the teensiest bit interested I will explain.

My first blog was started over a year ago, and it was doing pretty damn well. I had posts scheduled up to my eyeballs and companies contacting me to review soap and shit (living the highlife!) but there was one huuuuuuge downside to it, and that was I couldn’t actually write what I wanted to write, because people knew who I was.  And so I was always very conscious that what I wrote had to be reader friendly, PC and (to be perfectly honest) that got as dull as shit. I don’t want to write about soap, I don’t want to write about weaning or poop in a “you should do it this way” kinda way, coz who the hell am I to tell you how to raise your kids?? I want to write what matters to me. It doesn’t have to matter to anyone else, I am not discouraging readers in any sense but I am taking ownership of my little part of the Internet!

“If you want to be a blogger you need to have a niche”. Bull.fucking.shit.

Why, why do I need a niche? Are my readers so one dimensional that they can only enjoy reading about one subject over and over again? I’d like to think they are a little more versatile than that. 

I got so sick of feeling like I “had” to write a certain thing in a certain way, and so one morning I woke up and deleted the whole fucking lot of it. My blog and social media were all closed down in the click of a button. It was scarily easy to delete almost a years worth of work, but it was huuuugely satisfying.

And so I moved on to blog number two, I lasted about 3 days before I realised I was still spouting the same shit just under a different name. 

And then I left it, for about 3 months, whilst I tried to decide what I wanted to do. Did I want to leave the blogosphere behind entirely?

Quite clearly from the writing on this page I decided that I didn’t. I want to blog. I love to write. It is therapeutic and good for the soul. But I needed it to be private, and secret, so I can say and do what I want. My guilty secret almost. My online journal or rant zone. And so here I am.

Blog number 3, come on down!