Random musings from yours truly …

The other day my mum asked me what a MILF was. What the what? Thank feck she couldn’t see my face … I quickly overcame the shock and told her it was basically a compliment that a dude pays a mum … kinda like the term yummy mummy. I’ll let my sister give her the literal meaning.

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My youngest son wanted to know what a date was and after I told him, he promptly set to work planning one. With me. So far it involves paddling, crisps, a cuppa tea and a trip to McDonald’s … if he has enough money. I know I’m a cheap date, but come on son.

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A few weeks ago my bestie told me that we were now middle-aged and should be proud of that. Middle aged? WTF? After a few expletives and then some more outward displays of my disgust at being labelled with that term, she decided a better one for us was “mature women.” I’m still having nightmares.

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Oldest son rushing to my aid and asking if I’d fallen over after finding me laid out flat on the floor. I was doing sit-ups, FFS.

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Middle son asking why I like to go for runs/walks all the time. After telling him that it makes me feel better and less crazy, hearing him mutter “it really doesn’t help coz you’re mental all the time anyway.” Honestly.

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Seeing not one, but two open top double-decker buses tour through the town I live in. It’s not that big of a place which makes me wonder where they go. I mean, I think there’s only three of them that go round the whole of Edinburgh. I’m tempted to drag my boys on it and find out.

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Usually when I’m stressed it will come out in one of the following ways … my skin, weight loss, a sty or a sinus infection. I’m currently fighting all of them. Nice, right? I’m also not sleeping at night again, but that’s enough moaning bout that.

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I’m sorry, but the new song by Bruno Mars called The Lazy Song is just wrong, wrong, wrong in my book. My two older boys love it, but it drives me nuts every time I hear it. Can’t imagine just doing nuthin’ like it suggests. I just wanna shake that Bruno and say, dude there’s a whole big world out there and stuff to be done … don’t be teaching my sons to lie on the couch with their hands down their pants.

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Waiting for a new Terminator movie to explain why Judgement Day didn’t happen as James Cameron predicted. I was hunkered down all day waiting for Skynet to take over.

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Overheard my oldest son telling the middle son that being a douche to a douche makes you a king on the playground at school. Ummmm, okay … douche + douche = king.

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Being called a human Barbie doll. WTF? My bewbs are like way bigger.

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Finding the last bag of Jelly Babies at St. Pancras train station and squealing in delight … a little too loudly. Oh well, apparently it made the dude at the check out counter’s day … I aim to please and entertain, after all.

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At an Easter egg hunt where the children had to find hidden letters, my youngest son declared to all who could hear him, “yes, I know it’s an ‘E’ because I’m very, very smart.” I raise them modest, don’t I?

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Realising I may have some issues I need to work through after becoming a little obsessed with Keith Lemon and all his catchphrases. He’s kinda hot, don’t ya think? I’m trying to work the following … “smash the back doors in” to every sentence I say because it makes me larf and that’s how I roll.

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Realising I may have even bigger issues than I imagined what with my new guilty pleasure being The Only Way is Essex and all.