It is now Saturday after all. And I got botted.

Again.

Well, whilst my algorithm understanding remains at zero, I have finally made it to 500 followers! (I hope, Im getting started on this post early as the twiglets break up tomorrow – so Im using the power of positive thinking to will the numbers up!)

AH HA, I was wrong.

I have been at around 450 for what seems like an age! It’s the follow-to-follow-back-only-to-unfollow folk that appear to be causing my little brain cell the hassle.

I didn’t even know this was a thing…. No one explained this to me when I began my Insta-quest, primarily because I stayed very quiet and tried to find my way into the community with a certain level of anonymity.

I am however, a waffler.

My real life, none art based interior design days, were bound to creep in to the words that fall out of my brain onto a page. So I’m running with it.

I am being the whole of me instead of an insta-filtered version.

My real life is very mundane – although enjoyable, its the “Same Shit Different Day” most of the time. Albeit my shit is potentially slightly different to yours, and the next persons, it is the same school run drudge as it has been for the last 5 years. And indeed will continue for at least the next decade.

Slight alteration to our journey is I no longer have to heave Ernie The Fun Bus into the car park (Think airport taxi, slidey doors) as I have a snazzy boot situ with secret seats. When you have multiple small folks, 7 seats appears to be relatively essential. Else, they can only share 1 friend on a play date, and even the nicest of ankle biters cant divide 1 child between 3.

And so the Secret Seats have allowed the twiglets to invite one friend each on occasion.

Then there is the infamous Play Date Protocol. I am terrible at it.

  • I forget to invite kids back that my kids have been to play with.
  • I don’t remember their parents names.
  • Occasionally I don’t even remember the kids names, but whilst “Are you okay sweetie?” Gets me out of that relatively easily, it does sound slightly patronising when its a full grown bloke I am talking to 😳

We invariably have a house full of kids, and so long as my head count is correct at the end of the day, I am happy with the chaos.

There are kids I love having over, children laughing is by far the best tonic in life.

Then there are kids I do not. Disclaimer – I don’t invite kids over whose parents I dislike. And I bet my bottom dollar at least 99.9% of other parents don’t either, no matter how much mock horror is on your face having seen this openly admitted on the internet!

Prick of a parent usually breeds a shit of a kid. Further disclaimer; I don’t want to be a prick or have shits for kids. There are days I fail at this, usually Fishwife Fridays, then I most definitely am a prick, and the kids are most definitely shits.

When the chaos deteriorates into bedlam, the arguing begins. Think dragging nails over a chalk board whilst blasting an accordion rendition of Baby Shark through a megaphone, and you may be able to picture the scene.

Oh and then stand on a Lego brick, stub your toe on the play kitchen that has been there for 5 years, and yet your brain appears to conveniently forget the corner of doom when your metatarsals are shoe free, you’ll be somewhere close to the stress level of a disaster struck day.

Thank goodness for wine. And it’s iodine free 😂🤭 wonderfully tasty and has incredible stress reducing properties. At least for me anyways.

I am really enjoying pouring my life out onto a page, I really hope you guys are having a laugh too, either with me or at me, I’m not fussy.

Everyone is welcome, even if you have Prick potential, we can be fish wives together. Only on Fridays mind.

Helen 🖤

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