Tag Archives : beta mummy

The Feral Child’s End of Year School Show


It’s that time of year again.  The academic year is drawing to a close, much to the relief of teachers everywhere. But before term ends, it’s time for the school play, or show, or end-of-term prize-giving, or whatever your child’s school calls it.  It’s a lovely time:  a time to celebrate our little ones and all that they’ve achieved over the year, and a time to sob a tiny bit at the fact that another year is over already.  And a time to curse the teachers as yet another note comes home in the book bag asking for a plain orange tee-shirt or twelve empty Pringles tubes, or an octopus costume, with a couple of days’ notice.

Grow Your Own Veg with Beta Mummy


Grow your own! They said. It’ll encourage your kids to eat vegetables! They said. Well I grew my own – or at least attempted to – but did it bollocks make my fussy Feral Child #1 eat his veg.

A doodle of Beta Mummy having a smear test

Even Beta Mummy Remembers Her Smear Test…


Ugh, I know.  It’s not my favourite part of being a woman, either.  But of all the things to prioritise, of all the times that it’s important to practise a bit of self-care, getting your smear tests (cervical screening) done regularly has got to be near the top of the list.

 

Getting Naked with Beta Mummy


If you’ve given birth to a child or children, chances are you’ve got what the media like to refer to as a “mum bod”, or a “mummy tummy”.  Few of us manage to escape unscathed from the rigours and strain of growing, carrying, birthing and nurturing a baby over nine months and beyond.  But aren’t we supposed to lose the mum-tum?  Victoria Beckham managed it.  Myleen Klass managed it.  Maybe you’re just failing to put the effort in?

Doodle of Beta Mummy doing a zip wire off the end of Bournemouth Pier. The harness is highly unflattering and there are almost definitely sharks circling beneath her. But she is wearing some lovely Hotter shoes, so it's all good.

Staring Death in the Face with Hotter


Before I had my kids, I was always up for adventure.  Adrenaline junkie is probably too strong a term – I never had the urge to try bungee jumping or base jumping, or any other kind of jumping in fact – but I definitely enjoyed the buzz I would get from pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone.  I love skiing, and pre-kids would have happily thrown myself down a black run despite not being a particularly competent skier.  “What’s the worst that could happen?” I’d merrily declare.  But since having my children, something unexpected has happened to me.

Sunday lunch, the Beta Mummy way


I love a roast dinner.  Depending on my mood, my favourite is either roast lamb or roast pork.  Or roast chicken.  Or beef.  Basically I love roasted animal of any kind – but in my mind it’s all about the roast potatoes, the perfect roast potato is a glorious thing.  The thing about roast dinner is that there are a lot of trimmings, to really make it right.  You’ve got to have Yorkshire puddings, and stuffing.  At least three types of veg.  Gravy.  Maybe some pigs in blankets.  The whole thing takes a lot of time and effort to prepare, and then the whole lot gets scoffed in a disproportionately small number of minutes.

The Easter Beta Bunny.


Happy Easter everyone!  May your little darlings be little darlings, may family arguments over the last mini egg be few, may the hot cross buns be plentiful, and may you get the odd quiet moment here and there to enjoy a hot cup of tea (a.m.) and/or a nice big glass of wine (p.m.)*  🙂

I Can’t Have It All…


Women can have it all these days, so they say.  We can be mothers and sex goddesses and ambitious career women, and can generally achieve great things.  We can.

One could.

But right now I’m failing at all of the above.

the weight of responsibility

I’m a Beta Mummy, breastfeeding


You know what, I have been putting off doing a doodle about breastfeeding for so long, and despite many requests.  Why, I hear you cry?  Because,dear reader, along with the whole fandango/sunroof birth thing (also not doodled as yet), it’s just so bloody contentious.  Whatever you say, and whatever angle you take, the nutcases crawl out of the woodwork and think it’s ok to start hurling accusations, guilt-trips and insults around.  So I’ll say it from the off – I won’t stand for it, it is just not cool.