Being a parent

A selection of things that have recently irritated me, possibly unreasonably, about being a parent.

Being referred to as a ‘mummy’ by anyone other than my daughter. ‘Mum’ is fine. Sian is even better.

The way every other mum at the swimming pool manages to dress their child without taking over half of the changing room with stuff, and without mad half-naked dashes to retrieve the already dressed toddler from legging it back into the pool.

The word ‘solids’ to refer to food. I think just because it makes me think of solid waste.

Having to go out of the way to pick non-holey, vaguely matching socks because of the amount of times I end up having to take my shoes off in public. See also, having to wear leggings instead of tights to avoid gusset-flashing while sitting cross-legged on the library floor.

Not being able to attempt any sort of floor-based exercise without MiniRegz deciding that I am not working hard enough, here have 25lb extra weight to work with. Plonk.

Whoever decided to put the electrical sockets at toddler eye height in the room where we hold breastfeeding group.

And so ends today’s rant. I am sure more will occur to me before too long.


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