Posted on 8 Comments

The one that’s all about me…..

Here we go, can I get to 10?

There have been a few negative influences in my life recently so it’s time to get them off my chest.

Well – this is my blog, so you really shouldn’t be surprised if you are reading some of my opinions in-between the other stuff.


I’m a sucker for a sob story.  I can be outspoken online, but I can never resist anyone who needs some help.  Call me a glutton for punishment, or some schmuck who has a complex about not being liked, who has to get people to like her?  I don’t know, but I do know I need to learn to say no to some people a bit more.  Mostly family.

And really don’t come at me with comments like “I’d love to do that, but I just don’t have the time,” when I mention something I have done.  It makes the pouty spouters sound like even bigger schmucks than me.  It really comes across as sarcastic sniping and having a go at someone they “think” is a stay at home mum with nothing else to do, and I lose all respect for them.


I like being alone.  Does that surprise people, considering I have 6 people living in this house and 4 animals?  I am comfortable with being alone and my ultimate escape would be a whole weekend with the house to myself, some good books, and the Internet for company.


I am not a natural mixer.  I struggle in public settings.  I’m much more of a home bird who feels like a fish out of water at functions and in large groups.  I make myself do it as I would fester at home otherwise, and being part of other peoples lives gives my life purpose and focus.


I used to have a really good career.  Yes, I did.  I gave it all up to adopt my boys.  Ten years ago we were part of the rat race.  We now muddle through on many multiples less than we used to earn as I can’t go back to full-time working with the boys and special needs.  Just try asking someone to give you time off for four mornings out of a week – every couple of weeks for appointments, hospitals, doctors, schools, and everything else that happens.

I also resent the opinions of people who just treat me as if I was some sort of reject who adopted as a last resort in life when everything else must have failed.  It’s either that or they put you on a pedestal as some kind of saint for adopting.  Well, I can tell ya, any saint who ever adopted kids would fall from grace and join the rest of us mortal parents in self doubt.  I also like to use the Internet to vent frustrations, hence much of Scottish Mum, so bear with me.


You might know this one if you’ve read much of my blog of old.  I’ve struggled with my weight my whole life.  Some years I’m thin, some years I’m fat and some years I’m in-between.  This is a fat year.  Sometimes I turn down invitations, just because I don’t want people I know to see me fat.  I’m vain about it, but I’m an addict.  An alcoholic can stop drinking, a druggie can stop taking drugs, but a foodie addict can’t stop eating so their addiction can’t be put away in a box.

I’m concentrating more on food and getting a better relationship with it.

I no longer see food as the enemy and through my blog, bloggers, and brands, I am making good friends with my food, and my addiction.  I now openly talk about what I like, what I don’t like, and I spend time to work on making food that I will enjoy.

To eat anything at all, and not have the overwhelming feeling of guilt for the next six months is a revelation.  I have a long road ahead, but I’m patient.  This is a positive thing in my addiction, but people sometimes only see the weight that I’ve put on, and they don’t see me.  They also don’t see the fibromyalgia that causes extreme exhaustion and the nerve damage in my feet that is massively helped by tablets, but means I can’t do masses of exercise.

Last week, I was introduced to someone who curled up the sides of his top lip.  I knew why, he knew why, and I ignored it.  For a few seconds I was knocked off guard, but it wasn’t worth getting upset about.  Some overweight people aren’t carrying more blubber than others approve of because they’re lazy, it’s simply an addiction and it’s certainly not a life choice for me.  Most people have some addictions.  It could be cigarettes, alcohol, exercise, fizzy drinks, drugs, sex, breeding, working 24/7, cleaning, cars, or much more, mine is just food.


People who call naughty kids things like “the spawn of bad parents” get my goat.  If they’ve got well-behaved kids, it’s got as much to do with the kids own inherent personalities than it has to do with their parenting, so I’d like to jump down the throat of the misery guts of the world – and tell them to just get a life and be grateful for what they’ve got.

Yes, I want to be able to talk about how difficult it can be when I’ve just had my legs kicked black and blue and and not be looked at as if I’ve broken all ten commandments.  People like me don’t ask for sympathy, but we do like to be able to talk about being walloped in the same way that other parents talk about potty training.


Talking about the ten commandments.  I’m not the slightest bit religious – not at all, and I wish kids would be taught in the vein of life choice and not a fait accompli.  I respect other people’s religions but I’d like to be respected as not wanting to follow down that path.  I don’t like how I feel guilty if I say I don’t believe, as nobody seems to feel guilty about saying they are religious.  I have no idea why I have this not religious complex, but hey ho, worse things happen at sea.

With all of that in mind, I really don’t care what kind of funeral I get, religious or otherwise.  If my kids end up religious – it’s their own choice and I’ll support them in that.  I’d be happy for them to give me whatever kind of funeral and service that would make it easier for THEM to live with.  I’ll be dead, and really not caring.


Politics, politics, politics.  How mainly pampered rich kids tend to be at the higher echelons of the establishment shows how much of a boys club it all is.  The stinging blows to kids and the disabled is incredible, and the hits just keep coming.

As for Louise Mensch, I find the attacks on her appalling.  I don’t like her politics, but for heaven’s sake, she’s been pilloried as the root of all evil for putting herself and her family first.  Aren’t we supposed to be all past that?  She made a decision for her family as millions of other women do.   I wish people would just get over it.

With Nadine having gone into the jungle, I don’t have a problem with that either.  I’d imagine plenty other MP’s take leave of absence and holidays during parliamentary session, or her leave wouldn’t have been authorised.  I don’t have to like her to respect that she’s using modern channels of communication to reach her constituents.  What is the establishments problem with having politicians try to connect with people at ground roots levels?


I have no idea what I am talking about sometimes.  By the answers I often get from others, neither do they.


I won’t say Santa Clause doesn’t exist.  I’ve been lying to my kids about Santa for years.

I’m not going to get hot and bothered about when they ask me outright whether he exists or not?  I don’t say no, and I tap the side of my nose in a sage fashion, neither admitting nor denying.  I feel sad for people who feel they are pressured into telling the truth and losing every last bit of magic.

In this house, Santa is alive and kicking.  If the kids ask me whether I believe, I say I do, but it’s up to them if they want to believe or not.  Two of them know but they follow the game, it means the magic is still there and the pretence is still exciting and fun and worth having.  When my kids are 50, if they ask, they’ll still get the same answer and Santa will still bring them presents.

Perhaps there should be a new following of Santahoodism for lifelong believers.


I really, really, really, really, really, really, really dislike sprouts, cabbage, big hairy spiders, swearing, slippers, football, rugby, tennis, golf and netball.