When I was pregnant first time round I had high hopes of becoming a ‘Yummy Mummy’.
Then I had a baby and realised I needed a punch in the face for even thinking about such shite.
Although I reckoned I definitely had potential, and to be fair when I just had one baby I didn’t do too bad a job at attempting to be one – the Other Half used to say I was all the time (in hindsight I think he was possibly taking the piss, but hey ho).
But then I had twins and it all went a bit tits up. Like quite a lot of other things.
When I read the Urban Dictionary definition of what a Yummy Mummy is, I realised I never even stood a chance. This is bloody hilarious:
“ An attractive, healthy and very sexy mother! Usually a young woman or sometimes a really gorgeous and hot middle aged mother. Yummy mummies usually wear trendy clothes, have great hairstyles and always look fabulous.”
Not sure I would come up to scratch against any of those attributes. Although is 39 classed as middle-aged these days?
So if I’m not a Yummy Mummy, maybe I’m a SLUMMY MUMMY instead??
Here’s what the Urban Dictionary has to say about that:
“A young mother from a lower socio-economic background. Usually found on a council estate with lots of piercings/children/tattoos. Drug abuse problem optional.”
Pahahahahah! This is one of the funniest things I’ve read all week. In fact sod spending my evenings on Facebook and Instagram, my new form of entertainment is going to be reading the Urban Dictionary!
Not sure I come up to scratch as a Slummy Mummy either – I’m not young (sadly), I don’t live on a council estate, and I don’t have a drug problem – yet. I do have pierced ears and two tattoos (ooer) though so am I in??
It seems these definitions are slightly extreme. What a shock. So how come I feel like standards have slipped rather a lot recently?
How did this happen?
I think I’m going to blame the twins. They’re too young to argue back.
Here’s a list of how things MAY have taken a turn for the worse (albeit it on a rather shallow/superficial/vain level). Please don’t judge me too much.
1. My hair
Does anyone else really struggle with the ‘mum hair’ thing? Before having kids I would wash, blowdry and straighten my hair to within an inch of it’s perfect self every morning, no matter how early that meant getting up (In the newsroom for 6am? No problem, I’ll be there with my shiny clean and poker-straight hair.) But these days it’s a different story. I’m lucky if I get time to wash my hair twice a week now. I never ever have time to dry it, opting for the ‘dry naturally and create a not-so-attractive frizz ball look’ or tying it up wet.
I straighten it once in a blue moon – my poor GHDs, once my most treasured possession (told you I’m shallow), redundant in a drawer. I love making the effort to do my hair – it makes me feel like ‘me’ but alas, this has gone out the window along with the pelvic floor and ability to sleep for more than 3 hours at a time. And don’t even get me started on the ever-increasing GREYS!
Showering. Whilst we’re on the subject of washing stuff, let’s talk about showering for a minute. How is a simple thing like taking a shower so f*cking hard when you have young kids? I’m not one for showering before bed. I go to bed around midnight most nights, I can’t be arsed by then. And when the Other Half is away I have to plan a morning shower like a military operation. I’m one of *those mums who tries to get up before anyone wakes up to have a quick shower, but this pretty much works about 20% of the time and basically feels like a game of Chicken.
If I get in too early I risk waking up the three year old (bathroom is next to his room), if I get in too late it’s Sod’s Law someone/everyone wakes up screaming and I can’t hear them. So as much as I hate to admit it, there are odd days, maybe once a week, that I don’t even bother. There I said it. Who’s with me? Anyone? Please? Okaaaay then…
3. My Face
And I’m not just talking about the wrinkles and bags under my eyes which have appeared since having kids. I’m pretty good at still managing to put on minimal make-up every day. I mean, nobody needs that kind of shock on the school run, so a spot of foundation and mascara is my bottom line and I won’t budge from it. You can tell it’s a baby group day if I’m wearing eyeshadow too, trying to look like I have my shit together.
But gone are the days of fancy eyelash extensions or fancy anything really. There was a time not so long ago I would spend £50 on posh Dermalogica moisturiser. Hell I had the whole caboodle in fact including the ‘must have’ night serum which was basically liquid gold. Night serum FFS!
Now I use Aldi £1.79 day cream and the babies’ Aveeno as a night cream. (Maybe it’s time for me to get a job?) I only bought an exfoliator again two weeks ago as I was told to do so by a wedding make-up artist when I was bridesmaid. And I know the next time I get round to using it will be, er, never. My nails are just as bad. Even with one baby I’d get them shellaced now and then, taking him with me. Taking all three is just never going to happen.
4. Dry Bits
Yes you read that right, but I’m not talking about THOSE bits. (Seriously not even I’m that bad!) I mean knees and feet. 3.5 years of spending my life kneeling on the floor has taken its toll. My knees and tops of my feet aren’t pretty. You know what I’m talking about. But do I ever think to moisturise? Course I don’t. Luckily the spray tan I had for the wedding last week was covered by a long dress…
Clothes. Okay so I’ve never been ‘trendy’ (that’s the Urban Dictionary ruling me out straight away, then), and I’m not a big shopper, but these days I’ve fallen into wearing a total cliched ‘mum uniform’. If you follow my Facebook page and group you’ll know I’m a Joules fan and BIG lover of stripes. It’s my thing. I have approximately 387 stripey Joules Harbour tops in my wardrobe yet still buy more regularly. Okay, maybe not quite that many but you get my point. Surely this is enough to make me a Yummy Mummy, no?
But then I spend the entire winter wearing jeans that are pretty much ‘gone at the knee’ (see above) and a sloganed sweatshirt making no effort whatsoever. Combined with my unwashed hair (and on occasion body) I may as well give up now and go get myself a drug habit.
Remember them? Those little things that contained just enough of your essentials and nothing more. Even if your essentials consisted of a whole lot of sh*t, at least it was YOUR shit. These days there’s more chance of turning on the news and NOT hearing about Brexit, than your handbag making an appearance. Nappy bags are your new best friend, and however nice a Cath Kidston one you get, it’s still a nappy bag.
It still contains everything except the kitchen sink that your kids need, and nothing of what you need. I even changed to a rucksack after having the twins so I could be ‘hands free’. This is how sad my life has become. Forget the walking, talking, potty training milestones. I’ll feel like I’ve made it when I can go out with a normal bag again.
Yes, I’m STILL harping on about the f*cking car. I know I’m like a broken record but I’m making no apologies. But seeing as a lot of you will have heard my moaning before (again and again) I’ll keep it brief. Put succinctly: pre-twins I had a fancy, fast, shiny BMW. It had leather seats, heating steering wheel and went like shit off a shovel. This was probably my one and only trump card in the bid for Yummy Mummy status. Post-twins: A VW Touran with a roof box. Enough said. If you’re the only person in the world not to have heard my whinging about said car, you can read all about it here.
So I’m going to settle for being somewhere in between Yummy and Slummy Mummy and hope the hair-washing/drying/straightening regularity improves as the kids grow. I’m hopeful it might. Oh, and the car.
Are you a Yummy or Slummy Mummy? Tell me your secrets!
How did I do?
If you liked this post you might like some of my others, so how about you have a read of Six reasons grandparents are awesome, or 10 things I wish I’d known before having children. Or you might enjoy this hilarious guest post written by my husband Daddy’s Survival Guide To A Weekend Alone With 3 Kids Under 4.
If social media is your thing, pop over to my Facebook page where you’ll be able to have a laugh at what ridiculousness goes on in my house with three very small boys on a daily basis. Warning – there is often sarcasm, and usually swearing. There are also great travel reviews and some AWESOME giveaways. Feel free to join my Twins, Tantrums and Cold Coffee – Shits and Giggles Parenting Group too, where everyone shares their hilarious stories.
And if you want to work with me, feel free to give me a shout here, and I’ll get back to you during naptime/screentime (!)