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Camping in Catsuits: the Scummy Mummies go to Camp Bestival

7/8/2015

16 Comments

 
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Helen Writes:

Last weekend, Ellie and I packed up our husbands and kids and headed down to Dorset to go camping. We took all the essentials: tents, torches, sleeping bags, 400 packets of wet wipes, and a pair of gold lamé catsuits. For this was no ordinary camping trip - we were off to perform at Camp Bestival, our favourite family festival. 


Since forming Scummy Mummies, we have performed in some weird and wonderful places. A shipping container under a flyover in Deptford; the basement of a Thai restaurant in Manchester; a Stop Smoking roadshow in an empty park in Croydon, in the pouring rain. All great times, obviously, but you can see why Camp Bestival feels like a real treat.

I did have reservations. Yes, I am Australian, and a walking cliché in many respects - I love cricket, barbecues, being loud, putting ketchup on everything and wearing flip flops at inappropriate occasions. But I am not a natural camper. Peeing in buckets and not washing for days at a time is not usually my idea of fun. 

But then I discovered Camp Bestival. It turns out camping is really quite enjoyable if you throw in live music and comedy, kids' entertainment and a three litre box of wine. It's like adding gin to tonic - previously bitter pisswater becomes a sophisticated and delightful aperitif. 

This was our second year performing at the festival. We do our show in the Guardian Literary Institute tent, which is less formal than it sounds - in fact it's filled with cosy old couches and jolly bunting. It's host to a wide range of authors, journalists, poets, and middle-aged women doing jokes about vaginas. 

Our slot for this year was 2pm on the Friday afternoon - after the brilliant Guardian games expert Keith Stuart, and before reknowned feminist columnist Suzanne Moore. We felt like the fish fingers in an artisanal sour dough sandwich.

We had a brilliant time and I could bang on forever about our adventures - but here are my highlights.  

1. The audience at the Scummy Mummies Show. 

We performed to a packed tent of fellow scummy mummies, scabby daddies and their kids, all willing to laugh at our boob jokes and share their hilarious confessions. The winning story was from a mum who once weed in her baby's nappy in a service station car park. Congratulations Queen Julie, the scummiest mummy at Camp Bestival! 

 2. Suzanne Moore in a yurt with lager. 

We sat in a yurt and recorded a podcast about feminism with the legendary Suzanne Moore, while drinking cans of lager. Career highlight does not even cover it. 

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3. The Knackered Mother's Wine Club. 

We returned to the yurt for more podcasting with Helen McGinn, creator of the fantastic Knackered Mother's Wine Club. This time we drank wine from polystyrene cups while chatting about Cheryl Fernandez-Versini and waving to an elective mute. We also dazzled McGinn with a song we wrote especially for her, I Need a Vino, and were invited to perform it that evening at her wine tasting - in gold lamé catsuits, obvs. Another lifetime achievement fulfilled. (Podcast out on Tuesday!) 

4. Backstage at the Guardian Literary Institute. 

It's the happiest tent in the world - a constant flow of amazing artists and interesting people, a wonderful production manager, Amy, who always has sun cream and cold wine on hand, and a place to charge your phone. Fantastic comperes Jack Rooke and self-confessed right-on dad Dave Wright were great to hang out with, and it's always fun to get weird looks from the likes of Bill Oddie while you're changing into a wolf print leotard. 
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5. Nurse Jessie 

Our regular podcast guest and dear friend Jessie joined us for the Agony Hour session on Saturday morning. In full nurse's uniform, she listened to the audience's problems, solved their parenting dilemmas and let us take the piss out of her. She also looked after the kids while we packed up the tents and calmed a screaming baby with her magic. (Ellie says it's witchcraft and we should burn her.) Oh, and she held the laptop playing the I Need a Vino backing music while we pranced about at the wine tasting. We love you, Nurse Jessie! 

So those were our best bits. And of course, the kids had a great time. They got to dress up and have their faces painted, watch endless puppet shows, eat Coco-Pops for breakfast (and on one particularly feral day, a packet of Hula Hoops), ride on carousels and helter skelters and generally smile a lot. Meanwhile, we ate delicious takeaway food and drank all that box wine. Yes, there were tantrums, tears and many tedious incidents involving toilets, or lack of them, but we still loved it. Roll on Camp Bestival 2016! 

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. 
16 Comments

How to Survive Camping With Small Children

30/7/2015

7 Comments

 
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Ellie writes: 

We're going camping this weekend, and we're taking our seven month old baby with us.

When some people hear this, they raise their eyebrows as if I've just said, "We're climbing Kilimanjaro blindfolded, then racing down it on unicycles," or, "We're going to Ikea on a bank holiday Monday." But I don't believe having children should stop you from doing what you want to do.

Hahaha what nonsense. What I really want to do is spend a week in Tuscany, lying around, drinking wine, and never having to wipe anyone else's bottom. But I can't find any agriturismos willing to pay my comedy partner and I to prat about in gold catsuits for an hour, so we're off to Camp Bestival.

This is a family festival - it's like a regular festival, but with less drugs and dance music and more Dick and Dom. Word is that headline act Mr Tumble has a rider longer than Kanye's, with demands including "200 freshly prepared custard pies" and "everything in the dressing room to be covered in giant coloured spots."

We're performing, too, as the Scummy Mummies (rider: two bottles of warm rosé.) I'm not nervous about doing the show, because we are professional comedians with strong material we know back to front, and we'll drink the rosé before we go on. But if I'm honest, I am a bit nervous about spending three nights sleeping in a structure made out of cloth on a crap lilo with a small baby who still wants feeding every two hours.

I'm trying to remind myself that I've been camping loads of times, and have even almost enjoyed it once or twice. Take last summer, for example, when I survived Latitude while pregnant and looking after a three year old.

Sure, I went to bed at 9pm every night, and woke up one morning to find the tent collapsing around me like a fabric coffin, but having kids doesn't have to alter your enjoyment of festivals. (Certainly not if you're my husband, who popped out for "a few beers" one night, and returned to the tent at 5.30am - covered in mud, looking insane, and babbling about "this really cool chick I met who's got an Airstream." Good times.)

So for what it's worth, here are my top tips for camping with small children.

1. Take All the Baby Wipes

Every parent knows how useful baby wipes can be, but they really come into their own while camping. You cannot bring too many.

2. Befriend an Australian

Based on all the ones I've met (four), Australians love camping. They are brilliant at it. This is partly because they are genetically coded to survive in harsh environmental conditions against all the odds, and mainly because they Have All The Stuff. Gazebos, head torches, fold-out dining tables, barbecues, tiny extra tents just for keeping beer cool... For a much more comfortable camping experience, get an Australian friend. Or better still, comedy partner.

3. Let Them Eat Cakes

There's a reason Bear Grylls is always foraging for berries and boiling up hay - this is easier than planning, shopping for, prepping and cooking normal meals while camping. Take some bananas and raisins, sure, but take a break from worrying about whether the kids are getting their full five a day. They can spend a few days surviving on tiny boxes of Frosties and Pom Bear crisps. In fact, this is what Bear Grylls eats when the cameras are off.

4. Drink  Through It

Alcohol makes crap lilos more comfortable and tinned food tastier. It warms you up from the inside out. It makes camping bearable, even enjoyable. Again, Bear Grylls likes nothing more after six hours of rubbing sticks together  than relaxing with a nice pint of Bailey's. (JUST BUY A LIGHTER, BEAR, THEY ARE FIVE FOR A POUND DOWN THE MARKET)

5. Buy A Lottery Ticket  

You never know, you might get lucky, and then next year you  can go to Center Parcs.

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come see us perform live at Camp Bestival, July 31st - 2 Aug. 

7 Comments

My Life as a Midwife, by Natasha Cullen

24/7/2015

13 Comments

 
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This week's blog is a guest post by midwife Natasha Cullen, who runs Beloved Bumps antenatal classes. Here she reveals what she believes is the best way to empower pregnant women, and how her own labour led her to develop a new product.

Most midwives will tell you they knew what they wanted to do from the day they themselves were born. I'll be honest - until my first day of training, I didn't even know what a placenta was...

In fact, that very first day, I wasn't even sure I'd made the right career decision. "The people who didn't get onto this course were the ones who said they love babies," the lecturer said. "Being a midwife isn't about that. It's about being with the woman." I could remember raving about how cute babies were in my interview, so how I'd made it through the selection process was a mystery.  

But over the next three years of training, I realised I'd found my true calling. Now I understand exactly what the lecturer meant - yes, I love watching a baby's head appear and hearing their first cry, but I also love being an advocate for women. I love meeting new couples, and supporting them through the most difficult yet rewarding days of their lives. Although we also have to deal with really heartbreaking situations too, I go out of my way to try to make the experience as positive as it can be.

But as a qualified midwife, I've noticed some patterns emerging. I meet women coming to hospital quite unprepared for their labour, even though they've been to antenatal classes. They seem to see midwives as the "baddies" - as if we're out to get them!

I think this is down to two factors: being told horror stories by friends, and taking antenatal classes taught by women who want everyone to have the same labour they experienced.

So I set up my own company, Beloved Bumps, teaching antenatal classes in South East London. My aim is to give women the full information about what could happen in hospital, but in a way that empowers them with that knowledge, instead of frightening them.

Planning a peaceful water birth with whale music is great, but it doesn't always happen like that. If the women I teach end up being induced or having an emergency C-section, I want them to feel like - "So what? I can still make this a positive experience."

Don't get me wrong - it would be wonderful if everyone could have a beautiful labour with no pain relief. But every birth is different, every woman is different, and no one knows how they will cope in labour until they have been through it.

I don't think preparing for labour should be about deciding what kind of drugs you're going to have or what instruments will be used. All drugs have a time and place if you need them, and doctors use ventouse or forceps depending on the clinical situation, not because they prefer one over the other.

With all this talk of knowledge and empowerment, you'd think I'd know what I was doing when it came to my own labour. But as soon as I went on maternity leave, I very much became a patient, especially when it came to packing my hospital bag. It took me ages to buy all the little bits I needed. And even then, I left the bloody water spray at home...

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So a couple of months after my son was born, I came up with the idea of My Labour Box - a sort of hamper containing all the products women might need when giving birth, from my perspective as both a midwife and a mum. It's designed to take the stress out of remembering to buy and pack everything. The box also includes an information leaflet about when to use each product and how they help.  

I gave a couple of these boxes to friends as baby shower gifts and had really positive feedback, so now I have made them available to other women. You just need to add some clothes for yourself and the baby, plus some food, and you're good to go. 

Looking back,  I think I was always meant to be a midwife - even though I didn't always know it. Now I want to put my experience to wider use, and the Labour Box is one way of doing that. I hope it makes a difference.

Natasha's Labour Boxes cost £40 from BelovedBumps.com, but we have one to give away. To be in with a chance of winning, just 'Like' the Scummy Mummies Facebook page and leave a comment under the My Labour Box Giveaway post. Thanks and good luck! 

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come see us perform live at Camp Bestival, July 31st - 2 Aug. 

13 Comments

How Nigella Changed My Life

17/7/2015

5 Comments

 
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Ellie writes: 

I love Nigella. I've got all the books, I've seen all the shows, and I've cooked all the classics, from ham in coke to turkey in a bucket. I've even attempted the eyeliner. (Turns out it only works on eyes that are sleek and almond-shaped, rather than squidgy and round like a Mini Babybel.)

Sure, there have been some disasters. Christmas 2012 was almost ruined when I messed up the fir tree bundt cake, despite having bought in the special tin and everything.

"I've burned the bundt," I told my husband.

"It doesn't look burned," he said. "It looks like a perfectly nice chocolate cake."

"It's not a chocolate cake," I said, and he backed slowly out of the room.

But I tanked some icing sugar on it and took a picture anyway. It sat there for the whole of Christmas. I quite liked having it around, looking pretty, being totally inedible, and reminding me to tell guests about the latest ludicrous thing my husband said.

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It wasn't Nigella's fault the cake went wrong, of course - it was my fault for getting the oven temperature wrong. And for forgetting I am shit at baking and can no more make a nice cake than I can play the violin, perform brain surgery or walk past a Greggs without buying a Steak Bake. 

I've made dozens of Nigella recipes over the years, and that's the only one I can think of that was a total disaster. Apart from the crème brûlée that came out like an eggy sandcastle, but that's because I was 23 and didn't realise there was a difference between granulated and caster sugar, and was too pissed to care, or Google it. Also it was 2001 and there was no Google. 

The point is, Nigella's recipes work. Yes, some of them do involve trying to find a bucket big enough to put a turkey in or driving to Waitrose to buy pomegranate juice. But tons more are super quick and easy.   

In fact, my favourite Nigella recipes are the ones that aren't really recipes at all - more life hacks. For example, I always have gnocchi in the fridge, because I like knowing I am never more than two minutes away from being able to eat some potato. But my husband doesn't like them boiled, because he finds them claggy and dull, and is deliberately trying to annoy me.

In  Kitchen, Nigella explains you can cook them like mini roast potatoes in 20 minutes - just the right amount of time to grill an organic chicken breast and steam some kale (stick on some nuggets, open a tin of baked beans and drink a glass of Merlot while doing a Google image search for Benedict Cumberbatch.)

Nigella also introduced me to my favourite cocktail. No messing about with shot glasses and shakers - splash a bit of fresh lime in a glass and top with Asti Spumante. Properly delicious. Nigella says it's a Christmas cocktail, but I've been drinking it all summer and feeling really bloody festive.

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And best of all, Nigella told me to get a rice cooker. This has truly changed my life. OK, not in a dramatic way, like having a baby or discovering RuPaul's Drag Race, but in a way that fundamentally makes my day a little bit easier, and therefore better, at least three times a week.  

A word of warning: if you're thinking of getting one, certain people will say to you, "I've already got a rice cooker - IT'S CALLED A SAUCEPAN! HA HA HA!" 

Let it go. These people are dicks. They don't speak Nigella. They probably also once said, "Why would I want E-MAIL when I have perfectly good FAX MACHINE?" They almost certainly don't have to cook a meal for several people every night, one of whom is regularly late because of the tube and one of whom will only eat white things. 

The point of a rice cooker is that you chuck the rice and the water in and forget about it. No faffing about with lids and temperatures and draining and timing. Having produced perfect fluffy rice, the machine will keep it warm for hours. It doesn't matter if Toy Story 3 still has 10 minutes to go, or you have to stop cooking the curry to change a nappy, or you decide to cook something else because you don't fancy curry because you just changed a nappy. 

Fuck saucepans, basically. 

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And all hail Nigella, who is BACK this autumn with Simply Nigella. Judging by the cover it might be subtitled How to Cook Like You Live in a White Company Catalogue. Which is my secret dream.

Who knows what genius shortcuts it will contain? Perhaps we'll find out how to cook grouse in a microwave or make fondue out of Dairylea. I can't wait. 

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come see us perform live at Camp Bestival, July 31st - 2 Aug. 

5 Comments

Fat Jokes: Can I be Thin and Funny?

11/7/2015

5 Comments

 
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Helen writes:

There are many things I love about being a comedian. They include making people laugh, writing jokes and hanging out with my comedy partner, Ellie. The fact all these things usually take place in pubs is a massive plus. 

But for me, the best thing about comedy is that I'm valued according to the quality of my jokes, not the size of my bum or the width of my waist. I feel sorry for people who work in industries where these things matter - like modelling, for example. 

Kate Moss once famously said, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Poor love. She can't polish off the kids' bolognese as well as her own, then turn up to work in a pair of supermarket jeans she hasn't washed for three months, can she? But I can! Clearly, I am winning at life. 

Right now, I feel like I am the perfect size for being funny. I have never felt happier or more hilarious on stage, or gotten as many laughs... And I've never been this fat. 

But off-stage, I've been feeling a bit rough - tired, achey in the mornings and generally low.  So I went to see my GP. She was very kind and very honest. She took my blood pressure, banged my knees with the kiddy's hammer and all the rest of it. Then she took a deep breath and announced: "You are short for your weight." 

"Right," I said. "So you're saying I need to start wearing heels?" 

Neither of us laughed, because we both knew what she was really saying. I have a bad case of Being Fat. I have left the land of Within the Normal Range, crossed the Overweight Bridge and arrived in the Valley of the Obese. 

The doctor went on to gently suggest I "have a think about Weight Watchers" and "try some light exercise." But, she said, the bottom line (I do wish she'd used a different turn of phrase) is that I HAVE to lose some weight.

I know she's right. Since having kids I have put on 20kgs, going from a voluptuous size 12 to an extra-cuddly size 18.

Here's the problem: I DON'T CARE. Right now, I am, plain and simply, bloody happy. I've had two kids, kept everyone alive for six years and still managed to kick off a career doing something I adore. Yes, I have spent many hours eating biscuits and drinking wine with other mums in a bid to stop myself going insane - but the thing is, it's worked.

Losing weight and doing exercise do not feature high on my list of priorities, which includes things like keeping my family and myself happy, eating cheese, and sitting around watching funny cat videos on YouTube. Given the choice, I'd always rather spend an hour chatting with a friend over cake than trying to hold in a fart at a yoga class.

I know I have issues with food. Being hungry makes me angry (hangry?), and neither nice nor funny. In a bit to avoid this I usually preload before I go out, just in case, say, the cafe is slow with my toastie. I understand this isn't conducive to being thin and is, well, a bit stupid.

I am also scared of exercise. I don't mind showing off my body on stage (as anyone who saw the show where I spent two minutes jumping on a trampoline in an animal print leotard can testify.) But put me in a group of fitness-minded women and I shit my pants.

Back story time: I grew up in Australia, a country fixated on sports and the outdoors. I spent my entire childhood feeling awful for being unfit and terrible at exercise. The netball girls were bitchy, the hockey girls were bullies and I was always last in the long distance running race. I associate physical activity with failure and sadness, with ridicule and being made to feel bad about who I am. 

Doing comedy has the opposite effect. I prance around in gold lycra catsuits, dancing to Bonnie Tyler songs and making literally tens of people laugh, all using the same body I was so ashamed of in my teens. 

It's not that I've never wanted to lose weight, though, or that I'm incapable of doing it. Five years ago, I went through a period where I made conscious decisions about everything that went in my mouth. I obsessed over herbal tea, agonised over almonds and was generally a tedious person to be around.

But I had a goal: I was getting married. Five months before the wedding, I walked into Vivienne Westwood and announced my desire for a fabulous frock. With a lot of help from two shop assistants, and a fair bit of swearing, I squeezed into a size 16. Then I asked for the size 12.

 "You know you can't return this, don't you?" said the dubious looking assistant.

"Yes," I said. "I am not going to be a fat bride."


 So in fact, not only did I have a goal, but a deadline. For five months I refused cake, shunned wine and ran everywhere. And sure enough, exactly five minutes before I walked down the aisle, I was thin enough to fit into the frock. It was a big, stupid risk, but thankfully it paid off.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy being thin back then. I loved the compliments I got and being able to feel my hip bones. I didn't feel shy about trying on clothes, I had loads of energy and I was happy to lie on the beach in my swimsuit. I had done it - I was Helen the Lovely Bride. I felt SEXY!

There was just one problem - I didn't feel funny. I wasn't doing comedy, so I wasn't Helen the Stand-Up, and that made me sad. It felt like being hilarious and being a size 12 were mutually exclusive.

Don't get me wrong - I love thin people, and some of my favourite funny people in the whole world are skinny as rakes. I know that fat doesn't equal funny, as a general rule. But for me personally, it does.

That's because for me, being funny is about not giving a shit. It's about being at ease with reality, letting go of hang-ups and embracing life with honesty. And that includes accepting my body the way it is.

Plus, I am now one-half of a comedy duo, and I like being the warm and cuddly one. Ellie is lean, sharp and cynical; I am jolly, likeable and larger-than-life. It's an age-old dynamic, but that's because it works.

So it makes sense for my comedy career to keep mainlining carbs and cheese. Doesn't it?

Maybe Kate Moss has a point. There are all sorts of things wrong with what she said, but I do know what she meant in one sense, because nothing tastes as good as funny feels. No lasagne, cheesecake or milk chocolate Hob Nob will ever make me feel the way I do when a room full of strangers laughs at one of my jokes. So I just have to replace the Big Macs with guffaws.

I know it's time to grow up - I am heading towards 40 and ultimately, my fat might stop me doing what I love. I need to be fit to perform hour-long comedy shows and be a healthy, active mum. The kids are tougher to keep up with now they're older. So maybe it's time to skip those pre-lunch lunches and avoid the post-gig kebabs. Wish me luck!

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come see us perform live at Camp Bestival, July 31st - 2 Aug. 

5 Comments

How to Have a Baby, by Midwife Clemmie Hooper

3/7/2015

155 Comments

 
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Regular listeners of the Scummy Mummies Podcast will have heard Clemmie on episodes 14 and 38. She also writes the hit blog GasandAir, which went viral with her post The Truth About Maternity Leave. 

Here she answers our top ten questions about life before, during and after birth.


1. What's the number one thing pregnant women should do to prepare for labour?

Do some kind of hypnobirthing - breathing, visualisation and so on. It really does make all the difference. And read Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth.

2. Do you recommend watching birth videos? For example, 34 episodes of One Born Every Minute?

NO! It’s a highly edited entertainment programme that shows women lying on their backs, screaming for drugs. It doesn’t have to be like that. Positive birth videos? Perhaps.

3. Home, hospital, water birth, epidural... How do you know what's right for you?

You don’t until you’ve tried it. Keep your options and your mind open. Birth changes and you can't control many aspects of it, but staying calm works wonders. However, I would say always do your research before making a choice.

4. Does everyone shit themselves when giving birth?

No, not everyone. But we do love a poo, us midwives! It means the baby is coming and you’re pushing in the right place. I think we need to get over the shitting fear. Worse things can happen to women in labour. Shitting isn't worth worrying about.

5. What should you pack in your hospital bag?

A pillow. An iPod and headphones. Water spray, a wide headband, flannel and face wipes. Sugary sweets, dark chocolate and a sports water bottle. Lavender oil and a TENS machine. Sanitary pads, loads of big knickers and comfy socks.

6. What can dads do to prepare for the big day? What about during the event?

Read the book your wife is reading - then at least you'll know what vibe she's into.

On the day, stay calm, charm the midwife and get in touch with your massage skills. Know where the car park is and bring enough change for the machine. Don't forget the phone charger.

7. What's the best gift for visitors to bring when meeting the new baby? And what shouldn't they bring?

BRING FOOD! And only food. I swear by this. No more cuddly toys or cute clothes, especially impractical ones like cashmere bibs or fancy dresses. They will never get worn. Families with new babies need survival gifts. I wept with happiness when a friend left a homemade lasagne on my doorstep.

Only offer to visit if you're prepared to make your own tea, put your mug in the dishwasher and leave after a maximum of 30 minutes.

8. What should you buy your midwife as a gift? What should you avoid


No more chocolates or hand cream, thanks - we get loads. A bottle of lovely wine, a gorgeous candle... I've been given a massage treatment, which is such a treat, and John Lewis vouchers are always so useful. 

But the best things I've received are the handwritten cards with photo. I've kept every one of these I've ever been given.  

9. How long does it take your fanny to go back to normal? Will it ever go back to normal?

Everything will be fine if you work hard (it is all muscle, after all.) And by work hard I mean do your pelvic floor exercises properly and regularly - not just when the midwife or health visitor reminds you.

Don't get caught out like my friend who tried out a trampoline one year after giving birth. Pissed everywhere in front of an entire kids' birthday party.

10. Gina Ford, the Baby Whisperer, What to Expect... What baby book would YOU recommend?

Mmm... None. I always tell new mums their baby hasn't read the book, so how can they expect it to conform to some sort of routine? It's important to understand that babies aren't supposed to sleep through the night. I've had two children, both with entirely different sleep patterns, even though I did nothing different with them.

Having said that, Your Baby Week By Week is a good book, as it tells you what babies do - rather than what you should be doing to get them into a strict routine. 


A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Twitter - @scummymummies.

155 Comments

How to Parent Like a Ghostbuster

19/6/2015

10 Comments

 
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Ellie writes:

The world is full of books promising to reveal 

the best way to raise your child, backed up 
by the latest research. But parenting is an art, 
not a science. 

So perhaps the best advice can be gleaned from the greatest work of art of all time - Ghostbusters. Here are the film's life lessons for parents. 

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1. Many parenting experts say that in moments of frustration or anger, you should breathe, gather yourself and ask what it is your child needs. Sod that. Just shout at the top of your lungs, "BUSTIN' MAKES ME FEEL GOOD!" This provides an instant release of tension, and leaves your children so confused they stop dicking about. 

2. In fact, this catchphrase works in many situations.
Strong labour contraction? "BUSTIN' MAKES ME FEEL GOOD!" Losing an argument with your partner? "BUSTIN' MAKES ME FEEL GOOD!" Asked to help out with the school fete and can't think of a reason to say no? "BUSTIN' MAKES ME FEEL GOOD!" They'll wonder what's wrong with you, but they'll never ask again.

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3. No time to tidy the house before your in-laws come round? Blame the mess on paranormal activity. Make this more believable by giving the kids some water pistols filled with egg white and allowing them to cover the house in "ectoplasm."

4. DADS. Is your son struggling with the transition from potty to toilet? Make stand-up wees more fun by joining in and inviting him to "cross the streams."

5. If your child asks if you are a god, you say "Yes." 

6. Rebrand yourselves. Forget "Mum" and "Dad", now it's "The Keymaster" and "The Gatekeeper." This will give you an added air of authority and make everyday conversations more dramatically interesting - "No I don't know where your Peppa Pig arm bands are, ask The Keymaster," etc.

7. If you have a second child, do not ask Bobby Brown to write their theme tune.

8. When times get tough, stand shoulder to shoulder with your friends. Together you can face anything, whether it's a 100-foot marshmallow man or a poo in the bath. Who you gonna call? Your friend, because she understands.  

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A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Twitter - @scummymummies.


For Rozy.
10 Comments

5 Properly Tasty Meals You Can Make in 5 Minutes

12/6/2015

4 Comments

 
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Ellie writes:

As a busy mum, I usually hate reading articles that begin "as a busy mum." But I love food, and I love finding recipes that I actually might have time to cook and eat. So I thought I'd share my favourites. 

These aren't particularly child-friendly - they're more for the days when you can't face yet another fish finger yourself, but have five minutes to spare while they're in the oven. Nor are they super nutritious - I am breastfeeding and I want fat and carbs. JUDGE AWAY. But they are all suitable for eating with one hand, leaving the other free for holding babies / wiping noses / checking Facebook / pouring yet more wine. 

All serve one greedy person. 

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Blue Cheese Gnocchi

Two big handfuls of gnocchi 
1 thick slice butter
1 giant slice blue cheese, e.g. Dolcelatte, St Agur
Handful spinach / rocket (optional)

Boil the kettle and cook the gnocchi according to the packet instructions - Sainsbury's takes two minutes. Stick the butter and cheese in a bowl and microwave for 30 seconds, or as long as it takes to go all melty. Mix with the drained gnocchi. You can stir in a handful of spinach or rocket at this point for HEALTH, but you know. 

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Tuna Bean Salad

This is nicked from Nigella's How to Eat. See, even Nigella eats out of tins. 

1 can beans (cannellini, butter, whatever)
1 can tuna
1 lemon
1 onion 

Drain the beans and rinse if you can be arsed. (Nigel always says rinse, doesn't he? But he lives in a land of empty shelves and oak worktops and has time to go to the butcher.) Tip onto a plate and top with the tuna. Thinly slice the onion and spread over the top. Squeeze over lemon juice and finish with lots of black pepper. Eat, then try not to breathe on anyone. Not even Nigella can make tuna and raw onion sexy. 

Instant Stir-Fry 

1 glug red wine
2 tbsp teriyaki sauce
1 tbsp plum jam
Small knob fresh ginger
Pinch of chilli flakes
Wok oil
1 packet straight-to-wok noodles
Assorted meat and veg (see below)

Tip the wine, teriyaki sauce and jam into a small saucepan. Grate in the ginger and add the chilli flakes. Bring to the boil then let it bubble and reduce. 

Heat the wok oil in a frying pan and tank in whatever you have in the fridge - leftover roast chicken, limp spring onions etc. (I have been known to use streaky bacon and frozen soya beans.) Add the noodles and cook for however long it says on the packet. Taste the sauce to see if it needs a bit more of anything, then toss with the noodles. 

Drink all of the rest of the wine. (Do not skip this step. It is key to improving the taste of three-day-old chicken and dead courgettes.)  

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Gibsonara

I love carbonara but honestly, who can wait 12 minutes for pasta to cook? 

1 muffin
Two small knobs (hahaha) of butter
Handful of cubed pancetta
2 eggs
Small knob (OK stop it now) of parmesan

Fry the pancetta in one knob of butter. Split the muffin and stick it in the toaster. Grate the cheese. Beat the eggs then tip into the pancetta and scramble about. When it's cooked how you want (I like it runny and laugh in the face of salmonella), throw in the cheese and the remaining butter. Tip onto the muffin and add black pepper. 

 Garlic Pork and Spinach Salad

This is adapted from the Cook Yourself Thin book. I like the book but I have failed to take 
it literally. 

1 pork steak
2 handfuls spinach salad
4 anchovy fillets 
1 clove of garlic
1 tbsp olive oil 
Juice of half a lemon
Half a tsp dijon mustard

Cut the pork into bite-sized pieces and fry in olive oil till cooked through. Finely chop the garlic and anchovies. Mix with the oil, lemon juice, mustard and loads of black pepper. (I did not realise how much I like black pepper until I wrote this article.) Toss everything together. Like the tuna bean salad, this is ideal partner deterrent if they're looking hopeful and you just want an 
early night. 

So there you go. Obviously there are times when even these recipes seem like too much hard work. Meals I have eaten on these days include:

            Four packets of Skips
            A ball of mozzarella, eaten like an apple
            Cream crackers smeared with Philadelphia and Patak's lime pickle (actually this is 
            quite nice) 

We would love to hear your own recipe suggestions - please do share in the comments below or on our Facebook page. Thanks! 

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Twitter - @scummymummies.

4 Comments

"We've All Got ****ing Nits!" - A Survival Guide

4/6/2015

5 Comments

 
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Helen writes: 

It usually starts with the letter home, written in that passive aggressive style schools do so well: "We've had some unwelcome visitors in the class..."

As everyone knows, this is code for: "Your grubby child has given everyone the hair plague. Don't come back until you've painted a red cross on your door and shaved their heads."

I knew it was coming. It's like getting your first period - you don't know when it'll happen, but you know it will be painful, messy and smelly. 

So I always assumed the kids would bring nits home from school one day, along with the usual collection of paintings, creative pottery and facts about dinosaurs.

It fact, we picked up our first case of headlice during a visit to Australia over Christmas. I'm sure these ones were bigger and itchier than the British version. We discovered them on the plane home. So there we were - me, the husband, the three-year-old and the six-year-old, all scratching our messy, dirty hair like a bunch of feral gorillas. Just to make sure the other passengers knew what was going on, the kids kept shouting, "My head's itchy, Mummy! It's REALLY itchy!" Yes, we were THAT family.

We arrived home facing not only the hell of jetlag, but the horror of having to delouse ourselves before returning to school and work the next day. I sat the three of them on chairs and started combing the mini-beasts out of their tatty hair. Oh, the whining, the wriggling, the moaning I had to endure - and that was before I started on the kids.

Yes, my 38-year-old husband was the worst. It's a special moment in any couple's life when you have to remove crawling bugs from each other's scalps. It puts a whole new spin on having animalistic urges - by the end of the session I was ready to bite him myself, before dragging him into a swamp TO DIE.

At last we were nit-free, or at least as far as I could be sure. I took the kids to school, hoping neither of them would give the game away by scratching. I braided the daughter's hair so tightly her face was free from expression, like a mini Nicole Kidman. I made the boy wear a beanie indoors.

I spent the whole day dreading a phone call from the school, wondering if that letter would be waiting for me at pick-up time... But thankfully, we were OK.

All the same, it wasn't a great time. For me, the hardest thing was discovering that unlike many other parenting experiences, having nits is still taboo. Talking about it involves lots of whispering and nervous laughter. There's lots of trying to sound jolly while saying things like, "Apparently, lice only like really clean hair," as if the particular species of nit on your kid's head only wears Boden and eats organic.

My usual response in stressful situations is to crack a joke and have a laugh, but I found myself embarrassed and on the defence. Just like STDs in your twenties, it turns out nits aren't such a natural source of humour when they happen to you...

But we got through it and now I can see the funny side. So for those new to nits, here's my survivor's guide.

1. CREATE AN EMERGENCY KIT. 
This should contain:

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2 bottles of nit solution 
(one for the adults, one for the kids)

4 combs (so there's always one to hand)

Thick conditioner (makes combing out easier)

Lollipops and Kids' DVDs 

(to distract them from wriggling)

Wine / beer / gin 

(to distract yourself from the whole thing)

A sense of humour


Make sure you have all these things in stock at all times. If your child is starting school in September, go and get them now. Seriously. They're more important than the uniform, a coat, shoes etc. 

2. MAKE IT A GAME.  
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Draw up a chart to see which member of the family has the most live nits. 

My daughter got 13 the other day and we all cheered. It's a good laugh, and the kids get a bonus maths lesson too. 

Feel free to award a prize to each member of the family,  
especially Mum!

3. TELL YOUR FRIENDS.

Especially if your friends are 39 weeks pregnant and have a toddler with curly hair 
(sorry, Taryn.) Just make a joke of it and be honest.
4. REMEMBER YOU'RE NOT ALONE. 

Everyone, EVERYONE who has children will get nits at some point. Probably more than once. It's OK to indulge in a bit of schadenfreude as you picture Wills and Kate combing insects out of each other's hair. The nits don't care. (All right, so Wills and Kate probably have a dedicated Nit Butler for this kind of thing, but you get the idea.)

We'll never win the war on nits, so we might as well chuckle through it. Good luck everyone! 
     
We'd love to hear your nits stories, so do share in the comments below. A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies


5 Comments

Top Ten Things We Said This Half-Term, by the Scummy Mummies

29/5/2015

4 Comments

 
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Half-term is a wonderful time to reconnect with your school-age children. But along with all those magic moments, there are days you just want to grab the gin and hide in a darkened room. Often by
9.15am. 

The Scummy Mummies have just spent a week at home with our little darlings.  Here are our holiday highlights.  

Top Ten Things We Said This Half-Term

1. "Sudocrem is NOT facepaint."
 
2. "
Gently with the baby, darling. Gently. GENTLY. MORE GENTLY THAN THAT."
 
3. "No, biscuits are not a breakfast food."
 
4. "Yes, hash browns are a breakfast food."

5. "Of course you can be a mermaid when you grow up."

6. "Sorry, you can't keep your nits as pets."
 
7. "Stop licking your brother like a dog."
 
8. "
Stop sucking your face with the vacuum cleaner."
 
9. 
"Yes, everybody poos."
 
10. "This? It's Mummy's special teatime drink, darling. Well, yes, it is a kind of juice, it's made from grapes."


We hope you had a wonderful week! If you've had some Scummy Mummy moments over the half-term please tweet us  about them- @scummymummies.  For more from us, why not catch up listen to our latest podcast episode with Jo Elvin, editor of Glamour. Cheers!
4 Comments

Hey, It's OK - the Scummy Mummies Edition

21/5/2015

6 Comments

 
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Inspired by our latest podcast with Jo Elvin, editor of Glamour, we've created a 
Scummy Mummies version of Hey, It's OK... one of the magazine's most popular features. 

Hey, It's OK... 

...to feed your kids fish fingers three nights in a row.

...to look forward to pooing at work, because you get to do it without an audience.

...to let your kids watch Frozen on a 
loop while you Google image search Benedict Cumberbatch. 

...to leave the house with at least three different kinds of bodily fluid on your clothes.

...to use baby wipes as make-up remover, floor cleaner, loo roll... Well, anything really.

...that you don't know what's under your sofa, and are too tired to care, let alone look.

...to wear the same pair of jeans for two months without washing them.

...to start thinking about wine at 11am... And start drinking it out of a mug at 6pm.

...to do the school run in your pyjamas. A big coat can cover a lot of things.

...to fantasise about Mr Bloom while you're having sex with your husband.

...to  laugh at yourself and all the chaotic situations you end up dealing with. Motherhood is sometimes fun, sometimes hard and regularly ridiculous... So we might as well chuckle whenever we can. 


For more chat about Glamour, check out the latest episode of the Scummy Mummies Podcast with the Jo Elvin. Listen FREE via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come and say hello!  

6 Comments

How to Make Your Kids Eat Veg, by an Actual Nutritionist

15/5/2015

5 Comments

 
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Is organic food worth the money? What's better for kids, fruit juice or Fruit Shoot? How guilty should we feel about giving them fish fingers all the time? 

Jo Travers, otherwise known as The London Nutritionist, answers all our Scummy Mummy queries. 

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What's your opinion on baby-led weaning?

Baby-led weaning is fun and interactive. It can be a great bonding experience for parents and babies. But it can also drive you mad! It can take hours for the baby to eat anything, and this can often leave them hungry and grumpy.

Also, there are some lovely foods for babies that don't lend themselves to this style - porridge, for example. It's lovely to occasionally do some messy finger-painting with porridge, but it's also nice to get some of it in their mouths with a spoon. In practice, I think a mix of traditional and baby-led works best.

How do you get kids to eat their greens?

Personally? I got my daughter to realise she actually liked lettuce by playing the who-can-crunch-the-loudest game. Now she just eats it and I don't have to play the game anymore. Result!

Game playing is good and works quite often. Another game that's popular in our house is the pretend-you-are-a-giant-eating-trees one with broccoli.

Is it OK to bribe kids to behave at the table, finish their plate and so on with the promise of pudding?

It's not ideal, because the food you want them to eat can become seen as the barrier standing between the child and the ice cream. This can lead to resentment of the carrots / sprouts / brown rice or whatever it is. No one likes that kind of barrier, especially kids.

Having said that, it does work surprisingly well. 
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What is better - fruit juice (loads of sugar) or Fruit Shoot (loads of chemicals)?

They are both good. Fruit juice has other stuff like folate, potassium and vitamin C. Fruit Shoots offer a tasty alternative to water that isn't really too full of chemicals.

I would keep juice for mealtimes, when the extra saliva produced helps lower the impact on teeth and additional food helps lower the glycaemic load of the sugar. Use Fruit Shoots for hydration at other times - there is loads of evidence to say that many kids don't drink enough.

What about those toddler snacks - Goodies crisps, Ella's biscuits and so on? Can you suggest any healthier alternatives for handy snacks on the go?

Bake biscuits sweetened only with grated apple and make your own hummus to have with homemade oatcakes. 

Just kidding, I know nobody does that. Yes, it's OK to buy snacks, but remember that the purpose of a snack is to provide some energy and nutrients to keep hunger at bay. Some of those weird crisps seem to be mainly air, which serves no purpose - other than pacifying, obviously. And just for the record, using food as a pacifier is not good!

Where possible, choose things that tick off two of the five food groups - carbs, protein, dairy, fruit and veg. For example, hummus and crackers = protein and carbs. Cream cheese and carrot sticks = protein, dairy and veg. 
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Are fish fingers OK?

Yes. They are a great source of protein, they are really easy to cook and kids love them. 

But check the ingredients list for things that don't sound like food - not all fish fingers are not all created equal.

Is organic food worth the extra money if you can afford it?

In terms of sustainability, possibly (although that's not my area.) In terms of nutrients, probably not. In terms of chemical residues, maybe.
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What are good foods for knackered parents to keep our energy up?

Carbs. Five fist-sized portions of wholegrain carbs spread evenly throughout the day. Aim for between one and one-and-a-half portions per meal.

How much wine can we drink? What about while breastfeeding?

I'm not sure how much wine you can drink, but I'm guessing you can hold your own. 

Joking aside - try to stick within the guidelines of 2-3 units a day, with at least couple of consecutive alcohol-free days per week.

Some alcohol does make it into breastmilk, but no one is quite sure of the effect this has on the baby. Typically the concentration of breastmilk alcohol will be the same as your blood alcohol level. But remember that babies are a lot smaller, so the effect is magnified.

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Alcohol is metabolised quite quickly, although everyone metabolises it at a different rate. It seems to be that the level of alcohol in breastmilk peaks about half an hour after you have the drink. So I suppose the best time to drink is at the tail-end of your feeding, and then not again for a few hours. 

Stick to one drink though as more than this pushes up the time it takes for the alcohol to get through your system. Eating alongside drinking tends to slow the increase in blood alcohol level, and is better for your liver.

Is it really so bad to eat an entire packet of chocolate Hob Nobs in one sitting?

Yes.

Jo offers a range of services for both children and adults at her London clinic - visit TheLondonNutritionist.co.uk for details. Find her on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter - @LDNnutritionist. For more from Jo, listen to the podcast we recorded with her as our special guest:

5 Comments

Top 5 Games to Play With Your NCT Group, by the Scummy Mummies

8/5/2015

81 Comments

 
Becoming a mum can be a shock to the system. Time for socialising gets shorter as your boobs grow longer, while your circle of friends widens along with your vagina.

Joining a mums' group such as the NCT (other groups are available) is a great idea. Those first meetings can be a little awkward, though, with everyone trying to be as nice as possible while secretly plotting to murder anyone who nicks the name they've chosen for their baby. 
So here are some icebreaker games to get everyone laughing and swearing, instead of comparing the turning circles of the Bugaboo Cameleon and Maclaren XLR.   
1. Handbag Surprise
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A Scummy Mummies classic. Each mum takes it in turn to pull something revolting out of their handbag. Typical examples include half-sucked lollipops, dirty socks and old nappies. The owner of the scummiest item wins the jackpot - all the other scummy items! 
2. Hands or Tits?
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Aural fun. Everyone in the group closes their eyes apart from one person, who makes a clapping noise. The rest of the group has to guess whether they created that sound using their hands or their boobs. This is a great opener - nothing quite breaks the ice like shouting "TITS" in the face of a woman you hardly know. 
3. Gin for Jeans
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Each player gets a pen and a piece of paper. Everyone has to write down the date they last washed their jeans. The person who has left it the longest wins a bottle of gin. 
4. Scum Dine With Me
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A multiple choice quiz. Each player lists three disgusting meals - two they have made up, and one they have actually eaten. The rest of the group have to guess which one is real. As an example, here are our dirty dinners:

          HELEN
               a) The remains of a pizza the children have already chewed the toppings off
               b) A whole packet of Cheestrings
               c) One of those microwave burgers from Tesco, unmicrowaved

          ELLIE                                                                                       
               a) A Fray Bentos Steak & Ale Pie with a side order of Monster Munch
               b) An entire gratin made with 1kg potatoes and 2 pints of cream
               c) Leftover curry eaten cold, straight out of the tin, in the bath

(This is sort of a trick question as we have eaten all these things, but you get the idea.)
5. CSI: Mymummy
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All mums are covered in mystery stains at all times. The game here is to guess the origins of the stains on each other's clothing, handbag, buggy etc. Each time one is identified, the entire group must sing: "Poooooo are you? Poo-poo, poo-poo," to the tune of the CSI theme song. Yes, you are grown women. But you are also mothers, so you might as well get used to the idea of finding 
poo hilarious.

Thanks for playing! For more mums' group chat, check out the latest episode of the Scummy Mummies Podcast. Listen FREE via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. Come and say hello!  
81 Comments

Top Ten Life Hacks Every Parent Should Know, by the Scummy Mummies

1/5/2015

6 Comments

 
Life with small children isn't always one big Boden catalogue - especially if you're a Scummy Mummy 
(or Daddy.) So here are our top tips for getting through the day.  
1. Avoid that awkward 'Are you pregnant?' conversation.  
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Have you got a tummy that confuses friends, family and fellow commuters? Upcycle that Baby On Board badge and no one will ever ask how far along you are again!
2. Make trousers last longer. 
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Little one outgrowing those tracksuit bottoms already? Stick them in a pair of wellies. Ta-da! Good for another three months.
3. Everywhere's a party with the Tommy Tipsy! 
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Spray paint a kiddy's beaker for an easy way to smuggle wine into those tedious school concerts, baby yoga classes etc. 
4. Days out don't have to be pricey.
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Save money by taking kids to the "free zoo" - or as it's otherwise known, Pets At Home. For another cheap outing, let them run wild at the "Scandinavian-style soft play" (Ikea mattress department.)
5. Get yourself a Mummy Bib. 
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Invest in a scarf - they're like muslins for mums. Great for mopping up sick, wiping noses and hiding a bad hair day. Can even be used as a nappy in an emergency. 
6. Teach your kids it's bedtime as soon as The Archers comes on. 
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Then download the theme tune, hide the clocks and just hit play whenever you're ready for the day to end. 
7. Make your own fishy lollies.
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Everyone loves a fish finger. When the weather's nice and hot, why bother cooking them? 
Mmm, It's like Captain Birdseye sashimi. 
8. Bedroom fun! Design your own penis beaker.
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Save the environment and maintain personal hygiene at the same time by recycling an old baked bean tin. Or, if you married well, a Pringles tube. 
9. Teach your children to call McDonald's "the Farmers' Market."
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No one will judge you if the kids loudly announce they went to the farmers' market for lunch again yesterday. For bonus points, refer to Happy Meals as "mezze platters" and the free toys 
as "falafel." 
10. Wine makes everything better. 
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Just pour yourself a nice, big glass (or mug, if it's still only teatime) and drink up. There now. 
But really, there's only one parenting life hack anyone needs:

Remember to laugh. 
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Laughter will get you through the tears, the tantrums, and the tough times. It will sustain you through disastrous day trips and marathon Peppa Pig sessions. Laughing with your partner will keep your relationship alive. Laughing with your kids will remind you why you had them. And laughing at yourself is a great way to remember that nobody's perfect - your best is good enough, even when it's rubbish.  

Love,

The Scummy Mummies x 


We'd love to hear your own scummy parenting hacks, so do share in the comments below. A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies. 
6 Comments

The 8 Things Kate Middleton Needs to Know About Life With Two Kids

23/4/2015

11 Comments

 
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Helen writes:

Dear Duchess of Cambridge,

Not long to go! You must be so excited about the arrival of baby number two. Now Kate - can I call you Kate? I feel like I know you so well as we have so much in common. We both live in London, we both have two kids and we're both married to blokes called Will! SNAP.

Anyway, Kate, welcome to the 
mother-of-two club. Grab yourself a cuppa and a jaffa cake - here's the Scummy Mummies guide to what life will be like with a toddler and a baby.

1. EXPECT LESS PRESENTS

I know George was inundated with diamond rattles, sports cars and handmade rocking horses from President Obama, but don't expect the same this time round. You'll be lucky if Nick Clegg turns up with a bottle of cava and a packet of Hobnobs.

2. CBEEBIES IS YOUR FRIEND

George will watch a lot more TV over the next year. Just accept this now. Take that rule about one episode of Peppa Pig before bed and throw it in the bin. While you're busy feeding, changing nappies, burping and being generally bloody tired, stick G on the sofa with Mr Tumble and a packet of chocolate biscuits. You'll all be much happier. 

3. ALLOW TWO HOURS TO LEAVE THE HOUSE (MINIMUM)

Trying to get out of the front door (or across the moat in your case) will take about 65 times longer than you ever imagined. So if you need to get to Sing and Sign for 11am on Tuesday, start packing on Sunday night. (Better yet, don't bother with Sing and Sign at all - the sooner they can start asking for things, the more trouble for you.)

Here are some things that can happen when trying to leave the house with two small children:

a) Getting the toddler to put their shoes, coat, gloves and/or hat on will involve actual wrestling.
b) You will fail to pack at least one of the following: keys, phone, wallet, sanity.
c) You will agree to take along a ridiculously over-sized toy, just because you want to leave the house some time before midnight.
d) The moment you are finally ready to walk out the door, someone will need the potty or a 
nappy change.
e) All of the above.

 4. FORGET THE ORGANIC KALE SMOOTHIES

The second child eats crap much earlier than the first. I know it's hard to believe now, but in 12 months' time your little one will be sucking on a chicken nugget and knocking back Haribo at a birthday party like tequila shots.

Here's the good news: you won't care, because your children will be happy and quiet, and someone will have just given you a glass of white wine. You must drink that wine, Kate. Just stop whatever you're doing for five minutes and Drink. That. Wine.

5. YOUR BOOBS ARE HEADING SOUTH

Yes, right now you're prepped to breastfeed and you look like Dolly Parton. But soon those milk floats will make a bee-line for your navel. Sorry, K-Mo. My advice is to buy some good bras from Marks and Sparks - the fancy ones, not the two-packs. You'll thank me later.

6. YOUR MARRIAGE WILL GO WONKY FOR A BIT

I am sure your Will is a real sweetheart and super hands-on, but having a second kid puts a big strain on your relationship. There won't be as much time to sit around staring at your new baby, because someone needs to make sure the first kid is alive.

You'll probably both be a bit more sweary, maybe even shouty - this is perfectly normal. When things get tough, drink some wine together and laugh at some cat videos on YouTube. This will do wonders for your relationship. I'm sure it's what's kept the Queen and Phil together all this time.

7. WATCH OUT FOR GRANDPARENT FATIGUE

I know this sounds harsh but the grandparents will be less interested in number two, or more specifically, looking after two kids. So expect the babysitting offers to dwindle. You'll find Charles is suddenly doing the garden all the time, while Camilla is busy with her charity work.

8. FEEL THE LOVE, IN A DIFFERENT WAY

Of course you will love your new arrival as much as you love George. But you won't have the same amount of time or energy to devote to them. After two years of sleep deprivation, your attention to detail will be lacking. You won't mind so much if this one isn't dressed in matching Gap separates, or hasn't mastered downward-facing dog at Baby Yoga, or started talking by the age of six.

Don't worry, though - the second child will probably turn out more to be relaxed and well-adjusted as a result. Just look at Uncle Harry, he's a HOOT!

Well, I think that covers everything. The thing is, Midders, life with two kids is hectic, noisy, chaotic and twice as stinky. But it's wonderful, because you also get twice the giggles, smiles and cuddles. So enjoy the gorgeous, fabulous mess your life has just become. I'll see you for a latte and a muffin down High St Ken Starbucks.

Yours in scumminess,

Helen X


A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or download via iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies.

11 Comments

Time for a Change

23/4/2015

7 Comments

 
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Dear listeners,

This summer will mark two years since we started the Scummy Mummies Podcast. We've met the most amazing people, laughed till we've cried, and drunk enough wine to fill a skip. Thank you so much to everyone who's listened in and shared their Scummy Confessions with us.

We'd like to keep the podcast going, but it costs us money to produce. So we're trialling a deal where we stick short adverts at the start and end of each episode. This way you get to keep enjoying the show for free, and we get to keep doing it. We might even be able to invest in exciting things like a new microphone or hummus from Waitrose.

If you have any feedback, about this or anything else, we'd love to hear from you - scummymummiespodcast@gmail.com. In the meantime, stay scummy!

Love,

Ellie and Helen X


7 Comments

Cranial Osteopathy: Does it Work?

17/4/2015

17 Comments

 
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Sorry last week's blog was a bit of a downer. I didn't mean to start a pity party. All right, maybe I did a bit, because you don't write 650 words about sleep deprivation and put it on the internet without expecting at least one person to go, "Poor you."

Anyway, if I sound different (jollier) and more like my old self (bitchier) this week, it's because I am, because I have HAD SOME SLEEP!

Here's the thing: cranial osteopathy WORKS. At least, it's working for us. Last week I took Joe to see Jo Mitchell at the Sunflower Centre in Brockley. We had a long chat about his birth (two months early, emergency Caesarean, head stuck for ten minutes.) I might have cried a bit.

Then Jo put her hands on various parts of my baby's body and... Did whatever it is cranial osteopaths do. I'm still not totally sure, to be honest.

Joe seemed to like it and eventually passed out. But he started screaming as we left the centre, and didn't really stop till we put him down in his Moses basket a few hours later.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'It was worth a try.'

He slept for five hours straight. The longest stretch he had ever managed.

I say "had", because the next night he slept for seven hours. SEVEN. Thus I achieved my goal of sleeping for more hours than there are members of One Direction (which recently became more attainable obvs.)

I felt amazing the next day. It was as if I'd been underwater for months, submerged beneath waves of tiredness, but I had broken the surface and taken a huge gulp of fresh air. I felt like I could swim an ocean or climb a mountain. I settled for loading the dishwasher and returning the library books we borrowed the week before Joe was born, which is basically the same.   

It didn't last, of course: Joe switched to a two-hourly wake-up cycle that night, and by the end of the week he was back to pulling all-nighters. I emailed Jo, trying to sound positive ("Sorry to bother, just wondering, is this normal?") rather than desperate ("Oh God please help you fixed my baby and now I think I've broken him again please help me argh.")

Yes, said Jo, it's normal, and we've made a good start. So we returned to the centre for a second session - and that night, Joe slept for five hours. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Last night... Not so much. But now a bad night means waking up every two hours, instead of never going to sleep at all. And I'm optimistic that next week's appointment with Jo will put us back on track.

It's changed everything. I don't worry about crashing our new car because I'm so tired. I'm not afraid to agree to meet people for coffee in case I'm too exhausted to make it on the day. Some nights, I don't even go to bed until half-past eight.

So now, based on nothing more than my own anecdotal experience (I'd love to hear others), I am a huge fan of cranial osteopathy. I think everyone should have it. Not just babies but tired mums, creaky old people, perfectly well people, small dogs that won't stop yapping, Nigel Farage.

And I think it should be available on the NHS. That's the kicker - it isn't, and it's not cheap. I estimate I'll probably end up spending the equivalent of a family weekend away on Joe's treatment. Frankly, I'd give up two weeks in the Bahamas in exchange for a year of decent sleep.

But I know that isn't an option for everyone. So thanks to the reader who told me about the Osteopathic Centre for Children, which operates on a pay-what-you-can basis.

I'm sticking with Jo, though, because she is amazing and wonderful and has kind eyes the colour of the Aegean that make me feel like everything's going to be alright. Basically, she's turned my baby off and on again. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but whatever she does is working. Now I can sleep and breathe and smile, and best of all, my baby can too.

Happy Friday! 


17 Comments

The Battle for Rest: Why Won't My Baby Sleep?

10/4/2015

6 Comments

 
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Ellie writes:

My house is a war zone. The signs are everywhere: half-empty bottles of gripe water, discarded Infacol droppers, dummies scattered on every surface. (I think they might be breeding.)

Swaddling wraps and sleeping bags lie in crumpled heaps, or draped over the wide variety of baby chairs we've tried. Some rock, some swing, some vibrate, some play music; none of them actually get anyone to bloody sleep.

Nor does anything else we've tried. On a good night, Joe only wakes up once an hour. On a bad night, he's unable to stay asleep beyond ten minutes, and I get no rest at all. The other night I was awake with him from midnight until he finally settled at 6am. At 6.04am, my three-year-old bounded in, ready to start his day.

We've asked advice from everyone we can think of. GPs and health visitors. Grandmas and friends. Random women behind us in the queue at Argos, where we've gone to pick up yet another swingy chair that eats batteries so fast it costs more to run than  a racehorse.

After a few weeks, these conversations have started to go the same way:

"Have you tried X?"

"Yes. It didn't work."

"Oh. Well, it's not forever."

I know it's not forever. I've already been through it with my first baby, to a less extreme degree. But it's still hard.

The worst bit isn't being knackered; it's seeing my baby in pain and exhausted, and feeling like a failure because I can't seem to help. There's an extra dynamic here because Joe was born premature, and spent six weeks in hospital. That meant six weeks of watching him go through injections, tests, tube swaps and all the rest, without being able to help. 

And because I had another son at home, I couldn't even be there 24 hours a day to comfort him. There is one positive - often I don't mind being awake with Joe all night, because it just feels like I'm catching up.

But then the day starts, and it's awful. I struggle to find the energy to be the fun, cheerful mummy Charlie wants, or to be patient while he spends eight minutes putting his underpants on. 

My husband has learned to avoid probing me with intolerably infuriating personal questions like, "How are you?" or, "Have you seen the car keys?" And as for asking what's for dinner - he might as well enquire if I fancy a threesome with Katie Hopkins.

I know it's not forever, though, so we plod on, and the search for a magic cure continues. There isn't one, of course - but somehow the research makes me feel less helpless. It's like when Joe was in hospital and I spent hours reading the telephone directory-sized Preemies book from cover to cover, regardless of the fact he didn't have 98 per cent of the conditions described. (But one day, there will be an entire pub quiz round on necrotising enterocolitis, and I will storm it.)

So that's how I spend those long, dark hours - baby on the boob, iPhone in the hand, Googling things like "SERIOUSLY THOUGH DIDN'T EVERYONE GIVE BABIES RUM IN THE SEVENTIES?"

There is one suggestion that keeps cropping up - cranial osteopathy. From what I understand, this is an alternative therapy that involves a specially trained person squeezing your baby's head, and then they sleep like you've given them a pint of Bacardi. The parenting forums are full of people saying it's brilliant. But there are skeptics too, and it's expensive, so it's always been bottom of the list of things to try.

Now, though, we've reached the bottom of the list. The health visitor has run out of suggestions, Argos has run out of swingy chairs, I have run out of patience. So we're going to give cranial osteopathy a go. In the meantime, if anyone has any suggestions...   


6 Comments

Home or Hospital Birth: Why Can't Women Decide for Themselves?

4/12/2014

4 Comments

 
NICE has published new guidelines suggesting home births are the best option for many women. Here the Scummy Mummies explain why they made different decisions when it came to their labours - and why they respect each other's choices.

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Ellie writes: There were no scented candles at the birth of my baby. No classical music, no yogic breathing. The only sound, apart from me swearing, came from a radio someone had left on in the delivery room. 

"Take my hand," said my husband, "We'll make it, I swear." He still hasn't regained full use of his fingers.

Those are my memories of childbirth. They're not rosy, but they are real, and they are mine. I wouldn't swap them and I don't regret the decision to have my baby in hospital. I just wish others would respect it.

I always planned on a hospital labour, despite repeated encouragement from my midwife to give birth at home. I didn't doubt her expertise - I have huge respect for midwives and the work that they do. I know that home births are safe,  and that they are the best choice for millions of women.

But I also know myself. I feel safe in hospitals. I have no issues with "sterile environments." To me, sterile just means clean, and that appeals as someone who hasn't hoovered under the bed since we moved in. I wanted to be as close as possible to all those monitors and medical professionals, and to have the option of pain relief if things got really bad.

As it turned out, things got really quite bad indeed. But we got to hospital too late for an epidural, and then there were complications. I ended up having an episiotomy and a ventouse - procedures NICE is suggesting I could have avoided if I had stayed at home.

It's not the first time I've heard this. I met a midwife at a dinner party who said it was "a shame" I "had" to go to hospital. I explained it was my choice, that I was grateful to have had that medical intervention close at hand. She said I should have hung on and pushed harder.

Maybe that's true. I'll never know. What I do know is that there were no long-term effects from these procedures. Three and a half years on, I am happy and healthy and so is my son. In fact, his head is less pointy than his father's.  

Unlike my fellow Scummy Mummy, I wouldn't describe my labour as beautiful. I do envy her that. But nor was it the horror show hospital births are billed as. Less than 14 hours after it was over I was back home on the sofa, gazing at my gorgeous son. It was the best day of my life, despite the Bon Jovi incident.

All the same, I'm aware that my choice isn't for everyone. I believe every woman should have the right to make her own decision when it comes to her body and her baby. I understand that there is an ongoing need to campaign for the right to a home birth.

But sometimes that campaigning can be so strident it swings the other way, and women are made to feel guilty for having a hospital labour. I'm tired of reading about how having a baby at home is always preferable - that isn't the case for everyone. It wasn't for me.

I'm concerned about the creation of a culture of fear around safe medical procedures that are sometimes necessary, even life-saving. And I don't want those of us who have these procedures being made to feel like we've failed in some way, or haven't experienced "proper" childbirth.

I know women who had their hearts set on staying at home, but were disappointed when pre-existing medical conditions or last minute complications meant they couldn't have the "natural" labour they planned - as if there's anything unnatural about the birth of a baby.

One of the guiding principles of Scummy Mummies is that we try not to pass judgements on other mums or their choices. We've all got enough stuff to feel guilty about already. Although Helen and I approached our labours differently, we know we chose the best options for ourselves as individuals, and we respect each other's decisions. We believe every mother should have the right to decide where she gives birth, without feeling pressured one way or the other.

My second baby is due in February, and once again my preference is for a hospital birth. But I'm aware there are no guarantees - my midwife has told me that as my first labour was relatively quick, there might not be time to get out of the house. I'm fine with whatever happens, as long as my baby is born safe and healthy. I just hope everyone else is too. It's taken years to start shifting the stigma around home births - why create a new one around going to hospital?


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Helen writes: I never thought I would end up having two candle-burning, classical music-playing, chanting-in-the-lounge type births. I grew up in Australia, where less than one per cent of babies are born at home. 

The practice is frowned upon by the majority of the medical profession, and indeed the general population. As the daughter of a no nonsense nurse, I thought my births would be just like my mother's - in hospital, under the guidance of a strict obstetrician, complete with bright lights, stirrups and stitches.

But then I moved to the UK, where the home birth movement was already established and gaining momentum by the time I became pregnant in 2008. It was my midwife who suggested I have my baby right there at home, amongst the Ikea furniture and the drying washing.

As a first-time mother, I was nervous. I didn't feel like I was the type of person who could have a home birth. I like eating takeaway pizza and reading Hello!, not hiking and recycling.

But then I started to research the subject and watch videos of home labours online. I also began taking pregnancy yoga classes. It occurred to me that my mum had given birth to five healthy children, all with no complications, and that we have the same shaped hips. I decided there was a good chance my baby would come out the same way I did.

When I told my midwife, she was thrilled. We began the planning process - it involved lots of discussions about inflatable pools, plastic sheets and an unbelievable amount of towels. I started to get excited about the fact I wouldn't have to leave my own house or even get off the sofa to deliver my baby. Basically, I chose a home birth out of laziness more than anything else.

I was very open about my choice when it came to telling my friends and my National Childbirth Trust antenatal group. However, I kept it a big secret from my family in Australia. I knew what my mum would say, and rolling eyes are still rolling eyes even when they're rolling at you over Skype.

I was even more concerned about how my mother-in-law would feel. She is very sweet, but she is a champion worrier. So to save our parents the angst, my husband and I told them we were planning a hospital birth and had packed our bags. It's easy to keep up this sort of pretence when you live in different hemispheres...

In the end my happy, healthy baby girl arrived right on her due date, at midday. No stitches, no drugs, just a pool in the lounge and two smiling parents. Sure, I had a sore downstairs, but it all seemed worth it.

We rang our parents and told them our news, including the truth about how our baby was born. It was a strategic move that paid off - they were so elated to have a grandchild that the news of the "hippy" way she had arrived into the world was overshadowed.

 However, many of my friends in Australia were shocked when I told. Most of them had their babies in private hospitals with the help of obstetricians. Their experiences were quite different from my midwife-led, NHS-funded care, for which I will be forever grateful.

When I heard the news about the NICE guidelines suggesting home births are the best option for many women, I was thrilled. I loved my home births and would wish the same for any woman.

But at the same time, I believe we should be advocating choice. I know what it's like to be afraid of sharing your birth choices, to feel pressured into "doing the right thing." No one should have to go through that. What's really best for any expectant mother is to have all the different birthing options available to her, without fear of being judged by professionals, friends or family.

We are so lucky that here in the UK, we have so many options when it comes to giving birth - and that's what we should be championing. 

A shorter version of Ellie's portion of this post first appeared in The Guardian's Comment is free section. 




4 Comments

Five Things I Wish I'd Known Before I Had a Baby

8/9/2014

12 Comments

 
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"Hell is other people," some bloke said years ago. (I'd look it up
but my three-year-old was awake all night, and I've reached that special level of exhaustion where you're too tired to even 
Google stuff.)

When you're pregnant, Hell is other parents.

As soon as you've announced your pregnancy there will be a queue of people lining up to give you advice. "Of course, you can't possibly prepare yourself for having a child," they will begin, before listing 75 ways you need to prepare yourself for having a child.

I thought things might be different with my second pregnancy. After all, I've managed to keep my existing son alive for three years - surely that is evidence of competency? He does mainly subsist on a diet of Haribo Starmix and those low sodium organic crisps that cost £8 a bag, but you can't tell by looking at him.

Alas. It turns out people with more than one child love to tell you how much harder life is about to get. At length. They always round off with a wry smile and a shake of the head, adding, "You've no idea what you're letting yourself in for," oblivious to the fact you do have some idea, having just spent two hours listening to them talk about it.

So if there's one thing new parents don't need, apart from a nappy bin that only takes special bags and costs more to run than a small car, it's more advice. But there are some things I do wish I'd known before I'd had my baby, so for what it's worth, here they are.

1. Your life is not over.

From the way some parents talk, you'd think having a baby means never sleeping, having sex or going down the pub again. This is not true! In fact, my own husband and I had sex just last February.

Yes, things are going to change. But some things will stay the same. And new, amazing, hilarious things will appear to make it all worthwhile. You will adapt to this new lifestyle and even enjoy it. Yes, you might have to swap that romantic villa holiday in Tuscany for a wet midweek break at Center Parcs, but honestly, you won't mind.

Much.  

2. Not every parent falls in love instantly.

For many parents, holding their baby for the first time is the most magical moment of their life. They find themselves overcome with a rush of love and a desire to protect so powerful that they know nothing will ever be the same again. Suddenly, their whole life makes sense.

If that happens to you, brilliant. But if it doesn't, and you find the only thought in your head when gazing at your new baby is, 'He looks a bit like Michael Gambon,' don't worry. The love will come.

That goes for dads as well as mums; in fact, this piece of advice was given to me by a male friend. He expected the arrival of his first child to be something like the start of The Lion King, except with less giraffes.

However, it was a traumatic birth and his overwhelming emotion was one of relief that his wife had made it through. He spent the next few days worrying about why he hadn't fallen instantly head over heels with his new child, and wondering whether he was a terrible dad.

But slowly and surely, the love came through. Today he has one of the strongest bonds with his child of anyone I know. All his children, in fact, because despite that difficult beginning he went on to have three more. (Now that's when your life really is over.)

3. The Fear gets easier to live with.

The Fear is what wakes you up to you check your baby is still breathing six times a night. The Fear is what overrides the part of you that knows it's nappy rash, and makes you spend hours Googling "childhood leprosy". The Fear is the price you pay for happiness - it's the constant worry that it could all disappear, at any moment, with a single careless oversight or a simple twist of fate.

No one told me about The Fear, and it hit me hard. I spent the first few weeks of my baby's life simultaneously overwhelmed with joy and consumed with terror. Not just of something terrible happening to my son, but of feeling like this for the rest of my life; of never being able to truly relax again.

I wish I had talked to someone about it. And I wish that person had said to me, "Don't worry. You will always be afraid for your son, because you will always love him. But you will learn to live with The Fear. It will quieten down. It will become manageable, and sometimes even useful. Now shut up and drink this enormous glass of Merlot."

4. Competitive mums are a myth.  

The media (i.e. the Daily Mail) loves to perpetuate the idea that parents are always at each others' throats. Sure, anyone who's ever spent more than a nanosecond on online forums could be forgiven for thinking so. But in my experience, this is nonsense.                                                                                                
For starters, the idea that I might have enough time and emotional energy to go around competing with anyone is laughable. All the women I've met through NCT classes, playgroups and so on have been friendly, supportive and sympathetic. I've never felt the need to hide the struggles I'm going through or pretend my child is more advanced than he is. In fact, if there is any competition, it's over who's got the filthiest Scummy Mummy Confession to share on our podcast this week.

Of course, this could just be because my child is so uniquely gifted I don't feel the need to compete. I don't want to show off, but let's just say I'm pleased they've lowered the age limit 
for X-Factor.

5. Babies' farts are unbelievably loud.

Enough said.

Well, there you go. Those are the things I'd wish I'd known before I had my first child. If I had one piece of advice to offer above everything else, it would be this: ignore all advice. Every baby is different and so is every parent. You'll find out what works for you. Don't be afraid to ask for help, and don't worry. You're going to be fine.  

By Ellie Gibson
@scummymummies
www.scummymummies.com

12 Comments

The Scummy Mummies Write

20/6/2014

100 Comments

 
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A letter from the Scummy Mummies 
to a less-than-perfect mum. 

Dear Fellow Scummy Mummy,

We know your secrets. We know you gave the kids fish fingers four times in a row last week. We know you drink 
wine out of a mug at teatime. We know about the time your son did a sick in Sainsbury's, and you ran away.

We know you forgot your daughter's name when another mum asked, even though she's an only child. We know you used one of your son's toys to fish a poo out of the bath, giving a whole new meaning to the term "dump truck".

We know you sneaked wine into a classical music concert by hiding it in your child's beaker. Or as you call it, the Tommy Tipsy.

We know you breastfeed in front of your health visitor but hide formula in the fridge.  We know you pretend not to notice when your child eats chicken nuggets the cat has just licked. We know that right now, there's a dirty nappy in your handbag.

We know about that rainy Thursday when you let your kids watch Madagascar twice in a row, while you sat in the kitchen and did Google image searches for Benedict Cumberbatch.

We know you picked up that raisin you found on the stairs and popped it in your mouth. Only to discover it wasn't a raisin.

We know that one Sunday afternoon, you let the kids cut each other's hair while you finished 
the wine.

We know your child once did a poo in the middle of Debenhams, and you blamed a nearby dog.

We know about all these things because you shared them with us. Some of you emailed them in after listening to our podcast. Some of you confessed your sins in person at The Scummy Mummies Show. Which incidentally is coming to the Camden Fringe on Saturday 23 and Sunday 24 August, tickets available now.

The point is, we've all done things like this. Just ask yourself: is your child happy? Does he know he is loved? Does she have clean knickers on at least 300 days of the year? Then you are doing a good job.

Not one of us is perfect. Not even Kirstie Allsopp. We are all doing our best, and sometimes it doesn't feel like enough. But we keep going, because we are mums. It's what we do.

We might have different parenting styles and standards, but judging each other is a waste of our precious energy. Let's talk to each other instead. Let's share our scummy stories. Let's look at our imperfections and laugh at them. Because there are two things will always unite us: we love our children, and we are all scummy mummies.

Even Kirstie.

Love from the trenches,

The Scummy Mummies 
www.scummymummies.com
@scummymummies

Inspired by 'A letter from a working mum to a stay-at-home mum, and vice versa.'

100 Comments

We're Coming to Camden!

16/6/2014

1 Comment

 
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The Scummy Mummies Show is coming to the Camden Fringe this summer. 

We'll be performing at the Hen and Chickens Theatre in Islington on Saturday 23 and Sunday 24 August. The show starts at 3pm. Tickets are £7 - get yours now via the 
Camden Fringe website. Hope to see you there! 

1 Comment

Brighton Rocks

11/3/2014

11 Comments

 
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The Scummy Mummies are coming to the Brighton Fringe! We're performing our show beside the seaside on Saturday 10, Sunday 11 and bank holiday Monday 26 May. 

Our venue is Upstairs at the Three and Ten, which has a proper stage and chairs and everything. The show starts at 1pm and tickets cost £8.50, or £7 concessions.

Do come along! Tickets are available now from the Brighton Fringe website.

And there are still a few tickets left for our London shows on Thursday 27 March and Wednesday 2 April, at 8.30pm. We're performing at the Ivy House, Nunhead. Get your tickets from We Got Tickets. Hope to see you there! 

11 Comments

More dates for The Live Show!

28/1/2014

7 Comments

 
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Following our sell-out success at the Lewisham Fringe
last November, we are VERY pleased to announce the
return of the Scummy Mummies stage show! 

We will be performing on Thursday 27th March and
Wednesday 2nd April at The Ivy House, Nunhead. 

The show will start at 8.30pm. Tickets are £5 and 
available from We Got Tickets. We did sell them
all weeks in advance last time round, so get yours now!

The Ivy House is London's first co-operatively owned pub. (Ellie's dad actually owns a share in it, 
which he mistakenly believes entitles him to free beer.) It's a great venue and bigger than our 
last one, with 80 seats. They do lovely food. Which is mainly why we chose it. 

We hope to see you there!


Buy Tickets
7 Comments

New photos!

28/1/2014

2 Comments

 
Hello there! We hope you like our new-look website. 

It now features fancy photos by the supremely talented Giada Garofalo - check out her 
Flickr page for further evidence of genius. 

Giada is available for hire and comes highly recommended, especially if you're looking for photos of yourself covered in baked beans and toothpaste.

Special thanks to our amazing stylist, Mr Oli Welsh.
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2 Comments
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