Krumping mum

Nicky is an old friend I re-discovered through Facebook. We did ballet together (yes, ballet, delicate little flower that I was) about 20 years ago.

There are two reasons why I want you to meet Nicky. First, she is funny. Always has been. What’s not funny about a girl in a tutu cracking jokes that make a grown man blush? Her status updates suggest that hasn’t changed.

But what has changed is Nicky’s foray into motherhood. My jaw hit the ground when I saw seven children listed on her Facebook profile. After trading a few messages, I got the feeling that Nicky had a story worth sharing.

Nicky’s response to my request: “Are you insane?”

I’ll let you decide…

The uber-bloggers and me

It’s been three months since I started this blog. I’ve shared tales about: projectile vomits; a ‘hole’ that got me into a spot of bother with my son; corporate bitches (namely me); and women who hide their motherhood at work. I’m proud of my little repertoire that has no common theme, apart from its randomness.

In the past three months I’ve also immersed myself in other blogs. The funny, the sad, the mummy, the bad (as in ‘cool’, sorry, it needed to rhyme) – the blogosphere is brimming with talent. Talent I wish I could emulate.

So, when I was offered the chance to meet some talented bloggers at an evening promising ‘fine wine, cheese and a spot of pampering’, I lunged at the chance like a desperate single at an airborne wedding bouquet.

Sex and negative equity

We are facing financial ruin thanks to having sex. A moment of passion about five years ago triggered a chain of events that ended with our membership of the exclusive negative equity club.

Confessions of a 'BC' bitch

Recently, I blogged about women hiding their motherhood at work. With the likes of me, is it really any wonder? I was a corporate bitch clambering my way to the top. If anyone got in my way I would stab them with my heel, chew them up and spit them out - especially any of those soft-assed working-mum types.