I’m supposed to be on a date right now.
I chickened out.
I feel bad about it, ashamed, like a child who’s scared to make new friends, especially given all the hard work everyone put in helping me create my online dating profile. The trouble is, although you got my requirements spot on, you missed one crucial ‘must-have’ for my ideal man.
‘Must creep up on me slowly, catch my eye in a bookshop, be the last person in the world I expect to fall in love with.’ Pathetically romantic I know, but there you go.
Welcome to my 100th post!
*Noise of small brass band playing a fanfare*
I honestly can’t believe I have made it. I have such a short attention span that when I started blogging in December I honestly thought the novelty would wear off it about, ooh, a week? But do you know what has kept me going? Other of course than it being a fantastic procrastination tool (I can’t possibly start that very important piece of work now, can’t you see I’m blogging?).
It’s you! When I first started, I had never even read a blog, and I never imagined other people would be interested in what I had to say, let alone be inspired to say something back.
And now look at me. I am a hopeless addict. Every time someone comments, the attention seeking, praise driven me gives a little cheer ‘Look! They like me!’
When I was invited to bring the girls to a Build a Bear Workshop to make our very own bears I knew I was about to become a Very Popular Mummy.
I’ve written before about the difficulties of having two kids with a seven-year age gap, and how hard it is to find things for us all to do that don’t bore Belle to death or make Bee’s face screw up with a look of revulsion. Well, I think I can safely say that Build a Bear is the one thing, possibly with the exception of dumping them both at Claire’s Accessories and saying ‘here’s twenty quid each’, that they can both enjoy in equal measure.
I’ve often suspected that I don’t have quite the authority as a parent that I’d like. Partly I think it’s an age thing. I was only 16 when I was pregnant with Bee, and I’ve always looked younger than I am. Maybe my children would have more respect for me if I was older and sterner, perhaps with a large bushy beard – how can you not respect someone with a beard?
Given though that I have hardly any hair on my head, and only have to shave my legs about once a month, a beard is probably not on the cards.
Mostly though it is probably my own fault. I do tend to act like a child. (I know my impeccable behaviour at Cybermummy makes this hard to believe, but you’ll just have to take my word for it). I spend all my money on sweets and stationary, get drunk, often laugh at Wizards of Waverley Place. Really not very mature at all.
“It’s funny,” Bee said to me a while ago, “I don’t really think of you as the mummy, I just thought you were in charge because you were the tallest.”
I woke up this morning feeling a little bit sad and lonely. A tad pathetic maybe, but after spending the weekend at the Cybermummy conference surrounded by so many interesting, intelligent, funny women, waking up on your own is bound to be a bit of an anti-climax.
One important thing I’ve come to realise since I became single and started working at home, and which Cybermummy reinforced for me, is that I am a People Person. I’ve always thought this was a bit of a silly expression. We are people, of course we like other people, but I see now that there are some people, like me, who really thrive on company. Basically I am a show off who needs an audience.
I love meeting new people, particularly new funny people, and ESPECIALLY new funny people who enjoy drinking tequila, aren’t afraid to be loud in public, and are partial to a little lie down on hotel floors. And oh my God, everyone was soooo funny. I wasn’t the person who had the ‘little accident’, but I certainly came close.