I must say I am VERY excited about this competition. I have never owned a handbag worth more than £40 and am quite sad that this in on my blog, and that I’m not allowed to choose myself as the winner.

So, what’s the deal?

Well, the race is on for the coveted title of Bounty Celebrity Mum of the Year 2010 and with competition tougher than ever this year, it’s even more important to make your vote count. Celebrity mums like Coleen Rooney, Tess Daly and Charlotte Church have faced a tough year but have come through the other side – putting them all heavily in the running for this year’s official Bounty Celebrity Mum of the Year award.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘since when did slummy single mummy care about Coleen Rooney?’ OK, so maybe it’s a little off topic for me, but we are all mums after all, we’ve got to stick together. And did you not see the words ‘win a designer handbag’ in the title? I’m doing this for you.

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Belle wants a sleepover.

*groans*

She’s never had a friend from school sleep over before, or been invited come to that. I don’t know if it’s just that at eight, she is a bit young, or if all the other kids are doing it but just not inviting her. I hope it’s the former, otherwise that would be a bit sad.

She’s never really been a ‘sleeper’. She relegated her dad to a mattress on the bedroom floor for several months when she was a toddler, sleeping in bed with me, waking every hour or so, and it wasn’t until she started school that she began to properly sleep through the night.

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How many days do you leave it before you call?

How long should you leave between relationships?

Can love survive over long distances?

How many dates before your first kiss? How many more before you sleep with someone new?

How big an age gap is too big?

How many sexual partners should you aspire to as a man? How many is it acceptable to admit to as a woman?

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This morning I was listening to Tom Jones on Desert Island Discs. I love Desert Island Discs, a fact that leads me to believe I am officially middle-aged, and that it’s time to crack open the slippers and sweet sherry. But that’s another post.

Tom Jones is a man who has built his life around his voice. His voice is powerful, deep, commanding. When he talks, you take him seriously, he sounds wise. I on the other hand, do not.

When I talk, I do not command respect. My voice is high-pitched and childlike, adding to the general image I present of a teenager dressing up in her mum’s slightly out-dated clothes. It’s another reason why writing works so well for me and why I will never work in a call centre.

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OK, I admit it! I’m a terrible mummy! I’ve been too busy working to even notice my poor baby lying unattended and unloved in a quiet corner of the study. For a while it whimpered quietly, hoping to attract my attention, but eventually it gave up, the tears dried on its cheeks, and it fell silent…

I’m not talking about my real children of course, don’t call Social Services, they are used to a bit of healthy neglect. It’s good for them. It teaches them to be independent.

I’m talking of course about my blog.

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Sex and the CityRecently I seem to have developed a rather worrying and shameful habit.

I think I have become addicted to Sex and the City.

As you can read here, I was a late starter when it came to Carrie and her oh-so-stylish chums, and have always felt slightly guilty about watching, but lately, thanks to Sky+, I have been making up for lost time, to the point where it’s almost a daily fix.

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I was recently asked to write a series of posts about parenthood for Bounty. The idea was to provide a realistic, honest account of motherhood, that wasn’t all about introducing home-made, organic purees at six months on the dot and leaving your contented baby to settle themselves to sleep at 7pm every night.

They came to the right place.

I really enjoyed writing them – I am a blogger after all, of course I love the chance to bleat on about myself – but I did struggle at times with exactly how much information to reveal about myself. Visitors to Bounty are mainly new and expectant parents and I didn’t want to scare anyone, or have people actually follow my example of giving nutella as a first weaning food.

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Do you remember a few months ago me banging on at you to vote for me in the MAD blog awards? Well last night, after months of nervous nail-biting, I travelled to the surprisingly funky Butlins in drizzly Bognor Regis for the awards ceremony.

And guess who won the award for ‘Best New Blog’?

Me!

Hoorah!

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I was recently invited by my bank to go into the local branch for a ‘free financial review’. Of course what they actually mean is ‘please come in so we can try and sell you things’, but it was a slow week, and working at home makes you a little desperate for adult company, so I thought I’d give it a go. Needless to say I left the review with even fewer products than I started with.

Generally I’m one of life’s risk takers. It almost seems to be a self-destructive thing sometimes – I will deliberately be late back for the car park, always have that extra shot of sambuca, and occasionally I even leave my front door wide open when I go out, just to see what happens. Don’t tell anyone that though – I don’t want burglars.

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Last night I had one of those dreams about being in love.

When I was younger I used to have them about piles of pound coins, huge mountains of them that I would discover behind the sofa and run my hands through greedily. Now I have them about men.

The man in question is normally someone I have never met before, never seen before (although it was recently Peter Jones from Dragons Den), but I always just KNOW. He is The One.

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One of our Quality-time-family days-out over the summer holidays was to Wookey Hole – you may remember it being in the news a while ago when they advertised for a new witch. (What a job!)

We went with our friends Vicky and Ashley, and we really did have a lovely time. It’s one of those places that definitely makes the most of the space – it’s built around some caves and an old paper mill, and hats off to them for the amount of entertainment they have managed to cram in. In terms of ice-cream outlets per square foot, you certainly get value for money.

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I was reading a report today in The Guardian about student gap years, which claimed that for many young people, they are basically just an excuse for a year of excess – remote beach raves, drug fuelled orgies, and sexual promiscuity. Sounds alright to me really…
With Bee now in her final year of compulsory education, (I am so OLD!), it’s something I’ve found myself thinking more and more about – what exactly should I be encouraging her to do after school? Obviously I won’t be pushing her to settle for a nice little job in Subway, but is university nowadays really the best option? Do I want her to saddle herself with thousands of pounds worth of debt so early in life? And what about a gap year then – do they serve any purpose, or are they just a waste of time?
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