I feel I need to come out as being in support of the teenager. You see, it has come to my attention that over the past few months of writing this blog, I may have come over as being a whinging old bag. A hormonal, moaning Brit expat. The mother of two teenagers.
It dawned on me, (more…)
It’s not fair. I won’t tell you what my mother used to retort with when I used to bellow this at her from the upstairs landing. All I’ll say was it involved a gentleman with no underpants who originated from Timbuktu. No PC parenting when I was a girl.
I’ve just had that unoriginal accusation hurled at me for not volunteering to be a taxi service at 9 o’clock tonight. (more…)
I can’t seem to get it right with my teenagers this week. Whatever I suggest is wrong. The advice I give is outdated, the questions I am asking are ignored by one teenager and huffed at by another. Even my impression of the cat talking with a speech impediment didn’t get any laughs. Nothing. Just a sigh, a look, and then, slam.
It’s bad enough that I’m a middle-aged parent. The wrong side of 45. That I homeschool my kids and so therefore only get to speak to another adult when the farmer needs help shifting the cows.
It’s hard enough that I emigrated from a trendy, city chic lifestyle in the heart of Bath a decision that I have to justify to my kids every time I get the HP sauce out. An hour from the city lights by train. Yes. There were trains. Real ones. With buffet cars and everything. (more…)
You may not be aware of this, but all mothers attended parenting school.
Whether you remember or not is a different matter.
School started when they lifted baby off your chest to cut the umbilical cord. School ended when they placed baby- this time wrapped in a blanket, back onto your tummy or into the bassinet next to you.
Approximately 2.8 minutes.
That was your lot. (more…)
There I was, going along my merry little homeschool mum way. Innocently believing that I was doing a quite good job for a Thursday when out of the blue, I get the new and unexpected accusation of being judgmental thrown at me from my soon to be a thirteen-year-old girl. She talks about
I’m Liz, and this is my family.
I do Travel. I do Wine. I do being a mum to big kids. Sometimes I do all three at the same time.
I don’t do hormones. Or looking perfect for Instagram. Or dieting.
Read more about who I am and why we should be friends on our about us page.