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…)
I feel like shit today. I’ve tried to shake it off but to no avail. One of those days.
I had to phone the piano teacher and tell her Tessa no longer wanted to have lessons. She’s 78. She’s been teaching her for the past 6 years. It was hideous. She was obviously upset and disappointed. Me, babbling on like a duck. Trying to make it sound better than it was. (more…)
Spot. The Difference When You’re 12.
You watch your daughter, coming to terms with being 12. She’s not a little girl, nor a teenager (quite) She’s just… boring old 12. Annoying old 12. Pimple spots introducing themselves from around every corner, limbs resembling a baby giraffe. What used to be funny is now just damn right embarrassing. Especially her Mom. And her brother. Oh, and the fact that the cat is called puss. How embarrassing. (more…)