Puberty

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I wrote this when I had no children. Little did I know I will experience this amazing transformation so many times!

Puberty

Any second now – I could become a woman
Mum told me.
It happens in a flash
One minute you’re an ordinary kid
And the next thing
Before you know it
You’re one of them.

I don’t know why it happens so quickly
Without warning
There could be kid’s things left to do
Games unplayed
Toys untouched
But I know that it could happen
Any second now.

When Mum first told me
I waited for it
I told my friends that I couldn’t come out to play
I missed Guides
But the woman never came.
Or if she did –
I didn’t notice.

Mum didn’t say exactly how I’d know
That this amazing thing had happened
I’m worried – I could be walking around for years
Thinking I was a kid
When I wasn’t.
And it could happen
Any second now.

Now I’ve given up waiting.
One of my friends told me
That she became a woman two weeks ago
I don’t believe her – she still looks the same
Women don’t have plaits
Drink milkshakes
Or blow raspberries.

By MadHouseMum©

 

Lovely Jubbly Jugs, but Sometimes Life Sucks

MHM Life Sucks

Jamie Oliver has had it in the JUGular this week, for talking about breastfeeding. This is just one of the tweets I’ve seen:

“Lovely jubbly jugs wiv bootiful nipples. Bish bash bosh, lug of milk. Get stuck in, littl’un. Pukka!” – Jamie Oliver, breastfeeding expert

The trouble for Jamie is that he’s like Marmite: you either love him or hate him. He has been on the tweet defensive, saying that he is not starting a Breastfeeding Campaign and his comments were merely relating to his work in nutrition. I think it highlighted a really good point that yes, we know that breastfeeding is probably best for the baby. However, it is not always possible to breastfeed and if it doesn’t work out then don’t sweat it. I breastfed daughter 1 for 6 months, daughter 2 for 4, daughter 3 for less and daughter 4 for less again. Did I feel guilty about the later crew getting less of the boob? No. They all seem relatively normal and daughter 4 has the loudest voice – fueled on more booby juice it could have been even louder – I shudder to think.

This article in The Telegraph, written by Victoria Young, talks about the difficulties women can face when they try to breastfeed. It makes for an interesting read and a good alternative to tweets from or about Jamie:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/family/jamie-oliver-needs-to-stop-mansplaining-breastfeeding-to-women/

Concept Man

A friend posted this on facebook, as the best birthday card she had received and I thought it goes rather well with a poem that I wrote at Uni. What would your concept man/woman be able to do? Happily sleep on the wet patch, for example (keep it clean! Actually, nah!)

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Concept Man

I like men –
As a concept.

Someone
Who can hoover the lawn
On a lonely Sunday
And practice DIY.

It’s the truth
That scares me.

Sundays spent alone
Staring at the Flymo
Waiting
Hopefully.

Banging a nail
Into the wall
And pretending
That it’s his head.

I’m Still Not Sure

Image result for teenagers arguing humour

I was thinking about how assured teenagers are in front of their parents about certain things and how, faced with this person who insists they are right, it can be almost intimidating to a parent. Teenagers can make us feel very unsure about our stance on things. Sometimes I think that I am sure about something and then faced with a teenager telling me I’m wrong, I find myself questioning where I stand. I usually end up sure that I’m still right, but I am left wondering a little. I find this one of the most difficult parts of being a parent to teenagers, particularly with step children, as you over analyse everything. When my daughters were small, I found it easy to have the final word. Now, I am not always sure what that final word should be. So, this poem is for anyone who may sometimes feel the same. 

Still not sure

Look at my thigh gap, she says.
I look, at what I’m not sure,
but she is sure it is good.
I am still not sure. 

Let’s take a selfie, she says.
Another? Why? I’m not sure,
but she is sure it is needed.
I am still not sure. 

She’s wearing make up to school.
Lots of make up. I’m not sure,
but she is sure that she isn’t beautiful without.
I am still not sure. 

She wants to be on Facebook.
She’s 12 years old. I’m not sure.
but she is sure because all her friends are on Facebook.
I am still not sure. 

Her skirt length, her cropped top,
Her bra straps on display. I’m not sure.
but she is sure because it’s the fashion.
I am still not sure. 

Her insisting, her protesting,
Her arguing the toss. I’m not sure.
but she is sure because she knows best.
I am still not sure.

MadHouseMum©

Acronymtastic

MHM Acronym

Saturday Night’s Gonna Be Alright!

MHM Gin

#TFIFRIDAY

MHM Pig tits

What are boys and girls made of? ∗Warning: content includes gender stereotyping

What are little boys made of?
Bundles of energy without fail
Following Spiderman’s trail
That’s what little boys are made of

What are little girls made of?
Of cunning and guise
To find ways to entice
That’s what little girls are made of

What are teenage boys made of?
A smell very male
And conversation fail
That’s what teenage boys are made of

What are teenage girls made of?
Stuck to a device
Without heeding parental advice
That’s what teenage girls are made of

MadHouseMum©

It’s Friday!

MHM it's Friday!

Erectile Dysfunction

When the message came though on my phone that daughter 4 was following me on Twitter, I was quite surprised. At nearly 12, I felt it rather young to be on Twitter. However, I had hardly had time to worry about it, when another message popped up, saying that she had liked my tweet:MHM DysfunctionTo be honest, I had forgotten about the combination of my post being linked straight to Twitter and my youngest daughter having an account. I felt I had better talk to her about what she had seen. So, you liked my post, I started tentatively, did you understand it? Well, she said, I think so. What is it about then, I continued. About reptiles I think, she said. Reptiles who don’t work properly. Yes, I replied to her truthfully. You got the gist.

Postscript
I showed this to Number 1 friend saying: here’s what happened last night (meaning my conversation with daughter 4) I don’t want to know, she replied…oh how we laughed!