Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

A mothers time is most certainly not her own. October 31, 2011

Any of you mums out there will know that, when you pop out a baby, from that second onwards your time is no longer your own.

Never will you have a wee in the peace and tranquility your urine deserves, because the minute you release those pelvic muscles (well those muscles that weren’t destroyed by the trauma that is childbirth) and the wee starts to flow , you will suddenly hear the pitter patter of tiny feet, in my case the not so tiny patter of 8 and 5 year old feet.

So it begins ” Mum, you said we could have something out the sweetie jar, Mum you said I could go on the laptop!!

Its funny I don’t remember making any of these promises.

For some reason I always start to enter into dialogue with them, then suddenly, it strikes me, why am I sitting on the loo arguing about sweets surely the sweets can wait the 5 minutes that I have oh so selfishly alacated to myself!

The bathroom for us Mums is clearly know longer a relaxing tranquil environment in which to relax and have ME time, no, it is now a place to perform every day necessary functions such as going to the toilet and washing.

Speed is of the essence, as no member of your family ( I include the fully grown adult who shares the house with you, commonly known as The Husband, in that comment) can possibly do without your presence ( the real reason 2 in 1 shampoo was invented) for more than 5 minutes.

This weekend I was having one of those relaxing 5 minute shower breaks when in bursts Youngest son. He informs me he has something really important to tell me, so I listen incase someone has drowned in their frosties. Turns out its not that important, Daddy can’t find the controls!

I look at my darling boy, but he is all of a sudden distracted…….” Mummy why is your willy furry?”.

Ok, two things, must spend time explaining to youngest son that boys have willys and girls have bitbits ( at 5 vagina seems a little harsh!), and I really must book that waxing appointment!

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Just say NO! May 18, 2010

Maybe I’m just a little to protective.

But I have just watched a woman give her two-year old chewing gum.

Now, I don’t mean to be judge mental ( even thought , I am bloody good at it), but that’s fucking stupid.

Errrr, love. Have you ever heard of choking??

Or did you miss that parenting class.

Along with the one about telling your fucking kid, NO now and again.

Maybe just maybe, that’s why the world is full of obnoxious childish twats.

Because, Mummy never said NO.

Get the tit out of your mouth, he’s a big boy now and tell him fucking NO!

Deal with it now.

Or this dickhead ain’t ever gonna get a girlfriend.

 No self respecting girl is gonna want  a bloke who spits the dummy everytime she says NO!

 

Snotty Pikey kids. May 10, 2010

Why do pikey kids perminately have snot smeared across their faces.

They apply it like there mums do foundation, with a trowel and no mirror.

Does all that chip fat destroy the feelings in their dirty little faces.

So they can no longer feel the slime that engulfes their skin.

Mum’s, stop watching Jeremy Kyle, put down your fag and get a fucking tissue.

Your kid has more snot on him than last nights pie and chips.

 

Junior CSI May 6, 2010

Filed under: Kids! Who'd have em?,The Daily Bitch. — ibitch @ 8:01 pm
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Big Son has cordoned off Little Sons bedroom with yellow CSI tape!

I knew that sodding kit, with it’s shitty bits of plastic in a shiny briefcase was a mistake when I brought it.

“What ya doing?” I try to get in.

“DON’T TOUCH! This is a crime scene”

“O-K…”

“He’s eaten my last easter egg” He points the finger of blame at his brother.

“No I haven’t”

Big Son throws open the kit and retrieves a test tube and a pair of tweezers.

Now WTF is the weird little science freak doing?

“I’m taking crumb samples from his bed. Bet I find chocolate”

Suddenly Little Son screams out: “Course you will. I’M AN ADDICT!”

WTH! I’ve spawned a chocolate junkie. How long has this been going on? Oh God, tell me he doesn’t need rehab!”

 

A lesson in drugs. May 5, 2010

Its time for that old favourite… Its PHSE!

Todays specialist subject. ‘ Drugs and Alcohol ‘ . I can almost hear the kids giving me a whoop, whoop!

Of I go.

Teacher: “Today guys, we are going to talk about ‘Drugs and Alcohol’, lets see what we already know”

There little eyes are bright with excitement. If ‘ Masterminds’ specialist subject was addictions, these kids would be champions!

The air is once again a sea of hands.

Even the normal, mute retards are on fire.

There spitting at the mouth in desperation to speak. ( and thats not got anything to do with there need for speech therapy).

Pupils: ” Beer, wine, Vodka, splif, speed, rock, acid, Jack Daniels”

               ” My dad likes weed”

Crap, this is no longer a lesson, this is fucking boasting.

‘My Dads more addicted than your Dad’

‘My Mums more fucked up than your Mum’

Maybe there is an advantage to having drug addled, moron parents.

 

Stranger danger. May 3, 2010

My three-year old son has been learning about stranger danger.

Clearly he missed the important message that the police were giving out.

As we walked home.

A stranger approaches.

So Oscar shouts out ” Hello Stranger ” 

I close my eye and shake my head in despair.

He seriously believes, if he says hello to the stranger, then they are know longer a stranger.

Problem solved,  in his tiny mind!

Mental note: Must do more intensive work on stranger danger.

 

Handy husbands. April 29, 2010

Filed under: Kids! Who'd have em?,Men Are Muppets,Mental Notes to Self — bitchpedia @ 6:13 am
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Give it a few years love , DIY will wipe off that smile!

My husband took a week off work.

Great, that’s my week fucked up!

So he decides to paint the outside of the house.

Ok, so your all thinking, don’t be an ungrateful cow.

Off we go for a family trip to B&Q .

I follow my husband dotingly down the aisles, and the kids trail after us, causing a wave of destruction as they go.

Browsing in the solvents aisle (It crosses my mind, a week at home with both husband and kids, I might need one of these to get me though).

I look down the aisle.

It was then that I spotted the old man with mouldy head.

Oh crap- I look back and, to late, observant eldest child is on the case.

Eldest child: ” Mummy what is wrong with that mans head “She announced in her loudest shouting voice.

Next time I’ll get her a fucking loud-speaker!

Mother: ” Shhhh, be quiet and stop being so rude ”

She’s got a point though, what the fuck is that?

She shuts up and decides to stare opened mouth, tainted with a slight look of disgust at the man.

Not sure that’s an improvement in the rudeness stakes.

We buy up the aisle and make a swift exit.

Down to the DIY.

Husbands starts cracking open paint pots and balancing ladders on dangerously high roof beams.

WTF man, you need your arms and legs to work! I’m sure you should have safety ropes or something.

Its best I don’t look.

So I go and make myself useful and do my’ womans work’ inside (I would bitch slap my husband if he called it that).

Head in washing machine, I hear the familiar mating call of my husband. ” Is it time for a coffee yet ”

I don’t no love, have you put the fucking kettle on?

Dotingly I make the drinks.

Back to the painting and I get my head back into the washing machine.

Then that familiar mating call clashes with my ear drums again ” Do you no where my phone is love ”

Why the fuck would I know, Its your phone.

I find it and I return it to my husbands person.

Back to the washing machine.

Then I hear ” Pass me the screw driver”

Is he taking the piss?

Why the fuck, when a man takes on a bit of DIY, does it instantly turn us women folk into their general personal assistant.

When I’m knee-deep in washing, ironing and household scum , and he’s chilling in front of the tv.

You don’t find me hollowing from beneath a pile of skiddy pants

 ” Can you get me a coffee love

or

 ” Could you just pass me that spatula darling”

No, I start a job by myself and I fucking finish it by myself!!!!

Thus prooving, men really do need a mummy, not a wife!