mocha beanie mummy

At what point does Facial Orifice Fluid take the piss?

December 19, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 1 Comment

When it’s lasted WELL OVER A FUCKING MONTH.

Isaac is nothing but snot. And sometimes, it’s like, caked into an eyebrow. Or sometimes all over a cheek. In big green clumps. Sometimes, he and his brother have reached early puberty in liquid form; they have snot moustaches from where the trails of the clearer stuff has just caked itself to their top lips.

Seriously, there’s only so many times a day you can wipe someone’s face. I’m thinking about securing tissues to their faces by means of an elastic bands.

What’s really driving me batshit, is the combination of FOF combined with the most shittiest moods EVER. Omfg, I’m a bit bored of enduring trains being hurled across wooden tracks and random attacks of maliciousness at each. I’m either going to beat them both up to teach them a lesson, otherwise I’m going to sell them.

Since selling is more profitable and less likely to land me in trouble, I’m going to go with that.

I was out for the weekend and decided to wear my Uggs for warmth (say what you like – they may be ugly but they’re warm as fuck). I was non too impressed to see a questionable, dried on streak of something on both boots. How the hell? Snot on my boots? Is this another price of motherhood? What the very hell. I can understand the smears on my shoulder from where they’re burst into tears yet again and have decided I’m worthy of consoling themselves on me, asking for cuddles (it’s a rarity, trust me), but…my boots? That’s just wrong.

I’ve had to develop a new skill that other parents neglect to share details of (you mean swines). It’s become glaringly obvious that when pulling a top on or off one of these small FOF plastered children, it’s more than likely that stuff is going to go everywhere. Smeared all up the face/down the chin, streaked through the hair/over the chin and inevitably, all over the article of clothing.

This? Is never pretty. In fact, when you find yourself reaching for the baby wipes and picking the globules of it out of their rather thick and curly hair, you begin to realise it’s up there with poop smears and minor vomit spills.

Such is the glamorous life we live in this house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to remove a bright green slug from someone’s top lip.

Nice.

Filed Under: Facial Orifice Fluid (FOF), illness, Isaac, MAKE IT STOP, Mutha-Hood, Noah

Silent Sunday

December 18, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 11 Comments

Rock The Frock, St Agnes, Powell Dec 11 © Jay Mountford Photography

Filed Under: Silent Sunday

Dear So and So… #UKSnow #RockTheFrock Edition

December 16, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 1 Comment

Dear Powers That Be

I have a Rock The Frock session tomorrow down in Cornwall. On a beach. So, yes, that means I’m picking up my lovely friend and his camera, and we will be DRIVING to south Cornwall.

Now, I know it’s winter, I appreciate that. I also appreciate that, this time last year, you hit the UK with the largest amount of snow I have seen in years. And it was lovely! It really was. Very pretty. Etc.

But I need to DRIVE tomorrow. DRIVE. For 4 hours. I do not want to do it in the snow.

You get what I’m saying?

Not. In. The. Snow.

You can make it snow as MUCH as you like once I’m down there, but beforehand?

No.

Snow on the beach? Yes. Awesome.

Snow on the motorway? No. Suckage.

You get what I’m saying, right?

Yours, loving snow but not on the road, JMP.

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear

If I go off into a crazy one and start speaking like I’m on speed, I’m really not on speed. I apologise in advance.

But hey! It’s going to be AWESOME.

Love, the girlie with the camera x

PS I hope you didn’t mind me offering you my pants, it just seemed right, you know?

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear

Oh dude. Road trip my friend, Road Trip.

Make sure you bring spare knickers.

Jay x

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear people who I’m hoping will support me

You will cheer us on from the warmth of your sofas, right? Yes?

Please?

Jay who is nervous as hell and trying really hard not to show it. x

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Dear DSS Readers

There’s a far better Dear So and So post over at the host’s place. Go check it.

Word.

Filed Under: actual happy times, AWESOMENESS, Dear So and So, Jay Mountford Photography, photography, pimping myself rotten

The way I see it, is that it’s not how you see it.

December 15, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy Leave a Comment

I wrote this a few weeks ago.

Im currently on a train to London as I write this. I’m going to see a therapist. He does hypnotherapy. I’ve been to one before, he was really good.

I’m sure you can probably guess why I’m going. If you know me.

I’m hoping to learn a lot about how I see things. I don’t just mean with my eyes, but with my whole mind.

As I’m looking out the window, I think back to being a kid and how I could stare endlessly out the window for hours and hours whilst on a train. Even in the underground, I’d stare out the window into the blackness, always finding something to see, some how.

Whilst I’m doing this journey on the train, I’m realising some things about myself.

I’m one of those long winded, expressive, arty creative types; you know, the ones who are. Just that little bit eccentric and you never quite know what questionable bollocks they’re going to come out with next.

I don’t fully fit that bill, I think, but I know I’m close.

And I realize this because of the way I see things. I’ve thought for a long time, that there are too many colours and visions in my head. Tat there are too many things for me to see, and that the things I DO see, I don’t seem to see them like I suspect most other people do.

Which is a bit infuriating, because I think my head would be a lot calmer, and clearer, and quieter, if I didn’t see so much.

As I’m watching the world whizz by own this Pendolino (which smells delicious because everyone’s eating breakfast), I can’t work out why my mind is insanely happy to drink in everything it’s seeing. And I mean everything.

If it wasn’t for the crap all over the windows on the outside, I suspect I would have taken a frillion pictures. Not necessarily to show off to other people, but just to let my brain process. It does a lot of processing. I see stuff, but I don’t often process it until I’ve seen it.

I think.

Processing means more noise.

I like processing, in a weird way. It helps me maintain control of what I see, what I have to hear. And I see and hear a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I see and hear too much; that seems to be when I get all twitchy and want to do something else instead.

When I get to this therapy session, I hope I’m not muted. Oddly, I hope everything else isn’t muted, because the noise and what I see is some kind of security blanket. It’s me, it’s what I do, it’s who I am.

I still want to be able to see. Maybe it would be better to see less? Or maybe how I see it is actually very important?

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure that out one day.

Sunrise