Practical Parenting

Recently I've been wondering whether I'm actually a bit of a crap mother. I'd like to think I'm a good Mum and when I asked my son today what he liked about me I was rewarded with an honest appraisal of my parental fitness: 'you let me have Quality Streets'. Well, that's me mother of the year then. Ironically, the said Quality Streets were given to me by a student as a Christmas present and are in one of those paper cartons. Well, we've had them for virtually two months now and they are still only half eaten so clearly I don't even let my son have many Quality Streets.

This blog stems from me trying to work out this morning how many units of alcohol I consumed on a night out on Friday. The honest answer? I honestly don't know. I guessed the total numbers of glasses of wine, gin, cocktails, sambucca and tequila shots and, using the Drinkaware website, got to the staggering (pun completely intentional) total of 13.5 units and 795 calories. Ouch. Thankfully for me I don't get hangovers but I knew I wasn't fit to drive all day so I couldn't take my son out in the car. I did take him to the cinema to watch a Disney film but I kept nodding off.

Now, I'm aware that the perfect 1950s housewife was a mirage. Hand on heart I never planned to be a single mum: I was certain when I got pregnant that I was going to be with my husband forever. I also didn't plan to work fulltime when I had him, but circumstances pushed me into having a fulltime job. If you search the net for statistics on single parents you will find that a quarter of all children of lone parents live in poverty, that they are three times more likely to suffer emotional problems than children who have two parents living with them and every other statistic is bleak: likelihood to end up committing crime or suicide. It makes me feel really guilty that my son's potential has been damaged by my ex's choice to leave. But, on the other hand, I enjoy my freedom and am far happier. So, do I enjoy myself at my son's expense? Sometimes, yes. Usually, no. I'm not a perfect Mum, if such a person even exists, but I found these words on the BBC website to be very reassuring:

Jane Ahrends, from One Parent Families, said while single parents might face poverty, the image of them as "young, feckless women who deliberately get pregnant" was wrong.
"The vast majority of lone parents are ordinary working mums and dads in their 30s and 40s, who are just trying to do their best in circumstances they didn't choose," she said.

Sometimes I do get the balance wrong: but tonight my son and I had Dominos pizza in front of 'You've been Framed' and laughed our socks off. Ok, so it wasn't mung beans and dolphin friendly tuna steaks followed by an improving game of charades but we had a great time.

I need to remember that I'm a single Mum, not single.

Tuesday Night is Curr-istmas night (the 25th)

Tonight Velouria and Rio have thrown caution and financial solvency to the wind and had not just a Christmas meal, but a Marks and Spencers Christmas meal. This involved remarkably posh nut roast, veggies, leeks in Gloucester cheese sauce and Yorkshire pud. For pudding we had Christmas mulled fruit crumble and Armagnac crean which was so good we did pseudo-sex noises throughout it.

Tonight's topic: Ree and Vee's 12 days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me a frozen strawberry daiquiri
On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me two leather thongs
On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me three hot men
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me four brawling birds
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me five sore rings
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me six Gin and Tonics
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me seven muffs a-trimming
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me eight chavs a-blinging
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love sent to me nine boils a-lancing
On the tenth day of Christmas my true love sent to me ten lads a-leching
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love sent to me eleven arseholes parping
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me twelve armpits humming

Sadly this wasn't a podcast as Velouria just sang this modern classic beautifully and Rio howled through like a tone-deaf badger with the rhythmic ability of a drunk uncle at a wedding, dancing to Natasha Bedingfield.

Your turn: can you think of any alternative lines?

Tuesday Night is Curry Night - episode 4

Tonight's blog is sponsored by Sainsbury's Tadka Dhal, Saag Paneer, Bombay potatoes and pilau, accompanied by mini-naan. It is faintly gaseous in this abode.

10 things that make us happy

Velouria is made happy by:

1. Paris - every single last thing about it, even the bad bits.
2. Cocktails, especially daiquiries
3. City lights at night
4. Stained glass windows with sun shining through
5. Stationery - much and varied
6. Big funky Orla Kiely patterns, especially on handbags.
7. Sunshine
8. Finding a pound in your pocket
9. Strictly Come Dancing
10. Having nothing to do but lie still, eat chocolate and listen to my ipod.

Rio is made happy by:

1. Inventing long and witty conversations in my head and often letting the associated thoughts show on my face, to the confusion of passers-by.
2. Putting my feet into the cold corners of the duvet
3. Staring out of the window on trains (especially in tunnels)
4. The sound of rain falling on the outside of tents in the middle of the night
5. Sudden hail storms on bright days
6. Writing, especially if I can crack out a quality pun.
7. When my son gets words wrong
8. Cheese and onion pasties
9. The smell of my own skin on warm days
10. Adventures late at night in big cities

Spot the linguist, spot the scientist.

Your turn: what makes you happy?