Confessions of a Bad Mother come the promised Confessions of a Terrible Wife. I share them in the expectation my readers will not only absolve me of my sins, but that you will alleviate my guilt by sharing your own shameful secrets.Not particularly hot on the heels of
My husband tips his loose change onto the kitchen counter when he gets home. I take it and let him think he must have spent it.
I have no idea how to empty our vacuum cleaner. We've had it for five years and the children refer to it as Daddy's Hoover.
Sometimes I fake an orgasm just because I'm a bit bored.
Friday, 27 August 2010
Monday, 16 August 2010
Thursday, 12 August 2010
I mention this not in order to humiliate my son, but to make a point about smug parenting. We've all met smug parents before - at the school gate, in toddler groups, at baby sessions, in fact I've met smug parents in the waiting room of the maternity unit. Their off-spring were barely conceived before they began pontificating about the genius germinating within.
Thursday, 5 August 2010
I like it. It's rather endearing, especially when uttered with a toddler's lisp. In triplicate. It's not harsh or insulting, it's really rather quaint. So the husband and I have adopted the term - for weeks it has become part of family parlance. "You silly moffa!" I cry, as he burns the toast. I accidentally drop a Le Creuset on his toe; "oh what a silly moffa!" he retorts. Amid other things. Why, I even used it at work the other day.