Welcome to Mum in the South                                      

Blogging so my kids can read about themselves when they are older, as I may still be too traumatised to talk about it.

The penny has dropped

Posted Saturday 2nd August 2014   By Ericka Waller

My husband has finally admitted to having an affair. She's his 25 year old personal assistant. I found out after my six-year-old daughter told me that Megan had been looking after her, on her own, while daddy went out. Megan, I thought.. I know that name. Who knew a penny could hurt so much.

Did you poo us out? Telling my children about giving birth

Posted Tuesday 29th July 2014   By Ericka Waller

I was in the bath with the girls, when Thing-one asked “How did we get out your tummy? there is no hole” lifting my sagging envelope of skin to see if there was a secret trapdoor hidden in the folds of flesh.

Do you see yourself in your children?

Posted Tuesday 15th July 2014   By Ericka Waller

I never wanted to have daughters. I brooded over mini versions of my husband. Brown eyes like pools of chocolate. I never considered the idea of mini versions of me. I did not want to see myself reflected in someone else’s face. The thought of passing on my flaws and failings and fears horrified me. I wanted to harvest perfection, and I was so far from it.

Are you a fun mum?

Posted Thursday 26th June 2014   By Ericka Waller

I call my mum ‘the ministry of fun’. I mean it ironically. She is renowned for stopping people having a perfectly nice time, for no reason whatsoever. Last month when I went to visit her in France, she noticed me and dad having the best time ever doing the locomotion round the swimming pool (my top tip on how to mend a broken heart) and so turned off the CD player. No explanation, nothing. Then she marched back indoors to try and work out how to use her ‘tablet’ (MUM, please just call it a frigging notebook!)

Becoming a single parent

Posted Monday 16th June 2014   By Ericka Waller

I used to say: “I don’t know how single parents manage”. Now I know, because I am one. My life as a mum is different now. It’s (even more) full on, on my own. There is no one to warm the milk while I run the bath, or help look for the tiny Dalmatian Thing-three can’t sleep without. No one to sort the dishwasher, laundry or run the hoover round. I’m a whirlwind, writing to do lists on loo rolls, making packed lunches at midnight, losing track of days.

Contact me 
Email me