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.

Time is the most precious gift you can give a child

Posted Tuesday 10th March 2015   By Ericka Waller

Growing up, I spent a lot of time with my Great Aunt. She lived just along the road, never married, and had no children of her own. She spoiled me rotten. At home, my brothers would have eaten all the Penguin biscuits before I’d gotten to the kitchen, but at Aunt’s house, there was always special chocolate, just for me. It was not just the chocolate though, or the marmite and cheese sandwiches. Nor was it the fact she let me loose with the garden hose and the soil when we planted her spring bulbs. She gave me something more valuable, more precious than all these things, she gave me her time.

10 incidents that prove I have a naughty child

Posted Tuesday 10th March 2015   By Ericka Waller

Having three children in three and a half years was always going to mean that some standards had to drop. Those of you who have three children will understand this. If there were a way to work out the average percentage of manners, obedience and house-training skills my children possess as a collective, it would be quite high (especially if calculated when they were at school, or with anyone other than me), but would be made up entirely by my two elder children, because my third one is rather ‘naughty’.

My relaxing half term

Posted Friday 20th February 2015   By Ericka Waller

So it’s half term. It’s not been as relaxing as I hoped it might be. Monday morning did not start with dragging children out from under covers (“Mummy, why do you make me go to bed when I am not tired, and wake me up when I am?”). It started with the sentence “Mum, she’s got poo on her foot, and the stairs, oh, and your vintage footstool.” Two hours of poo hunting later, I think I’d have preferred the school run.

The first last time

Posted Friday 20th February 2015   By Ericka Waller

So my eldest daughter can read. I am not sure when it happened, but she is doing it. She reads labels on packets, adverts, road signs, books I leave next to the bath. Her favourite author is Enid Blyton. She is collecting all of St Clares, Malory Towers, Famous Five and Naughtiest Girl. I remember reading them for the first time, getting the books from the library, the sound of the stamp as the clerk checked them out, the smell of the yellow pages. Once, my eldest brother “accidentally” pushed me down the stairs. His Famous Five collection bought my silence, and my bed was a balm for the bruises. Lost in “Five on Treasure Island” I felt no pain, I was too busy paddling in the sea.

Is being a mum a job?

Posted Sunday 8th February 2015   By Ericka Waller

So I was on the phone to the police to report my phone as stolen. I was already feeling a bit upset, and that was before she asked me, “What is your occupation?”. Am I the only person who hates this question? “Full-time mum” is a burn against all my working sisters (because you cannot work and still be a mum obviously). “Stay-at-home mum“ suggests I am agoraphobic and don’t do anything, and what am I when I go out, an ‘out-and-about mum’? “I don’t work/have a job” are words that are never going to pass this Trojan’s lips. “Unemployed” makes me feel like a failure, and being a mum of three children who find my scary voice funny already makes me feel failure enough.

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