First up, I am NOT a pretty mummy. By far, I lounge about in sweatpants & t-shirt, and only check my image in the mirror if I have to see real people - i.e. not my son, my help or the hubby. I however do find the notion of being able to transform to a pretty mummy simply by putting a dress on, applying some make up & brushing my hair simply magical, and to a point liberating. No one notices this more than my 4 year old who I completely respect in his judgement and unequivocal ability to tell the truth.
I define myself as a mummy nowadays. Ever since I had my son, I can't seem to shut up about him. Everything he does & says, I find so riveting. Worse, when he's not around, I find myself chuckling when I recall his antics. Unfortunately no one else finds my stories of him (which I endlessly tell) quite as funny - can't blame them, so he calls me a pretty mummy just because I put on a dress, "oh?". So I've decided to keep my ramblings about him (& everything else that might be boring) here & portray myself of sound mind to the rest of the real world.
Wish me luck
Monday, November 2, 2009
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