Reviews

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

Review: The Unsung Mum and The Train Trip Trauma

(***Disclaimer – I was given a complimentary ticket to go visit the Watercress Line on a Thomas day out. All thoughts and actions are my own.  If you’d like to know what it’s really like aka without the funny and more factual, then please see here. For a laugh, keep reading. Thank you.***)

It’s the night before their first nappy free trip out with The Second Child and The Unsung Mum is happily dicking around on Facebook and ignoring her children when an email pops up.

Fun. Thomas the Tank Engine.

Crappers. The Unsung Mum has forgotten all about this posh trip she agreed to last month, during one of her “episodes” where she assumes because her kids haven’t fought for 2.5 seconds or pissed over her carpet for half an hour that they can handle a very middle-class day out.

“How the hell did you forget to tell me that?” asked a shocked Hub.

“Well let me see dear. Between my bollocks freelance career, a explosive two-year-old that wants to potty train but hates the sight of her own piss, a fly that scares The Eldest, so she can’t sleep for more than four hours a night, a damp problem in the newly decorated hallway, a preschool red letter I swore I paid, a dishwasher that hasn’t been emptied in two days and a million and one other things, I’m not really sure.” She finished while imagining hitting him over the head with the dominatrix Barbie she just trod on.

“Oh well, just email back and cancel. No biggy.”

No biggy? NO FUCKING BIGGY??

This is the one and properly only time The Unsung Mum had been invited to something this middle class and posh. No, they were going alright.

The Unsung Mum must not lose face, even if it is going to involve a child only seven days into potty training being able to hold the contents of her bladder for more than 3 whole seconds.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.
FFS.

The Unsung Mum cannot visit the middle of middle-classness that is Winchester with a second child with a weaker bladder than the Radford Mum without proper supplies.

She sends The Hub out for anything he can find that will bribe his second child into submission.

At bedtime, all is right with the world and The Little Spratts go to bed lovely and quietly, giving The Unsung Mum and The Hub quality couple time together.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

The next day the kids wake up and decide that today they hate trains.

PANIC STATIONS.

The Eldest will only agree to go if she gets to wear lipstick and mascara and The Youngest point blank refuses to wear anything at all.

Fine. Let’s improvise.

On the way to the Watercress Line, The Hub thinks that taking a family selfie will show everyone what a happy middle class family they really are.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

Twat.

At the station, they bump into two guards who open train doors and smile, regardless of what you say.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

On a side note: Did you know that the Watercress line started life in 1865 for transporting locally grown watercress to London and beyond? No?

Well, you do now!

Anyway, it’s always a pleasure to bump into people dressed up as characters. We managed to see the Fat Controller, some dude dressed as an old-fashioned train driver and a had a picture with a person in full on tails. (Apparently, that’s what the guards wore way back when.)

After having a trip on the over zealous Diesel train and The Unsung Mum agreeing to another teacup (free) ride and go on the free bouncy castle, she decided to drum some culture into her children and make them come with her on the steam train to Alton.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

It’s always a pleasure going on family trips out.

The guard suggests a trip on Thomas, which is all fun and games until someone wants an almighty piss.

“Can’t you hold it?” The Unsung Mum hisses at The Youngest while smiling like Vernon Dursley.

“Need a poo. Now.”

Sharing dagger looks at each other while mentally debating which sad fool is going to take her, The Youngest decides to undress her bottom half, declaring that she now hates ladybird pants.

Great.

If receiving a physical dressing down from her youngest wasn’t enough, a good citizen of Winchester takes it on herself to congratulate The Unsung Mum on her award-winning parenting skills.

The Unsung Mum starts to get mad.

“Thank you for your opinions random posh lady. You think you’re so good at this parenting crap huh? Well fine, you probably are but you shouldn’t be putting other people down just because their kid shits on Thomas the Tank Engine then has a 20-minute tantrum over wearing pants. Giving in may be bad, and I may be raising the next gang leader of The Great British Train Robbery, but do you know what, at least she’ll be famous. So…there.”

For once, the good citizen of Winchester was lost for words.

And with that The Unsung Mum and her delinquent family swanned off towards the café, ready to spend a fiver on ice creams and other bad shit.

Watercress Line. Days Out. Thomas the Tank Engine.

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Bribery Uncut: A Mummy Diary

Day 1

Text to The Hub:

Cookies, Bribes, Mum Life

(Yes, I’ve realised how sad it is that we text each other emojis. We don’t get out much, least of all with each other, and chatting face to face is so 2007!)

He comes down the stairs from having (what I can only imagine of course) the biggest shit ever or just from his “go to” hiding place with a smirk on.

“I can’t get your children dressed. They just won’t move!” I moan. Notice how I call them his children? They are only mine when they are asleep or doing something brainy, like puzzles or not picky their nose.

“Come on girlys up the stairs.” He asks lightly, and they JUMP UP! No questions ask.

How the &^%$ does he do it? Does he have a magic wand I don’t know about? Do they just like him better? (It’s possible)

Oh well, he can be parent number 1 today, and I’ll go hide in the kitchen and pretend I’m actually cooking something organic.

Day 2

Kids at Grandmas. Don’t care! Whoop!

Day 3: Now named The Day from Hell

Despite a crappy night of musical beds and a 5 am wake-up, both kids are pretty chipper. That’s in till I mention we need to go shopping and suddenly limbs have fallen off, making walking impossible and they now only reply in one tone: screams.

The only thing that calms us all down is some well-deserved iPad time and a cookie for me. Screw the diet, and anyway, calories don’t count if they’re eaten before 8 am right?

 

Cookies, syn, eating, free

How long do you think a 4-year-old and 2-year-old would want to watch a sodding unpacking of a Kinder egg for?

cookie, brain, dead, asleep

Yep, I was pretty surprised too.

Day 4

We all felt rather wobbly and queasy as a result of a second night of musical beds and the over indulgence of unwrapping videos and cookies.

To ensure we got a better night tonight, I did the unthinkable and told them I would share my cookies if they promised to sleep tonight.

After a lot of pinky promises and nodding from the kids, I throw play-doh, cookies, and my phone at them and try to avoid getting cracked over the back of the head with it all.

Day 5

Had a slightly better night but feeling a bit stressed. When I don’t sleep I get stressed then cry. A lot. Normally only over the big things, though, like running out of The Big 3 (Cookies, Cake and Coke.) I can actually face most things in life like a ninja, but without The Big 3, well, I’m a mess!

Today I have to try and get two kids out the door, on time, looking presentable i.e no PJs and hair brushed.

Then I remember The Hub did the shopping yesterday, so I can now fulfill my master plan…

 

Eating cookies, happy mum, bribery works

No not that. Even though that would be sweet as! No. I’m going to bribe my way through it and hope for the best.

Want to see how I got on?

(Disclaimer: I was given all these cookies by Maryland to review. They where lush.)

Review: The Unsung Mum and her Flashy New Shirt

Today The Unsung Mum and her friends MouseMoo&MeToo and And Another Ten Things (Sam and Suzanne in real life) are off to the Big Smoke for a laugh and drink, under the disguise of going to #Blogfest16.

The Unsung Mum is very excited about the prospect of a whole night and day away, but a trip without The Spratts brings its own kind of pressures.

It’s like you have to squash all the adulting you can possibly do in those very precious twenty-four hours. These very intelligent and world-wise women (ahem) planned to get a year’s worth of drink, sleep and cake down their necks without anyone humming the bloody Peppa Pig theme tune or fighting over the use of their mobile phones.

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Review: The Unsung Mum and the Trampoline Test

In between the yelling, sobbing and the frantic Googling ‘are my children bloody normal’, The Unsung Mum has spent much of the six weeks’ holiday trying to be cool and fun.

So when The Unsung Mum was offered her first PR review, for Oxygen Free Jumping no less, she felt smugly clever and accepted with swag.

Having just lived through the longest summer holiday of her life, sustained only by the tiniest hope that September would eventually come, The Unsung Mum grabbed the opportunity to tire her feral kids out with two hands, and feet, if she could have managed it.

Entering into this wondrous new world of hot teenage referees telling your children off for you while still looking like something out of GQ magazine has amazed her.

She thought places like this were a myth, somewhere between kids sleeping through the night at six weeks old and not running off in M&S. Yes, today The Unsung Mum discovered what she could only call a bloody miracle.

The Unsung Mum weeps with joy as she surveys the plush blue seats and delicious looking cake that is sweetly singing her name.

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