MOTHERGATE

  

Oh boy what I know now that I didn't know back then as a first time, spanking brand new mumma; delving into the dark, murky depths of parenthoodville. 👶  Why does no one EVER tell you the truth? To be honest for me parenthood is like the most wonderfully painful, most happiest torturous experience I have ever known. The horror of the nappy change, the gruelling broken nights sleep, the 'WTF am I doing with my life' continual track playing over and over inside my head. Listen I love being a mother I really do, but it can be a killer at times. Right? Some days I feel like the hills are alive with the sound of music and other days I want to stick my head in the toilet. 😢  To date three boys have now checked out of my downstairs hotel and I am just gonna tell it like it is.  We need to dispel the fudgy myth of the so called 'perfect mother'.  Well now my boys are bigger boys; I am gonna do it; just tell you the truth. My mom truths earned from my mothering war wounds. My clandestine hacks and 'Top Secret' tricks of the mummahood trade!  Oooh its all sounds a bit FBI(ish) eh? Well lets just call this post 'Mothergate'. 💼  Here we go with the OK dis n' dat! 

 

 

👍 It's OK to put them in front of the television but make sure its relevant viewing of course, so probably not Homes Under The Hammer. Its also ok to restrain them with buggy straps so they have no choice BUT to watch the television in order to give yourself a break/go to the toilet/brush your hair/not go nuts/scratch your left buttock if you need to.

 

 

👍 It's OK (when they get sick) to feed them hoola hoops for tea if it preserves your sanity. Don't bother killing yourself to prepare a meal they are only gonna cry and whinge over and eventually spew up.  Salty crisps are a lurgies staple in the Thompson household. On my tombstone I swear its gonna say 'HOOLA HOOPS SAVED MY LIFE' .

 

 

👍 It's OK to worry that you might make the same mistakes your parents made. You wont I promise. You will just make brand new ones of your own. However the bags of love you have for your bubbas will cover a multitude of sins. Promise.

 

  

👍 It's OK to feel like you aren't a perfect mother. They don't exist. If they do exist and you spot one of these 'perfect mothers' do not be fooled, they are robots with batteries up their- 🙊

 

👍 It's OK to want to do very VERY bad things to Mr Tumble 👴 when you have watched him for the 579th time this week (and I don't mean in a sexy way). BTW I know that emoji face thing doesn't look like Mr Tumble but its the nearest thing I could find on my medieval laptop so could we just go with it for now please.

👍 It's OK if you find yourself wandering aimlessly, in a daze, pushing a buggy (either with or without a kid in it really) around Morrisons buying shizz you don't need ie: a loofah stick/Stitchwork Monthly magazine/3 for 2 on After Eights/Pyrex anything - just to kill the ongoing waves of exhaustion and boredom of having small children at times. Husband: Darling that's the fourth loofah brush you have bought this week, are you OK?

 

👍 It's OK to want to shoot nice old ladies in Morrisons (always in Morrisons) who tell you to enjoy this time as it will soon go and cheer up and smile and something else about "enjoy them while they're young dear and don't look so unhappy dear blah blah blah...." BANG! 🔫

 

👍 It's OK to buy yourself quinoa AND a dairymilk so you feel like you have your shit together. That way you can preserve your smug paleo gluten free dietary righteousness but also give yourself a sodding break love.

   

 

👍  It's OK if you feel low at any point whilst raising little people. This is normal. All mothers go through this. We just don't talk about it. Even the perfect mother-robot types that don't want you to know they cried their eyes out on the bathroom floor last night with the tap running so the rest of the family wouldn't hear so as not to wake the baby. Again.

 

👍 It's OK to go to Macdonalds.🍟 Its always OK to go to Macdonalds. Remember love its for your benefit not theirs.

👍 It's OK to eat kids leftovers, cold, off their plates when you can't been bothered to cook (again) for yourself, when the little munchers have bulldozered your culinary morale and your husband is working late. Those at the bottom of the food chain (you basically love) are an endangered species and must eat what and whenever they can. This is called survival. If you feel bad just have an apple before bed to make it a balanced diet. 

👍   It's OK to mutter naughty words under your breath when trying to leave the house with children. Every woman knows leaving your home with any number of little people in tow is the second most traumatic experience you will ever go through after childbirth. "Mummy what's a little funker?"

 

👍   It's OK to openly discipline your kid having a screaming tantrum in front of other observing shoppers but then secretly buy them something on the side (when you are tired and desperate obvs) to keep them quiet in the den of iniquity that is 'the supermarket' (yes, Morrison's again).

 👍  It's OK to sneakily recycle yet another piece of your kids artwork and then console your guilt because well, you are doing a greater good by helping the environment aren't you? And then when they ask you where 'Timmy the space dog' made out of cereal boxes and bra straps is you say 'Yes mummy has put it somewhere very safe darling'.

 

👍   It's OK when you cant face going to yet another babygroup for fear that your brain may disintegrate and change into a liquid state that drips out from your left nostril onto your shoes and choose instead to sit in Costa with your little one. Costa can be an educational place too; you are teaching them about the origins of the coffee bean/fair trade culture; plus you are teaching them table etiquette at the same time. Result no? 🍵Also further kid creative stimulation may be ensured by some poundland plastic toot and is a great accompaniment to your coffee date. This may easily be purchased on your way to your nearest coffee shop in order to keep the kid quiet, I mean amused.

 

👍  It's OK to pretend you are fast asleep so you cant hear the kids when they call mummy (or muuuummmmmeeeeeeeee!!!!!!) and instead wait for your hubby/partner to get up and then pretend to come round in a sleepy daze (stumble a bit for added drama)... 💤  "what oh sorry ... oh did they wake up sorry....I was out for the count. You should have woken me darling didn't want you to have to get up." I personally have perfected this over the years. Hehe.

  
 

👍    It's OK to try and watch a juicy slither of This Morning and pacify them with a box of sugar free raisins and organic gluten free baby biscuits. Failing that a box celebrations/ KFC bucket should do it. 😉

 👍  It's OK to agree with the mums at parenting groups/health care experts/online forums about controlled feeding/sleeping/nappy changing/number of times your baby should breathe but then totally make it up as you go along in the confines of your own home, because, well, you know your baby the best.

 

 👍 It's OK to give them food from a jar (and yourself)

  

 

👍  It's OK to give them milk from a bottle (and yourself; but not milk, the stronger stuff)

  

Are you still on board with me on this Mothergate voyage of truth? Good good. Well now for a little bit of this...

👍      It's OK to roll around on the bed with your kids and have a laugh at the expense of 'getting on top of everything'. May I recommend 'Hulk Smash' whereby you the parent lie on the bed and they jump on you. 👊 May I advise placing a pillow over your head to avoid any serious brain damage. There is no such thing anyway called 'on top of everything'. Every time you climb the top of one parenting mountain and reach the summit (where you experience 2.4 seconds of being in control) the whole thing crumbles on top of you and you start again. There is no 'on top of it'. It's a parental myth.

👍  It's OK to stop doing jobs and listen to them read, or lie with them while they look at a book. Even if you fall asleep and make interested semi-enthusiastic grunting noises you are still together. They just want you there. Not stuff. Not a tidy house or an 'it' mum, just you m'lady.

 👍   It's OK to have an imperfect life girlfriend with dirty dishes and unbrushed teeth (yours not theirs) but to have a perfect love for your kids. I remember the day I started to live my life again, when with counselling for PND I started to leave the beds unmade and cushions on the floor as part of my healing.

 

👍  It's OK to take shortcuts in order to have a happy mum and a happy baby/toddler/kid/teen. Fine. Listen to the professionals they are amazing. BUT the only professional that should be telling you what you or your baby/child needs is you!

  

👍   It's OK to say no to things, engagements and people that drain your energy to make sure you are a happy mama for you and your kids.

 

 

👍   It's OK to cut other women out of your life who make you feel rubbish and small and meh. ✅(Do that one soon ok.)

 

 

👍 It's OK to fight back at grumpy (gremlins in disguise I'm sure of this) passers by who comment on how you raise your kid, or tell you they are badly behaved/too loud/too excitable etc.... when they are just being kids. OR if they are perhaps a scrooge like looking man who tells you to get out of the library with your three little boys who are happily, but a tad noisily, looking for books. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT run out quickly with them and cry your eyes out in the street. Instead just shout back at the man! (and cry later at home like I did)

 

👍  It's OK to turn the world off. To just stop everything once and a while and just basically give yourself a break woman.

 

👍    It's OK to be proud of yourself. 👌 You made (and now have the petrifying responsibility of raising) an actual human???!!!???!! If not plural; HUMANS!!!!

 

 

👍   And finally........ it's OK. Yes all of it. Even when it doesn't feel like it, it will all come good in the end.

 

I wish I knew back then what I know now. I wish I had been kinder to myself and more forgiving of my mistakes. I never knew this supportive subterranean world of Mothergate existed back then. This breed of lovingly baddass, real, imperfect, messy, wonderful mothers who take a little shortcut once and a while. The fundamental crux of Mothergate is this 👉 don't try and be a perfect mother but be a real one. Be present for your kid. Yes you. Ms broken, happy, wonderful, imperfect YOU. Hoola hoops anyone?

Small Print Disclaimer: The writer takes no responsibility for the assassination of old ladies in Morrisons as a consequence of this blog.



                                      

The Big Fat Greek Mother with Son number one. Master Harrison aged 4 weeks. 2006.

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

Today whirring round and around my head is the concept of the 'girl gang'.👊 What does it mean to really be a girls girl? Well it doesn't mean you have to be 'girly' to be a girls girl as such; it means to actually have another sister's back and to know she's got yours. Wow do y'know how rock diamond that is? I think a lot of girls say they are in the 'girl gang crew' but when the spaghetti Bolognese hits the fan (better than the 'shit' option anyway) are they? Like really? I have always worn my girl badge with honour and supported women in the way I feel I too need to be supported. I honestly can't understand how you can be successful in this life without supporting other women. Watching Adele praise Beyoncé at the Grammy's touched us right? Adele saying the lemonade album gave her light and hope when she had lost herself after having her baby struck a cord with women the world over. A girls love can light your way in a way that a boys just simply cant.
 
You can have all the icing on the success cake (whatever success means to you) but If you don't lift up other women as you climb those stairs, is it all worth it Miss? It can get pretty lonely up at the top especially if you have no one to lift you in your own time of need. Its worrying and sad that many women talk about being bullied or belittled at work, not by men, but by other women. Never mind the workplace, what about at the mums coffee morning or baby group? How about at the school gates? There are always the mums who build others up and others that just don't. It doesn't hurt to be kind or to help another woman up off the floor. But some girls just choke on it. Cant' do it. Why? Do they feel threatened maybe that if they highlight how great another woman is or how wonderful someone else's parenting is it will highlight their own insecurities, failings or jealousies? It really doesn't work this way though; (major gush and emosh alert comin' up) you see if you bring love to another gal it comes back to you. I'm telling you it makes you feel good. Try it. (If you haven't done so already of course)

At school I grew up being bullied and made fun of by a group of so called 'It' girls, AKA 'the mean girls'. They made fun of me for being podgy and wearing glasses. Also rather unfortunately I sported a mullet. It was not good. I also didn't help myself because I was a swot and I thoroughly enjoyed being a swot, which only heaped more fire on the skinny cool girls coals. They humiliated me and made my life the miserable low down pits. I bought into their negativity and took on what they called me: Miss Piggy, Four Eyes.... Why? Because well I thought if they think I'm that shitty I must be shitty. The worst of those times being when they shut me in the school toilets and roughed me up. You see I too have had to overcome a lot of insecurities and trust issues with other women myself; partly because I had a fear that deep down I wasn't good enough. That I wasn't liked. Know that feeling? That pesky paranoia ladies? We all struggle with these thoughts to some degree or other. We just need to be a bit more open about girl stuff like this. Its okay to feel a bit wobbly or insecure girls, they are just feelings and we all got them! Even the 'It' girls, the 'It' women and the 'It' mothers that you might think have it all together all the time.

Today I got to say I just love my girlfriends. Like so so much and I have their backs, oh and I know they got mine. You know who you are. Who are your middle of the night girls? (no sleaze intended) am talking about when your in it. Like totally up to your neck in it, this thing called 'life', then who are the ones you call?. Who could you dial up at 2am and know they wouldn't mind you disturbing their second realm of sleep?(zzzzzzzzzz) Who are you there for? To lift another woman up when you feel like wet fish, when you have zero pence and your bad hair day has been going on for weeks and weeks isn't easy. BUT it brings the magic. I'm talking girlpower magic. Because when you truly 100% think you go girl for another friend, another girl, another sister or mother you become a little less self-obsessed. You deepen and you grow, ok it hurts a bit, but then you get humble and then your crown, your time comes. You find that thing you were looking for. You make it too honey. Is this making sense? I love that quote that says "Real Queens fix each others crowns". This is truth. Standard. 👍
 
True beauty is being a mother who helps other mothers. I surround myself with mothers who are real, who love who don't mind confessing their bad mistakes, their mess ups. Their screaming fits at their kids on school mornings.  Like when you totally lose yo' shit in a whirling frenzy of odd gloves, skanky packed lunch boxes, mind-numbing squabbling, crushed cheese-strings, tantrums (them and you), lost p.e kits and the rest. Oh and the rest..... Anyone else? Oh just me then is it. 😉 I put my hands up and say I am not a perfect mum. I have done things I regret and I am ashamed of. But I thank God I have women in my life who I can be real with. Women who mess up too and aren't afraid to say it. Women who don't put others down when they cock it up and allow them some grace. Grace is an old-fashioned word not used much these days but boy do we all need it. I need it too, so so bad ladies. Lets be kinder to each other.

Listen I know, I know I am a gushing beast and a lovey dovey actress. I know probably drop too much 'love you love you love you' all over da place! However what I'm talking about here isn't about being fake but about matching your words to your actions. Would it hurt you little lady to compliment or help another mother in the playground, another woman at work? Or how about covering another girl when she messes up bad. Does it kill you to praise your friends kid when they won an award and yours didn't? Or how about having someone's kids back for tea to help another mother out even when messes up your nice house? Ouch eh? Sometimes we have to do things even when they hurt because that's how we grow. I loathed the North London hipster baby groups I went to with my first son, we are talking about 10 years ago now. The community I lived in was so competitive surrounded by middle class hip (oh so hip) mums who appeared to have it all. (I wanted it all too but didn't quite match up) There was no one I could be real with. I realise now these top grade mums with deluxe travel systems (compared to my less fab second hand buggy) were struggling too but were just to cool or proud to say it.

Times were different then and there certainly wasn't a push for a sisterhood/mamahood/ girlgang movement going on like there is now. Check out the amazing Colour Sisterhood as one example and its global movement of everyday women. Their events are incredible and have personally developed me as a woman and mother. I thank the mothering community I have found through Instagram with all my heart too for their support and mutual love and friendship. I know there was some backlash in The Sunday Times at the weekend about the online pressures of being an 'Insta Mum', however I think it is a matter of perception. The mothering community on instagram that I know is not there (we would hope) to compete with another. The pressure to be good enough or like the other mothers around you (or online) comes from within you. The mothers I know in everyday life or follow on Instagram are the ones who bear warts and all. Who are honest about the realities of motherhood and support other women. Motherhood is not a competition because we are in it together and no one needs to feel any pressure to win any prize. Ever. I struggled with my firstborn because I couldn't breastfeed and was continually plagued by mastitis. To make things worse the onset of PND made me terrified that I wasn't a good enough mum. I had a couple of cherished friends that saw me through but I didn't have the access to an open and honest mothering community (socially and online) that I have now.
 I don't know about you but the more I give to 'dem gals' the more I get lifted myself. We all have insecurities girls, mothers, sisters but lets not put other women down to make ourselves feel better. You know you can actually deal with insecurities in another way too. By telling someone if they look beautiful when you really don't feel that yourself. Noticing another girls new haircut or applauding some baddass achievement.  By saying well done when a friends baby starts walking before yours; by celebrating a friends promotion when your job sucks or worse still you have no job; then this is girlgang.
 
Love, real love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 💝
You see there is a place for us all. A corner for each of us to light up. Jealousy is toxic and steals you of your own portion little lady. Oh yeah didn't you know? You got your own portion. Your own crown. Your own time is coming my darling. Love your sisters because you reap what you sow. Sow in love baby girl. Sow in love.

What Women Really Want

By Bambos "Heracles" Constantinou

Hello my name is Bambos and I am fit. I am well fit. Also I am good with women and they know it. Not everyone is as good as me as getting gels and knowing what they want. Thats coz I got special powers of attracksion and I know how to sort women out. Especially the moody ones. Also me mum has tort me a lot about womens bits n'that. I want to say fanks to my cousin Androulla for spell checkin this what I've written. This is first time what I have ever wrote a bog. Hope its boss 4U mate.
  

What you need to know first of all is that girls like you to treat them bad. They don't want no nice boy its a lie, what they call a miff in Ainchent Greece. The fing is believe or not, the worse you treat them the more they want you. All the gels what say they fight for feminine rights just melt in my hand. Like pussycats innit. Don't you believe it mate women are only playing hard to get, they don't really want quality of the sexes. Women want you to dominoe over them and tell em what to do. Women actually love it if you let them clear up for you and cook n' clean n' that. I went out with a bird called Christy once who was very sweaty all the time, but always ironed my shirts so nice. It was a hard time for me when I had to dump her and let her go. Fing is women really REALLY want to do housework. I'm telling you they beg for it. Makes them feel wanted and used. My mum washes all my pants and she loves it and for a treat on Mothers day I let her cut my toenails n'all.


Some birds got something very bad called 'mormones'. A birds mormones can be really really bad and make her life difficult. Its been mishunderstood that men can make womens mormones worse by gettin' on their nerves. This is a lie because its not my fault if my bird is a miserable cow innit!. My cousin Stavros ex gelfreind Bianca keyed his BMW coz her mormones were so bad. Poor fella I fink she got that disease called the mentalpause that women get when they have parsed their sell by date. So make sure you pick a bird that has good mormones so she can treat you right. Its best to select a bird that is young coz she is calmer and easier to manage like a mote control car. Also never ever ever EVER go near any woman at all when she got that time of the month coz she could kill you. Its not safe mate.

When you pick a gel go check out her mother first that she ain't no minger. See I went out with a gel called Maria once and when i met her mum I was well shocked coz she had a tache and was the size of a number 29 bus. So I dumped her innit coz women always turn into their mothers. Watch out mate consider this a warning. Sometimes you might hit the jackpot and the mother might be a better looker than her dorter.  If you get that then dump her and take out her mum instead. Rimember check out the mother hen first before you go out with the chick.

Women want you to know how to dress. Its portant to Dress right for women.  Im a small guy but I make sure my pants are well tight so the girls can see the goods. If i really want to impress a bird I wear some fresh white socks and slip on my black leather shoes. This is something called 'taste' and women love it. A onezie is always a good idea to wear on a casual date like the cinema or if you go Brent Cross with a woman coz its shows her you is a relaxed down to earth bloke. Also dont wash too often coz womens like that dirty manly cowboy smell. I dont wash for days so sometimes sweeten it up with a bit of Brut if I am seeing a woman.

You gotta be savvy when chousing the right woman. At the cash n'carry I gotta chouse the best potatoes out the bag and leave the dodgy ones. Treat a women like a potato. Take the good ones out and leave the funny looking ones behind. Some women have a nice pershonality and deep filings but are well butters and you can go for one of them but id advice against it.  Oh and make sure you go for a gel with a big arse coz she is the one that will pop kids out the best. I saw that on the Karadashians. 


Another fing to watch out is you can understand women by always doing the oposite of what they say. They really love it if you do this. Girls say they want a nice slap up dinner in a fancy restaurant but what they really want is a Macdonalds or if you wanna be flash a Burger King. Remember gels like it down to earth. I have sedated lots a gels wiv my powers of attraksion by using a toothpick to clean my teeth on a date. It only works if you stair into there eyes at the same time to look interestid. They love it. They beg for it. My mate Harrys fiance been asking him to do the decorating for over a year now but he's clever and he dont do it coz he knows she really wants the oposite. 

Every now and again suprise the woman, throw a dog a bone and treat her. Wood Green Shoppin City does a nice gels hamper for valentimes day for a fiver its got everything in it. Candles and nice knock off chocolate and everything. Just watch out because the bubble bath in it took my mates skin off last week. Oh and gels also love it when you give them the opotunity to give YOU a masharg. Also another tip is Bounds Green Kebab house do the cheepest grub in north London and its all you can eat fing. Girls love that coz its value for money and it shows them you are matchure.

Oh and a final fing if you do wot i writ here in this bog then what women really want is YOU mate. Get in there go on back of the net!.

Bambos is a North London business man and owner of Bambos Cash & Carry on Green Lanes.

Watch Bambos go out OUT on Alexia Stifado & Friends on youtube

https://youtu.be/6SyQUQ-2OW0

Get Happy.

                                         

Ok so shock revelation I found out yesterday a piece of information that has crippled my joy and CRUSHED my world. I am a glass half full kinda gal so it doesn't take much to tip me over the edge. Ok, you ready? Here it is: MY EYELASHES ARE AGEING! I kid you not. I read this in The Sunday Times Style mag, which is pretty much the Bible of all things fash' n beauty, so it is in fact FACT. So now as well as all the other 534 things I worry about, I also have to now face the reality that every nook and cranny of my bod is aging. Rats that's my modelling career over then.

So it got me thinking about all the other things I worry about. The worries that hound my chunk of peace and happiness and continually threaten it with jibes and recurring mind obsessive chit-chat; in a nutshell, that I am failure basically. This is a dirty deep rooted fear from my childhood for lots of different reasons. Every time I think I have shrugged it off it follows me up the stairs or attaches itself to my leg and wont let go. I am a worrier just like my dad and the trouble is that the worries always take bed in that fundamental damaged foundation of my girlhood where they lounge and grow. I know I'm not alone.

Here's some worries right now from my worry pot; Son number 1 is turning into a grunting man-boy whose phone has become an extension of his nose and I just don't want to lose him!!! My firstborn!!! NOT EVER!!!  Son number two is disturbingly calculating in a (Crimewatch kind of way) and doesn't eat anything unless its a plate of sweets. Also son number two is saving up for a tortoise may I add. Yes I just wrote that. Yes it's happening in my life.  Son number three has been so mollycoddled and over-fed by me (but he's the baby!!!) that I worry he might end up living with us forever.  But now here's the rub, the biggun' the humungazoid of worries; I walked out of a job that made me so miserable and ill four months ago without having anything else to go on to. Stupido? Much? Well I don't regret leaving, no not ever, but financially it really aint fine n' dandy for us right now.

I worry so so much about the 'me' word.  What am I now? (what have I done eek no job!!!) I know I'm a mum, tick. I know I'm a wife, tick. But what else? Whats is my title/job/box now?. Our family calender goes like this, in columns: 'Harrison', 'Marcus', 'Pierce', 'Paul' (the hubster) and then 'Mummy'. No name, just 'Mummy'.  Whats is 'the mummy?' Who is 'the mummy?' I realize that I am at a point in my life where I am coming to my mothering senses so to speak. My boys are all at school and I walked out of job that was breaking my heart and killing my insides, yeah just left y'know. Life has slowed down and I am a now a very healthy and happy (poor) person.  Before me I have a blank canvas to sprawl myself on and stamp my big fat Greek ass logo on. Yeah, I'll do that.  In a minute. Maybe tomorrow. Ok today. Maybe.

You see its hard to know who you are sometimes when you have devoted your whole life to your kids. When you have put them and their needs first and suddenly someone shouts that your on stage to perform in a production of 'Your Own Life' in like FIVE MINUTES!!!!!! Oh and you are naked by the way. (or was that a dream I had? Well anyways you get the gist) That's how I feel, Maybe if we are honest how a lot of us women feel. Happiness was once just about if my kids were happy. Period. Listen I still want that but I want the 'me' to be happy too y'know  'the mummy'. (not sure that's grammatically correct but lets just go with it for now shall we.) Y'know I lost myself when I had my three boys, mostly due to PND which I spoke about in my first blog, I remember the days of pushing a double buggy with a buggy board attached (yes there is such a contraption of torture for mothers would you believe it!) like totally in a fog! I knew I was pushing the buggy but I wasn't really present. I felt lost. I had three boys under four (WHAT THE!!!??? I know, I know) and I did a good job but all the while felt I was drowning. I loved those three boys like nothing else (I still do before you call social services) but I wasn't really there y'know. Present. My body did the work but my head was 'out to lunch' so to speak. Even when I look back now there is a numb patch of motherhood. I thank God I got well and that we have all come through miraculously unscathed as a family. I am grateful, so grateful that and I am whole again. But I am left with the question, now what?

What's gonna make me happy? What were the dreams I had and shelved, neigh buried in fact. BB as I call it: Before Boys. What about you? What are your dreams my darling? Yes, you, reading this now.
I think we are all searching for happiness aren't we. Aren't we? The dreams you had haven't gone away. Dormant doesn't mean dead. The happiness you long for is right there with you, in your hands sugar. Sometimes we strive for something beyond when all the grace and joy we need is right in front of us, around us, in us. The person you lost is still there, I promise.  The dreams you had. you still have. It's all there don't worry. I actually feel that I am 'thawing out' from mothering if that makes sense? I am still a loving devoted mum but I am coming round so to speak and remembering the things I once loved to do. The person I used to be.

How do you get the happiness? Like actually physically get it, grab it then eh? Well I think as a woman, as a mum it's by making and creating space in your life (I know how ridiculous and impossible this sounds.) But sometimes, especially as mums, we think if we aren't running around (headless chicken stylee) doing everything at once then that is resting. But its not. Not doing is not resting. Not doing doesn't amount to stillness. Not doing doesn't mean you are giving yourself the space to find your happy and figure out your girl thang. Is your mind at peace? What is the cost you are willing to pay for happiness? Oh its going to cost. I think for me its letting go of perfection and the need to have it all well, perfect. The perfect house, the perfect made beds, the perfect folded washing, the perfect folded kids. Sometimes you need to let things go for a bit to look after you. To find you. Right now as I tap away at the lap top I sit with a wet crotch from spilling my coffee all over myself. But its okay I'm going to keep going, keep writing. Whatever you need to do pretty mama do it. I like saying pretty mama by the way. Is it taking time in a coffee shop to reconnect with yourself with a notebook, is it a long walk or exercise, or a piece of music. Find it and do it and be. We never just 'be' as women, as mums.

All I ever wanted to be was an actress. Aged 5 I began playing different characters, different imagined people each day to deal with a trauma that had happened to me growing up. At junior school they thought I was deaf, but that's only because I chose to play at being deaf. Aged 11 I wanted to audition for The Going Live Talent Contest with Philip Schofield (man now you know how ancient I am) but my dad wouldn't take me all the way to Birmingham and I sobbed. Shame. My Cilla Black impersonation was the bomb. Still is actually if you are asking.

I want to act and make people laugh and 'do the funny' as my Greek mama says. I am pursuing my comedy career and I am scared, like poo my pants scared. I still feel like a bit of a fraud at the school gates talking myself down. "Like really? Who do you think you are? You a mum of  three? Really at this stage in life? Aren't you going to be 42?" Self-talk sucks and it ain't real. Just coz your mind says something to you Mrs it doesn't make it real, did you know that?. I have paid a lot in tears to learn the truth I am telling you now. I am pursuing my dream even though it feels 'wrong' because I know in my gut, not my head, that it's right. What about you? Whats your dream? What did you like to play when you were five little lady? I don't want to come over all 'cheesy-fluffy-cutesy cat picture' (cant bear those) with you,  I am being real with you. We try so hard to be mum-woman sensible and tick life's big boxes but what about taking time out to be happy, to actually figure out what that means to you. Time out to play and dream again?. Go on dream again I dare you. Go get you some happy. Don't put it off till tomorrow. Now, is the best moment of your life.

My Big Fat Greek Visitor

I got a Big Fat Greek slap in the face aged 11 when I got my first Big Fat Greek Visitor. Now by visitor I mean (get ready for it): Time of the month/Aunt Flo/Code Red or Monthly visitor as it is universally known.  In Germany its called 'strawberry week' how charming! Denmark is rather inventive with "There are communists in the funhouse". There are none of those in my funhouse I can tell you! Why are there are so many euphemisms BTW for this lady time? (see I did it too) There are over 5,000 slang terms for 'period'. Rats I said the P word! Why can't we say the P word? Its made out to be so taboo and dirty and messy and covered up by adverts showing pretty girls running in into the ocean/sunset/woodland, who appear to be just oh so delighted that they are bleeding to death. My experience was as far away as you can get from this squeaky clean wholesome 'womanhoodness' thing I saw on the telly.

Because like I said I was E-L-E-V-E-N just 11...and the slappee you ask? Well none other than my Big fat Greek mumma. Why? Because its an old Greek wives tale that when you get your first period (shizzz I said it again!) you need that whack on the chops to draw the blood to your face. That smack is an old Greek rite of passage that supposedly buffers the shock of that very first menstruation. A girl got slapped in order to stop her fainting, logical innt?. Er ok...IT HURT!!!!! Was I subliminally being punished for becoming a woman? Is that what society does to us girls?  Be a girl and do your girl ting but slop up your woman-mess while you do it, because nobody wants to see it. I'm afraid its too primal my dear put it away!. Hmmmm.  Here's another slap to the face, my mumma-yiayia-aunts (Greek women are a kind of matriarchal she-beast hybrid by the way, they merge together over time) told me to never ever wash my hair when I had my period coz I would go blind. BLIND!??!  Let me tell you the trauma I went though as an 11 year old girlwoman!!!! I was having a shower once when some water tricked into my eyes and I screeeeeeeaaamed the house down. I remember having my eyes shut tight, terrified and panic stricken thinking I was blind?. Well, until I opened my eyes that is and checked that I still had the 20:20 vision thing going on.

Here's another blow; you cant go get Holy Communion in the Greek Church, I was told as a young girl, coz you just aren't 'deemed' clean. Does that mean you are unclean when you become a woman? Deemed? Deemed by who?  I did wonder standing in front of those Icons as a chubby little Greek girl all those years ago, that if this Greek God did in fact make me and all the inner workings of my body then why would He choose to banish me at a certain time of the month, a time He created right? Right? I realise now on my own journey in life that the God I  know now doesn't see me as dirty. Not on any given day of any given month. Society has lied to us.  It still does. Old wives tales are man-made (yes pun intended there). Being a woman is an incredible wonder. The workings of the female body are a miracle; a messy, bloody life-giving miracle and we should celebrate that. We cant all be a wipe clean Madonna (no not the Papa don't Preach one) and we shouldn't have to be.


Are you still with me? That was slap in the face phase one.  Now let me tell you about slap in the face phase two. What happens to 'da little lady' when she ain't got no more monthly visitor knocking at her door? When the bits start to sag and her blossom ain't in bloom so to speak? Eh? What happens to her then? Well....about 6 months ago I popped into my local branch of Holland and Barratt just for a browse and my habitual purchase of soya milk when the manager bloke in there (now I ssssskid you not) asked me if I was looking for something for the "mature lady coming into the change of her life". These were the very words what he spoketh. No, I didn't lynch him. I was actually really taken aback, shocked and did the only sensible mature thing I should do. I lied. I told him I was actually only 32 and that I was no where near that 'change' in life. Yes reader I lied. I told a porky. A fib. I think I was just too taken aback y'know. First of all sod off little Holland and Barratt man and secondly I am not someone who will ever go through the menopause OK. OOOOOOOOKAAAAAAAAAY! I am not defunct mister and my flower can still flower. Sort of. Coz in my head you see I am still only 24, no wait I think more like 18.

Two things. One: so what if a woman gets older. Two: its none of anybody's darned business if she gets older. Ok actually three things: so three, here it is: I was really irritated by the whole 'woman getting older' experience, ney, narked. Why isn't there a forensic examination of a 'mans getting older' experience? We don't hear diddly squat about dat and we don't excommunicate the boys (in church, school, the workplace-oh don't get me started on the workplace) when their bodies go through change or (drum roll) 'the change'. For example "I'm afraid Johnny's developed four pubes today therefore he wont be allowed to attend Sunday school"

Ladies somewhere between your first 'code read' and my own term 'code dead'; that is to say, the latter part of femalehood - when you aren't/stopped having kids, aren't having periods, haven't met your 'the one' yet, have to tick the 40-100 age box on forms and have lost that perky karadashian wannabe bum (I never had it as its a recent phenomenon)- Life happens, good and bad that takes its toll on our bodies, our emotions our Spirits. This journey is both wonderful and terrifying, passionate and barren, life-changing and body-changing. Why do we not celebrate the changes of the female form? Why is it that the start and end of a woman's menstrual cycle is taboo? I hate the term 'life begins at forty!' Whoever coined that should be shot. IMMEDIATELY. Bugger off I was enjoying life before the big 4-0 thanks. Now listen, girl, woman, yes you, thou art baddass and beautiful. Yes you. Miss 22 year old. Miss 43. Miss 52. Miss 60 and all the other ladies yes all the ladies!

Your life is in cycles, a cycle. Its changing all the time and that's good.  A woman goes through a passage of love, blood, birth, death, tears and laughter. Its messy yes, but it is precious. I am not coming out and saying I have hit menopause, I am not quite there-yet. But you know something, something true, my body is changing. I am changing, I feel it. After checking out three boys outta my downstairs hotel I am a little battered to be honest. I am an older but content wildly hormonal, savage, beast-mother who loves her cubs to death but has been left with the soft bumpy remains of a body she used to have. A person she used to be but isn't anymore. But that's ok.

I don't do a pert bum anymore. I don't do pert boobs. I got hairs in places where hairs shouldn't be and wrinkly bits where the land was smooth. I don't want to be the younger me though anymore because I didn't have my children then, my experiences and my life. My mum tells me its going to be ok, all of it. She means this new phase. Yes my boys are getting older and so am I but there is so much to be thankful for. Life, God, whatever you believe in or wish to call yours, has been good to me.  My husband tells me I am beautiful even though I cant see it when I look in the mirror. Aren't mirrors a bitch ladies? Coz they deceive you, yes? Because in the eyes of those who truly love you, you are still you, beautiful and unchanged. We don't always see this about ourselves that's why mirrors are useless for that, we need our loved ones to show us.  I know I'm on another curve of the journey, finding out who I am again "the forty plus me" "the forty plus mother/sister/friend". But you know what I think I am in need of another wake up call, a reality check, a good old-fashioned slap in the face. I think older women are beautiful because of their experiences and what they have overcome. Think of the women you admire and now think of how beautiful their eyes are because of the story they tell. It's been said 'rage, rage against the dying of the light', but you know what there is actually such incredible beauty in accepting the shading that hits us all as women, the changes and the growths, that is the sunset of girlhood and the strength we find as women in the dark.

I play a comedy character on my channel Alexia Stifado & Friends called Alexia; a washed up has been ex-Eurovision star who tours kebab houses as a singer. She wears outrageous clothes and likes younger men. She is outlandish and rude and I think she is a little bit (ok a lot) of me. Check out Alexias frank talk about the menopause or as she puts it wrongly, but rightly so, "the mentalpause"

 

  

 This is Alexia. She is 40plus. But she is fierce.

"Alexia does the Mentalpause"

 https://youtu.be/rTA5myNWdtU

 

Hello I am the Big Fat Greek Mother. I am Greek. So so Greek. Oh and I am a mother. The fat bit is a bit more like phat you get me bruv? Like I sooooo badly want to me in the cool mum gang hence: phat. I have three (count em) boys and I love them all like a hot moussakka on a cold rainy day. Actually I probably should love them a bit more than that.... hmmmm.

I like to think of myself as a funny lady and my job is to make people laugh, 'to make the joke' as my little Greek mother says. So for some reason on this very first post (soz) I am going to go in the opposite direction to sadsville. Now listen up, yes they say its Blue Monday, yes-yes its like the mother Armageddon (Ar-MUM-geddon get it?) of all days according to some scientist somewhere in the world (was he a man) who was feeling down in the dumps and so decided to lumber us all with a miserable title/self fulfilling prophecy/ depressing stamp on a day.

BUT this is just a day and tomorrow is another. There will be good days and bad days all the time pretty mama but do you know how awesome you actually are? Do you know how fantabulous you are? For a start if you are a mama and you are reading this you are pretty frickin special! Are you raising little people? Have you kept them alive?....(go check) Well?  There you go girl!!! Don't tell me you messed up today coz so did I!  I do this most days and I struggle not to feel like a mom-turd, especially on the school run when I turn into a banshee and lose all control of my boys. Listen you are okay and you are good enough and guess what you are loved. So SO loved. You got this and you are doing great.

I am not making light of those dark feelings or being flippant about mental health or being seriously low because I have been there and actually am still there on some bad days. With the births of each of my boys I had severe post natal depression which resulted in a breakdown after the birth of my third child. This is the first time I am saying this publicly because I want someone to read this and catch some loving, catch some hope. I haven't got it all sussed out and I am not preaching at you mama but I do want  to tell you this; you will come through. I want you to know that these low feelings wont last forever and that what you do for your kids is good enough. YOU are good enough. Don't suffer in silence if you are struggling, don't soldier on and pretend, find that person you love and trust and talk. Sometimes just admitting to someone about how low you are is the first step up through that dark stairwell. We all have a responsibility as mothers to love and support one another and to be on the lookout if one of our sisters aint feeling right, yes? Motherhood isn't a competition about who mothers the best. It's about loving others when it costs. Its about making someone a cup of tea and reaching out to someone who needs it. That someone was once me.

You are not alone pretty mama. Other mothers have been where you are, are going through the same pain right now. Don't hide, don't blame yourself and don't beat yourself up. Depression is taboo for a mum. Why? I will tell you why, because we assume a depressed mother cant be a good mother. Well I was depressed for so many years when my boys were small but I never failed them as a mother. If truth be told when I finally went for help a few years ago to my doctor my breakthrough came. I enjoy motherhood now more than I ever dreamed I could. Perhaps this is a cheesy cheese-on-toast way to end but as a comedy insta-mumma person type person I only got to the place where I could be truly funny when I gave myself the right to be sad. Just to be.

So pretty mama this time will pass. You are not alone don't stay silent, come out from your hiding place. You will come through and you are awesome and loved. Did I not mention that earlier? Oh so so loved.