theunmumsymum theunmumsymum

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The Unmumsy Mum  No. 1 Bestselling Author, Freelance Writer, Mother, Blogger. Part of the MUMMY SOCIAL team. Big fan of honesty.

Working title of next book? πŸ˜‰Substitute pizza for quinoa and willy for penis to get the middle-class version of the same title.

First settling in session at nursery for this one done this morning, though it was the easy one where I stayed and hovered over him saying things like 'remember we share our toys Jude' and 'shall we use a tissue and not our sleeve?' so everyone in earshot wouldn't think we were feral. Here's hoping next week's trial separation isn't too traumatic ... #pleaselookafterthisboy

You guys. I never expected quite so many comments on the last post!! I have had a good read through a large chunk of them, so thank you for your opinions (on both 'sides!') And for making me laugh, as always. This has actually been playing on my mind for a while and although I haven't quite figured it out yet (tricky as my 'gut feeling' is still not decisive) I do feel better for sharing it. And it has given my husband's ear a rest for one evening, seriously I have been acting a bit crazy. So thank you all. I'm now off to make a cup of herbal tea that will guarantee I'll lose two stone in three days. Jokes 🀣

Just like Nelly and Kelly in 2002, I'm having one. Only this one isn't related to me being crazy over a boy even when I'm with my Boo. It's MUCH more important than that because it revolves around the life force that is social media. I need somebody to tell me what to do so I'm throwing it open to the Insta floor. I've been having an internal dialogue with myself for a while now about what I am getting out of dicking around on Instagram. Obviously I am getting hours of entertainment and good company (thank you πŸ˜‰) but is that enough? I decided against doing any sponsored posts at the beginning of my blogging journey 4 years ago and have remained almost militant about that decision ever since, essentially telling every kind PR person who knocks at my email door to take a flying fuck at a rolling #ad. I have been happy with that decision, you have told me that you have been happy with that decision. Everyone's happy. But I tossed and turned trying to get to sleep last night wondering if I am, in fact, a massive MORON for having taken that stance. Aside from gifts and freebies (which are indeed a wonderful perk) having this account earns me the square root of fuck all. Yes, I do it because I love showing pics of my chin spots and freezer tapas and because I appreciate hearing from others who want to boil their own head when the Witching Hour before bed is in full swing. But when I am staying up stupidly late finishing writing assignments to bring in the dollar I can't help but feel I have screwed this up and that my 'check me out I don't do #ads, isn't my account special?!' position is fucking daft when I am a mum of two, soon to be three kids, with bills and a long-term ambition for a house with a bath. At the same time, I really don't want my account to change, or for you all to hate the first whiff of me 'monetising' posts. At present my usual polite-piss-off response is still being sent to brands but I no longer feel confident that I am doing the 'right' thing. In short, I am torn. So, Insta family, I want to hear it. What would YOU do? To #ad or not to #ad, that is the question. I am all ears.
#ad #ornoad #ihategrownupdecisions

I know it's not #throwbackthursday but talk of the eclipse has reminded me of this 'gem' of a family pic taken by the local paper when there was an eclipse in what must have been the late 90s? 1999? (Was there one then?) What a family of absolute REBELS we were not to be wearing glasses (I'm pretty sure we just didn't want to wear them for the photo as I wasn't permanently blinded πŸ€”). #thosewerethedays

Carlsberg don't do social media followers but if they did, they would probably look a lot like mine πŸ˜†

Yes I know deep down that I should be doing gentle exercise. And that overeating now is only going to make me look and feel like Jabba the Hutt when the baby arrives. But I also know that I will never do this again ... so I reckon I can get away with a spot of indulgence for the next four months or so?! (Unless I'm with my dad, who subtly reminds me about the existence of leafy greens when he sees me scoffing French Fancies πŸ˜†) #agrowernotaglower

The amount of time we've been stuck in the car with the kids πŸš—πŸš™πŸš—πŸš™πŸš—πŸš™πŸš—πŸš™


*New blog post*
Sickness, Sex and Placentas: 20 Week Pregnancy Update ...
⬆️Link in bio.

When you draw aeroplane-buddy straws and the short straw isn't quite as short as predicted πŸŽ‰πŸ›« (Not that we consider our children to be straws, of course πŸ˜‰). He fell asleep BEFORE take off and slept the whole flight, I think this is one of the best days of my life 🀣I'm not surprised he was tired - after a 04:30 wake up he ran around the airport like a banshee, shimmying under security barriers and shouting 'BUMFACE!' at his cousins. He then faced the worst thirty seconds' heartbreak of his life when his beloved Pig-Pig was taken off him to go through the security x-ray (if looks could kill πŸ‘€πŸ€£) and finally he inhaled a bag of gelatine thinly disguised as gummy worms which I hope were tasty as they cost around €1 per worm. Judy Pops, Mummy very nearly lost her shit in departures but you have more than made up for it with this epic plane nap. You were the longest of straws, in the end πŸ’ͺ🀣

Teaching the kids all about Portuguese cuisine with an educational trip to the Pingo Doce supermarket to purchase 'Captain Iglo's golden chicken fingers'(?!) If you're reading this Mail Online πŸ‘€you should know that our five-year-old has also been allowed coke this holiday (the drink not the crack kind - that's tonight's treat ☺️) #freezertapasontour

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