The Parent Trenches

Well, I might be off but I’ve still no idea where I’m going.

I’m not even sure where to begin this first instalment of The Parent Trenches – a blog I’ve wanted to write since 2021.

I suppose that’s a start 👆 Of sorts 🤷🏻‍♀️

Might as well carry on now. You comin’?

👋

Begin at the Beginning

They say.

Hmm. I’ve never been a big believer in what ‘they’ say. Maybe ‘they’ can recall what they had for breakfast. I can’t. Therefore, I’d say beginning at the beginning is highly unlikely.

To be honest, just be thankful I’m starting in the middle because as back-stories go, mine’s all a bit convoluted and you don’t know me well enough yet to give a shit be very invested.

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For nearly thirteen years I have managed to hold down a highly prestigious role as CEO of a small single-parent run charity. Prior to that I was part of a joint enterprise with the male co-founder of the family, who was at best a sleeping partner for the most part. In 2011, he was declared emotionally bankrupt and I adopted sole reign.

👸🏻

For some time now, I’ve suspected I’m only still in post because they can’t get anybody else. Well, the hours are mental and the workplace bullying is out of control.

The only reason I tolerate the appalling conditions is cos I live-in. And nobody else would have me with the reference I’d get.

Also, I think there might be laws against abandoning one’s own children.

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Prior to my current post I enjoyed a few heavenly years in actual employment (Inc. a dancing waitress / pizza deliver-er / cook / teacher / failed academic).

The reality is these days I’m little more than Clown-in-Chief to a hat-trick of children, who at 23, 18 & 15, should probably be taking at least some care of themselves by now.

Really I ought to have someone looking after me. A little team would be lovely. A bigger team would probably be necessary.

📔

Happily, I always believed that providing I practiced, I would be smashing single-motherhood out of the park in no time.

Because, as we all know…

Practice makes perfect

They say.

More lies.

Despite putting in the hard yards, I am still some way from emulating excellence in household management. It takes most everything I have to achieve adequacy.

And so is it any wonder I get fuck-all writing done?

🖊️

If you too hold shares in one or more small (or not so small) humans and / or animals…

If you too cling to survival, navigating Life with absolute ingrates dependents in tow (mine have never once been ‘in tow’)…

If you too spend your days wondering what the fuck you’ve done to deserve this *gestures sadly at Life, and your nights dreaming of perfect children (other peoples’) and having the money to hire a housekeeper…

Then maybe this blog – loosely inspired by years of daily journaling – will speak to you.

If YOU don’t relate to any of 👆…

I think you’re probably fibbing 👃 🤔

BUT. You, too, are more than welcome to check-in now and then, just to see how the other half are fucking it up living..

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• Do you begin each new day brimming with positivity and greet every new morning with a smile and a “can do” attitude-to-Life?

Yes, I do!

At least I do on the days I don’t wake up late, in a cold sweat to the sound of dogs howling and with half a Caramac melted into my décolletage

• Do you try to maintain that positivity until the end of the day whilst being pelted by the slings and arrows of Life?

Yes, I do!

But there’s only so many times you can do Friday morning’s wheelie-bin walk of shame with your bum hanging out of your pyjamas OR mop up dog piss from the kitchen floor whilst doing the third wash of the day OR fail to find matching Nike socks amongst 183 Primark and Poundstretcher pairs whilst a teenager hurls abuse at you for being a shit parent (you can’t blame ’em).

What is written above represents a mere fraction of the First-world bollocks I’m dealing with on the daily 🙄

Still, regardless of the why, there’s been a startling lack of output so far.

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In a nutshell 🌰

By the time I’ve done the bare minimum to ward off Incident, Infirmity and Insanity each day, I’m absolutely fucking exhausted 😴

Far too exhausted to actually achieve anything.

On the other hand 🤚

If I could just manage to post regular blogs, it could be the first step towards a Pulitzer Prize 💭 🏆or at the very least, a modicum of Self-Respect.

🏆

There should be no excuses necessary for a job *sniggers you can do from your actual bed but when your home office is overrun with absolute delinquents, and that’s just the dogs and me – well, home can be more mess, mayhem and murder than motivating.

🤯

I could tell you how often I get Distracted (don’t worry, I will).

Or how I’m not a Completer-Finisher and how my Trench is littered with hundreds of nearly-finished pieces of writing (I’ve got a blog for that, too)

Or how writing about my kids is a War of Attrition between my conscience and their censorship (might be the subject of Post #4).

ALL of the above are true.

But I’ll bring this long-ass Welcome to a close simply by telling you why, after years of procrastinating, this weekend is go time:

Comic Relief, Mollie King and 500 gruelling miles on a bicycle.

🚴

And I shall say more on that and how everywhere I look in 2024 there’s women smashing it out of the park. All whilst I’ve been chasing my own tail over teen-shaped nightmares and two dogs have been chasing me around the Park.

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Ooh! YAY! Beyoncé is on the radio 💃

Did I mention how easily I’m distracted?

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I’m sorry this first post is a bit all over the place but then, so am I. Metaphorically, that is.

I can’t guarantee it’ll get significantly better. I have a tendency to over-promise and under-deliver. Ask my kids.

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My life is quite small these days but I still have big dreams. You might laugh, but in my most deluded moments I like to imagine myself amongst all the Great Women of the twenty-first century – Beyoncé, Taylor Swift, Theresa May, Mollie King, Sharon Osborne and Fern Britton.

To that end, this blog will be part fantasy and part reality – not unlike my own life I s’pose 🙃

Which parts are which I leave for the reader to choose.