Some bloggers who are also mothers, call themselves Queens. And they are all like, yeah, my armpit hair is real sexy and my kids were born in the forest in my own two hands, and I drink whiskey and coffee and I loooove my little a**holes and Im a Mummy Blogger! Yeah! nah. I’m not that kind of Queen. I don’t mind those kind of Queens, it’s just that I’m not one. 

 

I have four of the small ones, two of whom are excellent; one of whom is excellently a pain in the ass and the fourth, well it could swing either way really; it’s too soon to tell. In summary,  progeny = the riskiest investment you will ever make. My complimentary advice? Don’t do it. Buy a puppy. You’re welcome. 

But about that Queen title. Well, because this is my personal blog and I’m not obligated to be concise, I am going to indulge my desire to give context. I am *all about* the context in pretty much every situation.  Without context, what do you have? You have a future fuck up (FFU) on your hands is what you have.  The moon-in Capricorn aspect of me is not down with FFU’s. 

FFU’s evolve to FFUM’s you see, or  FutureFuck Ups Manifested. They manifest in the consequences that are uniquely and solely yours. Take it from me, the retired Queen of FFUM’s: it is not a title you deserve nor covet but it is one that is always looking for a claimant.

I got mine in a non-unique way; ie: joined the institute of marriage and had children. 

Then I decided to re-embark on the life long desire to get a Law degree.  I am now in my second year of that degree, and every day the fear of it slipping away threatens to paralyse me. Last year,it really motivated me. But this year, I’m just terrified. 

So I started this blog to find the humour in the manifested fuck up I find myself in as I keep trying to dig all five of us out of it. 

Quote for the day from Miss 4:  Mummy, can you ask daddy to buy me a scooter? Because God and Jesus can’t buy for it me.

I see a future for her in the firm I hope to establish one day.