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I should probably start explaining, why this blog and why now. Partly because I need a cathartic outlet before I start whisper screaming into my pillow, and partly because I wanted to create a communal space where people can realise they aren’t the only ones hanging on by a thread.
Blending a family is equal amounts magical and mayhem and there’s no rule book. I mean there’s no rule book for being a parent so why would there be for separating and then blending?! I get most things wrong and the majority of the time I’m basing decisions on a wish and a prayer. If I’m not crying, I’m laughing and hopefully you can laugh along with me.
For the record, probably drink too much Prosecco, definitely don’t exercise enough and work way too much. My patience isn’t exactly zen like, which isn’t ideal when you’re raising children and step children. And yes, I flaunt crazy vibes occasionally when I’m on my period and can’t believe my partner had a girlfriend, let alone a wife before me. How very dare he.
I love my son and step daughters, but also find them really annoying sometimes. Like when my son wakes me up at 5am, by staring deep into my soul to ask why we have blood in our bodies or why brains aren’t in our bum holes – both totally valid questions, but can we table this, it’s 5 am and I’ve not had my first tea yet.
My vocabulary seems to mainly consist of ‘No one listens to me in this house’ and ‘Did you get me a mini Prosecco?’ But when they’re not here, I miss them like crazy. And when they are around, I sometimes feel like I need to hide in the garage just to breathe. Literally can’t win.
So I’m going to document the journey and the laughter I’ve had along the way, because if I don’t laugh I genuinely might move to a remote island and leave them all behind. With my Prosecco, obviously ✌🏻
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