Mum of the Year. Or, you know, maybe not.

I’m thrilled to have been asked to attend the Tesco Mum of the Year awards this year – did you know you can go and nominate someone inspiring for this award over at the Tesco Magazine website up until 21 September?

Sadly, being invited as a guest means you can’t really nominate me for Mum of the Year.

Tragic, I know.


Personally, I think I’d be a brilliant Mum of the Year. For example:

  • There was that time I accidentally punched my child in the face while strapping her into a car seat. It could happen to anyone.
  • Dropping Flea at school last Friday, I had a long chat with the deputy head about her health. Getting back in the car, I realised I had a massive blob of hair conditioner on my ear, and the middle three buttons of my shirt were open. This is less than a year since I flashed the Deputy Head (who’s also our next door neighbour) from my bedroom window. Mortifying.
  • After taking Back to School photos of my child, I remembered to Photoshop the toast crumbs and Marmite off her face before sending to Grandma. A more conventional approach might have been to wipe her FACE first, but where’s the fun in that?
  • Only this morning I dropped Flea off at school and started to apologise for not completing Flea’s registration form for school clubs on time. “It’s okay,” said Flea’s new teacher. “I have a note to talk to you.” And she did. On her desk there was a Post-It note saying Flea’s Mum – remind! That kind of reputation can’t be bought, you know.
  • I once had an argument with my own child about the date of her birthday. I was wrong. I have no excuse for this.
  • I spend so much time working on a computer that Flea has assumed this is normal and now might just be the only 7 year old in England with her own Twitter account and blog. Oops.
  • I like to tell people that we have a TV free household. Which we do, in the main. What I don’t tell you is that this is probably because I have never taught Flea how to use a remote control. She’s got no idea how to turn the TV on, even if she wanted to.
  • Once we went to a glamorous celebrity event and Zoe Ball leaned down (she’s a giantess in heels) to whisper to me: “Don’t worry. My son has dirty fingernails all the time, too.”
  • Worst and most shamefully of all, I still laugh every time I look at these photos of Flea. Every. Single. Time. 

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