Confessions

I was reading a post on the lovely Norwegian Adrenalyn's blog about confessions which I thought was just brilliant.

Subtitled: "Because I just haven't told the Internet enough embarrassing stuff about myself" I chuckled along as she reveals that she dribbles in her sleep, pees on the toilet seat and that she owns a tee shirt with the words 'Who needs big boobs when you’ve got an ass like this?'

She is just ace isn't she?

So I read it laughing to myself and thought, boy I'd never be able to make a list as long as that . . .

How wrong I was. Damn you Adrenalyn.

1. I snore. I don't think this requires any other explanation other than to say that, like most mothers I spent MONTHS feeding babies, mopping hot brows at silly o'clock while still having to get up at 6am and then even when they were fine and sleeping soundly, still waking because, well were they sleeping or was something wrong . . . You know the drill.

Now I get a full nights sleep and I enjoy it.

2. I steal the children's chocolate stash. Actually it's worse than that. I hide it until they've forgotten about it and then scoff it myself.

I am actually helping them. Not doing me much good, but I do eat it in secret. Oh, there's confession number 3 . . .

4. I buy shoes and never wear them. I bought a pair of sky high (well, sky high for me anyway) shoe/sandal type things which I LOVE, but really, when will I wear them? I work at home. When I go to business meetings I need to be comfortable or I'll turn into Mrs Angry Pants and I go out of the razzle, well, I don't go out on the razzle.

Let's just hope my daughter ends up the same shoes size as me because this is her inheritance.

Maybe I'll wear them tomorrow to work . . . (ie my front room . . .)

5. I swear like some tacky character from a movie when I'm in the car on my own. I can't help it, it's like a release.

6. I tell big fat blatant lies to my children. They bring soooo much artwork home from school and preschool. And it's always covered in glitter. Or bits of painted pasta. And it sheds E V E R Y W H E R E. So I tell them I don't know where it is when they go looking for it. 'It'll be where ever you left it' I say.

Yes, yes I know, I'm hanging my head in shame . . .

Come on, you know you want to, tell us all your confessions. You'll feel better for it...

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