I’m an anatomically correct single mother*, with a potty mouth and a messy house. My mission is to share the joys of single mothering. I don’t mind being single, it’s the single parenting I struggle with. My kids are one parent short, so my office hours are 24/7. I’ve raised a twenty-year-old, a 15-year-old and a primary schooler solo for nearly 10 years, and I’m hoping my gals end up more like Hermione Granger and less like Veruca Salt. In a squished rental flat that sucks up 70% of my income, I’ve got the smell of teen disappointment in one room and Stunt Girl and her peculiar obsession with live insects wedged into the sunroom.
I’m also a professional fool. I get paid to dress up and act like a goose in my day job as a Clown Doctor and at night as a comedian. My job is the cat’s pyjamas, the ant’s pants; working for a charity, I’ve met so many fantastic philanthropic people, my cynicism has been sat on by the happiness fairy.
In the interests of fine single mothering, I’ve decided to Pollard my children. Minimal feeding means my kids won’t grow too tall, thus saving on expensive sports shoes and fancy undies, and keeping school uniform costs to a minimum. My food bill will be reduced, thus Pollard will be kept in the fine style I would like to be accustomed to.
In an ideal world, I’d be a calm mother with time for dancing through the tulips while singing like Doris Day with my kids. Less Kris Jenner, more Carol Brady.
- Prozac sold separately
All written content on this blog (C) Lou Pollard 2011-2017