I’m an anatomically correct single mother*, with a potty mouth and a messy house. My mission is to share the joys and struggles of single mothering. 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, a calming, Zen-like cat and Stunt Girl and her obsession with live insects wedged into a sunroom.
I’m also a professional fool. I get paid to act like a goose in my day job as a Clown Doctor and at night as a comedian. Clown Doctoring 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 shoes and undies, and keeping school uniform costs low. With a small food bill, Pollard can be kept in the fine style I could grow accustomed to.
In an ideal world, I’d have 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