Saturday, 17 September 2016

MY, GRANDMA, WHAT INAPPROPRIATE SHOES YOU HAVE!

Whorrified, granddaughter, Marie Sutherland,
Shit! *spills martini* You startled me! Caught me red-handed, selfie-ing, which isn't hard to do since taking selfies, tippling and trawling for Justin Bieber news is pretty much all I do. (Here's one of my earlier selfie faves. The answer to the question you just muttered under your breath "Will that woman ever grow up?" is 'No.' ")

Anyway, this one is of me heading out for another uninvited babysitting stint with my newborn grand-daughter. It just screams "maternal instincts," doesn't it? She's not my first grandchild, but my eldest daughter took one look at my blog when it launched a year and a half ago and said “Please refrain from ever telling anyone we’re related,” so naturally I respect her wishes. Thusly. 
 
And although I’ve been doing this granny thing for awhile, having a third baby has really fired up my mothering urges. I’ve been cooking and cleaning like a maniac and taking special care with my wardrobe. Because in my world, a world in which gossip is a career, men are mere playthings and time is marked by the number of empties in the recycling bin … “Crap! It’s six mickeys past Merlot! I’d better get a move on!” … grandmothers don’t look like Mother Teresa, they look like Cher. (Try telling her to grow up; I dare you.)


So while I lecture my daughter about the importance of not worrying about losing the baby weight or stuffing one's self into the pre-baby skinny jeans, I parade around looking like this. You all should be very glad I’m not your mother. Although I might have had a go at your father. You never know. I can’t keep track of these things but I can tell you this: if he was cute, young and rich, you should be worried. Or even if he was just cute.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Look, your grand-daughter is adorable and all, but if you keep this up you're going to have to rebrand yourself as a mommy blogger.
MY NOTE: Well I'm not her mommy and also I drink. A helluva lot. So if there's such a thing as a hooch-swilling nanny blog then sure, brand me. Why the hell not?

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