Moaning Mums (and all that Jazz)

It is with great delight that I announce that I have purchased the URL http://www.moaningmum.com. Now instead of always having to spell out and explain the name of my site as regards my two children's nicknames ("Egg? And Ollie?"... "But I thought his name is Dumpie?"...."Oh it is? With an 'ie'?"..."So why do you call it Egg and Ollie"..."What? All one word....?" etc.) I can just simply say "Moaning Mum". Hurrah for simplicity. If you feel the need to contact me for any reason, or would like to give feedback, simply email me at: natasha@moaningmum.com

Now however, I do feel that I should point out that if for any reason you try and log on and find yourself confronted by a rather overweight middle-aged woman 'going for it' in a rather lewd manner - do not be alarmed. I have not put a hidden camera in the bedroom nor have I posted any rather ill-advised, misjudged 'fun' home movies made after a big night out and too many bottles of champers....

No, if you find yourself confronted by such a grotesque site (or rather sight), whilst doing something so innocuous as spooning Weetabix into your mouth and absentmindedly reminding your child to brush their teeth before school - please don't blame me. Rather - blame yourself. If you find yourself viewing some dodgy second rate porn before 11 o'clock in the morning, know that YOU yourself are entirely responsible for bringing such filth into your home.

For by mistaking the "U" for an "O" you will have unwittingly let in a whole plethora of rather off putting visions with a mere mistaken tip-tap on the keyboard...a botched keystroke might actually be in danger of emotionally scarring your offspring for life if they happen to catch a peek, and might perhaps even be responsible for all manner of sexual dysfunction in later life...

("Well you see, it all started with these filthy movies I caught Mummy watching one morning when I was but a wee lad...I never forgot them and I feel like it's been primarily responsible for my inability to become aroused by anyone in possession of a muffin-top or sporting rather garish hair...")

(Of course I am fully aware that having made such a big song and dance about it - and there being those of you who are understandably rather curious to see for yourselves what a "Moaning MOM" actually looks like - you may well go to that other site on purpose. But be warned. I've been there - and it ain't pretty. Just like the beautiful anticipation of watching your beloved wife give birth to your firstborn might in theory seem like a good idea - the reality is that a few moments of perplexed viewing might potentially put you off your dinner...it did me.)

At any rate I am pleased to at last have a platform from which to MOAN (goodnaturedly for the most part). It's almost as if a special little world in 'Cyberspace' now exists for me, and me alone, where little creatures like the 'Who's' from 'Whoo-ville' shall tinker about and put my little world to rights...

Then of course there is the school of thought which would suggest that I really don't need any encouragement. There are some who would I'm sure say that I have already had plenty enough opportunity to 'moan' and that now I should just 'suck it up' and get on with the art of living...pay more attention to my son's phonics training and less time furitively sipping cappuccinos in the kitchen whilst tapping away like a demented housewife. Well bugger them.

I do realise that some people are worthy enough to deserve a platform from which to expound greatly about matters which will benefit the common good...or provide comfort for needy people...or answer queries which will better the lives of their readers.

But then I would argue that my ode to the glorious Easter Creme Egg the other day might well be said to do just that...I reckon it ticks all the boxes in that regard. (Go on, go out and get yourself one, then see if I'm not right.)

At any rate, I must dash now. While I have been sitting here typing blissfully away, gleefully announcing the birth of my new 'MoaningMum' domain...Dumpie has been pestering Grandma to blow up brightly coloured balloon after brightly coloured balloon... As a result our kitchen now resembles a kiddie play area and any moment now the room is going to be filled with the frightening and inevitable sound of bursting balloons which is sure to result as they come into contact with the many sharp implements adorning my kitchen. Come to think of it my mum also looks rather faint and a bit 'peaky' from having blown up about twenty-five balloons or so in the space of half an hour.

So on that note, "Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho-It's-Off-To-Moan-I-Go-To-Whinge-And-Bitch-Like-Some-Great-Witch-Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho...."