In the words of the Rolling Stones: Please allow me to introduce myself..

First, let me start with a warning. Some, if not most of this ‘blog’ will contain a metric fucktonne of F bombs, S bombs and life size laundry bombs. This is not a drill. Laundry bombs happen daily in this house, and I am so far past the point of caring that the kids and the grown ups of the JAAM household literally r o c k floordrobes. It may also contain conversational parenting techniques a large amount of hormones (15 year old daughter and 13 year old son – I don’t need to elaborate) and a smattering of word vomit and sarcasm because physically punching people is classed as bodily harm and is an arrest-able offence. It will also contain nice things, which believe it or not I am actually capable of. Unfortunately I don’t have an example right now *awkward cough..*

Secondly, an apology in advance for the above. Also, for lying and publishing under the guise of a blog. ‘Media outlet to rant and bitch to my hearts desire without offending the Prim Susan’s, the ‘keep it PC’ Jeans and of course, all the bloody know it all professional parents that don’t believe winging it is a recognized parenting technique‘ wasn’t a drop down option while setting this up, so blog it is.

Bear with me while I build up the contents of this page. I’m used to a smaller platform, aka all in my head- less writing and just words floating around my brain whereas this requires far more effort, LOTS of editing, and both hands, meaning I have to sacrifice my gin hand *BOOOOOO* to write more.

If you’ve read this far, and haven’t set me aside in the virtual loony bin, I applaud you. You are my kind of crazy, and I’m happy to be sharing my crazy life with you. For anyone who hasn’t read this far….you fucking brussel sprout.

Oh yes, a final warning, my inner monologue is liberally littered with random tik tok phrases and general brain mush (hence the brussel sprout comment) You don’t live through a global pandemic, 4 lots of household isolation and actual covid without finding an outlet to absorb yourself in and Tik Tok and gin were are my vices. It also played havoc on my inner demonologues amd I sometimes forget the words to things. Luckily my husband knows that on a Monday, the thingamabob I need is different to the whatsitmajig I need on a Tuesday.

I digress.

OK.

Bye…