Bad Mum


Blog Posts by Bad Mum

Do I Need To Trim My Bush? 

Well, after I posted a photo on Instagram of a tree I found, that strangely resembled a pair of legs and a lady garden, I realised we don’t discuss our bushes enough. 

Now, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t attend to mine nowhere near enough but when it’s not exactly on show at the Chelsea Flower Show each year, then do I need to bother? Simon would love an annual pass to the event but as I’m mostly knackered (yes, that’s a real excuse, sorry reason) then I can’t be arsed to dust off the hedge trimmer for once a fortnight airing.

Look don’t get me wrong I don’t walk about with pubic hair growing down my leg, that I brush into my leg hair and French plait for convenience. I am nowhere near that stage (to Simon's delight) but when my granny knickers cover must the damage – it can get a bit wild…sometimes.

Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t know anything about a Brazilian wax and what is a French wax?! Then you can have any shape you want – the “Landing Strip”, a “Bermuda Triangle”, “Postage Stamp” (really?), “Martini Glass” (oh God) or the full works; a “Full Brazilian”!

See, all the names suggest you are going away somewhere lovely and hot – I am off to Brazil, I’ll meet you on the landing strip and if you don’t hear from me then I’m highly likely to be lost in the Bermuda triangle, so don’t waste a postage stamp on me. Just get pissed with a glass of Martini on me!

They on the other hand do not suggest I am finally sitting down with my feet up in my scruffy joggers, sweat top, eating yet another four finger Kit Kat, do they? Can you imagine asking for a “Lazy Cow” wax (they just trim a few hairs, here and there), or a “I Wouldn’t If I Was You” wax (they go in with full Health and Safety goggles and a face mask on!)

A “Martini Glass” would be completely wasted when I am up half the night with my son, living in big knickers, old clothes and barely brush my hair. I can’t exactly go around saying “Oh I know I look shit today but if you could see my wanner, it looks amazing right now; it’s shiny and everything!! Look I have a photo; it’s a glass!”

I just about find a Bic razor (and most the time it’s going rusty with leftover shower cream on still) then, when I do it is a quick rub down with conditioner (top tip right there, girls) and go crazy hacking away, knowing my son will probably walk in at any minute saying “What’s that Mummy?” A beast my child, that is what that is, a bloody beast!

I have even had to pretend to shave him once with the plastic cap STILL ON! I lathered him up and “shaved” the bubbles off him and then I naturally done his beard too. I must have taken more love and care with a razor that day, then I ever have in my life. The Bic must have risked going rusty with tears of joy, after the years of abuse its encountered.

I need to experience the full wax, the works, the whole shebang! But, do I really need to get on all fours? Even only Simon will see that on special occasions these days! And what if I fart? Do they hose you down? Do I read a magazine while my arse is up in the air? They could use me as a vase!! I am baffled beyond belief!

I am off to buy some waxing strips, vodka, chocolate and do this shit on my own. If you see me with brushed hair, clean clothes on and a smile, then you know I am really pushing the boat out and I have a bald lady garden – might even give you a sneaky peek…I won’t, don’t worry…I won’t!  Well, if I draw a face on it too, then I might! 

Written by Me, Sophie Farrow (AKA Bad Mum) @sophie_farrow_bad_mum

THE XBOX... Enough said?

When a girl wakes up and feels a hard object prodding her in the back she normally thinks one of two things that either her bloke is in the mood for some morning glory and is completely off track half way up her back or he has left that bloody Xbox controller in the bed again! Well you do if you are an Xbox Widow.

Next follows a loving whisper in her ear of... something sexy? Even something romantic or offering her some breakfast made by his own fair hands? Nope! The whisper is “Are you still a little bit sleepy? If so, would you like to go back to sleep for a little while and I will just have a little go on COD?”

Good Morning Soph!

For any non geek people out there (and anyone that has a life) then COD is Call of Duty. A game that seems to be VERY addictive and makes men turn into boys. Also, makes them wear funny headgear and shout at the TV too!

Now, on this occasion I said “Yes, you crack on and play the Xbox and I will sit and observe (mock)” and that is what happened, followed by me telling all of you! To be fair I am not the only girl in this situation... am I?

So, he positions himself on the bed, this position is very important as he perches on the side on the bed and I have asked the question “why don’t you at least have some cushions and get comfortable?” but this is a no, no apparently! If he was comfortable then that would mean he wouldn’t move at all for several hours and this way he will only play for 3 – 5 hours. If it was me then personally I would get a comfortable chair, some cushions, a bit of chocolate, a drink, my phone and maybe some relaxing candles but hay what do I know? Those nice wooden sticks that smell of lavender? Oh, a massage chair! Yes, that would really hit the spot... literally!

Next the pilot headgear goes on. I will admit this is not a great look unless you are sitting in a real aeroplane and are about to take me to the Maldives. But you scarily get used to it quickly and it all blends into his head! We are talking big old earphones and a microphone that comes down (and also goes up too) to speak into. Now, I will warn all new Xbox Widows like me once this pilot headgear goes on you will then have no communication at all and you have to go back to the basic of sign language and don’t worry if you have never done Sign Language Level 1 course as you will think of some hand signs to do, believe me!

Your bloke is now in the Xbox bubble... I think this is the technical term?

You know what I could get my head around the headgear (sorry for the pun, actually I am not as I am bit proud) and the geekiness/childishness of it all but one part of the whole Xbox floored me! When do you ever find out that your boyfriend can type a whole message to his mate in the time it took my eyelids to come down, close and go back up again, technically called a blink? Well, you never do unless you witness the nerdiness for yourself! 

Oh, we are not talking about just typing like I am now... akufhsiudghsidgohrog ... no we are talking about selecting each letter separately then pressing a button (I don’t know what one! Not that dedicated to the post), then selecting the next letter and pressing that button and so on! You have to even move the bloody controller down to the space bar! He must have written this sentence is 0.3 seconds (to be precise.)

When do you know someone has this skill? And when would you ever need this skill?

After he wrote his message ‘hi mate, fancy a little game of cod?’ he glanced over his shoulder at me and I gave him the L shape finger on my forehead. Yes the loser sign and I got a laugh back followed by him telling all his mates (through the pilot microphone). I think I made my point, thank you.  

He then begun his game and apart from people getting shot, running around just killing more people and someone dying, I got bored and turned over. Now and then I would feel a vibrating sensation on me and any other time I would get my hopes up but no it’s just the controller adding more effect to the crap, sorry game. I am not sure how us girls are meant to fall back to sleep when all you can hear is “RUN YOU DICKHEAD...BUZZ...GET THE FLAG...OH MY GOD WE ARE WORKING WITH IDIOTS...BUZZ...RODNEY, WHAT YOU DOING YOU BELL END!!”

You see the Xbox can end in two ways either you are both still in love and he is getting you a lovely breakfast as you was such a great girlfriend and let him play OR you both screaming at each other as 5 hours have gone and you have done sod all!

To be fair I think the Xbox can be alright if I am chilling and doing my own thing too, as we all need our thing but not to the extreme of using up all hours in the day, getting nothing done and causing rows too!

Can someone please invent a new gadget for the ladies out there? Maybe the Ybox? As long as it dished out chocolate, Vodka, TV programmes on repeat and kept that little vibrating gizmo then I am sure we will all stop complaining so much...

Does your man go clubbing?

Not the dance-the-night-away-drink-too-much-glow-sticks-type!

I mean the club-you-over-the-head-before-you-speak-too-much-drag-back-to-cave-eat-dinosaur-meat kind?

Mine doesn't. He let's me speak, have a voice and the best part, he has my back no matter what my opinion is.

You're lucky, you say?

No, not really! Our relationship isn't in the dark ages and we don't have a pet dinosaur either (even though that part would be cool!)

I don't sit around carving my thoughts onto the wall just hoping someone will see them one day and when they do they can't make head nor tail of them!

With me the writing is on the wall, on the internet, in the news paper and shouted from mountain top too!!

I am writing this because of lately I have come across some compete tits (I am being very kind) on the internet.

Now, who would have thought men still don't like a woman with an opinion? That naive stupidity still exists. That us woo-men (cave slang) must be seen but not heard and the men are looked at to shut us up quickly and quietly... Sod off!!

Of course this does not appeal to all men and I never brush you all with the same brush this just goes to the odd few out there.

I have been in a few slagging off matches lately and I must admit I won most of them which I will admit I am proud off. I may of won with bitter determination and lots of sarcasm but even so don't push me. I've been pushed around for way too long and now I will not take a small minded little boy thinking I am stupid because I am a woman with boobies.

I have my own mind, my own opinion and my own voice and I am very capable of using all three at the same time as us girls are bloody amazing at multi tasking... Yay! Go us!!

We can have babies, wash up and think at the same time, who would have thought it!!

In the last 2 weeks I've had said to me...

"Thanks for shitting another child out into society"

"Not believing in God you've chose to die"

"Your a bad (also terrible) mother"


There was more but you get the drift. All because I spoke up and wouldn't let the men chat and because I attract the crazy people like bees to a jam pot!

Seriously girls (everyone) please speak up! Have your say, write a comment, join in and don't let someone get bullied. Only a couple of people helped me and not one women helped me out (when the men were telling me I was a bad Mum...) Yes, I do realise some people don't want to get involved and that's cool too but please don't loose your voice to bullies. 

One Car aka Wanker!!

When my son says one car it completely sounds like wanker – we find this bloody hilarious!

‘Jake look at that man cutting Daddy up on the roundabout over many cars have you got?’


‘Jake, Donald Trump wants to count your cars with you, how many have you got?’


OK Jake we get the message you don’t like Donald Trump...who does?

It can also come in handy when you don’t like someone or someone is being rude! Just bend down and whisper in your kids ear ‘how many cars?’ then shoot back up like nothing happened and wait – wait for the magic to happen.


When the looks from people start just simply say ‘What my child is counting his cars and he has one car! What did you think he said?’ It’s evil but hay it’s funny too! And, obviously only works when they do in fact only have one car and in the learning to talk won’t get away with it when they are 10 and calling people wankers...sorry!

I think just sometimes we have to laugh at certain situations. Obviously not laughing at your child because that is just damn right cruel but when they don’t have a clue what is happening and it gets you through the day with a giggle then, why not?

I don’t think the one car trick is up to Britain’s Got Talent level but it will at least amuse my household for a few more days.

And boy, do you need to laugh at this parenting lark sometimes or what?! The other day we took Jake to a soft play area. He can go in on his own now but likes to drag us in there at every given opportunity and my God it must be the quickest and easiest way to lose all dignity in one full sweep

I’ve come to the conclusion that if I’m not sitting down and drinking a hot chocolate while catching up on phone duties I fucking hate soft play area’s.

Everything about it hurts and makes you question how many mince pies you’ve eaten that day!

You have to squeeze through two massive padded rollers, which has the smallest gap in between you’ve ever seen in your life and still try to look remotely lady like in the process, then you fall out onto the floor the other side! Then you quickly shoot up to see if anyone has seen you act out the performance of Play-Doh being squeezed through a machine all while you ache everywhere like a bitch!

Even before you attempt it, you shit yourself that you won’t actually make it through to the other side and be wedged in the rollers; holding up all the kids wanting to breeze through the gap! All you need to hear is ‘Mummy, a fat lady is stuck in the rollers again and I can’t get past!!’ Cue the moment you die and never return to that evil place ever again!

If you do fit through, which I just about do then every time I get through I see it as a mini fist pump moment and reward myself with a Kit Kat.

You see other parents going through the same pain and give them the nod or make some joke like ‘who needs a gym when you can come here!’ Give me a gym anytime!! You don’t climb up, down, over, under, through tiny gaps all while trying to look graceful and putting up with that one clingy kid that never leaves you alone in a gym!

I’ll let you into a secret too...I used to be scared of going down the big slide (especially the twisty tunnel ones in the bloody dark) but you can’t be afraid in front of a child, let alone your own, can you?

Oh no, everything has to be so much fun!! I went down one for the first time and I wanted to run around the place, celebrating like I’d just won a gold medal and topping it off with a jump (fuck it, doing a bomb) in the ball pool!

I’ve even lost Jake before in a soft play area. He told me to go down one of them horrible slides and he would follow me...he didn’t. I was at the bottom and he was at the top crying but I thought he was stuck in the middle! I’ve never run through the padded assault course as fast as I did that day in all my life. I was grabbing children and screaming ‘have you seen my son’ in their faces and even watching children come down the slide then asking them if a child was stuck in the middle – well obviously not!

He had just wondered off looking for me and was happily playing. Me on the other hand looked like a complete nutter with static hair and a sock missing! I pay money for this shit!

Anyway, you have to laugh and next time that clingy kid won’t leave us I’ll tell Jake to count his car and next time I lose him by accident I’ll shout out Wanker! 

Everyone is a winner. 

The Naked Cleaner

I’ll get straight to the point. My partner won’t lift a finger around the house unless I am screaming at him or prodding him with a cattle prod. Basically he can be very lazy! 

He works long hours and loves to play with our son but other then that he won’t “notice” it. You know when men walk up the stairs, climb over the basket of clean washing needing to go upstairs and when you ask why they didn’t take that basket with them; the reply is ‘I didn’t even notice it!’ I’ll tell you what then, if I stab you and then set your boxers on fire will you “notice” that? Or will that still be outside your tunnel vision? MEN!!

What really gets my goat is if a women, a Mum, just sat around all day not noticing things, being lazy, playing games on our phones all day and then disappearing into the bathroom for a crap for 30 mins (locking the door so our son has to wee on the potty if his desperate) we would be called a Bad Mum! But when a man, a Dad, does it then they are just being men! 

When did the double standards get so far apart and stereotyped? I can’t even have a crap with the door shut! The door is wide open with my son giving me a running commentary on what I’m doing or what he can hear and trying to help me! Even when I try to grab a quick shower, I have toys swimming around my feet and then Jake will turn up wanting to get in with me! Could you imagine the chaos if I actually shut that door on and watched the world stop turning!

The other day I needed some Mummy time to, well let’s just say to prune my lady garden and it ended up with my son watching my every move and him putting bubbles on his little area; asking me to shave him too! God give me strength! It’s times like that you question many things. It’s a bit like an outer body experience and watch yourself thinking ‘what the fuck am I doing?!’

Well, after watching my partner sitting on his arse playing yet another game on his phone while I was elbow deep in shit, it was time for the bitch slap! 

I called him nicely so he would come not knowing what was about to happen. As soon as he walked into the bathroom I said ‘put your phone down as you’re about to clean the bath!’ Well I don’t think his body could work out what to do first; his mouth was open with no words coming out, he was glued to the spot and even got a sweat on! I wasn’t sure if I needed 999 on hold just in case! 

When he finally spoke I got ‘I don’t know how too!’ I ignored my eye twitching and kept up the nicely nice approach. This man had never cleaned a bath before!! I told him that he might find it easier to do it in bare feet and get in the bath. He just walked off and disappeared!

I was gearing up for an fight and the speech that was coming then I saw it. 

This took me hours!! Don't go stealing this masterpiece! 

He was coming back completely naked with just rubber gloves on!

Well just bare feet would of been fine but whatever floats your boat and as long as I get my bath cleaned I don’t care if you’re naked or farting the Eastenders theme tune as long as it’s done! 

And boy did he go to town or what!? That bath (even the tiles) were sparkling – probably the cleanest it had ever been! Give him his dues, he didn’t play the “do a shit job so she never asks me to do this ever again” game – which I’m pretty sure he will live to regret. 

So I got my bathroom cleaned and Si learnt something new, so a successful day all round, but I’m certain he was expecting some kind of thank you which most probably involved me being naked also. I told him if a naked guy turned up every time I cleaned I’d be too fucking tired to even manage the cleaning. 

He didn’t ask again! 

What a Fucking Week!! 

I never normally talk about this shit because I’m waiting for confirmation before I speak out but my head can only take so much before it explodes and you have probably seen me crying on you do! 

December is a time of Christmas, getting fat(ter in my case) and the Boots Christmas catalogue but December also brings my sons birthday and a party plus appointments and millions of forms to fill out. 

What am I on about? My son is getting assessed to see if he is autistic or not.

As simple as that.

The only reason I’m bringing it up now is because I think I have steam coming out of my ears and rocking back and forth in a corner losing the plot; all while frantically looking for some chocolate!!

On top of a busy month coming up I have the added strain of endless forms to fill out answering questions about my son, to my son hitting me on a daily basis to having his first part of the assessment beginning very soon. 

What stresses me out the most is this is now out of my hands and a bunch of strangers will decide my sons future with or without a label (we are not meant to use labels) attached to him. Which also means, will I be listened to or believed even, or will I get told he is just a typical kid with some behaviour problems!?

I’m now at the point where I don’t want my son to just have some behaviour problems (hello award for the world’s shitty Mum) and I want him to be diagnosed with something! I want to be listened too and I want a doctor to agree with me! 

Make me a horrible person? Well, until you’ve lived the last three years like I have and walked in my shoes then jog on; your opinion means jack shit (who is Jack Shit? I’ve always wondered!) 

I don’t care what is going on with my handsome boy, I don’t care what it is called and I don’t care that this is our life now. I have already excepted all that and no matter what, I’m so proud of him! I will scream it from the rooftops if he gets diagnosed and also say a few Fuck You’s to the people who didn’t believe me (that doesn’t help when you already feel like you’re going crazy!) 

Everyone has an opinion on my little boy but the only opinion I really care about is the final decision. Then I’ll know why he hits me, doesn’t sleep, very fussy eater, problems with speech and language and doesn’t like change. 

It is like having a jigsaw puzzle of the deep blue sea that has a thousand pieces and you’ve got one piece missing... If completing the puzzle wasn’t hard enough! 

Every single parent has a story and a struggle. I have fibromyalgia (in constant pain, always tired and like I have the flu), my little boy is getting assessed and I’m yes, I’m stressed and tired but I’m no different from any other parent; like you, we just all have a story and this is mine at the moment. 

Keep going Mum’s, no matter what they throw at us we will make it and I think I will share what really goes on behind the scenes. After all I’m showing you the real photo not some made up shit!

About Bloody Time! 

I think it is about bloody time I actually write on my own site! Oh boy, has Bad Mum taken off or what; thank you so much to everyone that understands the concept behind it and for everyone filling my inbox up with amazing bits and bobs.

I promise I will get to everyone, even if I have to work day and night (which I am) I will get to you; you are not unnoticed or forgotten. I have To Do lists everywhere at the minute and a notebook that has become my best friend – touch it and you’re dead!

I am slowly showing my new born baby, Bad Mum, to friends and the ladies at the school gate; the ones you normally do a polite nod or muster up a fellow Mum hello too and it has been a complete mixed bag of reactions. I have had my friend send me a text saying “OMG Hun, just had a brief look and it looks and sounds incredible!! Its seriously amazing Soph and I am so proud of you!” to not interested at all to people looking at me in horror by the Bad Mum name…if you’re that easily shocked you better not read the crocheted dicks zine I posted!

Saying Bad Mum still seems to be a bit of a shocker to people which I totally get because I have been called it after all but this is not a site promoting shit mothers that piss off and leave their baby; sit around all day out of their head and more interested in going out then actually being a Mother! This site is full of bloody amazing parents that somehow manage to bring up a human being brilliantly and at the same time conquer the world with their blog/business/product/personality, all while holding their shit together…somehow! Now, that is what this site is all about and I’ll say HELL YES to that!

Bad Mum represents the bare face of real parenting by real parents. This is a platform to showcase parent’s talents and also come together to be honest about the shit side to parenting, instead of keeping quiet about it. It is a platform to showcase the voice that has been waiting to be heard.

We all know there is a tough side to parenting and it is boring, mind numbing, hard work, sleep depriving and stressful but we don’t always say it out loud because in society it is seen as a terrible thing to say looking after your child all day is boring! But it can be! When you are stuck indoors, watching CBeebies all day and then that flipping channel decides to repeat all the same programmes again in the afternoon, you’ve already watched that morning (and your little one acts like it is the first time they’ve ever seen it) you are ready to hit the bottle or stick your head in the microwave just to bring it back to life again!

It is just getting people to speak about it and make it more normal but it appears that parents are craving for some honesty. There are plenty of Mum’s out there now doing a great job spreading the word and showing that WE ALL DO IT!

I have been writing for years and done everything I can to get my writing shown just somewhere as long as it was out there. The fact I can feature your work and to receive such lovely comments and emails thanking me, gives me such a buzz! You guys have become my drug; let’s hope I don’t OD on honesty!

I’m way to honest for my own good and I’ll tell anyone anything if they ask me. I’ll probably be the same on here too. I’m not shy to discuss the tough topics or the subjects we hardly discuss; like sex...or lack of! God at the beginning, when I first had my son I was a complete lunatic with being sleep deprived and if my partner had even mentioned the word shag I would have cut his dick off with a carving knife! If we did manage something I’d have one eye on the clock and the other on...well just remove the l out of clock! All while just thinking this is eating into (stop it you dirty lot) my sleeping time and that was very scarce and precious!

And, when it comes to romance well, have a laugh! The closest to romance I get these days is my partner asking me if I’ve had a shower today and if not can I go and use a wet wipe to freshen up (please note; I do wash every day and I am not a minger) so we can have (yet again) a shag! Or stopping mid-shag so he can fart or burp! Romance is officially stone dead.

Anyway this is me and this is Bad Mum. I’m getting more comfortable with my special-ness and quirks; which I’m sure you’ll see from time to time. I have a handsome funny little boy who I adore with all my heart and who I had a full blown conversation to about the price of tomato sauce today in Tesco’s (all other major supermarkets available...always wanted to say that.) He wanted the small bottle for £1.65 and I said we might as well go for the bigger one as it’s only £2.00...this conversation went back and forth for some time until eventually he won. That kid wouldn’t know a bargain if it hit him in the face (and it nearly did!)

Anyway folks, this is me, this is Bad Mum, that’s some of my life and let’s start this Bad Mum journey (*she said the journey word, who does she think she is? Someone off Strictly Come Dancing?*) together because I have a rather good feeling this is going to be one hell of a trip…and I can’t bloody wait!

Hold on tight as I have a feeling it is going to be a bumpy ride! 

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