Shit My Mum Says

Move over Craig David my new inspiration and muse is the great Justin Halpern of 'Shit My Dad Says' fame. If you haven't come across this phenomenon yet I urge you to google it pronto. And in the meantime I shall shamelessly rip him off for your blogging pleasure...

So....mothers, mums, mams, mas and mummys. Whatever you call them they gave life to us all. They nurtured us, fed, bathed, cuddled and cared for us; showering us with a seemingly endless supply of love no matter how stinky our nappy, or embarrassing our tantrum. What could be more sacred than the bond between mother and daughter?

Except I don't think my Mum read that bit of the idiot's guide to motherhood. I think she got bored and started reading 'how to lose friends and alienate people' instead. How else can you account for some of the shit that my Mum has said in the six months that I have been single? For example:


On living alone with dogs in London:
I'm just worried that your friends will stop asking you to go out because you always say no and that you'll end up a lonely old spinster. You don't want to end up like that woman who had her toe chewed off by her dog.


On my brother and his wife getting a divorce:
Well who knows what their reasons are. Maybe she wasn't giving him sex?


On relationship advice:
You do say sorry don't you? Never forget the power of sorry. Because I remember a certain young lady who swore that hell would freeze over before she would ever say sorry.
(MUM! I strongly suspect I was 16 when I said that!)


On needing her mother-of-the-bride moment:
If you DARE run off to Vegas and get married I will kill you.
(I had been seeing this man for TWO weeks)


On enjoying my independence:
Oh my god! You're not going to be a single parent are you?


On why I'll never keep a man:
Mum: I do worry about your black moods.
Me: What black moods?
Mum: Well you told me you were in a black mood last weekend when you went to see J.
Me: I was in a grump. It took me a whole hour to travel 1 mile in Friday evening traffic. A grump. It's different.


It's clear my Mum knows just where to stick the knife. And twist it. Truly - it's an art form. Are all mothers so skilled? What shit does your mum say? Answers on a postcard please. Or in the comments section below. Yep, down a bit and to the right...you can't miss it.