Walking in the Air

As Mr T grows, there are many new and exciting things that we are starting to do together as his ability to sit still for longer periods of time is getting better, and his comprehension is at the level of a 10 year old*, may be exaggerating slightly. However, one of my most favourite pastimes of late is indulging in a passion of mine with him that I now have very valid reason for doing on a regular basis, and that is watching movies. And when I say movies, I obviously don’t mean your run of the mill chick flick movies; boy meets girl, falls in love, chases girl, yadeyadeyada, bleurgh, predictable, bleurgh, but really good movies. And when I say good movies, I mean really good Disney movies, and really good Pixar movies and, just generally, really good classic children’s movies.

Take yesterday for example where, upon a trip to the library, I came across ‘The Snowman’ and nearly peed my pants with excitement. I haven’t seen that film in years and years, but just seeing the cover alone brought back memories of Christmases past where, in the UK, it was almost as traditional for us to all sit down as a family and watch this movie as it was to stuff ourselves with Xmas dinner and then slob out on the sofa with party hats askew and Grandad snoring in the corner. Back then it was a heart warming movie of pictures telling the story of a snowman and a little boy’s magical adventures, with a rather sad ending when said Snowman is melted the morning after the night before. And last night when I watched it snuggled up on the sofa with Mr T it was still a heart warming movie of pictures telling the story of a snowman and a little boy’s magical adventures, with a rather sad ending when said Snowman is melted the morning after the night before. However, as an adult I actually appreciated it for much more. I appreciated it for the fact that it is actually a beautifully illustrated story that comes to life with obvious emotion, despite being completely set to music, which is also really rather lovely.

Initially I did wonder if the fact that there was no speaking throughout the movie would cause Mr T some confusion/boredom, however, I needn’t of worried as, with his high level of intelligence and incessant and persistent questioning throughout, no stone was left unturned and he understood it sort of completely! I am not too sure that; ‘What’s the snowman doing?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?, Is there a party?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?, Where has the motorbike gone?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?, Where are they going?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?, Where is his hat?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?, Where’s Santa?, Where’s the little boy’s Mummy and Daddy?*’, and ‘Is he going to bed now?’ added much to my experience, however, it was definitely nice to watch it through his eyes too and I think it is safe to say that this may be one to add to our ever growing collection of favourites.

*I don’t know why the whereabouts of ‘the little boy’s parents’ caused so much interest/distress but it really did!

This Post Comes With A Smug Mum Warning! Sorry!

For some time I had been putting off toilet training as; a) it had all seemed too hard and I am not known for my motivation in anything requiring hard work, and b) we have had fluctuations in interest from Mr T resulting in some days being quite successful, but others resulting in me spending the majority of my time on the floor scrubbing up wee and coming across randomly hidden poos. However, a couple of weeks ago I decided to just bite the bullet and just go cold turkey with the whole damn thing, kind of like a now or never approach…although not quite literally as sending him off to Uni in nappies would just be kinda weird right?

So the Monday arrived and I explained to Mr T what we were going to do – well, as much as you can explain to a 2.5 year old who doesn’t tend to listen all that often or sit still for more than 5 minutes straight. I told him that he was a big boy now and that only babies wear nappies all the time and, therefore, from here on in, he would only wear nappies for sleep times* – *I am going ‘cold’ turkey ok…not, arctic. I then proudly and excitedly pulled out a pair of robot pants which I had brought a pack of especially (commonly now known as Big Boy Pants), kind of did a jig round the room waving said pants to make them more exciting, and then proceeded to get him dressed.

Now, the key with all this toilet training malarkey I have found out is that you have to be on it ALL THE TIME as, for those first few days, tv, playing, running, eating and any other form of distraction will result in accidents happening and you rapidly working your way through what feels like a year’s supply of Chux cloths as you clean up puddle after puddle. Therefore, with this in mind, and after a few initial accidents, I swiftly morphed into OCD mode, which actually wasn’t all that hard as I do have some OCD tendencies simmering under the surface as it is, but that’s a whole other post! So poor Mr T was being whisked off to the toilet literally every 15 minutes and, when he wasn’t on the toilet, I was asking him if he wanted to go to the toilet or singing an impromptu and improvised wee wee or poo poo song around the toilet in an attempt to make the whole situation seem like ‘so much fun’. I was however promptly stopped in my tracks with this last one as he clearly stated on day 2 of mission training, “Mummy, no singing wee wee songs…I don’t like it”!…Oh? Ok! See – he really is a Big Boy now!

So now we are almost at the end of week 2 of training and, (this is where the Smug Mum bit comes in….sorry!), I have to say that he has been just brilliant! Don’t get me wrong, there have been a few accidents along the way, usually those which have happened when I have not been prepared with a change of clothes of course, and there has been plenty of jelly beans consumed as an incentive for using the toilet meaning that most of his teeth will soon fall out of his head from the sugar, BUT, all in all he has pretty much GOT IT!! I know it is really sad to be excited about such a small accomplishment, and I do hate putting myself in the ‘parents who talk about their kids toileting habits’ category, but it really does make life so much easier and, as an additional bonus, the money I am now saving on nappies can now be spent on chocolate instead!

A Weekend Break is…Almost…as Good as a Long Holiday!

This last weekend I went away to Melbourne with a good girlfriend (a lovely friend I met through my Mothers group actually) for a child and man free weekend, and I don’t feel at all guilty or bad in saying it was simply wonderful!!

We got up and out of the hotel in the mornings within 45 minutes and even got to treat ourselves by wearing make up and brushing our hair! We got to finish conversations without the usual interruptions of ‘don’t pick your nose, stay away from that fountain’ and ‘get out of Mummy’s bag’. We got to eat food without fingers being poked in it, and first hand without a pre chewing test being conducted by a mini child shaped taste tester. We got to wander around adult shops (not those kind of adult shops!), and take as long as we liked in the changing rooms without having to wrestle clothes on and off one handedly, whilst also trying to retain some kind of modesty by keeping the other hand on the curtain! We got to sit in nice cafes and restaurants and just simply watch the world go by and all without the accompaniment of our Mary Poppins Mummy bags, and we got to take risks like crossing roads without waiting for the green man (wild I know!), take stairs instead of the lift, and stay out well past our usual 9pm bedtime!.

Woman shown not me….but ALMOST identical after a good night’s sleep

And then of course we had the luxury of not only sleeping in a big clean comfy bed which didn’t come complete with the obligatory array of toys or wandering hands, but having it all to ourselves and being able to sleep in past 6am! In fact so much so that we didn’t know ourselves when we woke up at 9am on Saturday….a sure sign however that the break was much needed and definitely something that we will be doing again…VERY SOON!

Some Battles You Wish You Didn’t Have To Fight!

Picture shown NOT us!

If you were to ask Mr T right now what kind of Mummy I am, he would probably ponder this for all of about 10 seconds (his current attention span) and then respond that, for the majority of the time, I am quite simply terrible. For example, he would go on to explain how he isn’t allowed smarties for breakfast – Bad Mummy, he isn’t allowed to choose 300 cars as a ‘special treat’ EVERY time we go to the shops – Bad Mummy, he isn’t allowed to throw the ‘hi’ pad on the floor…just for fun – Bad Mummy and, worst of all, he has to wear clothes…Bad, Bad Mummy!

For recently, Mr T has decided that clothes are totally overrated and a totally unnecessary part of…well, life in general. And so ensues a daily battle to get dressed. A battle that, quite frankly, I would happily choose not to fight if it were not for the fact that a) taking a naked child to the supermarket is somewhat frowned upon and b) the cooler months we are now heading into are not conducive to combatting coughs and snuffles!

So what starts off as Mummy patiently and enthusiastically trying to encourage Mr T to pick out some nice clothes to wear, very rapidly turns into Mummy very impatiently and not quite so enthusiastically chasing a screaming toddler around the sofa until he is adequately restrained to be forced into items of clothing. Items of clothing which I hasten to add will inevitably be ‘don’t liked’ and then stripped off again the minute Mummy’s back is turned! Case in point yesterday when it took us 3 attempts and a total of half an hour to get dressed.

I have to confess that it is all rather exhausting, and yesterday I think even Mr T realised he had pushed Mummy too far when, after turning around to find him naked for the 3rd time, I quite honestly lost the plot for a couple of minutes seconds, ranting like a mad woman and grasping at another of my grey hairs, before announcing that we would NOT be leaving the house ALL day. There would be NO park, NO beach and just NO sunlight in general! HA! Now who’s a Bad Mummy hey? But still, it seemed to do the trick as, after pondering on this consequence for all of about 10 seconds (his current attention span), Mr T appeared with trousers in hand and big eyes saying ‘Mummy, I want to go out’! And so we did….maybe making him realise that I am not quite such a Bad Mummy after all. Well, at least until tomorrow morning when I make him get dressed all over again!

To Be Fertile….Or Not To Be….That is the Question!

As a teenager and well into my 20’s, my wish list for life read much like a fairy tale shopping list. Achieve dream job – check; buy a new car – check, travel the world – check, meet Mr Right (or at least Mr Right for Friday night) – check, and wear the latest trends – check. Fall pregnant – err, not so much!

So fast-forward 10 years and the irony of sitting in a fertility clinic was certainly not lost on me. After years spent going all out to avoid getting pregnant, now here I was, having met Mr Right (for all Friday nights), flicking through magazines of gazing babies. Babies that I was convinced, after a long period of trying, that I would never have.

I hate to say it but, when you have been fortunate enough to have gone through life and pretty much achieved and received everything you have ever wanted, never is there a truer cliché than ‘you always want what you can’t have’.
And, at that time, I would have happily given anything just to ‘have’ a baby.

Everything else I wanted prior just began to seem so, well…..immaterial.
I would have worked for minimum wage in a dead end job, not owned a car, never left my hometown and dressed in rags, if it meant that all of my previous wishes and dreams could be exchanged for the guarantee that I would one day hold my own child, rather than always everyone else’s.

And trust me, everyone else was having babies…I swear! Or it certainly felt that way at the time. I just couldn’t avoid it! Every time I went out there were millions of waddling women EVERYWHERE. I saw women caressing their bumps and smiling dreamily as they stocked up on super cute outfits in Target. I saw women asking for decaffeinated coffee at the café as they sat for a while and rested their swollen ankles and aching backs. And I saw expectant women sat at the park, on the train and in the street. There was just plain simply nowhere that was safe. Nowhere I could go and not be reminded of the fact that I was not and, (in my dramatic state of mind) ever likely to be pregnant!

In fact, I wasn’t even safe online. Logging onto Facebook only resulted in making me feel worse as my news feed slapped me in the face with the announcement of yet ANOTHER friend expecting. And, of course, these announcements wouldn’t be complete without the obligatory collection of pictures now would they?

First comes the pictures of the scan, then the progressive pictures over the next 6 months of Mum to be with her ever growing bump and, finally, the million and one pictures of the newborn once he/she has arrived. There would be pictures with Mummy, pictures with Daddy, pictures with the dog, pictures with the cat. There would be pictures of baby sleeping on his side, on his back, in a chair, on top of the dog. Pictures of baby waking, on his back, in a chair, on top of the dog…and so it went on.

Bitter? Me? Well ok, maybe I was a bit. But let me tell you, there is nothing harder than attending your 3rd baby shower in as many weekends and having to be all excited and enthusiastic. Your smile does start to feel somewhat forced as you drag yourself through the next few hours, and your key objective becomes to, not only survive but, for as long as possible, avoid the inevitable question; “When are YOU going to have a baby?” For you know that the minute you hear that question, it will take all your strength not to run away as fast as possible to the nearest corner, adopt the foetal position yourself and rock!

Fast-forward once again 4 years and, with the benefit of hindsight and a lot more sanity, I now know that the reality is that we were actually very lucky. And I say lucky in that, not only have we been blessed with a beautiful and perfect little boy (yes, he takes after me!), but our journey on the IVF path was actually relatively short and easy in comparison to others. I regularly hear stories of women who have undergone procedure after procedure in their dreams of having a child and my heart aches for them. I understand the pain and the daily mental and emotional anguish that they are going through and, whilst I know it probably won’t make them feel better, I would like to let them know that on the top of my current wish list is for all of those couples to have a child.

Parenting is SO rewarding…no…really!

We very often hear parents tell us how ‘rewarding’ being a parent is and I for one am the first to agree. For example, as far as I am concerned there is nothing more rewarding than when the little one goes to sleep and you finally get to sit down on the sofa amid a family size bar of chocolate (which you now don’t have to share) and a goblet glass of wine at the ready after a long hard day. Now that is rewarding alright!

In fact the ‘rewards’ that you receive when you become a parent are endless. However, in order to sum up my favourite I have compiled the below list which covers probably those moments when I, personally, feel that being a parent is, by far, the MOST rewarding job ever;

1 – When you spend time making lunch for your toddler, only to have them pull it to bits, throw it all over the floor, feed it to the dog and then proceed to only lick the butter off the bread before disregarding it down the back of the sofa
2 – When you decide to allow your toddler to have some creative craft time with crayons, only to turn your back for a second allowing them long enough to create their very own Picasso… on the wall, drawers and sofa
3 – When you choose an outfit fitting for a ‘special occasion’ only to have them jump in a muddy puddle en route resulting in them turning up to the party in the ‘emergency’ back up clothes of tracky daks and a t shirt that no longer fits
4 – When your toddler has a meltdown in a very public place accompanied by head banging, crying and screams of ‘NOT MY MUMMY!’
5 – When you spend time making a healthy dinner, only to have your toddler pull it to bits, throw it all over the floor, feed it to the dog and then proceed to whine that he is hungry and wants dinner 10 minutes later
6 – When your toddler is toilet training but, more often than not, forgets to go to the toilet and you spend all day mopping up wee and find the occasional surprise poo behind a curtain, the sofa or the dog
7 – When your toddler is demonstrating their right to independence and insists on dressing themselves resulting in you very often appearing in public accompanied by batman, superman, charity shop man or naked ‘with the exception of a nappy and wellies’ man
8 – When you sort through the clean washing, only to have your toddler want to help you with the aid of his sticky chocolate fingers
9 – When you try to mop the floor, only to have your toddler want to help you further by mopping the work surfaces and windows
10 – When you have to read the SAME bed time story for the 55000000 time and they are so clever now that they know when you skip a page….

Yes, indeed my friends, the rewards are….endless!

Is it wrong that I love Peppa Pig??

Out of all the tv that my son watches on a daily basis (all strictly time managed and NEVER when he is having his dinner you understand….cough, cough), I would have to say that, without doubt, Peppa Pig is my stand out favourite. I love Peppa Pig! I love the fact that the characters are so well observed and so cleverly portrayed, and I love the fact that they actually reflect reality as opposed to being all goody too shoes all the time, as is the case with many of the other kids’ tv shows.

Now, sure I understand that there is a big move towards, and a big support for, kids’ programs that are of an educational nature and teach our children morals and ‘the right way to behave’. And many a qualified expert (of which I am not!) will completely push the point that children will copy the behaviours of that which they witness on tv, therefore further fuelling the debate that children’s viewing should be limited, but I do also think there is a fine line between acknowledging what is just a little fun and what could be seriously damaging to a child.

If you can honestly say, hand on heart, that you have never eaten chocolate cake over vegetables when you had the choice, have never splashed in a muddy puddle, have never back chatted your own parents and/or have never belittled your partner in a sarcastic manner in front of your children then, firstly, let me finish applauding you before I continue on to confirm that, yes, indeed, Peppa Pig is not for you. I recommend that perhaps you stick to watching the more sensible and educational shows on offer where fruit salad and vegetables are promoted and essential safety messages such as ‘ovens are hot’ and ‘scissors are sharp’ are repeated on a rather endless loop.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I totally understand and appreciate that there is a definite need for, and positive messages to be achieved from, educational programs, but I do also think that sometimes people forget that their children probably witness a lot more ‘traumatising’ behaviours around the home and out in public in general than that of which they may be exposed to in watching the likes of Peppa Pig. It is a real and true fact of life that humans bicker (often in front of their children, despite their best intentions not to), succumb to eating junk food, get dirty, and occasionally use language of a sarcastic or somewhat patronising nature. Therefore, one could argue that in order to avoid our children picking up any of these ‘behaviours’ the simple answer is quite simply never to leave home, once again backing up the ‘wrap our children in cotton wool’ brigade!

However, in a move that seems to be increasingly common in the UK, parents are taking a stand against Peppa Pig by announcing a ban on the show in their home, citing it as the reason for their child’s recently acquired ‘naughty’ behaviours. Naughty behaviours that they claim are a mirror image of those portrayed by the characters within the cartoon.

For example, one parent told of how, after watching George Pig refuse his vegetables in an episode, preferring instead to ask for ‘chocolate cake’, her son would no longer touch his cucumber and tomato. And another Father told of his despair in his daughter wanting to emulate Peppa Pig on the way to school by partaking in her favourite pastime of splashing in muddy puddles!

Now, whilst I do have empathy for these parents, I do also think that, in the grand scheme of things, a bit of mud and the occasional piece of chocolate cake never really hurt anyone (even if it is for breakfast), and, in reality, children will back chat regardless of whether they see it on a cartoon or not. It’s all about boundaries, learning how far they can or can’t be pushed, and is all just part of their development as individuals. Sure, there is no denying that it can make our job as parents harder when we are challenged by factors influencing our children such as television, but does it not ring true that we could, alternatively, also make our lives a little easier by taking a leaf from Peppa’s book and quite simply eating chocolate cake, splashing in muddy puddles and, quite honestly, just sometimes breaking the rules?!

Trolls Back Under Your Bridges!

I often read that bloggers and writers in general should think about the ‘purpose’ of their writing and the audience for which it is aimed. I would be the first to admit that I haven’t really thought about this all that much however, and would probably agree that my blog and published writing does very little other than to maybe offer a giggle here and there, enable me to have a creative outlet for my often pent up frustrations, and just generally give me a legitimate excuse to sit on the internet doing ‘research’ more than necessary.

I don’t write about politics, earth shattering news, current affairs or offer career advice and there is reasoning for that, predominantly being that a) I don’t actually give a flying fig about most of it, and b) I don’t consider myself an expert in any of these fields enough to comment. What I do write is tongue in cheek posts that are designed to be light hearted and not taken too seriously with my audience being…well, basically anyone with a sense of humour. Therefore it saddens me immensely when I come across negative and nasty comments in reference to, not only my blog and writing, but to others who are, dare I say it, writing in the same ‘Mummy Blogger’ genre as me. *The term Mummy Blogger still being something akin to a bout of scabies it would appear that causes many to itch repeatedly and require a long hot shower to rinse away any connection to this.

Sure, I know that my writing is not for everyone, and I am certainly not stupid or naive enough to think that we are all the same in either intelligence, interest or taste. That would make the world a pretty boring place right?. Neither am I so precious that I can’t take criticism, for I totally understand that what works for one doesn’t necessarily work for another and, in all honesty, if, for example, you were to direct me to a blog about politics (or the like) it would probably be preferable to me to go and put my head in the oven rather than read it, but I GET IT that others would like this. What I wouldn’t do however is to read a post and hate it so much that I would feel the need to leave nasty, unnecessary and personal attacks in response.

Trolls used to live under bridges and only be the stuff of fairytales, but sadly with the growth of the internet, and more specifically blogs and social media, this is no longer the case. This boom in technology and freedom for people to self publish has fed the appetite of those belonging under the bridges and, with the protection of being able to remain anonymous behind the safety of computer screens, trolls are making appearances left, right and centre all over articles and posts that are intended for entertainment purposes only. It’s a sad and sorry day when something that someone has taken the time to write gets trashed by the minority who, let’s face it, clearly have nothing better to do. And on that note I will leave you with some very ‘Mummy Blogger’ advice passed on from experts in the field (e.g. the olds)…’If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all’!

‘Un’Happy After Easter

I loved Easter. Not only did it mean I had a very valid excuse to eat chocolate – well Jesus wouldn’t have wanted it any other way right? – but it also meant that Mr H was home for 4 whole days and so it almost felt like I had something of a mini holiday. Admittedly, I didn’t get to read a full book, go to a day spa, eat chocolate without having to share it or, heaven forbid, go to the loo alone, but just having another pair of hands around to deal with a certain active little fellow makes a world of difference. It means being able to, quite literally, pop out to grab something from the supermarket and being home within 10 minutes minus having had to look at every twig, flower and abandoned piece of rubbish (Mr T has become somewhat of a council inspector!) en route. It means I can merrily skip down the ‘Smarties’ aisle and leave unscathed, and it means I have a break from playing garages…a role for which I feel I am now qualified enough to open up my own

The weather was very kind to us and so we were able to do lots of nice things including catching up with friends, going to the beach and park and exploring more around Sydney via train, boat and our feet whilst eating our body weight through chinese, icecream and general ‘feel good but get fat’ food….did I mention we may have eaten some chocolate? Naturally this week we are on a diet again but that is by the by really and only to be expected after a weekend of indulgence right?

Jo always looked at her best when grappling with the hoover!

So it’s back to the usual routine today as I face the reality that after 4 days of being in holiday bliss and total cleaning ignorance, the house has slowly crumbled around me making me question what time the bomb went off over the weekend. One can only assume I slept right through it! There seems to be clothes scattered in every room, mucky hand and paw prints over all manner of surfaces and an explosion of utensils in the kitchen following one of Mr H’s cooking fests. The laundry baskets are overflowing, the baths are filled with a deposit of sand and the floors are sporting a very fine layer of furry tumbleweed! And so on that note I leave you with the not so sexy or happy image of me dressed in my finest, complete with scrubbing brush in hand off to clean the loo…..When are the next holidays again?

‘Friends’ We Love to Hate On Facebook

Best friends…..#livingthedream

As an avid user of Facebook I am the first to admit that its merits far outweigh its cons for me. Living on the other side of the world from family means that with the advent of this type of social media I can easily keep everyone updated as to the growth of Mr T and his latest adventures. Yes, I am one of THOSE mums…there are pictures of Mr T doing every kind of activity that is totally of no interest whatsoever to anyone else other than family. And I am totally aware of this and totally understand. No one else really cares that today Mr T had ANOTHER ice-cream, went to the zoo or posed for another photo that, in reality, doesn’t really look all that dissimilar to the other 100 from last week – albeit that he is just in a different outfit and at a different beach. But family do care, and it does make you feel less far away when you get regular updates and like you are not missing out on quite so much. Plus of course it also means that I no longer have to upload pictures into an email which then takes a gazillion hours to send and download the other end, and nor do I have to bother with the often obligatory email that accompanies it.

That’s not to say however that Facebook doesn’t come with its myriad of other annoying users….I mean friends…who abuse it in a number of ways, some of which myself and a couple of girlfriends spent much time laughing about recently. So, without further ado, here’s what we came up with;

1 – The Cryptic Poster – You know the one right? We all have someone who does it! Every couple of days they will write something along the lines of ‘Yay!!!!, ‘It’s finally happening!!!!!, ‘Can’t wait!!!!’, or…my personal favourite, the simple ‘ ‘ or ‘ ‘ *note, this type of post is always accompanied with numerous exclamation marks – well at least for those who use punctuation – see below re number 9! This kind of post is intended to grab one’s attention to their exciting/groundbreaking news and, of course, create a flurry of responses along the line of ‘What’s happening hon?’, ‘Ohhh can’t wait to hear more babe’ or, in the event of depressing status’ updates ‘Are you ok?’ or ‘Hang in there babe’.

2 – The ‘LOL’er – the person who at the end of pretty much EVERY post feels the need to add ‘LOL’, regardless of whether their post is actually even remotely funny or not. This person just LOL’s about everything and happily does it all over your newsfeed and, just generally, all over the web. It is annoying as, quite honestly, nothing is THAT funny ALL the time….is it?..LOL!!

3 – The Negative Nelly – This is the poster who, no matter what, is constantly filing your feed up with news of their doom and gloom, and never has a truer word been uttered than ‘misery loves company’ when it comes to describing this ‘friend’! Irrelevant of continual responses offering support and advice of ‘chin up, things will get better’, this person will never really be happy. They will always be having a rough time, will always be in a job that ‘sucks’, will always be left out of social events (not really that surprising that one is it?!), will always be on a diet that doesn’t work, will always hate their boss, and will always be looking for people or things to nit pick at….which is not all that dissimilar to the next ‘friend’ actually.

4 – The Fighter – This is the ‘friend’ who is constantly acting out some kind of argument on Facebook for the world to see and, whilst can sometimes be a bit of a cryptic poster, is generally not backwards in coming forwards as, let’s face it, this certainly gets the best response and attention which is what these people constantly crave. These posters have no fear in sharing their dirty laundry with the rest of FB and no husband, wife, partner, friend, boss or random is safe from a slandering or public humiliation. Naturally, it only feeds their appetite if others jump on board with comments like ‘Wow, babe, that’s awful’ or ‘That sucks…what an ar@e’!

5 – The Selfie Obsessed – yes this one!! The one that is CONSTANTLY putting up pictures of themselves whereby they pull exactly the same pout like expression in an attempt to look as au naturale as possible, and the only thing that ever really changes is the outfit. Their albums are filled with pictures of themselves and, quite honestly, reek of either people with low self esteem or people who are truly self obsessed yet still seek the constant reassurance from their ‘friends’. Naturally, of course these said friends provide the perfect fodder by writing things like ‘Wow, you look so beautiful babe’ to which they then ‘oh so modestly’ reply ‘Awwww thanks’, as if that wasn’t really the kind of response they were seeking….MUCH!! These pics are often also accompanied by #’s such as #chillin’, #nomakeup and #lazysunday.

6 – The Living The Dream…ers – these people are just soooooo super busy #livingthedream, yet, astoundingly, they still have time to update their Facebook status at amazingly regular intervals to let us all know about it. Geez…generous too hey?. After all, everything they do is simply fantastic. They have the best jobs, get paid the most money EVER, drive the flashiest cars, have the best friends, own the most expensive designer wardrobe, go to the best holiday resorts and live in a world where the sun constantly shines. Also, in case you were wondering, their poos, quite honestly, smell divine.

7 – The Checkout Chick – You just checked in at Coles? Wow! And then you went to the loo? Really? Thanks for sharing – that’s really interesting! I don’t need to say anything more about this one do I?

8 – The Foodie – These friends are the ones who insist on sharing every meal with you….only in this instance of course in the online sense…and no avocado, baked bean or egg is safe. They are also the really annoying people you see out in restaurants whipping out their phone to record the moment that their burger and chips hits the table. Such pictures, as with selfies, are often accompanied with #’s such as #yuuuuummmmm, #sundaylunch and #getinmybelly

9 – The Punctuator and Gud Speler – Ok, I know I am probably being a bit mean here and I know that I can well be something of a spelling and grammar nazi, but is it really that hard for people to differentiate between There, Their and They’re and, oh I don’t know, use the odd apostrophe, punctuation mark and comma in the right context?

10 – The Verbal Diarrhoea / Oversharers – for fear of becoming one of these in continuing to write any more of this article I will leave the characteristics defining this last poster to your imagination but….you know what I mean…right?