Diet Coke Motherhood

I am trying to figure out for the third time how to blow out a friends party.
It is not that I do not want a drink fuelled sparkly shoe night out with the girlies but as usual I am broke as a joke. My last tenner has gone onto the electric key and I am doomed to another night in front of the rubbish telly.

I am thinking to myself that if I were to do talks to young girls on contraception that tonight would be a good example to use. Maybe that would solve teenage pregnancy - put a baby on one side of A4 paper and a designer bag on the back, using it as a flashcard I would hold it up and say 16years of nights in, or unlimited accessories for life. I bet that the rates would drop in a flash. Forget all that sleep deprivation stuff, show them the real sacrifice!

What makes this phone call hard to make is that I know that my darling full time working childless buddy will not have any empathy and will just think I am being boring. ARGH. On my last meeting with her she told me how her handbags and shoes were her ‘children’ I recall wondering why my own children couldn’t look so glam strapped around my ankles and under my arm!

The Yummy Mummy rulebook in my head is screaming that I am failing one of the fundamental step’s - How can one live a champagne lifestyle on a diet coke budget? Answer is you don’t.

I am still not giving up on my quest, I just decide that this is a Wannabe Yummy Mummy occupational hazard, that I will just have to (yet again) make my own entertainment in my front room. I do have an amazing imagination, just one friend, a husband asleep on the couch and a bottle of cheap rose and I am as glam as they come.

I can even wear my ridiculous heels and ladder my tights dancing.

The joys of diet coke motherhood.