By Popular Demand...

Since joining twitter, I have been inundated with requests to start a blog (using 'inundated with requests' in the sense of 'suggested by a couple of kind people who could sense my low self esteem over the internet').
This was, as you can imagine, a tremendous ego boost to me. Rarely in my day to day life do I get such validation of my worth (using 'such' in the case of 'well, any, really'). The men in my family are, after all, not ones for bestowing unnecessary praise. The closest my husband will get to telling me I look nice is when I ask 'Do I look nice?' and he responds in the affirmative (usually with his eyes still on 'Mad Men'). It's not that he doesn't think I look nice, it's just that he doesn't quite get why he should tell me. It's like reminding me that I have two ears, or a full set of teeth, or that freakish scar on my left ring finger that makes it look like a bum. In his mind, I should know he knows that by now, right?
My son, on the other hand, is less about withholding praise and more about offering constructive criticism. From the time he was four or five he would offer such advice as 'Mum, perhaps you would like to put on a bra?' (more than a little demoralising considering that, most of the time, I was wearing a bra). He also offers helpful cooking suggestions, for example, "This burger is disgusting, Mum. You need to try to make it taste more like McDonald's. Then maybe I'd eat it."
Of course, to be fair, I still have my girls to help me feel good about myself. Little Boo at only 18 months of age isn't a great deal of help, having learnt 'Bad Mummy' (and it's counterparts 'Shit Mummy' and 'Bum Mummy' from her brother), but she does fling herself at me with a scream of joy after a short separation, which is very rewarding indeed. (Sadly, when her father is around, I may as well be a piece of wall, but we can't have too much positive reinforcement).
And her sister is full of praise for me, assuring me I'm beautiful, wonderful and The Best Mummy In The World on a daily basis. Thing is, though, Pinkela tells EVERYONE they're beautiful, wonderful, and The Best Mummy/ Friend/ Teacher/ Grandparent/ McDonad's cashier in the world, so it's not quite as rare and special as it might sound. But better than Bum Mummy, nonetheless.
So thank you to all who have encouraged me to begin blogging, and I hope to reward your faith in me.
Oh, and for those desperate to see, here's a pic of the bum finger. Bum Mummy indeed.