Life Changing ….

There will be some things in life that will happen to you and these things will be life changing, a moment in time that will irrevocably change your life forever and things will never be the same again. ‘YOU’ won’t ever be the same after the event.

For example, marriage changed me – I went from single to married, from ‘I’ to ‘US’, from uncoupled to coupled.

The birth of my children changed me – I went from carefree, careless, prodigal, reckless, pint drinking, tit flashing female  with ultimate bladder control and a svelte size 10. To a nurturing, caring, selfless, sensible, gin drinking, spaniels’ ear, flashing woman who wets herself when she laughs and wobbles when she walks.

The death of my children changed me – I went from nurturing, caring, selfless, sensible, gin drinking, spaniels’ ear, flashing woman who wets herself when she laughs and wobbles when she walks. To a bitter, resentful, jealous, heartbroken, soulless shell of a mother who cries her self to sleep every night wishing things could be different.

From my experience not all life changing things are sad, not all life changing things are bad. Some are great, some are momentous. Some will teach you valuable lessons whilst some will make you and some ‘you’ll think’ will break you.

The death of my twins was 13 years ago, 13 years ago my life changed. I changed.

One thing about grief, which in itself can change you as a person, is that the grieved often feel like they need to be sad and bereft forever, because not being sad is like accepting your ‘over it’ which of course you never will be but in reality, as time passes it becomes easier to deal with but for the grieved this element is the hardest to deal with. For years I didn’t want the pain to leave, for years I tortured myself because I wanted to feel the heartbreak, because being present in grief allowed me to feel closer to them.

When it becomes easier, are we forgetting? Are we disrespecting their memory, for at least being sad and feeling pained and grief stricken in some way confirms our love for the people who have gone?

One of my all-time favorite quotes is Time moves slowly but passes quickly, and how f**king torturously true is that!

This September I have seen my eldest daughter start high school, in my head she’s still 2. I applied for my son’s high school place, my middle daughter became a junior, and not only did my baby start pre-school but I also had to apply for her primary school place! I’m barely accepting of the fact she is going to preschool let alone very soon will become a full-time reception student when to me she is still a ‘babe in arms. My baby. The baby of the Harris Family.

I combine these milestones with one of grief as I think of the two little boys born thirteen years ago on the 4th and 5th of September. The two little boys that established the Harris Family. The two little boys that changed me forever, probably for the better! The two little boys that taught me how to be stronger than I ever thought I could be. The two little boys that taught me that, to love, will also mean to hurt more than you’d ever imagine possible. The two little boys that taught me the true and exact meaning of unconditional love…

I haven’t forgotten them and I never ever will, but it is OK to OK with loosing someone.

I was born on the 13th, and I think numbers have a funny representation in your life for various spiritual reasons. 13 years old they would have been this year and becoming a teenager is such a life changing moment in itself, for the parent to embark on a new challenging journey of parenting a hormonal teenager and for the child, to morph into a know it all, cheeky gobshite pushing boundaries and the limits of even the most patient of people as a daily occurrence!

So to the boys I miss so desperately. I love you, I still do, and I always will.

I will imagine the do I or don’t I shave the four hairs off my chin dilemma

I will imagine the school boy crush that you’d both have on the girl next door.

I will imagine the acne breakouts and the overkill of a deadly deodorant and aftershave concoction.

I will imagine the football obsession and the competitiveness between each of you.

I will imagine one being academic the other cheating on his homework.

I will imagine that one of you is constantly late and the other one is frustrated by the lateness, but still never leaving his twin brother behind… ever.

I will imagine one loving cars and being a petrol head and one being the ocean loving surf dude, but somehow you both manage to combine the two perfectly, spending quality twin time.

I will imagine the cheek, I will imagine the answering back and the hormonal angry outbursts of testosterone as puberty hits.

I will imagine life with you both in it ….for a short while.

I will imagine you as inseparable in life, as you were inseparable in passing.

One thing I know for sure, is that you both changed my life forever and you taught me that everything in life is temporary!


Yoga-tastic….. Who even am I?

I’ve been regularly ‘working out’ for a while now, and that still feels a little odd saying that in a sentence, given that I am ‘that girl’ that would arm wrestle for shot of tequila and then run home via the kebab house!

I’m still not particularly fond of this new activity, however I’m beginning to feel and see the benefits and I’m really enjoying the feeling of accomplishment after I’ve smashed it! It’s not quite euphoric yet, but it’s certainly releasing something (aswell as excess wind and wee) that’s got me wanting to repeat the torturous process the next day!

Well the daily HIIT activity seems to have taken its toll on my aging bod, and I have hurt myself! Being a little shy of forty and trying to shove my arse straight into Joe Wicks takes it toll!

Quick rephrase there, just to clarify that ‘INTO Joe Wicks’ ‘HIIT sessions’ and not literally shoving my arse into the actual real life human ‘Joe Wicks!’

I’m an ‘all or nothing’ kinda a girl so I went for it big time, high knees, jump squats, squat thrusts, and burpees – and tell me? Why are they called that? I’d love an explanation if someone could enlighten me? I have thought about this for some time and I believe it’s because you burp and pee a lot whilst trying to do these at high speed!

I’m working hard at getting toned and trim, but it’s not easy! So after I hurt myself I decided to look for a yoga version of Joe! I did find it…. on instagram @thestrengthtemple. Something I could do gently, while allowing myself to heal! Some free online DIY YouTube videos and some healthy tips and advice – you know what I’m on about right!?

Why yoga?? Well! I wanted to continue exercising while I’m resting my creaky bones and aching muscles from the high impact shit that Joe does, less ‘flaps on fire’ and more ‘carve your core’

The more I read about the benefits from doing yoga, I have to admit it had me wondering why I didn’t start this years ago! You know, when my knees didn’t crack when going to sit down on the toilet.

I really ‘need‘ some in-tuned breathing in my life, being a mum of four I spend a lot of my time panting and breathing very loudly or hyperventilating as I watch a child narrowly dodge a collision with a bus on a balance bike because she’s throwing a wobbler over wearing the wrong type of itchy knickers!

I really ‘need‘ a solitary 20 minutes to regain mental clarity…. just imagine 20 minutes alone! With me, myself and I. Just to, to just…. just to be …. ME!

Who even am I!? …. I find women and mothers often spend so long dedicating their lives to other people and their children that they loose themselves along the way!

I want to be strong, I’ve always wanted to be strong! I’ve lusted after women with girl muscles …. I want to be able to do 20 chin ups, which to be fair I could do before I got fat, and I really want to have an ass so strong I could crack walnuts between my butt cheeks!! Now that’s gonna take a shit load of squats!

I want to be toned and most of all I want to turn my ‘play doh’ belly into a washboard…

Well that’s the dream… the reality would be to be a size 10 and not have my joints hurt!

So working with the latter I’m wishing I spent more time joining in with Mr Motivator and not bunking PE at school just to go for sneaky spliff to keep in with the ‘IT‘ crowd!

This recent research and enlightening insight into yoga has got me really excited. Yet again in traditional ‘Kelly’ style, my ‘all or nothing’ attitude is in full swing and I switch on the Amazon Fire Stick and scroll through various yoga-mentaries obviously skipping all the beginner ones, because clearly I can Cat, Cow and Pigeon as good as the 10yr experienced, slender and toned, six packed woman demonstrating it! I fast forward to a position I thought would challenge me a little …

It didn’t go so well.

I head butted my own knees, fell on the floor and I’m pretty sure I wet myself. I am so glad I do this sort of dumb shit at home, rewinding the yoga-mentary right back to the beginning and starting there ….just like all the normal people do. Who knew you could actually sweat by DOING YOGA!

Anyhow, while I work out ways to keep my underboob dry I’ll be sure to update you on my firefly and king pigeon pose!

Book review of ‘How to Keep Safe’…

Has your child ever feared fire, vast amounts of water, heights?

If they were subjected to any of the above, would they know what to do?  I mean, if Little Billy accidentally started a fire messing around with grampys cigar lighter, what would he do??

If Mini Susan becomes a ‘Lazy Susan’ and got her head in a spin and went and got herself lost, what would she do?

You see, I have a child that does exactly this … she’s the type of child that wander’s off while your having your melons sized up. Only to be found making friends with the mannequin in the shop window. Having been discovered by the security guard that was alerted of a missing child in the lingerie aisle. Your heart is pounding through the walls of your chest and a lump the size of a tennis ball is in your throat, making it difficult to breath or speak as the thoughts of your missing child run through your mind on a horrific flip reel.

It’s a fear we mentally don’t visit because the reality is too terrifying.

There are so many scenarios our children come up against daily that could put them in danger, and it’s our job as their ‘safe keepers’ to keep them safe! The best way to do this is to educate them. Helping to prevent fear and panic but instilling the necessary skills and tools they can use if ever they are faced with danger or get their spongey selves into a tricky pickle of a situation.

So; I’ve been reading the book ‘How to Keep Safe’  by Jo Fitzgerald with my children. She is the founder of Tiny Sponges Ltd and is an early years teacher, in particular she teaches wellbeing and resilience skills to children between the ages of 4-9. The book she has wrote is called ‘How to Keep Safe…. In a sometimes scary world’ and is aimed at this age group. Jo has successfully self-published this book and most importantly it has been launched by ‘Waterstones’.

It’s a thought  provoking book with simple illustrations that encourages conversation while enjoying reading time.

I liked the way the significant words are capitilised to highlight their emphasis around that specific sentence, and I especially like the parent conversation prompts at the back of the book. These really help you to open up those conversations and chat openly with your child getting those discussions bubbling.

This book is a parent and child guide to help young children deal with potentially worrying and dangerous situations.

As parents we think that we can protect our children from anything, We want THAT ‘cape’!

BUT the sad fact is, we can’t!

These ‘Tiny Sponges’ grow, and as they get older the less control we have over where they go and the friends they keep. So fully immerse those sponges and hydrate the mind from an early age with the fundamental basics of knowing about

The WHAT’s! The WHY’s! The WHEN’s! and of course…..The PLAN!

In the words of Jo Fitzgerald. ‘The chances are it will never happen, NEVER’.


IF IT DOES … you’ll know what to do.

For £10.99 you’ll find Jo’s Book here….

Find Tiny Sponges Website here and soak up her knowledge.

This link takes you to page where you can view informative videos including, Jo, herself introducing her book, videos about getting lost, house fires, and terrorist attacks. You can even sign up for a useful eBook for FREE!!!

Thanks for reading ….

Just That Girl…. Kelly xoxo

….Not another pair of jeans!

high gap blog post

I am, and always have been a huge advocate of self-love and ‘loving what your mamma gave ya!’

I understand its hard to be body confident in today’s world of photo-shopped IMperfection. Let’s face it, it’s pretty difficult to make a fair comparison when even the ugly people look hot using a snapchat filter of a dog!!!

Until recently I have been totally OK with being a little podgy around the middle. I have been OK with the muffin top because my priority hasn’t been about vanity or body shape! I have been busy getting pregnant and raising babies so I didn’t really mind the extra play-dough, and I never wanted to look at my own ‘lady garden’ anyway…?

Diets have never really worked for me, all that weighing quinoa and munching on chai seeds. The weekly weigh ins, trying to poo beforehand to avoid the fat shame. So; maybe it was a little easier for me to love my fat arse instead of trying to make it smaller, because let’s face it that takes effort and hard work and when you’re not one of those naturally graceful, gazelle like runners, gliding along at a hefty 7-minute mile pace without even breaking into a sweat – it’s hard to work off the lard.

I’ve tried joining running clubs, I tend to be the one that lags behind doing my 12-minute mile looking like my head is about to explode and drowning in my own sweat. Embarrassment kicking in when the person I am running with, sprints on ahead of me then turns around and sprints back to jolly me on a little and then f**king sprints off again… BACKWARDS just to rub it in!! Waving as she goes this process is repeated throughout the duration. I end with the mother of all stitches, gasping like I need a nebulizer and my co-runner has ran double the distance and is about to jog off home which is probably another 3 miles on top of that.

It does nothing for my self esteem.

I’m just not that type of person that gets all wet thinking about how many ‘KG’ I can leg press at the gym…and I am, really very envious of the women that do. I have however been told that this gym appreciation comes as your stamina improves and you actually get better, so I am eagerly awaiting my first GYMGASM. I am willing this moist euphoria,  as I squat with 30KG to be that of a proud climax other than urine from my weakened bladder.

The time has come where after four children, seven births and pregnancies, a belly that covers my vag. Biscuit breakfasts, crisps for lunch combined with quickly approaching 40 and a progressively leaky bladder, I can no longer ignore the fact that I am actually wearing holes in my jeans between my thighs. YES! With my very own homegrown FAT a am wearing holes in actual real DENIM! Things have to change.

After the third pair of jeans succumbed to my thighs I decided I would weigh myself. For the first time I was not happy with what I saw, the scales had a bigger attitude problem than I did. I weighed in in true heavy weight fashion, heavier than I have ever been and the reality was that I am no longer happy and content with the playdough around my middle.

So, I have been on #missionthighgap, if for no other reason than to save myself some money in replacement jeans.

The biggest change is the exercise. No one tells you that it turns you in to a moany old cripple before you get slim. I have gone from wine lifting to weight lifting and exercising 4/5 days a week.

I am bear crawling, plank twisting and frog squatting like a beast, resulting in me being absolutely terrified of going to the toilet in fear I might actually get stuck on it because the DOMS (delayed onset muscle spasm) are insanely painful. Walking the stairs feels like I am climbing Mount Everest and I can’t straighten my arms and nor can I pick up anything heavier than a slice of bread… which is not great because I am on restricted carbs!

My findings are conclusive!

Regular and consistent exercising does actually WORK because you actually don’t eat for fear of getting stuck on the toilet as your legs give up holding you when the DOMS sets in and you can’t actually make yourself any food because your arms don’t work properly.




Ill keep you posted on the gym-gasm….







Mindset and Me

Lilly-Ella is my 11-year-old daughter, she is almost 12, and in my opinion, she is the kindest, wisest, oldest head on young shoulders you would ever come across.

After my son, her brother, Elliot died it had such a heart-breaking effect on her. As a parent we want to do whatever we can to protect our children, its natural to hold their hand as they walk through life, to pick them up when they fall, to teach, guide and encourage. If someone hurts your child it’s also quite normal to want to rearrange the face of the f**ker who dared to be so audacious. Obviously as we mature, rearranging faces and collecting ‘molars’ for your trophy necklace is kind of frowned upon since cavemen evolved so maybe try the more diplomatic approach first!

Shielding our children is as natural as breathing, but when it comes to protecting our children from their own mindset and emotions, that’s a whole new territory often unpredictable and can escalate fast.

Children struggle when grief and bereavement become their reality and that’s generally because they are not mentally mature enough to understand or deal with the emotion that comes with death, especially when it’s a close relative like a parent or sibling. Children are led to believe that people only die when they are old, so when they are faced with sudden deaths of people that are not drawing their pensions and walking with a zimmerframe it leads to confusion, anger and anxiety.

My daughter experienced high levels of anxiety that disrupted her life and hindered her childhood for about two years.

She became irrationally scared of fire. House fires mainly and we had no idea where this stemmed from. We had never had a fire but she was scared that the house would burn while we slept and we would all be burnt to death, or worse she would survive and everyone else would perish. This then rolled out into obsessive behaviours to turn off lights and switches ALL of the time. Like the television, the washing machine, phone chargers, hairdryers anything that was plugged in would have to be switched off and plug removed ALWAYS. She used to say it was to prevent the fire from coming. Countless times she would  turn off the freezer and I would find melted ice cream and floppy chicken.

She wouldn’t have sleepovers and rarely went on playdates because she didn’t want to be away from her family incase something happened to us, she soon found it harder and harder to fall asleep at night without working herself up in to a frenzy about the house burning and her family dying. We even got her a fire extinguisher which helped a little, but it soon became apparent that I couldn’t help her and that we were in need of professional help as her anxiety increased.

At the tender age of just 8 years old she was counselled and had a course of child therapy that helped her through this difficult and testing time. Its so hard to accept that sometimes we as parents are not always the best people to help and support our children.

I was grieving and fighting my own emotional battle and just didn’t have the tools, strength or the ability to help her. Fast forward to 2018 and she turns 12 in September and whilst we are on top of the anxiety and have methods in place to help alleviate the worries when they flood in, she is still a huge worrier but it’s now on a more manageable level and is less disruptive to her life.

I was asked by Heather Rose of ‘Mindset and Me’, to review some affirmation cards that she and her son Isaac have designed for children and after chatting with her about them I thought it would be a wonderful tool for Lilly-Ella to use, she, like many other pre-pubescent girls often feels not good enough, not pretty enough, not clever enough and I think that’s a society thing. Sadly, we live in a world of photoshopped perfection creating an unrealistic perception of what we should adhere to. I want to give her the confidence within her own mindset to know that she is everything she needs to be, and that her own competition should be with herself and only herself. I want her mindset to be powerful enough to defend her against her paralyzing inner voice that creeps up and tells her from time to time that she’s not good enough. I want to empower the fuck out of her so she is strong and in control of her own emotions.


For £7.99 you get 10 glossy cards with different affirmations on.

The logo is representative of what Mindset and Me are all about, a hand drawn rainbow designed and drawn by Heathers son, Isaac, who is 10.

The cards come in a little organza bag with some sweets and an activity card for your child, a little thank you note that directs you to their Facebook support group, where you can use this as a hub to meet and chat to other parents, rant and share advice.

Heather and Isaac both have a desire and yearning to help others and have used the Law of Attraction and daily affirmations to help empower and enrich their lives, I implore you to read more about their powerful story at


Lilly-Ella was dubious and not at all interested in the cards to begin with, but I expected that from her. So I decided to use them as a tool to get all the kids talking in the morning at breakfast and they would all pick a card and read it out loud so we could talk about it. This soon had the desired effect and created a fun, safe place for a discussion about the cards. They talked about how they related to card and asked questions about the meanings.

Lilly-Ella soon continued with this ritual independently even though the younger one’s interest had tailed off.

Lilly-Ella now has them in her bedroom and tends to read one before bed which works really well.

Her favourite card is the ‘I Love my Life’ card, it states quite simply.

Life is precious, you only get one chance. Your life is a gift, you were put on this earth to make a difference. Remember you are loved.


The cards are an amazing way of creating conversations with your children whereas they may be a little reserved. It allows you to talk to your child using the card as a prompt to find things out about what may or may not happening in their mind and daily lives at school.

This was confirmed to me when she came home from school one day after helping one of her friends who was really upset! Now, this friend hasn’t always been the nicest to Lilly-Ella often causing her to come home distressed and worrying about returning to school the next day. However, this day in particular I speak about with such pride.

She said that this girl was crying in the girl’s toilets, and she remembered the affirmation card she had read the night before.

‘I Am A Good Friend’

Always see the best in everyone, always treat someone like you want to be treated.

A few things to tell yourself, I am popular, I am friendly, I play well with others, I don’t hurt others, I don’t say or do mean things to others. Always be Kind.

 This obviously resonated with her. She said she helped her ‘who shall remain unnamed’ because she is a good friend, and she would want someone to be nice to her of she was crying like that.  We spoke about it in length, we spoke about the card and what it meant to her.

I was amazed at my young daughter’s foresight and ability to communicate her thoughts to me with such clarity. She said that whilst she loved what the card stood for, she said that she disagreed with the ‘I am popular’ comment because in her words.

“Mum, not everyone is popular, and that is OK, there is always a girl or boy that seems more popular than others, but its OK to not be like them, you need to be like you”

I almost teared up.


I am an advocate of being open with your children and answering all their questions with nothing but truth but in an age appropriate way. I believe we need to treat and feed our minds with positivity and I am a huge believer that this should start as early as possible. These cards are cost effective and an entirely age appropriate way of creating meaningful conversations with your children about their own mindset. So if your thinking of purchasing some of these Affirmation Cards you can find Heather on




Time moves slowly, but passes quickly.

To the tired mum. To the frustrated and jaded mum.

It’s ok to feel like this but remember that it wont always be like this.

Its just a phase they say, it will pass they say.

It’s true, it passes faster than you think and the phase will transform before your eyes as you teach and nurture your little ones.

When you are exhausted beyond all belief and all realms of sanity are being tested, when your cradling your newborn and praying for them not to wake up to prevent your tits being tortured for another hour of on and off suckling, when your nipples are raw and your sitting on a ‘blow up’ ring to take the sting out of just ‘SITTING’ because it feels like your under carriage is about to fall out. Whilst its unfathomable right now, trust me when I say there will be a day when you will miss those solitary hours of staring and feeding your perfect baby.

When your baby grows into a toddler and begins to talk, when the demands are more of a throw yourself on the floor style tantrum, anywhere and everywhere you go without regard to who is watching or where you are, when your randomly rummaging through your bag to find random McDonald’s toys and ploughing copious amounts of chocolate into the tantrumming tots mouth to pacify the little git because literally everyone in that postcode can hear the catastrophic tantrum unfold and are casting judgements on your parenting.

Which by the way is fan-fucking-tastic because you have managed to keep the little turd alive for three years embarking on the biggest endurance test of your life.

When he’s throwing his food at you because its not ‘the right’ colour or texture, but you’re so physically tired and mentally drained you actually start googling how you can make mash potato not ‘mashy’, and if carrots can come in any other colour than orange in a desperate attempt to make your life easier.

There will come a time when you will look fondly and reminisce over these trying days, there will be a time when your mini human is making unhealthy decisions and you will wish her a toddler again so you can protect her from life, so you can cram hidden vegetables into her diet and fill her full of carbs because she has some desire to be a celebrity size zero as she’s becomes exposed to today’s fake photoshopped perfection. You will wish you could bribe her to talk to you with chocolate and sweet treats as you used to as a child. There will come a time when the tantrum is replaced with silence and a cold shoulder and you will have to use the most astute tactics to delve into the inner psyche of this complex hormonal teenager, knowing that the silence is significant but not knowing how to help or even get ‘IT’ to speak without getting abuse hurled at you. You will wish that you could just sit her in front of the television to watch her favorite programme, and hug would be enough to distract her from the ‘now’.

When your preteen becomes a real proper teen and spots, acne, sex and wet dreams are the topic of conversation, when he starts bringing his friends around in hordes of grunting, untalkative, hormone ravaged, mini male adults. When the fridge is emptied in seconds after coming home from the weekly grocery shop, you will wish they still had an appetite of that screaming toddler that despised mash and hated orange carrots.

When bribing your child with chocolate is scoffed at and replaced with twenty-pound note bribes and extra WIFI time. You’ll miss the days when life was simpler and not every decision you make is challenged and protested against.

Right now, you might be thinking your living in some sort of nightmare, that your life is chaos and your kids are unruly. You might be infuriated that you never seem to have a single second of privacy, sex involves snatched minutes in-between brushing your teeth and showering or even whilst brushing your teeth and showering and generally with the Peppa Pig theme tune in the back ground, your day starts at 5am and never ends, you take a shower with your toddler pointing out every one of your flaws, you bath with your child trying not to end up with a toe in your arsehole, you have to crap with your child asking you ‘what are you are doing, mummy?’ over and over and over until you offer a very ‘strained’ answer through gritted teeth, you may be followed everywhere by your mini person and you probably haven’t had a HOT drink in years, you may feel like screaming and running for some alone time but remember it won’t always be this way…

One day, sooner than you think… you will have time to have sex without time constraints and with your own choice of music in the background, you will be able to sleep in, but you won’t, you will be able to shower alone, you probably won’t because you will miss the grubby urchin that used take up the corner of the cubicle with his plastic boats, you will be able to take a shit in peace with the door actually locked, you will always be on time and you will be able to drink HOT drinks and have an adult conversation with real life adulting adults.

…. But you will miss all the chaos and look back at it fondly.

Time moves slowly but passes quickly so when your ripping out your hair and ‘frustrated’ with yourself for being ‘frustrated’ at your children, when they annoy the bones of you. Remember its just a phase and with each diminishing phase comes a new beginning.

So have faith because even if you hated every second – that too will pass.

Love always, Just That Girl ….Kelly.






Its a little bit funny, this feeling inside….


I have been getting all broody, cooing over pregnant bumps and clucking over newborns like some sort of baby snatcher. I have been feeling like this for a little over a year and I am totally confused as to why? I am wondering if this yearning and ovary aching happens to all women at a certain age? Now, please don’t confuse me for I am not old or over the hill by any stretch, my baby making facility is still very fertile because it cries on a monthly basis causing me to behave like an emotional twat, you will either find me crying at EastEnders or throwing the toaster at the husband, it’s a risky week because you never know what version you’re going to get.

I honestly did feel like my reproducing days were over after I had my youngest daughter in 2015. There were a number of reasons for believing she was going to be our last baby.

The labour was long and hard (and that’s not a euphemism). The pregnancy was one of deep, dark fear!  My vagina, whilst I am forever indebted to its rejuvenation qualities it is somewhat lacking in the elasticity of youth these days. My figure has earned its stripes and could do with some attention, so being NOT pregnant would be advantageous! I wont ever be Elle Macpherson but I could be KELLE MacHARRIS???!!!

I don’t understand my recent broodiness. It’s weird, I can’t explain it, however I will try…

Maybe it is because my eldest daughter is becoming all womanly and she’s only 11, I can’t actually cope with the sprouting of mini boobies and furry beginnings, neither can she. She’s not emotionally ready and neither am I, in my mind she is still the chubby, dribbley buddha baby making raspberry noises in between each spoonful of rusk and banana.

Maybe it’s because my son is answering me back, every single day trying to stamp his juvenile manhood and try to be all domineering, nonetheless with one threat of the removal of WIFI he is freely apologetic for his jerk off behavior. I am left reflecting whimsically over iPhone images of my very tiny, baby boy with curly hair and a cheeky grin that would melt the coldest of hearts.

Maybe its because my third child is no longer the balding, big eared, chubby angelic baby that was such a bundle of giggles and smiles and she is now a fully fledged infant school girl with golden locks and the sass of a princess with the attitude of Mariah Carey.

Maybe it’s because my baby is almost 3 and about to start preschool, my little bit of ‘hope’, when all hope was almost lost. The baby of the family is no longer requiring my arms to protect her as she grows in confidence and independence. She is walking and almost talking with curiosity at the world around her, she’s inquisitive and endearing, she’s the youngest but she is not the baby anymore.

I miss them as babies, I have been a stay at home mum for a majority of it, del-boying my way in to this and that to earn a little extra money. Sometimes successfully and sometimes not. I have devoted the last 12 years to being a mum, mum to my mini army, serving them, slaving for them, teaching them, leading them, counselling them, holding them, cuddling and cherishing them and I have loved every second of it.  I think as they are all now  growing up and becoming less dependent on me I am left feeling lost.

Who am I? What do I like? Who are my friends? I feel like I have to learn about myself again, I have lost some of my identity?

 I think my desire for a newborn baby comes from reminiscing over my own children as babies because I am a mum to a mini army, I am a mum to three angels and four children here on earth and no matter how old they become, how grumpy and annoying they get. THEY will ALWAYS be my babies, and I wholeheartedly believe that a contributing factor to my maternal cluckiness, is sadly no matter how many children I have, there will always be that gap, that emptiness, a hollow that simply cannot be filled by reproducing and multiplying in numbers, and even if I did go on to have another child, I would still feel this way because in my head and in my heart I have seven children but only four are living this life with me.

There comes a point where you have to say enough is enough, there comes a point where you need to enjoy, relish and cherish what you have and not what you have lost, there comes a point where you need to end the chapter and start a new page, filling it with the memories that you will talk about when you are grey and old with hairy moles on your chin.

There comes a point when making the family stops and being a family begins.

Love Always Just That Girl ….. Kelly x



Are we Prudes or Nudes?

rude or prude

Are we prudes or nudes.

Is it OK to be naked in front of your kids?

On GMTV the other morning Marina Fogel and Jessica Cunningham debated about whether it is ok to be naked in front of your kids… I immediately thought this is absurd! Of course, it’s OK!

In case you wondered I am in ‘TEAM NUDE’, like it or loath it, I agree with Marina I think it’s massively important to not make your body into something to be ashamed of, I shower with my bathroom door open, I often have a quick pee with the door unlocked (marginally because I have a fear of being locked in a small confined space), I get changed openly and if they point or ask a question about my voluptuousness – I answer it, openly and honestly…

Everywhere you go there is photo shopped perfection, every cover of every magazine is portraying a fake faultlessness of male and female celebrities with smooth unpimpled figures, slim tanned bodies without scarring or cellulite, strikingly beautiful figurines of fame are rammed down our throats, making the most confident of people feel inferior to such excellence.

Long term; I believe the effects from this will be far more damaging then catching a glimpse of your mums arse crack in shower, and long term this portrayal of unrealistic appearances is detrimental to the younger generations of growing girls and boys out there!

They look at themselves in the mirror and see that they have excess hair, wobbly bellies, wonky unequal boobs and irregular shaped bollocks!! What do they want to do… CHANGE IT! Because its not what they think everybody else looks like. Seeing their mother or father walking around innocently in their home naked is perfectly natural and it shouldn’t be seen in any other way. My daughters and son have commented on my belly being like playdoh, they have asked if I have more babies in my belly, they have asked me why I have a big fat bum!

All comments I reply to them with the REAL LIFE answer…

I BLAME THEM ….. ( I am joking ) All jokes aside, the real life answer to my play dough, big bum and belly is way too much cake and not enough exercise! They know I am OK with this! They also know I can change this with a healthy balanced diet and a Davina McColl DVD.

Whilst I am happy to be nude in front of my kids, please don’t think I am flaunting myself and encouraging them to do the same. That on a Sunday’s we cook and eat roast chicken and stuffing balls; butt naked!!! We don’t – because that’s just weird!

I wholeheartedly believe in educating children when it’s age appropriate about boundaries and when its appropriate and not appropriate to be naked and share all your glory, teaching them about what’s acceptable behavior and what isn’t. We teach our children to cross the road safely when they are old enough to understand the dangers of the road, it is only right we teach them about sexual abuse when they are old enough to understand the dangers of the WORLD.

Going to Barry’s after school and sucking up your spag bol naked at the table – NOT ACCEPTABLE!

Being invited to play at Mary’s house and playing naked Twister with her mum and dad – NOT ACCEPTABLE!

Being touched inappropriately without being asked – NOT ACCEPTABLE!

Taking a shower at home and not closing the door, walking from the shower to the cupboard on the landing to get your towel in your birthday suit!! That’s 100% OK with me and with-in the boundaries I have set within my family unit.

Whether you are TEAM NUDE or TEAM COVERUP, its more than nudity it’s about APPROPRIATE EDUCATION!

Ever heard of PANTS …. might be worth checking it out!

gmtv fogel v cunningham

Mumpreneurs ARE ON fire – My review of Mumpreneur on fire : Book 2

mumpreneur on fire two

If you follow my blogs you have probably read one I wrote about two inspiring women, Leona and Estelle the co-founders of MIBA (Mums in Business Association), collectively they have indeed created a movement with ‘The Mums in Business Association’, this is a bitch free, no bullshit, supportive and empowering empire of almost 20,000 women.

I was lucky enough to get my hands on Mumpreneur on Fire: 2, prior to launch to review for Leona and Estelle. Their vision, which created this community gave 20 inspirational mums in business a platform to share their stories becoming co-authors in this book, inspiring and empowering other mums who are wanting more out of their lives, mums who want career and babies, mums who know they are destined for successful and happy lives.

Leona and Estelle are both pretty inspirational all by themselves but put this army of women behind them and together they are the epitome of INSPIRATION.  This book touched my heart and some of the stories told by some of the MIBA women will take your breath away. These are normal every day women that have shared intimate snippets of their lives, shared some of the hardships they have endured but have shown that with the right mindset, with counselling, or just with sheer determination and grit you are still deserved and capable of great things.

This book can show other mumpreneurs around the world that if you have drive and ambition it doesn’t matter from what seed you have grown or where you started, it doesn’t matter if you lived on a council estate and lived on spam fritters or lived on a tree lined street and had fillet steak every Friday!  This book is not about status or class, its not about having one child or five, it’s about being grateful for life, its about understanding that even the most privileged of backgrounds still have their demons and obstacles to overcome.

What this book shows you, is that ‘only YOU’ have the ability to change YOUR life!

That YOU and ‘only YOU’ are responsible for YOUR own happiness!

It tells stories of sadness and bravery, courage and survival but everyone of these women have not used their past as an excuse as to why they can’t achieve great things, they use it as their reason to deserve better and get better.

I read this book from cover to cover in three evenings, there is something quite addictive about reading real life stories of success. These mums rock and none are more deserved of the opportunity to shine then the 20 women in this book.

So in brief … Depression, PTSD, PND, anxiety, eating disorders, grief, deceit, domestic violence, sexual abuse, rape, addictions, divorce, miscarriage, suicide, self-harm, bullying, heartbreak, various syndromes and illnesses do not and will not define these women.

It’s part of their journey, they are certainly not statistics and no-one is having a ‘pity-party’ in this book.

past and future quote

What you will find is ‘MUMPRENUERS’ from successful MLM business owners, Networkers, Authors, Jewelers, Founders of amazing charities born from real life raw experiences, Handmade Cosmetics, Unique Dress Makers, Accountants and Virtual PA’s, Nutritionists and Transformation Coaches, CBT, NLP and Mindset coaches, Spiritualists and Crystal Dealers, Artists and Unique Crafty Gifts…  

Pre-Order your copy here

Heather Rose, Laura Y, Lori, EmmaJayne, Cherish, Iona, Alia, Kim, Laura D, Natasha, Nicola, Kelly, Sophie, Helen, Faye, Jennifer, Tamar, Tamara, Leanne, and Lisa….

 Y O U  A R E   A L L  

A S S   

K I C K I N G  

F A N F L I P P I N G T A S T I C    

mumpreneur on fire




We are all a type of stereotype!

I am not keen on stereotypes, I don’t like pigeon holing people, but I am not so up my own arse that I can’t see the funny side of these comparisons. I do chuckle at the ‘tongue and cheek’ way that some of these generalisations are made.

I have read quite a few articles describing the sort of mums you are likely to come across at the school gates, well it triggered me to write this piece… so enjoy! But read to the end… there’s a bigger point to make!

THE SPORTY MUM – she’s the mum that runs three miles to school with her children in an all-terrain three wheeled buggy complete with a buggy board, two little children under the age of four enjoying the speedy jog as their svelte and trim mother completes the final uphill jog to school without even breaking a sweat!

Putting us all to shame, she can still hold a full-on conversation with you about her vegan scrambled ‘eggs’ made with AQUAFABA (yes I had to google it too) without panting out of her arse. She’s always in lycra, she is a firm size 8 and has an ass to bloody die for. She has that ass that you sneakily and enviously watch bouncing back down the hill after the drop off which leaves you contemplating for a nanosecond if it makes you a lesbian because you desperately want to touch it!

THE CHAV MUM – The young, brash and slightly loutish mum in the pink crushed velvet diamante studded tracksuit, earrings that Pat Butcher would half inch given the opportunity. When she bends over to pick up the toddler that goes by the name of Britney, you get a sneak peak of the tramp stamp tattooed along the base of her back neatly scripted with ‘Steve’, she talks with a pretend Essex twang, every word with ‘A’ sound in, is vocally extended like ‘baaaaaaaabe’

THE PTA MUM – This mum is the eternally positive twin set wearing avid promoter, attempting to bring parents closer to improve educational facilities by raising funds for what seems like ‘CONSTANTLY’… literally constantly. She is the mum that’s always waving raffle tickets in your face and begging you for home made cakes. The intention and resilience are commended. They have bribery skills that leave ISIS looking meek. Using your children’s education as a way to entice and persuade you into the school hall to give up the only free time you have got for the next four weeks to help out on the f**king tombola!

THE CBA (can’t be arsed) MUMTotally opposite to ‘PTA’ mum. She is the one that rocks up in her pyjamas and dressing gown with a messy but stylish ‘mum bun’. She arrives as the school bell rings not a minute before or after, talking to Jimmy Junior about remembering his school jumper whilst puffing on a Lambert and Butler, stamps out the half-smoked ciggy with her unicorn slippers, dropping off her five kids at the office because she’s too lazy (and late) to drop them at the corresponding classes.

THE PERSONALISED PLATE 4WD MUM – She’s a little bit up her own arse, wears designer sunglasses all year around, models her designer handbag as she struts through the gates like she’s auditioning for ‘Britain’s Top Model’, draped in faux fur and always; always, in 4-inch heels! She ONLY speaks to other ‘personalised plate’ mums with the same appreciation for self-branding. She stands proud, stands tall and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone other than ‘personalised plate’ mum and her children that would have names similar to Clementine or Rupert. She double kisses them on the cheek and royally waves churah!. Casually sauntering back to the double parked 4WD whilst checking how many ‘likes’ were received on this morning’s Facebook selfie!!

THE 9-5 MUM – Now this mum is illusive, she is rarely seen, some think she’s nocturnal like a badger, she arrives at school before sun rise dropping her child at the ‘before school club’, she collects at the cusp of darkness from the ‘after school club’. She often appears on the School Facebook page as the serial ‘LIKER’ liking all the comments on the news feed. She’s the list writing mum, the briefcase mum, the power dresser, the mum that despite having a hugely busy and demanding diary, still manages to keep up with all the homework, non-uniform days, ‘dress up like a pirate’ days and school trips. She is organized to military precision, moves quickly and doesn’t have time for small talk. Don’t underestimate this mum.


I am unashamedly a fair old mix of all of the above….

I do have a girl crush on anyone that has that SQUAT ass. I would have appeared on the Jeremy Kyle episode of:


I don’t have the tramp stamp on my lower back but my dad is called Steve and I have 12 tattoos.

I help when I can at the school, sprinkling glitter, making cakes and painting faces on the sticky cherubs of our school in an attempt to make myself feel like a ‘better person’.

I am not rich enough for a personalised plate on my pretend 4WD which looks and drives more like a Ford Galaxy, so I have mug with my name on…. I go by the name of  ‘THE QUEEN OF F**KING EVERYTHING’ in my house.

I am self-proclaimed novice at the duck pout, but never the less I do often partake in selfies and snapchat filters and I can confirm I look better as a rabbit!

I don’t work a 9-5, but I do work, I work my ass off, and when I can actually be bothered I totally rock the power house dressing, minus the heels! I’m like a drunk pig when I am wearing heels and most Mondays I wake up with that ‘Can’t be arsed’ feeling, after arguing with all of the children about itchy knickers, soggy cereal and un-brushed teeth.

I’m frequently caught out by time because I have had to quickly do reading and spellings before school because I forgot on Sunday, which has then led to me having to walk to school with my tits uncradled and totally commando because I haven’t had enough time for a shower let alone dress properly.

I don’t vape and I don’t smoke but I have been known to demolish a packet of chocolate hobnobs and neck a quick shot of home distilled blackberry vodka for my breakfast.

Stereotypes are a quick judgement made in jest, so I say laugh hard, but don’t laugh so hard that you forget to laugh at yourself, because we are all a little bit stereotypical sometimes!