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[norisblackbook]

I’m saying DadYe you gotta come hard this year. Big Sean, Drake, J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, and now Earl Sweatshirt. Everyone came to play, so you gotta bring that heat son.

[mum2abumblebee-blog]

Moobear.

Dear woman who cursed my dog,

Let me start by saying, your 6 dogs have exactly the same capability to attack that my dog does. Just because your dogs have a fluffy outer layer, doesn’t make them any less likely to attack. Just because my dog has a stronger jaw than yours, just because my dog has a bad time in the press, just because my dog sniffed your dog, does not make her any more likely to attack than your dogs. Let me point something out to you. You have chosen to verbally attack my dog, based on what you have read I the press. Based on an ignorant sweeping view of bull breeds. Let me flip that on you for a moment. You’re wearing a Barbour type jacket. Hunter type wellies. Dispite walking your dogs in the West Country, you have a queens English accent. You’re stood with a man, (who nodded in agreement at you cursing my dog) who’s wearing a flat hat. Tweed trousers. Pressed shirt. Queens English accent. Let me tar you. Let me judge you, for a moment. You’re obviously well off. You obviously have lots of dogs to fill your time. You obviously don’t work. You obviously live off your husband. You obviously attended the best private school. You obviously dispise the lower class. You obviously spend your time having your hair highlighted in different tones, to ensure you look your best. You may live on a farm, breeding puppies. You may live in a mansion, with slaves. You may have your bank squirrelling away money into an offshore account for you, so you don’t have to pay tax, so. Don’t have to pay into our system. Pay for the country in which you live. You know what? I didn’t tar you. I didn’t judge you. Not even when I heard your comment about my dog. My sweet, lovely, soft, gentle dog. The dog who’s walking side by side with my nearly 3yr old, because they like to walk at the same pace. The dog that avoided 5 of your dogs, because recently she was attacked, and right now her confidence is at rock bottom. She only sniffed your 6th dog, as your dog approached her. You know the 6th dog I mean? Lucy, you called her. Over and over. As she went towards the 20 ft drop edge. Time and time again. As she ran off from you, barking at strangers. Sniffing all passing dogs. Your other dogs taking up all the path, leaving it impossible to not wade through them to get past. Making it difficult, as keeping a nearly 3 yr old from the edge of a 20ft drop, when they seem to have a magnet bouncing them back.

No. What I saw in you, was a cheap jacket. A cheap pair of wellies. Highlights that had long needed redoing. A strain on your face. A panic in your voice, that you couldn’t get Lucy to do as you were asking her. Most of all, I saw someone who was keeping up with appearances. Talking to the man you were stood with, you think you made your comment to ensure your ignorant view was known to him. You didn’t give any consideration to our feelings.

I suggest to you 3 things. 1, Go do some research of Staffordshire bull terriers. I think you’ll be surprised at what you find. I think you may feel disbelief when you read the words ‘gentle’, ‘loving’. 2, get some classes for yourself and Lucy. Work on her recall. 3, Work on your social being. It stinks. “Don’t go near it, it will attack”.

Love me. proud staffy owner. x

[mum2abumblebee-blog]

Who's who. Pt 1.

Mum: bossy boots. Runs the show. Eats too much. Fluffy besty: laid back, logical, trustworthy, a breath of fresh air. Tiny: Fiercly Independant. A Diva with a beautiful soul. Needs her mummy at night, but not any other time. Would like to survive solely on pasta shapes. Moobear: Huge Staffy type dog. GRRRR. frightened of the airer. Birds. Sneezes. The fire alarm. The cooker. Clean washing. I could go on. Gives amazing cuddles. Annie: Mums other besty. Lives a million miles away. Has her very own tiny prince. School age prince. (I'm sure he's still only 18months, ffs). Feeds the homeless. Doesn't eat animals. Cleanses chakras. Hates mum pooing in her toilet. Nanny noo's, nanny B, nanny p, grandad, grandad m, Granpop: all the grandparents. All a huge mix of all the drama life can throw. Auntie Thelma & auntie Louise: auntie Louise is a regular visitor. Tinys best friend. A loving kind soft hearted soul, who wants to hide such weakness from the world. She don't fool us. Softplay champion. Pretend Aunties. That deserve a real title. Auntie K, beebee Jay, Auntie Beebs: All live a million miles away. Practically Timbuktu. Auntie Cwis & peevy: much loveage. Except when Peevy and tiny decide not to get on. Then it's like toddler WW3.

[mum2abumblebee-blog]

"Mummy, you are pwoud of me. Yes you are"

[mum2abumblebee-blog]

Bzzzzzzzzz!

I’m mum. I live in an odd set up. Home is me, tiny 2 (nearly 3 ) yr old, besty, and moobear the pooch. We’re a force to be reckoned with. Our life is bliss. Most of the time. I’m very lucky with besty. She’s like a second mum to Tiny. I’m sure it all looks a bit strange from the outside, but in the inside we have the time of our lives. So, I’ve decided to write about it. I reckon that a read about our crazy, fun filled, adventurous, oddball, mixed up life, all backed up with the benny hill theme tune, would be a fun read. An entertaining read at that. So here it begins.