I am a wicked step-mother… well so the small ones who inhabit the house at weekends tell me. I like to think it’s true but who knows, as brilliant as they are, the wee ones are a bit weird. The first day I ever met my 3 year old step-daughter we threw coins into a wishing well, she squeezed my hand tightly, looking up at me with earnest eyes and said solemnly in the thickest Welsh accent “I wish one day I could be a real kitten”, I looked down at her and realised that I had absolutely no idea how to be a step-mum to a child let alone a cat.
(Of course now, 6 years later at the grand age of 9,
the wonderful Jasmine has moved away from such childish feline ideas as a career prospect
and has now settled on the modest idea of being a pony.
To which I told her she’d have to work very hard at school.)
So here I am. I am a Kittie (which is a bit like a mummy but with a slightly eclectic job description). Thanks to Jasmine for the wonderful illustrations!
To be perfectly honest I have no idea what I’m doing, I feel like I’ve spent the last few years winging it but seem to have avoided causing any deep-seated psychological damage to the children so I am taking that as some indication of success! I’ve toyed with the idea of writing a blog for long time now but I seem to skirt that fine line between boring and eccentric so was always deterred in-case I inadvertently killed someone with my tedium. I work in clinical research at a university yet I trained as a herbalist (what can I say? I’m conflicted and miserable), I’m a tree hugging hippy whose idea of paradise would be living on a mountain surrounded by goats (I would of course have a house, lets not be ridiculous here) but I have bills to pay so unless I win the lottery, my feet will stay firmly in my little Welsh valley rather than gambolling about with goats.
I live with Mr Williams my fiancé (who has a beard).
Bramble the border collie (who has a ball).
Poppy the spaniel (who has butterflies in her head and the blissfully vacant look of a dog who is just happy to be a dog).
And then last but not least… three days a week we live with ‘the monsters’.
(NB: Monsters said with complete affection)
(Well… occasionally perhaps its said with exasperation)
(but mostly… 99.9% of the time its said with absolute love)
Mammy-monster is a frequent visitor, a self-confessed crazy cat lady and the only other woman on this earth who can understand what its like to live with Mr Williams. She too possesses ‘the look’ which is more powerful than any words… a look which is a combination of amusement, despair and disbelief in response to Mr Williams and his interesting approach to childcare (e.g scientifically testing how well the monsters have washed their faces by hanging them upside-down above over-excited dogs to see how much they get licked).
So we have Jasmine who is 9 going on 19, her goal in life apart from being a pony is to live in New York and marry Zayn from One Direction (We find the latter a rather terrifying prospect).
And Kieran (Jasmine has informed me that all boys in picture have beards) who is 10, a gaming addict with autism who has the growing potential to either be a computer genius or criminal mastermind… (we’re all undecided on that one).
I truly pity the future careers advisors of South Wales.