It seemed fitting that I spent tonight with my mum whilst my beans slept soundly upstairs. We drank beer and chatted about how amazing women are. But lets be honest, men are pretty incredible too – but more on that later.

So this is the first blog that I’ve written whilst slightly squiffy.  Be warned there will be swearing, bad spelling and appalling grammar (standard, I guess).

Sometimes life can seem pretty tough. That’s because it is pretty tough. Everyones pain and everyones heart ache is their own. We can’t compare and contrast every emotion we have. However on today, International Womens Day, we have to acknowledge the women in the world who are far less fortunate than us.

Today I got up and put on the clothes that I wanted to wear. Then I dressed the beans in what I bought them. I got in my car and I drove 20 miles to my job and I fucking slayed it. Then I drove back home, bathed my kids and cooked dinner. Once I put them to bed I sat on my arse in my PJs and drank beer with my mum. Ace, right?

How fucking unbelievable is it that there are women on my street, in my town, in my county, in the UK and in the world that can’t even do the first thing I did this morning.

It’s this day that we, as women, should do what we can to reach out. We spend too much time judging each others outfits and hair styles. It’s all bull shit. We don’t actually care that the woman we sit next to is far skinnier than us, but we would care if she was desperately supressed and lonely.

Let’s take this back…

My Nan was a fucking hero. Everyday I want to make her (and my Gramps) proud of who I am. When people give me credit for working and being a mum to twin toddlers, I kinda don’t get it. What my Nan did was harder, eight kids in a two up two down and no money. Fuck that.

She had no release either, no real freedom. She did all the night feeds, all the food shops, all the cooking and cleaning. If she wanted more, more than that life, it was inconceivable.

My Gramps actually stood my Nan up on their first date. He simply didn’t show. Was my Nan gonna take that shit? Absolutely not. She rocked up to his front door like the fierce fucking fire ball she was, and demanded an explanation. Now Gramps was smooth, a proper gentleman, so he schmoozed her and gave his reasons.  They’d met their match. It was forever love.

It was actions like my Nans, so simple and so justified, that helped make it sociably acceptable for me to write blogs that talk about my life so freely and unashamedly. But credit to men like my Gramps – men that saw the fire, the sass and the energy. They encouraged women to be who they are. To be bold and powerful and not to be stood up!

Sure, people will role their eyes at my sweary words. They’ll find it crass that I talk so openly about tits, fannies and life as mum. But the fact is I can. I have that freedom and it’s fucking ace. Thanks Nan and Gramps. xxx