Millie, Badly Drawn Mum

One month from moving into our new place and I have made a new friend! She's called Helen, she lives round the corner and has a son who is Tom's age (2). Perfect. She's great and we've got tons in common but, well, there's this thing...

You see, when it comes to keeping a clean home, I'd give myself a B+ for effort. It's not chaos, but there is often crayon where there shouldn't be crayon, and a houseguest did once pull back her duvet to find two sausages and a half-eaten corn on the cob. But these are things that come with the turf when you've got small kids.

So on our first playdate round at Helen's, I was GOBSMACKED to find the family's house immaculate. We're talking unmarked cream sofas, Premiership-footballer-living-alone pristine. No tiny muddy footprints. No dinosaurs felt-tipped on the windows ('I did it for you, Mummy!') No nothing.


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Now, Helen's not the type to have cleaning ladies and housekeepers and all that malarkey. She takes pride looking after that sort of thing herself. So how does she do it? Is there an army of elves living under the sink? And if she is spending 6 hours a day cleaning, why doesn't she look tired? However, if you were to ask me, would I swap her house for mine? That's a resounding no. It may not be perfect but it's us.

Oh, and by the way, did I mention next week we're getting a PUPPY?

- Friday 11th January 2013

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