- Gin (obviously)
- Cake (obviously)
- One of those Toblerones the size of a dog.
- For the aforementioned Toblerone to contain no calories. (Obviously)
- A designer handbag. Not to wear, that would be ridiculous. Just to look at... and occasionally sniff... or lick.
- See above and also apply to shoes.
- A self-cleaning, raisin-repelling house.
- (Please also apply the above to the toddler)
- (And the husband)
- Double Nectar Points for every time I manage not to say F@*k in front of my toddler.
- Just ONE bath without a plastic pink hippo eyeballing my vagina.
- A slice of toast ALL TO MY-BASTARD-SELF.
- Guilt free lie-ins. Actually scrap that - I'll deal with the guilt.. please just let me SLEEP... *cries a bit and eats another Jaffa Cake*
- Spray on toddler clothing. Buttons have become my ultimate nemesis.
- Loo time... alone... with Candy Crush. Like a f@*king ninja.
- Ankles with a circumference smaller than my knees*. (*thighs)
- A legging free wardrobe... Which doesn't freak me out because of the lack of leggings.
- To look good in something other than leggings*.
- *To look good in leggings.
- A NAP. Whenever I like. In my own giant footmuff-adorned-chariot. Pushed along by a tribe of pre-schoolers. Powered by fairies. Fuelled by gin. And made from the tears of a thousand toddlers.
- For fish fingers and chicken nuggets to contain vegetables. Secret vegetables. Which would basically make me Mother of the Year. Definitely.
- For my toddler's vocabulary to stretch past 'Cake', 'No', 'Poo' and 'Well Done'. Which incidentally is also her only sentence.
- Peppa Pig. Shot. And her head brought to me on a Hello Kitty plate.
- A new vagina.
- One that only accepts one way traffic.
- A festive onesie.
- And some more gin.