karma bites you in the bum

I'm going to run the risk of upsetting all young mums today, but why is it that they have to have mother and baby parking spaces in supermarket car parks and if they are full why do they think they can nick our disabled parking spaces???
Blimey when my boys were small, one you would walk to the shops or two I'd go to town and back by bus with my two young boys complete with shopping bags on the handles of the buggy. So much so, when you bent down to pick up the child who was walking, the buggy would tip up with the weight of the shopping bags and your baby would be staring up at the sky! Unhurt before you ring up Childline! You would then get on the bus with one child under one arm, buggy under other the arm whilst holding hand of elder child and shopping and still manage to pay the driver.
Nowadays, the mums struggle out of their four by fours... well they are quite high off the ground aren't they and trot across in their designer heels and with their designer pushchairs while I struggle with my shopping and oxygen unit to my car somewhere in the car park because I couldn't get parked any nearer to the shop.

Ok I am a bitch... I know this as karma got me this afternoon for being mean to young mums... as I fell over.
I was out in the back garden filling a bin bag up with polystyrene shapes and a couple blew away. I went to grab them and one of my old lady slippers got caught in my trouser flare and I went down on my hands and knees with such a wallop that it frighten me and my friend Julie who luckily was with me. The sound of my knees hitting the concrete sounded like that garden Jenga game when it falls over... Shite my knees hurt... I'll never say to a child again 'Ups a daisy' when they fall over, because boy does it hurt.
By the time I got to the sofa, my knees had swollen up and the bruises were already beginning to shine black and blue. Julie went back into her nursing mode and made me put my legs up on the sofa before putting two ice cold flannels on my knees. I then got a fit of giggles... and believe me I will go to hell for this remark... As I laid there with my trousers rolled up, my pink hippo socks on and a big brown flannel on each knee, I rather resembled the plaster model of the little charity box girl that you used to see outside shops years ago, all I needed was a slot on the top of my head to put the money in! I know, I know... I am sick and I will go to hell... twice... once for being cruel to young mums and again if they let me out the first time for comparing myself to the model.

I promise I will be good in future and be PC... sorry.

Lots of love Debbie x