“PIZZAUP” “PISSUP” “PIZZAPP” “PISSINGUP” – call it what you will ladies. I ain’t precious.
Alas, what is this all about though?
I’ve rambled a fair bit about my feelings of isolation, and loneliness as a new mum. With the arrival of my first daughter Elsie, I also seemingly gave birth to a shed load of self-doubt, insecurity and need to ‘belong’. To what I’m not sure, but I craved a supportive network of women who, like me – found this new mammoth job that I never received any training towards – incredibly overwhelming.
If like me, you spend a chunk of your (already precious) time scrolling around social media – you’ll be familiar with the terms ‘Girl gang’ and ‘Mum tribe’ to name but a few. I wanted a piece of what everyone else seemed to be having (I realise now, that’s not the case at all – story of my bloody life, story of my bloody life) and I felt I was missing out in some way.
After my second daughter, Marnie was born, the quest for the ultimate mum mates had settled somewhat. I had unearthed a scattering of good women – not a ‘tribe’, nor a ‘gang’ just some great mates, who understood me as Lorna, not only as a mum – and were, just like me – learning on the job.
Around the same time as my desperado mum mate pursuit had stabilised, I also began on my blog voyage. Putting yourself ‘out there’ so to speak meant I was open to comments and messages from basically strangers. Usually something I guess you’d be slightly wary of, but we all had one thing in common. We were mums, and we all, at some point had felt a bit lost. I had received a handful of messages from a few local mums who had read my ramblings, and followed me on Instagram – saying that they had ‘seen me in Sainsbury’ or ‘spotted me in the park’ – but hadn’t wanted to come and say hi, you know – just in case I thought they were a weird stalker. We’ve ALL been there ladies.
The Irony is, (as I explained when I replied) – that I recognised them too, but didn’t bloody dare give a sly wave, or an awkward hello, because they might think I was – um, a weird stalker! Women!! Nevertheless, braving communication via the wonderful world of Instagram DM, we had said we should arrange a meet up. A play date, or even better – an evening without the kids, to have an actual conversation, over a bottle of prosecco or four.
So, let’s not beat around the bush. Those that know me, know I love to party. Possibly harder than I should on most occasions, alas –these days I am a much more of tamed (equally, maimed) social butterfly. Likewise, I am also known amongst my nearest and dearest for my love of organising a get-together. Nights in, nights out, play dates, picnics or gatherings at my gaff – you name it, I’m pretty much happy to organise it. I believe it derives from my unwarranted FOMO, and such is the eternal ball ache of trying to gather any friends together these days for a ‘catch up’ then securing a date which works for all (GAH) – I decided that maybe I should just organise an en masse local mum meet up? I could find a venue, meet some new like-minded women, catch up with my existing mates, and anyone else who fancied a night off and out!
I decided that If I was going to do this, the night needed to feel inclusive. No guest list, no exclusive groups –I wanted everyone to feel welcome. I had craved something similar to have been around when I had Elsie – a reason for me to get out in the early months and thereafter, slap on some lippy, and just have a night off.
As a wise woman once said (my mum) “JFDI darling! “(Just fucking do it) – And so I did – and PIZZUP was born!
But why the need for a name? In all honesty, I felt it would be good to have a title to the night – something that you could cement in the diary, as opposed to just another ‘mum’s night out’ that you could potentially weedle your way out of should the desire for another night in Primark loungewear on the sofa lure you in. Much like Ronsil –the night needed to do what it said on the tin, and – as much as I am well known for my trucker mouth – I assumed I might be pushing it too far by selling tickets to a blatant mum ‘PISSUP’. With the focus of the night being the simplicities of good women, a lorra prosecco, and some cracking fodder, I believe ‘PIZZUP’ provided the perfect play on words.
With three sell out PIZZUP’s down, number four on the horizon and a Trademark certificate in my stumpy mitts, It would seem that the lure of fizz, food and excellent old school tunes is strong in the motherhood.
I have genuinely been blown away with the success so far of the night, and with PIZZUP #4 selling out in an hour and 19 minutes at 80 tickets, I was left, for the first time in my life – speechless. Finally, It wasn’t just me (I know, I know – when will I EVER learn) who fancied having a night off, alongside awesome women and a bit of old school garage – there’s a tank load of us!
Finally, the moral of PIZZUP is this – ANYONE is welcome. Instagram, no Instagram, business or no business. My PIZZUP doors are wide open (she said)
(Check out my PIZZUP Facebook page for up and coming details and events)