Having a toddler is a bit like having a feral dog. They’re cute and playful and sweetly loiter around under your feet all day but boy can they be rank. They have sticky paws, toddlers this is, dribble, snot and on occasion are known to sneeze cheese over folk (man on flight back from Faro … More This one’s for you, Miss P!
I recently came across my old IVF diaries and it completely broke my heart to re-read them. My pain had been so raw, I was angry, depressed, grieving and confused. I wrote a lot about being in what I described as “Limbo Land; that place between history and the future; what currently is and what … More Why I decided to blog!
I had a revelation a couple of days ago. I was in the car, following sat nav, on my way to buy a train set, when I pulled an absolutely great manoeuvre out of the bag and said to myself “Dad would be proud of me for that one” like I was a newly passed, … More “She’s got a nice fridge”
I am, I really am. I’ve decided to cut myself a bit of slack! I came back from my holiday feeling, surprisingly, utterly and completely relaxed. We’d had a truly magical time yet it was restful too, I felt rejuvenated, I felt less anxious about completing so much in every day and I possessed a real … More I’m giving myself a break…
No more working for a week or two? Really? Seriously? No more work? What do you mean? Clearly ‘Don’ didn’t have a child. We fly tomorrow and I could not be more ready, for a holiday that is, not actually ready for this one. I have huge, long lists on so many post-it notes stuck … More We’re all going on a summer holiday…
Last night my toddler threw up in my mouth. Like actual vomit, right in my mouth. I tasted it. Hell, I think I even swallowed it. According to my husband though it smelt nice; like strawberries. Well, I can 100% assure you it did not taste “nice; like strawberries”, it tasted like real person’s very real sick, right … More It’s nice; like strawberries
Sam plays beautifully on his own. He pushes his cars, trolley, chairs, the dog, toot toots with his trains and repeatedly punches his baby in the stomach so that he can hear it shout Mama, Papa and cry, and has a lovely time doing so. Cue bout of maternal guilt: is it right that I … More Guilty as charged