When I initially started The Cuckoo Mama I wasn’t really sure where I was going to go with it, what I’d write about and, in a way, hadn’t particularly thought about anyone ever actually reading it! I had (and possibly still have!) limited technical know-how, a granny-esque approach to social media and absolutely no clue … More Because we’re all just trying our best!
This morning I spent half an hour lying under my kitchen table with Sam and, his best train friends, Thomas and Percy, playing “table tunnel”. It was whilst I was down there, surrounded by sticky things, a shrivelled up piece of lettuce and dog hairs that I thought; when was the last time we actually … More Let’s just play!
“I’m the fun extractor, twisted fun extractor hey hey hey You’re the two year old, my cheeky two year old hey hey hey” Hi there, my name is mummy and I can, pretty much, take all the fun out of every situation. I have therefore decided that, henceforth, I shall be referred to as ‘The … More Make the whoopee mummy
Knock knock! Who’s there? Oh hello terrible twos, what’s that? You’ve officially entered my house? Well, I’d like you to go please. No, it’s definitely not rude if you leave early, it would honestly be very welcome indeed and no need to call back. That’s it, just shut the door behind you on the way … More Note to self: Carry a cow
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!
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, … 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 stomch 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