Behold. The latest for environmentally conscious parents.

The Beco feeding set, from Beco Things.

I’d never heard of this brand until they got in touch to introduce themselves. I have to say, I was a bit sceptical at first. I mean, I know it’s trendy to be environmentally aware and all, but aren’t eco potties and plates taking it a bit far?

And then I tried out this feeding set.

Call me fickle, but the fact it’s made from natural plant fibres, is biodegradable and is created using ethically conscious manufacturing is, quite frankly, at the bottom of the list of positives for me. Because it’s just so darn pretty.

I know, I have my priorities completely straight, right?

The thing that I love about this set is the way it looks and feels. It’s got a texture like china, which makes a change from the usual plastic tat Frog tends to eat off. This plate and bowl have a “grown up” feel, but are still very non-toddling toddler friendly.

The edges of the plate feature a handy lip, to stop food going astray…

The cup is made from the same material and has an equally satisfying shape. It’s slanted in the middle, making it easier to drink from for those less experienced in Big Girl Cup Drinking.

But it doesn’t have handles.

For us, this is a bonus, because we’re trying to get Frog more used to drinking from normal cups rather than the “sippy” and “doidy” variety. The sooner she can drink from such vessels the sooner I can stop lugging around spare cups in every handbag.

The bowl is also rather lovely. Perfect for banana eating…

My only criticism of the Beco Feeding Set is the fact it doesn’t come with a helpful assistant to teach your child which utensil goes where…

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The Beco Feeding Set is available to buy from £11.99 from the website.

This is a review post.

It’s been about balancing on the edge of a cliff face, determined not to fall off. It’s been about struggling to maintain a sense of calm while a million things on my “to do” list whizz through my head.

It’s been about trying to be the best mum I can possibly be, while being the best radio presenter I can possibly be, while being the best copywriter I can possibly be, while being the best blogger I can possibly be, while being the best feature writer I can possibly be. And still remain some sort of wife to my husband.

In short, it’s been about survival against the ravages of tiredness and stress, for happiness to reign supreme.

But it’s not been about staying alive.

That’s what I tell myself every time I want to moan. Every morning when the alarm screeches into my dreams at 3.45am and I unglue my eyelids, I remind myself I am alive. I am happy. I am loved. I love.

My health, my child’s health and my husband’s health is, thankfully, intact. My sister is healthy, as is my father, mother and every other member of my extended family.

Every afternoon, when the toddler’s mood darkens and the storm clouds of rage threaten to break into an almighty tantrum, I remind myself I am lucky. I am alive. Happy. Loved. Love.

To be alive, healthy, happy. To love and be loved. Surely it’s all anyone can wish of their life?

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This post is written as part of the #dosomethingyummy campaign from CLIC Sargent, to raise awareness of Yummy Mummy Week on 10th to 18th March 2012.

You can show your support by taking part in the writing prompt over at I Am Typecast and sharing these posts on Facebook and Twitter.  

Sorry folks.

They’ve done it again. The dual purpose plug in nightlight is another item I wish I’d known about this time 19 months ago.

Far from being your ordinary nightlight, this one is so intuitive it can actually tell if it’s dark already. That’s right – you don’t even need to switch it on. Imagine those milk feeds at 3am, with no need to maneouvre a baby in one hand and find a light switch with the other….

Automatic "darkness detectors". Genius.

The light plugs straight into a socket, so doesn’t cast a disruptive glare across the whole room. Instead, it sits quietly glowing in the corner. The light’s so relaxing I can almost see it being used in a high end spa meditation room, rather than a baby’s bedroom. It even stays cold, so no need to worry about tiny fingers touching a hot light. Genius.

And it has the option of not being covered, so other appliances can be plugged into the same socket. Like so:

Hoover friendly. Or whatever appliance takes your fancy.

The anti-wandering fingers version.

I have to say, I’m not surprised those clever inventors at Brother Max have pulled another cracker out of the bag. They’ve already showed off their talents in the baby gadget stakes with the likes of their room and bath thermometer. Oh, and don’t forget about their easy to use digital thermometer.

In fact, check out all the products on the website. They’ve found solutions to problems I didn’t even know were an issue – until I found the product to rectify it. And their bath toys look incredibly cute.

But, so far, the night light is definitely my favourite of all the products. I just wish they’d invented it earlier.

How selfish of them.

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The Brother Max dual purpose nightlight costs £9.99 and is available to pre-order from Mother Care.

This is a review post.

This time last week I had just left Havana with the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and was trying hard to quell a large lump in my throat at the thought of being away from Frog for four more days.

Funny how a Mojito can solve all sorts of problems, even short-term homesickness.

So. The honeymoon.

Here’s how it started…

With a little bit of this thrown in…

It turns out the stress of getting lost on the way to the airport and arriving at check-in with just 5 minutes to spare isn’t good for pre-holiday relaxation. Luckily though, that’s an issue easily cured by gin and tonic and sleep. 

Once in Cuba, Havana was our friend for a couple of nights. We ate lobster, drank beer, Mojitos and Daquiris (not all at once, obviously) and explored.

If you happen to pass through Havana any time soon, I highly recommend El Floridita, Ernest Hemingway’s former haunt and home to the mighty Daquiri. Obispa (the road connecting Old and Central Havana) is also great for a wander and lots of live salsa in the street.

Havana ensnared us both – we fell head over heels for the place. One day we’d love to go back, with Frog in tow.

After the city lights, we headed to the beach. For sun, more Mojitos and plenty of relaxation. Bliss.

We spent Valentine’s Evening on the beach, with champagne. And a random bride…

But the best thing about the holiday? The thing that beat everything else hands down? Spending time with the NLM. Just the two of us. Even if I did have to put up with some terrible jokes.

But don’t worry Frog. You can come next time.

Since I started this blog just over a year ago, Jane has become a very good friend. She is genuinely one of the wittiest, no-nonsense and funny people I know. This is something I’m sure my northern husband would attribute to the fact she’s not from the south. Whatever the reason, I’m thrilled to welcome her over to my place…

***

Hang on, let me adjust a second. There, that’s better.

Sorry it is just Molly’s blog is so much quieter than mine, it caught me off guard momentarily. I am not used to being in a space that is dominated by only one baby, whereas my blog is getting slightly over crowded with my three rather ‘exuberant’ children.

Anyway where are my manners, I am Jane, I normally blog over at Northernmum. I am mother to twin boy, twin girl and baby beautiful. I am also knackered constantly, forming a slight dependence upon gin and most days an appalling parent.

But I try hard so that’s ok.

So Molly is off on her holidays, which cast my mind back to our first family holiday with the twins.

They were 18 weeks old, we were naïve enough to think a four hour flight would be a wise idea. Our ‘hand’ luggage consisted of a double buggy, at least twenty bouncy soft musical toys which had not captured their attention in the UK but were somehow deemed necessary to board a Boeing 747. Fifteen packets of SMA gold, six bottles, two sterilising bags, ten books (for the children who can’t read), ten small bottles of gin (for the grown ups who wouldn’t have time to read). One bottle of Calpol (large), two packets of nurofen (extra strength). Two tupperware pots of frozen puree pear, (because starting weaning as you go on holiday is always a good plan). Three pairs of clothes, twenty nappies, two packets of wipes, six bibs and the twins favourite teddies.

You don’t even want to know what we checked in as baggage…

It pretty much went wrong from the get go. As we checked in we discovered the little known airline rule that two children under a year cannot sit in the same row of seats. Thus the flight involved he who helped create them and I sitting ten rows apart.

I like to think we encouraged in flight camaraderie as we involved the other passengers sitting between us in a game of pass the baby stuff. However I think I heard one passenger declare that this flight “was living hell”. He may have said “what a lovely bell” but to be honest Twin Boy screamed for four hours as the air hostess refused to comply with my wishes and black out the plane to complete darkness. So in return twin boy point blank refused to sleep and the noise erupting from him may have affected my hearing somewhat.

Most of the stuff we bought on board was predominantly useless however the change of clothes was a super plan. A super duper plan would have been to pop in a change for myself as well because when twin boy threw up SMA gold mixed with pear puree halfway through the flight I was left with very little choice but to sit in it and hope the smell wasn’t too over powering.

So to my dear Molly, should you feel guilt at leaving little Frog alone for a week whilst you and the NLM have some time together - just read this post and think of what could have been…

Adele’s was one of the first blogs I found when I started blogging just over a year ago. Back then she was writing about pregnancy – reading her words took me right back to the days 19 months ago when I was huge and fed up.

She writes with humour, thought and huge sprinklings of common sense. And she resides in my homeland of Bristol, so she’s got to be worth a read.

Without further ado, I bring to you, the Queen of the Circus herself….

***

When I was fifteen, I voluntarily (!) got up at 5am to study Chemistry and Biology. I was getting ready to write my CXC’s (the Caribbean version of GCSE’s). Looking back I would’ve managed anyway. Looking forward, I’d put my fingertips in the toaster to get those unslept hours to return.

These mornings a little hand grabs my boob at 5.30 (someone remind me I need to cut those fingernails) and shoves it violently in her mouth. A few minutes later, the other one falls victim. Just when I start nodding off again, the hand starts jabbing fingers up my nose, pulling open my lips and yanking my hair.

I’ve tried to get clever by keeping some toys next to my pillow. So I hurl them at her with my eyes closed to see if I can fool her into thinking I’m still asleep. This probably buys me two minutes. Then I’m whacked over the head by a Lamaze thing-ma-jig.

Meanwhile, my eight-month-old is babbling a mile a minute. The message is clear: “Wake UP, Mummy.”

I really believe the more sleep you get, the more you need. Somehow, two hours’ sleep shook it at two months into this motherhood gig. Now, I reach sleepily for my dressing gown and slippers and tell the giggling imp in my bed: “Lord have mercy, child – can’t you see it’s dark out there?”

At this, she smiles so fully, I almost forget that I’m a grumpy cow who doesn’t like getting up in the morning at the best of times and who thinks winter is a sure symptom of the fall of man.

We go downstairs to stick the kettle on and get our breakfast going. She sits with her toys but, mainly, she’s looking up at me and chatting away, laughing when I respond.

She’s her own person, I marvel, independent of the rhythms of my own sleep. What is she thinking about when she wakes up? What has she dreamt? What is she saying to me?

More often than not, I’ve gone to bed feeling worn out and rather sorry for myself. I’m stuck with her until bedtime day after day. I’m getting lost inside this vortex of poo, naps and peekaboo. Pretty soon I’ll not know where to find a self to hold in any kind of esteem.

I’ve recently become afraid that I’m getting boring, that motherhood is not enough and, by extension, that I am – simply – not enough. It culminates in a nightly headache as I pull my daughter into bed with me. I lie in the dark and wonder if I’m coping.

As the caffeine kicks in, the sun rises and Talitha lifts her arms to be carried, my thoughts elevate. I’ve got a day ahead with someone who sees me. Hours will roll with the person who desperately wants to be with me.

I know, I know, my identity can’t be planted in her. One day she’ll stop laughing at my jokes, preferring to be with her friends.

But for now, I only have to think about this moment. These dim hours are teaching me to be the person I am going to be – with the person who doesn’t give a fart about what I got on my CXC’s.

Finally I have proof that our bathroom is the coldest room in the house, despite what the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine says.

We’ve been testing out the Brother Max Ray Digital Bath and Room Thermometer for the past week. So far it’s proved that it’s extremely cold in the bathroom, Frog’s room and our living room. In fact, the only place where the temperature doesn’t induce frost bite seems to be in the bath.

That’s the brilliant thing about this thermometer, see. It measures the temperature in both the room AND the bath. The clever design means it doubles up as floating bath toy (a Sting Ray, to be precise) as well as a thermometer.

Genius.

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This is a review post. The Ray Digital Bath And Room Thermometer is available online at Brother Max and Kiddicare.