I’m dreading tomorrow. I’m anticipating tomorrow. I can’t wait for it to come. The thought of it fills me with dread.
Tomorrow I should find out what is wrong with my little girl, if anything. Tomorrow I should find out if my non-toddling toddler is just a late walker or if there is, indeed, a more sinister reason for her lack of mobility. Continue reading
Frog has always had wonky feet.
The day she was born she came out all big feet and long skinny legs. She had Correctional Talipeze, meaning there wasn’t enough room for her long old feet in my womb, so they came out a bit like flippers.
Fast forward to today and at nearly 19 months Frog still isn’t walking. Continue reading
My baby’s poorly – and it stinks.
No, really, it stinks.
There’s nothing quite like being woken at 2am to change a nappy that smells like something concocted by a mad scientist with a penchant for experiments created out of dustbins and sick. Yum.
It’s been a week now. At first we thought it was the teeth. “It’s those bloody teeth again,” I told the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine knowingly. Then, when a tooth failed to appear, I blamed the water in Rochdale. “It’s this water, it’s different from the Southern stuff she’s used to,” I pronounced, equally as knowingly. Continue reading
I’ve been pondering all day whether to put this on the blog. And then I remembered that I shared my pants wetting incident with you. Not to mention the time I was found naked by a bunch of fireman. Oh yes, and the time I farted at boot camp.
So I suppose I’ve got nothing left to hide.
Here it is then. The letter I wrote almost a year ago, as I was going out of my mind with boredom waiting for Frog to hurry up and be born. I really should have started this blog much sooner. Continue reading