It’s just after 9am on a Wednesday morning.
We’re into the last hour of the show and I’m catching up on tweets. Twitter says I’ve missed a good week on The Gallery.
I’m a bit miffed. Work and mum duties tend to have a habit of getting in the way of the blog at times.
So I ask our lovely producer Adrian to take a picture of me, right now. No fussing with hair. No trying to put my head at a flattering angle. I’m even still biting my nails.
Frog, this is what your mum does when she’s at work. This is me, right now.
It’s funny how something as mundane as a pair of shoes can evoke a memory in just the same way as a smell or a taste.
I’ve already blogged about the NLM’s slow-starter of a relationship with Frog. When she was tiny she was so reliant on me and my boobs, he felt a bit pushed out. He didn’t know how to interact with this shrivelled little person that looked like an old man, yet he wanted desperately to be a “good dad”.
Christmas was a turning point for us. Frog suddenly got interesting, with her raspberry blowing and squeals of laughter. Now, whenever I see her little red shoes, I’m reminded of this picture, which perfectly sums up the changing relationship between Frog and her dad. Continue reading
When I told my mum I was pregnant with Frog, the first thing she said to me was “But I’m not ready to be a Grandma yet”.
Not quite the gushing words of congratulations I was hoping for. Continue reading
I’ve been a bit of a soppy fool lately.
As Frog hurtles closer and closer to her first birthday, I can’t stop looking back. I can so clearly see what I was doing this time last year. I was huge, swollen, fed up.
And then she was born and that was it. Life had begun.
The weekend after Frog made an appearance, her Northern grandparents came to visit. It was a special weekend, as my mum, dad and sister all joined in too. We had a barbecue and I stuffed my face, making the most of the “extra calories” I needed for breastfeeding. Continue reading
If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’ll let you in on a little secret…
When you have a baby you don’t get much time to “chill”.
Gone are the days of lie-ins and lounging. Welcome to early morning wake-up calls and Sundays at swimming.
With that in mind, I have struggled to find an appropriate picture for this week’s Gallery theme, Chilled Out.
We went on holiday recently, so I thought about posting a photo of me lying by the pool in my bikini. But I wouldn’t want to put you through that.
So, then I considered putting up a picture of Frog at her favourite time of the day, naked time before her bath. But I doubt she’d thank me for that in her teenage years, so those pictures of her baring her bum to the world will stay firmly put (to be used as bribery and threats at a later date).
Then I realised Frog’s idea of “chilling” is pretty different to mine. She’s happiest when she’s playing with a tambourine, shaking it along to a nursery rhyme or the sound of her own babbling voice, wowing an imaginary audience. Poor girl, takes after me like that…
But that’s not my entry either.
Because then I found this picture, by my amazingly talented friend Caroline Gue. It shows Frog when she’s at her most chilled. Sucking her thumb. And for me, this is perfection. Because when Frog’s chilled out, so am I.
Forget the Royal Wedding. For us, April’s been all about the holidays.
Our first family holiday abroad and bank holidays spent in the garden, enjoying our first barbecues of the summer.
This time last year, I looked like this…
I was nervous and excited, with no idea what to expect of the future (well, obviously I realised the future involved a baby, but that was pretty much it).
And now, here we are. Frog’s nearly one and I can’t imagine life without her. We’re finally doing all the things I imagined we’d do together as a family; holidays, day trips, picnics and barbecues. Life’s easier now we’re past the half-hourly feeds and the colicky cries and the adjustment to parenthood. Life’s good.
This picture was taken on our holiday to Turkey a couple of weeks ago. We visited the site of Aspendos, an incredibly preserved amphitheatre. I broke every health and safety law in the book and climbed to the top of the theatre, Frog in tow….
Head over to Sticky Fingers to see the rest of the entries to this week’s Gallery.
Filed under Family, Travel
I want chickens. And ducks. And maybe even the odd goat.
It’s probably a bad idea seeing as I don’t actually own my own home. I suspect my landlord wouldn’t be best pleased with me starting a small-holding in his back garden. And going by what happened to the rabbit, I think he may have a point.
But I just can’t seem to let go of those bloody chickens.
Maybe it’s a mum thing. It’s definitely developed since Frog was born. Oh, and moving out to the country has probably been a factor. All those chickens running around happily, laying eggs, clucking, being all rural and rosy.
This chicken lust ties in quite nicely with this week’s Gallery theme over at Sticky Fingers. Tara has asked us to find a picture that captures Green. That’s about as specific as she’s been. Trawling through my pictures, I came across this one, taken on a recent trip to the farm up the road.
It looks like Frog shares my rural chicken-loving green dream…
Chicken lust starting young
Frog is two hours old and I can’t stop looking at her.
I can’t believe she came out of me. I can’t believe she is actually here.
From her bald head down to her wonky feet, she is the most perfect little thing I’ve ever seen. And she’s mine.
This week’s Gallery theme is Mother Love. Go to Sticky Fingers to see how other mums have interpreted the theme.
I miss my hair straighteners.
Or rather, I miss having the time to spend half an hour using them. Having a baby has meant, for me, hair preening has pretty much gone out of the window.
I left it nearly nine months to get my roots done. I permanently have a bit of frizz around my fringe area. Not dissimilar, then, to the look I sported during my first year at university eight years ago:
But while I mourn the loss of my straight hair, spare a thought for my baby.
She is now nine months and has only the faintest wisp of hair on her beautiful head. But at least she has some now.
It was touch and go at one point. She came out balder than the man who used to present Crystal Maze. And that leads me nicely to my entry for this week’s Gallery. Meet Frog, five minutes old. And hairless:
To see the other entries in the Gallery this week head over to Sticky Fingers.
My baby reckons she’s the next Judge Jules.
Her favourite past-time is to sit in her Baby Diva Seat (not the actual name of the toy, although I do think it is a far better name than the real one) and to spin the decks. She also chunters into the microphone and bangs the keyboard. Not far removed from my attempts at musicality actually.
Babies are so lucky.
Because, while Frog pretends to be the next Fatboy Slim or Britney Spears, she is learning. So, therefore, it is a perfectly valid activity. She’s got it so good.
I keep telling her to make the most of it. By the time she’s 27, any pop star impressions will have to be done under wraps. Unless she’s drunk of course. I don’t suppose she’ll have the excuse that singing into a hairbrush is actually educational. It hasn’t worked for me at any rate.
So this leads me onto my entry for The Gallery at Sticky Fingers this week. The theme is Education. And I’ve chosen a picture taken less than half an hour ago of Frog spinning the decks. The big yellow thing is supposed to be a microphone, not a block of cheese.