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
Despite Gary Barlow’s best efforts, I’m officially off the market.
That’s right, I am now *gasp* a “Mrs”. I have a new husband, name and marital status.
This time one week ago I was slugging down wine and preparing for the first dance. I was still attempting to teeter around on too-high shoes (my new husband is six foot five, so the high shoes were a necessity) and look elegant in my beautiful dress. But the alcohol was also starting to take it’s toll, so the veil had been ditched and the laughing was getting a little raucous. Continue reading
I’m getting married in the morning. No really, I am.
I’ve managed to
hoodwink persuade a real-life, actual man to promise to spend the rest of his life with me. I know, I can’t believe it either.
The man in question isn’t in the house this evening. He’s been turfed out into a nearby hotel, along with about ten million family members from all corners of the country. They’re all in separate rooms though, obviously. Continue reading
Everyone has an opinion about weddings. The “right” way to do them, the “wrong” way, what’s symbolic and what’s just plain tacky. A bit like parenting, weddings can divide and bring together.
And that is exactly why we’ve had such trouble choosing our first dance.
We’re not particularly traditional people. We did everything the wrong way round to start with, having a baby first and all. And we’re not getting married in a church. So I was all for ditching the first dance altogether. But then I realised the endless possibilities. Continue reading
This lunchtime, after putting the baby to bed and attempting for the umpteenth time to finish the damn table plan for the impending wedding (mine, that is), I decided to brave my inbox. It’s something I’ve been avoiding recently, as five minutes into checking emails and the wedding “to do” list has increased from ten to fifty items. So I’d prefer to keep my head in the sand.
On this particular occasion though, I was pleasantly surprised.
I’ve just found out I’m a finalist in the Gurgle Blog Awards. I’m one of five to be shortlisted in the Best Funny Mummy Blog category. Continue reading
Ever since I started blogging, I’ve been jealous of other parents who have children who can talk. The sheer amount of blog material you lot get out of your speaking offspring is unbelievable.
As Frog is only 13 months old, her vocabulary isn’t particularly wide at the moment. She’s got to grips with “Mummy” and “Daddy” and “Gagaga”, “Bababa” and “Eeeeeeeeeeee”. But that’s about it. Nothing hugely amusing, I think you’ll agree.
But yet again, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine has stepped up to the plate. Where his daughter has failed, he has taken up the mantle. Continue reading
I’m experiencing some serious overcrowding problems at the moment.
We live in a two bedroom cottage, with a buggy and a million toys and baby paraphernalia stuffed into every nook and cranny. But that’s not the problem.
I feel as if my head is about to explode, as the pressure of a thousand thoughts builds to a worrying crescendo.
It’s the wedding. And work. And the baby. And those table plans. And articles. And meetings. And the radio work. And the accounts to keep on top of. And the copywriting project. And the childcare issues. And the never-ending pile of washing. And the emails – the bloody emails. They’re down to my ankles and up to my neck. Continue reading
My face hurts from laughing.
It’s been one of those weekends where you look around at all your friends and family and realise how lucky you are. It’s also been one of those weekends when you realise you may be a mum now, but you’re really still just a big kid.
It was my hen do, you see. Continue reading
Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got
I’ve learned a big lesson recently. It’s one I should have known before, the amount of times people have said “I told you so”.
Get married before you have kids.
It’s not because of tradition. It’s not because of God. And it’s certainly not because of some kind of pre-marriage vow of celibacy. Continue reading