I’ve always prided myself on having a “live and let live” attitude. Until someone does something which I find extremely annoying / questionable / offensive. And then “let live” goes out the window and I decide everyone should live along my code of life. Because I am always right, clearly.
When I became a mum I was shocked at how this attitude took itself to the next level. Mums who let their babies cry in the night – why? Mums who didn’t choose Baby-led Weaning – why not? Mums who were all competitive about their baby’s milestones – what’s the point? Continue reading
With wine on a Friday night.
It starts with a whisper at around midday. I can hear it humming softly from the fridge in all its cold, fresh, delicious glory.
The call gets steadily louder as the afternoon wears on. With each tantrum from my beautiful, highly-strung 20 month old daughter, the wine positively sings from the bottle stacked lovingly in its cosy white home in the corner of the kitchen. Continue reading
It’s 10 o’clock at night and we’ve just landed in Turkey. It’s our first family holiday with our baby, who is 9 months old. Despite my concerns about the flight, she slept through the entire journey. Easy.
Fast forward two hours and we still haven’t found our villa. Between the four adults on this trip, not one of us has remembered to bring the directions.
Another hour in and still no sign of the villa. We’re driving down a deserted dirt track with no idea where we’re heading. I look at my sleeping baby, in her rickety Turkish carseat and feel sick. 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
The party starts here
I realised something this weekend: I am officially a grown-up.
Not a pretend one, who goes to work and attempts adult responsibilities like paying bills. But an actual real grown-up.
It was during Frog’s 1st birthday party that this realisation dawned on me. After spending the previous 24 hours baking and cooking and blowing up balloons and making party bags, I was (rather unsurprisingly, I think) gagging for a drink. A grown-up drink. Continue reading