Most evenings, around 6pm, my child means one thing to me: MESS.
Pure, unadulterated mess. Crayons in the carpet, milk on the sofa, books and cushions and dried rice and sticky ketchup strewn around the house and smeared up walls. This is the evidence I live with a small person. The evidence I am a mum.
But that mess - the stuff that makes me want to tear my hair out at the end of a long day - is what keeps me going. Continue reading “What do your children mean to you?” »
Photo Credit: "Facebook's Secret Message to Me", by Nate Bolt
My husband isn’t on Facebook. The (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine did have a page, but decided to close it down. “If I want to speak to someone, I’ll ring them,” he said. “I don’t even really know half the people on there anyway.”
He has a point.
Since I started the new job at the beginning of the month, I’ve spent more time on Facebook. I get into work at 5am and it’s one of the first sites I check. It says a lot about the age we live in, that often the “big” things people are talking about will be picked up by social networking sites before other forms of media. Continue reading “Do you ever lie on Facebook?” »
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 “The day my daughter was referred to the hospital” »
Have you ever wished you could earn something from the mess your child makes? How about an Amazon voucher worth £75?
All you have to do is dig out a picture of your beautiful child making a huge mess. Something like this: Continue reading “A mess and a present (for you)” »
I write this amidst a sea of toys and half-read books, socks and abandoned crayons.
We were going to do something today. I’m not sure what. Just, well, something.
Instead, we have spent the morning making a mess without really doing anything. The day is already half over and we’ve only made it to the end of the garden. Continue reading “On the reality of spectacular plans” »
It’s fair to say the last week has been tough in the mum stakes.
Tantrums on top of tantrums - on top of more tantrums - haven’t mixed well with the sheer exhaustion that comes with being up at 3.45am every day for my new job. By the time tantrum number 3,479 has hit in the afternoon, I’ve regularly melted into a pool of (melodramatic) tears.
But today has been different. Continue reading “Enjoying being a mum again” »
When Frog was first born, my mum attempted to persuade me to use cloth nappies. “Yuck”, I replied. “What do you think I am? Some kind of hippy?”. Continue reading “How to get a yummy bum: Part II” »
