Monthly Archives: August 2011

The night before the rest of my life

26 Friday Aug 2011

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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 »

Why am I getting married?

24 Wednesday Aug 2011

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I’m getting married in just over two days.

I’ll be promising to spend the rest of my life with one man, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine. The rest of my life. Forever. And ever.

Now, just a few weeks ago, I was asked why I was getting married. Apparently it’s not a particularly trendy thing to do nowadays. With one daughter between us already, we clearly don’t have the whole “sex before marriage” thing to consider. And we decided to have a baby together before we decided to get married, so marriage was never a factor in the family planning plan. I must admit, that question threw me a bit. I mean, why does anyone get married? Continue reading »

On choosing a first dance

19 Friday Aug 2011

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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 »

Wetting pants and the Gurgle Blog Awards

16 Tuesday Aug 2011

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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 »

From the mouths of…

13 Saturday Aug 2011

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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 »

It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your….

11 Thursday Aug 2011

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Don’t worry, this isn’t a post about stripping or catchy tunes from 2002.

Instead, I’m going to talk to you today about thermometers. Or rather, a thermometer. Being the terribly ill-prepared (pun not intended, but while it’s there I’m going to stick with it) parents that we are, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and myself have never invested in a baby thermometer.

On the rare couple of occasions we’ve needed one, we’ve nipped next door and borrowed theirs. But as time goes on and the amount of earwax Frog shares with the neighbours increases, we thought it about time to make a thermometer purchase. Continue reading »

Learning how to be a fish

10 Wednesday Aug 2011

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When Frog was first born, nearly 14 months ago, I knew one thing: she was going to be a water baby.

I didn’t know how I’d get on breastfeeding. I didn’t know what kind of bedtime routine we’d have. I didn’t even know if she would sleep in her own cot or in a moses basket at the side of our bed. The only parenting decision I had properly made was one involving water and swimming.  Continue reading »