Before I had children, I used to daydream about how one day I’d have two kids, ideally with a couple of years in between them, because that’s the perfect age gap, right? Continue reading
First of all, apologies for the terrible play on words in the title, but this is about a trip to a marble museum so it had to be done (whether or not we actually had a marvelous time).
When I was little, Easter wasn’t such a big deal. I remember getting excited about the prospect of chocolate and my mum doing a slightly-more-special-than-usual Sunday lunch. But in the 1980s Easter definitely wasn’t the epic egg-fest we celebrate now.
Thirteen years ago, on 21 March 2003, I lost my wonderful dad to cancer. He was 57.
These days I seem to get very little ‘just us’ time with my little lady. I struggle with this. After all, she was my only focus for almost five years.
During my first pregnancy, I was a baby product marketers dream. I was totally sucked in by the adverts and celebrity endorsements in pregnancy magazines and the leaflets spilling out of my first Bounty pack.
This weekend, we had an unexpected house guest by the name of Sam.
I say unexpected. For the past 30-odd-ish weeks, every Friday morning, without fail, E has excitedly announced over her cheerios, ‘Mummy, I really think that today will be the day that Sam will come and stay’.
I’m almost eight months in as a ‘mum of two’ and I’m still getting my head around using those simple three words to describe myself.
It’s been a long, dark, wet winter. I’m pretty sure I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and being on maternity leave this year hasn’t made it any easier. In fact, I’ve probably felt worse from being frustrated by not getting out and about with V as much as I hoped I would. The visions of crisp winter buggy-walks along the sea front didn’t really happen. Continue reading