“A good fireman is never off duty!” Sam has all the lines
Prior to having a toddler, clearly, I was never going to let any baby of mine watch children’s television.
But, well, real life happens doesn’t it? And sometimes the only way you’re going to be able to cook dinner / put a wash on / have a wee is to stick the television on.
And so, it has transpired that Sonny Jim has fallen under the spell of Fireman Sam.
And I have questions. Questions that our daily dose of Pontypandy life is not answering. Questions that I can’t be the only parent watching their gazillionth episode (I might be exaggerating a bit, but you get the idea) is asking themselves.
So, to get them off my chest, and in the spirit of solidarity with other Sam addicts, and hopefully, to stop me fruitlessly asking my agog toddler, here are some of the most pressing… Continue reading
Giggles: At the last family wedding
LATER this summer, Sonny Jim will be flying to the south of France to attend a family wedding.
My second cousin once removed (or is it third cousin?!) is getting married and while I HATE flying and am dreading the 4am taxi with toddler in tow, I really wanted us to go.
This cousin was one of my best playmates when I was little. There’s just six weeks between us, and a mere couple of years between us and her older sister, and almost all of my favourite childhood memories feature them in some way or another.
We didn’t live especially close (me on Canvey, them in Goodmayes) but every school holiday we could be found at each other’s houses.
Throwback: Me and the triplets, circa 1990
Last week my triplet (I know!) brothers and sister turned 30.
Which gave me an excuse to dig out the old family albums, tucked away on the top shelf of a wardrobe at my parents’.
For an hour or so I got lost in a little bubble of nostalgia. Laughing at our chubby cheeks and gap-toothed grins.
And then I found myself thinking about the rather inglorious death of the family photo album.
Most of us new parents have probably got more photos on our phones of our little ones in the first month of their lives, than there are in existence from our entire childhoods.
Pretty much every single day of Sonny Jim’s life has been snapped on my phone. A fair number of them end up being posted on Instagram, and being WhatsApped to his daddy.
My heart: Sonny Jim and me
It’s a man’s world… so the saying goes.
And nowhere is that patriarchy more apparent than when it comes to fertility.
For all the strides that have been made over the last century. For all the hard-fought rights (to vote, to own our own homes, to smash those glass ceilings) when it comes to having children, nature has us pegged at a real disadvantage.
Women get maybe a 20-year window in which to have their babies. And that’s it.
However we dress it up. Whatever advances that have been made by science, no one has really found a viable, risk-free way for women to put off children well into their forties.
At 35 women’s fertility goes off a cliff – conceiving gets harder and the risks to baby and mama go up too.
Fellas though? Well there’s absolutely nothing stopping them having little ones into their dotage. Continue reading
Running wild: My Sonny Jim making the most of the road being closed
FOR a few hours on Saturday afternoon I felt like I’d stepped back in time.
Our road was closed for a royal wedding street party. There was bunting. Chalk drawings on the floor. Kids running wild up and down the avenue. Neighbours sitting on curbs in the sunshine, sipping beers and prosecco.
It was blooming lovely.
I was never allowed to play out as a child. But even if I had been, it wouldn’t have been as charming in the Nineties as it was for my Sonny Jim on Saturday. He literally had the time of his life. He ate his tea in the street, chased his aunties (and his football) up and down the road for hours and by the time bedtime came around, he had two grazed knees, dirt all over his face and was a sweaty, sticky mess of sunshine in toddler form. Continue reading
Multi-tasking: Typing while saving Sonny Jim from stunts like this…
BEING a mummy is a job like no other.
I mean, in what other role would you be prepared to be on call 24/7, get literally pooped on, get screamed at for hours at a time and your only reward be an occasional wobbly smile and a tiny hand wrapped around your finger?
But two years down the line of mummying and I have to concede that I’ve definitely picked up a few new skills.
Here are some of the most utilised:
- Mum-versations: The ability to chat to another parent, break off to shout/pick-up/wipe down your child, and then pick up the conversation again without missing a stride. Continue reading
Child-free… and enjoying the fizz
It’s not often I get a whole toddler-free Saturday afternoon.
So when I do, I really, really want them to be fun. Which is why I was delighted to be invited along to Pink Vanilla Events’ first ever tipsy tea party.
Held at the Rayleigh Club, the afternoon is the brainchild of creative director, Amy Langmead.
And, Oh My God, was it a fun few hours.
When we arrived at 2pm we were greeted by a couple of butlers in the buff (*blushes*) and handed a glass (the first of many) of prosecco. (NB if you’re given a glass of prosecco with a puff of blue candyfloss on the top, eat it, don’t push it into your glass. It’ll turn your fizz blue and you’ll end up looking like you’ve got a flute of WKD blue in your hand. Classy.) Continue reading