Summers as they were: Me (complete with a broken arm) with my little brothers and sister
MOTHERHOOD definitely does something funny to your brain.
When I was little our family holiday was always a week, spent in a caravan, somewhere along England’s south coast (apart from the one year we ventured to Wales, stayed in a chalet and it rained the entire time.)
They were lovely holidays – fun-filled and drama free – but I grew to hate the caravans. The fact the beds were so small that if you rolled over you rolled out. That unless it was baking hot (in which case you couldn’t get cool) then you were always a bit chilly – and everything just seemed, well, a bit damp. Continue reading
Up on his feet: Sonny Jim is now a toddling toddler
I think we can all agree on the fact that Einstein was a pretty clever chap.
But, did you know he was slow to talk? In fact, he reportedly didn’t start speaking until he was four. FOUR.
I bet he had his mum fretting.
Sonny Jim has just started walking. He’s one and a bit and in his little gang of baby buddies, he’s pretty much the last to get up on his feet.
He also took his sweet time in starting to crawl. Has no interest in potty training. Calls pretty much everything he sees “Bob”. And utterly refuses to wave or clap on cue.
None of this bothers me in the slightest. Continue reading
Prosecco and a newborn: And I deserved every sip
This week, so-called “slummy mummies” have come in for a bit of a lambasting.
Authors of books such as Hurrah for Gin and the Unmumsy Mum (who I adore) have been decried by a national newspaper for sharing their exploits of feeding their toddlers frozen fish fingers, swigging gin from baby cups and potty mouthed ranting about their kids online.
Which, as a mama and coming hot on the heels of mental health awareness week, rather makes my blood boil.
Being a mum is hard. Don’t get me wrong, I ADORE being a mother. Sonny Jim is truly all my oh-so-long awaited dreams come true. But I’m not superwoman – try as I may. Continue reading
Soft play Sonny Jim: safe from sharp edges and hard floors
Since Sonny Jim started crawling a couple of months ago I’ve been desperately trying to wear the little menace out so as he stops wanting to continually open and close doors, climb up everything in sight and use any part of my anatomy that’s in range as a bouncy castle.
So soft play it was. Our first venture into this weird world was the Fun Factory, on the Purdeys Industrial Estate, in Rochford. Sonny Jim adored the slide, was terrified by the ball pit and crawled around free from his mum’s usual fretting about sharp edges and hard floors. Since that first trip though, I’ve realised that whatever soft play place you go to, there are always these kids hanging about too… Continue reading