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My Favourite Child

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George wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t whine. He’d just blank me, do whatever the sod he wanted, get shouted at, walk off, find a stick, whack stuff. Simple.

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All The Mothers

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What I remember, though is the egg sandwiches she made me for breakfast and that she knew as much about my favourite dollies as I did. The important stuff.

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Snot Days

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“I think it’s a bogey,” she concludes, her head angled to one side thoughtfully, like she’s just discovered the theory of the universe.

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Apology to my Brother

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I could tell that they weren’t listening. It was obvious. Because they’d interrupt me mid sentence, shouting, “YOU NEED A POO. You do. I can tell. You’ve not been yet, today. Come on. Pants down.”

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Hello Former Child-Free Full-time Employee Me

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You’ll work harder than you’ve ever known, but you’ll only get paid half as much. For your main job, the crazy mummy one, you won’t get any money at all.

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All I Want for Christmas

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I’ve quite liked 2015. It’s had its ups and downs, but all in all, it’s been a pretty good one. It started with maternity leave, a 4 month old baby and a 25 month old diva, and it’s finishing off with our lovely little family just that little bit older and so much easier. We’re […]

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Twoberty Has Got Nothing on This

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Maybe it’s just a growth spurt. Or maybe a virus? She did have a bit of a sniffle the other day. Maybe she’s not a fournomal threenager after all?

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Whose Baby is That?

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It’s Saturday, 25 November 2012. 4.24am. I’m awake. I’m still awake. I’ve been awake forever. For the past 6 days, 19 hours and 58 minutes, in fact. Actually, no, longer than that. I didn’t sleep for the day or so of torture before it all started, and therefore, by my calculations, I am probably a […]

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Twoberty to Threenager

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It wasn’t that you weren’t listening, necessarily, it was just that the fun you were having in your imagination was far too loud and exciting for you to hear anything else.

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Can we go now? Please…

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It’s Sunday afternoon and Ant is driving us into town so I can grab a new sleeping bag for George. One that hasn’t got a pink mouse ballerina on, preferably. The poor boy has suffered the indignity of his current hand-me-down for ages and seeing as we’re going on holiday next weekend, he can have […]

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