Pushed to the Limit By Small Child

There has been many a day when I have returned from work to find my mother slumped on the sofa, a look of exhaustion and despair etched on her face. “It’s been a difficult day,” she would croak, as Piglet played with his cars around her, in front of Abney and Teal, making cute little…

The Public Badge of Good Motherhood: What’s so great about it anyway?

Picture the scene.  You are in a cafe.  Your toddler, having just had a floor-hugging, rigid back arching, high-decibel screaming meltdown over not being able to push his own buggy into the centre of the cafe and then spend the next twenty minutes using it to bash tables, and the legs of anyone who happens…

Dear Mum-to-Be, here is my rubbish advice

Recently, a friend of mine announced that she was expecting. It made me think, if I could go back and speak to myself in those hideous, anxiety-ridden, nauseating thrilling days of early pregnancy, what would I say?  What sage snippets of wisdom would I have to impart? I came up with the answer today while…

You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his mother….

When they were both wee nippers, one of my brothers hit the other one around the head with a toy milk float. It was probably the most dangerous use of a milk float until that episode of Father Ted where the evil milkman places a bomb on his milk float and Dougal gets stuck driving…

Times My Mother Was Right, and I Was Wrong

Obviously this is going to be a short list (haha, SORRY MUM). My mother and I do not always see eye to eye on all things parenting.  For example, she once exclaimed to me in a horrified tone, “You’re not planning on breastfeeding him past six months, are you?” as though I had just told…

THANKS AGAIN TFL.

Most.  Unproductive.  Day.  Ever. Piglet woke up this morning at 7.30am, which I understand from my fellow parentals is usually described as “late.”  For me, this is obscenely early, and I spent over an hour whimpering “Go back to sleep” whilst being enthusiastically hit in the face by an increasingly perky baby.  Once I finally…

More Hair-Raising Adventures on the London Underground

Travelling anywhere with a baby has begun to resemble a particularly farcical episode of Miranda. Today, for example, Piglet and I (plus my mother) travelled from Bristol to London on the train (Piglet’s first trip on the “big train.”  He was fairly non-plussed, despite my mother’s running commentary on the journey with all vehicles played…

Who is even allowed to use the birth centre?

Just returned from a quick excursion to the toilet to find Piglet slumped in his bouncy chair, hanging off the end.  Perhaps the time has come to start strapping him in (what’s that sound?  The sound of social services being called at the fact that I have so far failed to do this).  Either that…

New Sport of Ostentatious Breastfeeding Makes Wembley Debut

And so for a bit of ostentatious breastfeeding. Well not at the moment.  At the moment I am watching X Factor on mute so as not to wake Piglet from his slumbers.  Michael Buble is either singing or talking to someone who may or may not be Nelly Furtado.  Without the benefit of sound, they both…

The Maternal Guilt Starts Here

Well actually it started three months ago, when the wee one was born.  And there is never a moment when you are truly safe.  There’s always something waiting round the corner that could be going wrong.  A case in point being the one illustrated below. On Friday I was happily bleating down the phone to…