Fitting It All In

The yoga teacher is disappointed in us, I’m sure. Every week she asks us the same question.  Are we doing our yoga at home?  Just a fifteen minute practice in the mornings?  Hell, we can even do it in bed if we want to.  Yoga really is that flexible (if you’ll excuse the pun) and…

Bath, Book, Bed? I Should Be So Lucky

The evening routine is not something I have ever really got the hang of.  I am not a routine person.  Mornings are for rushing out of the door barely dressed and with a toddler still mewling at the outrage of being torn from the comforting catatonic vigil of back to back Paw Patrol and Fireman…

Introducing…..#SchoolsOut, the School Holiday Linky

I have all my best ideas on the train to work. In the fleeting moments when I have nothing better to do than catch up with the morning’s essential tweets, hidden under my enormous mum-parka wondering when it was that I started wearing clothes that made me look like a giant mushroom, ideas come to me,…

What do you do in your “Me Time”?

At the beginning of this week I found myself in the unprecedented position of having no less than two days to myself. That’s right, time to myself: Me Time.  No work, no childcare duties, no nothing.

The Grass Is Always Greener

One of the main perks of being a working parent is the cherished opportunity to talk to other adults about things other than teething and infant sleeping patterns.  I call this “water cooler conversation.” This morning’s water cooler conversation, so called because it took place next to an actual water cooler-albeit one that is not…

The Lonely Life of a Blogger

Alone she sits, in her immaculate office, the bright sunlight reflecting off the glossy white surfaces. She is a professional writer, tapping out little snippets of wisdom to share with a waiting world. Her home is her office, and she has become used to switching off all distractions and retreating into her own world, the…

High Heels: Aren’t We Good Enough As We Are?

I am five feet one inches tall. On a good day. On a day when I am stretching and standing on the tippiest of tippy toes, like we all used to in primary school when trying to prove we were taller than a similarly-sized friend and therefore obviously much more mature, serious and commanding of…

The Return to Work After Maternity Leave

The return to work.  The setting of the alarm for the crack of dawn, the reminder of all the tasks you left unfinished before you left, the return of the Sunday night feeling of dread as the credits to Countryfile are rolling and you realise you haven’t even planned what you’re supposed to be doing…

The Up and Down Life of A Working Mother

In the toilets at work there is an unforgiving mirror. It is in this mirror that I see the cold, hard evidence that life is starting to take its toll. I sometimes use it to pull out that evidence-the grey hairs I seem to have suddenly acquired-when no one else is around. Being a working…

I Am Miranda, and My Mother is Magda

I know, I know, I haven’t written on here in like, TEN DAYS, and I am, like, RUBS at this blogging malarkey, but the thing is, nothing has happened. Well, OK, work has happened, and Piglet catching conjunctivitis has happened. And Piglet spreading his conjunctivitis to Granny, so that Granny wakes up every morning with…