Ants, pants, wet gussets and battered plinths: My birthday lunch

It seems so obvious now. The walk there should have been a giveaway. BUB.3, aged three, decided to wear sparkly flip flops two sizes too big for her. Those damn shoes, and they’re not even shoes are they really, flipped off behind her about eighty times on the five minute walk.  Every time the shoe flew off, she cried. I… Read more →

8 times I knew I was tired

I decided to adopt the “early tea and fast track into PJs” strategy, only to find everyone demanded a second tea and required a change of pyjamas. Double the work. Twice the pain. I completely lost track of how many contact lenses I had put in each eye and took three out of one eye but still couldn’t see. I… Read more →

Solidaritea (and up yours Daily Mail)

Reading one of these women’s posts is the equivalent of panicking because everyone in your post-natal group is bringing out brightly coloured snack pots full of home made humous and pasta salad and you have forgotten a snack but then the woman opposite you brings out a tupperware from her bag from last week that she’s forgotten about and it’s got mould growing in it and everyone sees and you just want to hug her and say “Thank you.” Read more →

Fish heads 1 Parents 0

I sipped my tea from a safe distance, muttering things like “There’s no need for such a fuss” and “It’s nothing a quick rinse with some soapy water can’t fix” and “It’s just a matter of encouraging their individual interests,” as the children splattered and smeared fish guts all over the kitchen cupboards. Read more →

The Poo Lagoon* (*or Bank Holiday at the public swimming pool).

Further round we dance, ducking under buckets of cold water, ricocheting off of obese men’s stomach, rippling past frenzied children kicking, mouldy crocodiles and a demonic stork, we make it back to the baby beach, apologising to everyone we get kicked in the face by. Read more →

Let’s pub

I find that getting ready for a night out isn’t what it was. I once had to deal with two poos and a pair of sore bollocks just during make-up application. Despite usually having to let one of my children try on my dress or my boots or my bag, despite sweating most of my make up off before I leave the house, despite hangovers with kids being the ultimate torture, I want to pub so badly. Read more →

5 Tricks To Get You Through The Day

The hideous cacophony of household appliances, voices and thuds, the constant litter picking, the ceaseless searching for things and the endless supply of defrosted sausages to cook. It’s what known as the Day That Lasts Forever But Actually Nothing Gets Done and it happens when you are a parent to small children and spend time in your own home. Read more →

My candle burns at both ends

How do mothers of small children write bestselling novels and build empires? For me, working from home with a baby resulted in her spending a few hours ignoring her toys and rifling through the wastepaper bin while I retrieved passwords, paid bills, and glanced nervously at the clock. Read more →

Bat capes and bingo wings

I’m usually covered in food and normally dunk at least one part of my body in baked beans during the course of any day. Once it was my right boob, in public. As for personal style, you just know that it’s time to change the style of your shoulder bag when someone tries to pay you to go on the bouncy castle. Read more →

Reproduction: Make my stamen go berserk.

Last week the Unmumsy Mum shared a photo that I posted on my Facebook blog page and it ended up on the newsfeed of almost half a million of her Facebook followers. It was a photo I’d taken in my parents garden of a cut down tree that resembled Julia Donaldson’s Stick Man with a big willy. On hearing about my Facebook fame, my Dad went out into the garden the very next day and chopped poor Dick Man into six pieces. I don’t think it’s quite what he hoped for his 43-year-old daughter. Read more →

The Wife of Bath: the sequel.

  Four years ago I wrote a blog called The Wife of Bath in which I explained why I get in the bath with my small kids. BUB.3 was still a twinkle, the first two were 1 and 3. Today they are 3, 5 and 7. Looking through my list of 8 reasons that I used to swill about in… Read more →

It’s not all bad.

So I’ve made a house for him here, here’s his bedroom with a bookcase, and here’s his oven and I’ve put potato in there cooking for him, he can cook whatever he likes. And my house is over there but I’ve not put anything in mine except two beds. One for me and one for him if he wants to come and stay. Read more →

Tongue-tie: Can anyone give me a straight answer?

An unexpected breech caesarean section, BUB.3 first appeared to me as a long, bright pink, crying blur. “She’s got a tongue-tie which they say they can cut” Willy Wonka said, reassuring me she was OK as they checked her over on the table behind me. From something so certain, the first thing I heard about my daughter in fact, the… Read more →

Bath time: I’ll just sit here and smoke

  At bath time and in the morning, when they are getting dressed, there is sometimes shouting. I usually have to ask them to do something a minimum of four times, with increasing volume, before it might happen. This evening I snapped, as after countless attempts to extract them from the bath they were still absorbed in their own world… Read more →

Blue whale birthday cake

Last year I made BUB.2 a birthday cake that perfectly symbolised his temperament at four years old. This year, on his fifth birthday, my blue whale-loving boy deserved a birthday cake to symbolise how far he has come since being a volcanic four-year-old. I had spotted a few whale cakes on the internet and quickly shut it down. They were either… Read more →

KERBOOM birthday cake

In the future, if I ever struggle to remember what it was like to have a three-year-old child, I will just look at a photo of the birthday cake I made BUB.2 for his fourth birthday. He had seen similar cakes on the internet when I was searching for dinosaur cakes and said he wanted one just like it. So… Read more →

Weight loss, it’s a thing.

Aside from rigorously following Slimming World for eight months, people ask me how I lost 3.5 stone (three of which I tell myself were each of the BUBs’ fault, half a stone was the biscuits’ fault, but it’s probably the other way round). What was the secret? It was this: Individually-wrapped Moser Roth chocolate bars from Aldi. To be precise,… Read more →

Disco boats

I love The Wizard of Oz. Always have done. In many ways my journey is like Dorothy’s, with an escape to Oz, a magical journey filled with wonderful people and a return home. BUB.1 knows I love The Wizard of Oz. But he is only five. He plays with my ruby slipper necklace, he loses it down the back of… Read more →

I didn’t know I almost drowned until I read this

As parents of small children, we’re used to constant demands for our attention, shouting, screeching, “Look at me!”, “Help me Mummy!”. We’re not used to silent, stoic struggling. We must remember that drowning is a terribly British affair. Read more →

Peace in Perth

Traveling south of Perth for a week with a then eight month old BUB.1 epitomised what is good and bad about traveling with babies. We got to see some beautiful sights, but not for long. We very often saw the sights alone as the other one waited in the car with the sleeping baby. We dashed a mad relay to… Read more →

“Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood” – T.S. Eliot

I was having dinner with a an old friend last week and he told me how he’d been reading T.S Eliot to his soon-to-be-born child. And it made me think. I studied English Literature at University, and if there is one thing I want to pass onto my children it’s a love and appreciation of books. When I was pregnant… Read more →

F*** festivals

We’ve all seen them, the young family at the music festival, all floaty and serene, who appear to be having it all. Who says having a baby means the end of your music festival days they seem to be saying, the smug bastards. Quite. Well that was us yesterday. We chose the most middle aged festival to attend, Radio 2… Read more →

Desert island pregnancy survival kit

Pregnant? Right, you’ll need a whole host of bizarre things like belly bands, belly belts, belly balm and breast pads won’t you? Hmm, well in trying to think of the things that I would quite like to have access to on a desert island if I was pregnant and washed up, I found it was everyday items that would be my essentials. Read more →

Rhyme Time (or Swine Time)

Rhyme time, what a lovely idea. Take baby or toddler along to your local library once a week for half an hour of familiar songs and enthusiastic hand gestures. Sounds good, sign me up. Little did I know that from the earliest age BUB.1 didn’t give a sh*t if Polly put the kettle on and would rather climb the bookshelves, mount… Read more →

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