Think about this: instead of looking for ‘family friendly’ holidays, why aren’t we searching for ‘parent friendly’ holidays? I mean, when you think about it, that’s what we’re all looking for but because we’re all so used to putting the small people first, we forget all about that. Kids Clubs are great – essential even – but where, in those ‘family friendly’ holiday packages – is the focus on the parents? Continue reading
I don’t know if you know or not, but my husband is away a lot. I try not to shout about it too much….yeah right. I’m always banging on about being a bloody ‘tour widow’ and left alone with two small children and a job and blah blah blah. I’m not one for keeping my whingeing to myself. A misery shared on social media is a misery made bearable in my book. Right or wrong, oftentimes Instagram saves my sanity. Continue reading
It’s easy to fall into the icky-sticky trap of believing that you’ve got your shit together once you get to your thirties. It’s true that you may feel more comfortable in your own skin (hopefully), you may give less fucks about what other people think of you and hopefully you’ll be earning decent enough money to afford you some of the finer things in life – that’s all good stuff. But, it’s also possible that your thirties will also throw you some curve-balls. Continue reading
It’s been four weeks (a little over actually) since I gave up booze. For a whole month plus two days I haven’t touched a drop and, in all honesty, I haven’t found it too hard. This probably has something to do with the fact that I scared myself shitless and keeping the memory of that feeling close to me means that turning a drink down is easy peasy. But, there are times when it’s more difficult and after a month without booze – the longest I have ever gone since I tasted my first drink – there are a few things I’ve learned… Continue reading
You may or may not know my history, my story, my journey to the place I find myself in today. It’s not straightforward and its littered with questionable choices, terrible outfits and a frequent lack of direction. One thing that has always remained though was my propensity for hard bloody work. I’m a Yorkshire lass and, quite simply, you’re not allowed to be a Yorkshire lass unless you’re a grafter. From my first job at 13 right up until the job I do today, I’ve always given it my all and I’ve always worked. I took it for granted that I would always be able to do that, if I wanted to…not anymore. Continue reading
I hope you don’t mind but I’m calling bullshit on adulting. When I was small, I couldn’t wait to do all the adult stuff. Driving, drinking, using a credit card, decorating a house, having dinner out with friends, get married, have kids…I wanted it all and I wanted it now. I was about seven. Continue reading
I’ve thought long and hard about whether to write this. Once I decided to write it, I struggled to figure out how. Why didn’t I want to write it? Because doing so makes it true and it makes me accountable. It makes me publicly responsible for something that honestly, I’m probably 50% in denial about and the other 50%? Well, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about that. Continue reading
OK – so I’m all for falling for the latest fad but when it came to my second baby I was determined to keep things real. Apart from anything else, our house was already bursting at the seams with plastic shit that my eldest never used. I couldn’t afford to lose more space for shit that the newest small was never going to use. So, I kept it strict: she needed stuff to wear, something to sleep in, something to be pushed around in and something to go in a car in. Everything else was gravy. Continue reading
There’s only one way to start this blog and it’s like this: I don’t give a shit how you feed your kids. I don’t care what decision you make and why you make it. Whatever your decision, as long as your babies are fed, I don’t care whether it’s fresh from source or formula, whether it’s boob or bottle. This is not a blog designed to incite bitching and moaning about breastfeeding vs bottle feeding. It’s an argument that’s sooo 2013 and frankly we’re all bored. I’m starting from the premise that, as mothers and women we are all on the same team and therefore passionate about supporting each other in the decisions we make.
Drag way back to reality after lovely dream about one of the Ryans. Can’t remember which one. Not 100% sure I could tell them apart. Either way, it doesn’t matter. It was lovely. Remember why I’m not dreaming anymore – smallest child mewling. Boobs leaking. Check clock. I’ve had 32 minutes sleep.