His favourite pastimes are chasing pigeons, raiding cupboards and eating bagels. At lunch-time, he ignores what everyone else is having and goes his own way, even if that’s Ready Brek with fives spoons. At dinner-time, he gets up from the table and walks off to play with toys. I bring
This is not a newsflash. If you’re reading this, you’re probably a parent, and you already know that parenting is hard. I like for there to be reason for the hard days though, and this week I learned that sometimes there is no reason. Like Monday morning. I woke up
Two years ago, the world’s media watched as Prince William strapped his newborn son into a car seat for the first time. He appeared to be nervous, and understandably so – every parent knows the daunting task that is the first fumbling foray into the world of car seats. And
As the countdown to summer holidays rolled on last month, one cohort of parents in particular were bracing themselves with an odd mixture of relief and outright fear. On the one hand, it’s great to have no more school-runs, no more homework, and a break for the kids. But for WAHMs,
Our holiday was 80% amazing, and 20% hot-sticky-cross-cranky. Or at specific moments, 80% hot-sticky-cross-cranky and 20% I’m a parent, get me out of here. There’s the stuff that can happen on any holiday – even before kids, or when they’re older and a trip away (presumably) becomes a relaxing event. Like
It’s a full two months since I finished up in the IFSC so it seems like as good a time as any for an update on life as a WAHM. Highlights Summer holidays – I feel like I’ve discovered a secret world of amazingness. The heady mix of no office
For the last few weeks, I’ve spent all day every day with a three-year-old boy as my constant companion. Three-year-old boys are very good fun to hang out with – they make for great company. But it does strike me that we’ve very little in common. For example, things I enjoy
You two. So different and so the same. Nature and nurture at play. One serious and dramatic and soft, the other quirky and dramatic and wise. Both of you in love with drawing and made-up-dancing and princesses and mermaids. One obsessed with flowers and seeds and reading, the other
This is a post about breakfasts (there’s no club, unless my kids growling at each other across the 8am table counts, but the film is one of my all-time favourites so I went with it) If you’re a working mum, and/ or you have children at school, doing anything more
Day 1 not in the office – Tuesday May 5th The kids were off school today, and it was a very normal day. I’ve had dozens of days like this, when I’ve taken annual leave during school holidays, and this didn’t feel too different. No big “shock” moment. That’s good. We
I’m going to sound like a killjoy now. I’m going to sound like the girl who always came last and never caught the ball (I was indeed the girl who always came last and never caught the ball.) But is it time to look at refreshing sports day? Could we
“Anyone reading this will hate me when they hear that childminder costs are highly subsidised and kindergarten is free. We only have to pay for the dinners. The level of care is very good too.” This week’s interview comes from further afield than usual. Fionnuala Zinnecker is a mother of
I wrote this a few weeks ago, right after I told the kids that I was finishing up in my job: I’ve just had a very grown-up conversation with two relatively small girls. It’s one I’ve been dreading – the “I’m going to be staying home from work from now
Medicine and the internet – they haven’t always been the most comfortable of bedfellows. I can’t be the only one who has googled a mild headache and come away thinking I’m going to die within the hour? And I remember when my first baby was tiny, and breastfeeding was hit
I saw a little boy in a restaurant today. He was in his mother’s arms as she tried to order bagels at the till. He wanted cake, and tried squirming out of her arms to get it. When she said no, he shrieked and howled. She was embarrassed, but ploughed firmly
I’m writing this from my small boy’s bedroom floor, and when he finally goes to sleep, I’ll grab something to eat, probably standing at the counter, making a school lunch and checking e-mails at the same time. Then I’ll bake a cake for the school cake-sale. OK, there’s no cake-sale.
Back in 2003, I switched jobs at work, and took on something that was way out of my comfort zone. One of those “feel the fear and do it anyway” moments, where the outcome is supposed to be life-changing and wonderful and so, so worth it. I had imaginary conversations
I asked my three-year-old recently how he would do things if he ruled the world. Because he can’t fully articulate this just yet, I observed him in everyday life and wrote it down for him – I think this is pretty much what he’d decree if he was in charge: Playtime at 5am is permitted
I’m guilty of feeling guilty. Too much. Worrying about the time I spend away from the kids. Worrying that because both of us work, they’re missing out. Worrying that I’ll regret it all some day. I know that I have to work for the income, but I also know that I like
We’re in a coffee shop, I’m talking to a friend. Another friend across the table catches my eye and nods towards you. You’re perched on my knee, engrossed in something. I look down. You’ve unscrewed the pepper lid and tipped the contents onto the table. That’s the signal – coffee