A Bit of Background…

I’m a mum of two beautiful children; one boy (I say ‘boy’ but he is more of a man-in-progress) who is slap bang in the throes of teenage angst; and a new baby daughter. They both make me so proud every single day. There is no denying that parenting is exhausting, draining and one huge worry-fest but I genuinely feel so privileged to have been chosen as their mum.
I run my own business and balancing that with being a (very average) wife and mum is a huge challenge. As a working mum I battle with the infamous ‘mummy guilt’ on a daily basis but on most days I am able to combat those pesky feelings by remaining focused on the end goal: building a better life for my family.
As I’m sure is the case with most working mummies, I can often be seen in a zombie like state, with bigger bags under my eyes than Sainsbury’s and a keen eye on the clock internally debating at which time in the day is it socially acceptable to give in to temptation and finally pop the cork in the fridge. It isn’t easy. But when was anything easy worth doing? I love a good challenge, which is pretty damn handy because life is full of them!
Who Am I?
A thirty something mum and wife from the North East who vows to restart a diet every Monday morning, gets way too emotionally involved with the characters in TV dramas and on a miserable day, loves nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa, light those ‘white linen’ scented candles (that make your house smell like you’ve been a domesticated Goddess, doing laundry all day when in reality you haven’t even so much as looked at the dirty wash basket), watch trashy TV on the box and watch the rain beat against the windows from outside. ‘Duvet’ and ‘Day’ are my two favourite words.
Life is made a little bit more challenging by the presence of Rheumatoid Arthritis but I try not to let it grind me down. On many occasions the chronic pain does eventually grind you down; it can be exhausting. BUT (and it’s a big ‘but’ hence the capitals..) there are many others dealing with much worse than that; perspective is everything. I have the love of a good family and a solid circle of friends to support me when those bad days do land (and failing that, there’s the opiates.) (Prescribed, obviously!).
Things I Love
My children and my hubby are my faves, obviously. Prosecco comes a close second. I love coffee and cake dates with my lovely friends, I love a cracking TV drama (don’t get me started on box sets….my hubby and I have been known to prioritise ‘the next episode’ over sleep), I get a buzz from a cracking day at the office, I love that I love what I do, I like to see nothing more than women absolutely killing it in business, I believe in the power of positivity and that anything is possible with the right mindset and finally, writing. I quite like doing that. With a nice pen.


I’m blessed but I’m also stressed.

Our Little Miss is almost 17 months now. She can take lots of steps (I think 8 steps is the most we’ve seen so far) independently but seems to be choosing not to walk at this point. I remember with my Big Lad that he still wasn’t walking at 18 months and I remember crying on a not-so-sympathetic Health Visitor’s shoulder, seriously wondering whether he would EVER walk. I’m quietly confident this time round that she will in fact learn to walk. I’m just sitting tight and letting her do it in her own sweet time.

So, it’s not her development that is getting me stressed out. It is her health. I know she didn’t have the best of starts to life (see post here) and to this day I still feel guilt about that, but Doctors are saying that her consistently poor health has nothing to do with her neonatal drug dependance. She is just constantly poorly. When I say ‘it’s been one thing after another’, I genuinely mean it’s been one thing after another. She had a very bad case of Bronchilitis at 8 weeks old and since then she seems to have been constantly poorly. It could be a virus one week, a chest infection two weeks later, hand, foot and mouth two weeks after that, infected eczema the week after – you get the gist. The Paediatrician puts her recurring chest issues down to the Bronchilitis and says it could be a long time for the coughing and wheezing to resolve. As for the rest, there really isn’t any sort of explanation at the moment. I don’t mind admitting though that it is starting to get me down.

Little Miss is a blessing. Both my beautiful children are. In every which way, they are a blessing. Little Miss has had a rough time of it though. She brings us so much joy and she is such a happy-go-lucky little girl with a (usually) placid nature and she always offers a smile. The fact that she is usually so happy ordinarily, makes it hard when she is poorly and withdrawn, quiet and lethargic. She usually has so much energy and character.

I am so grateful that she is healthy. During my pregnancy my husband and I had to face the grim reality that she may not have been born healthy. I know what that fear felt like and when she was born squawking and wriggling about like any other healthy newborn, it felt like all our prayers had been answered. I know that there are so many gravely ill children around the world and I am in no way comparing a few viral infections to families facing those sort of challenges. I know we are lucky; we are so incredibly blessed. But seeing her under the weather constantly is difficult. Seeing her frown more than that ‘light-up-the-world’ smile, hurts. The constant laundry marathon of vomited on sheets and blankets is tiring. The disturbed sleep night after night is exhausting. The ‘she’s too poorly to go to nursery but I need to work, what am I going to do?’ panic is stressful. The fact that one of her first words was ‘Doctor’ was a little bit sad.

When she’s poorly there is nothing I want more than to curl up with her on the sofa and have a duvet day, and you’d think that, working for myself, I would have every opportunity to do so. And I do, occasionally. But, if I don’t work, and the business doesn’t make money, we don’t get paid. So there is more to it than being my own boss and taking time off when I need it.

Last week was a particularly bad week. Little Miss vomited (projectile too, to add insult to injury) in her cot every single night for five nights in a row. During the days there was no sickness but she was in and out, being her usual cheery self one minute and the next be clingy, lethargic and unsettled. Her eating stopped, which is usually the most obvious and first sign that she’s under the weather. It was really hard because she seemed poorly, and not herself, but there was no obvious sign of something being wrong. There was no spots or rashes, temperatures, pulling on her ears or persistent coughing, just her generally presenting as not being right.

On the Friday morning when we got her up and changed her, her nappy was dry. We put it down to her not taking as much milk and water as usual and the vomiting. We thought she may have been dehydrated. We encouraged her to drink plenty water and took her to nursery. When we went to collect her, her Key Worker did the whole collaring us at the door thing before we entered the room with the worried face. My heart sunk. She reassured us that it was probably nothing but Little Miss had slept for two hours in the middle of the morning (we were usually lucky to squeeze a half an hour nap in the middle of the day) and had been dry in the three nappy changes they had done. I was instantly worried; I knew that dry nappies wasn’t a good sign.

We considered taking her to the Doctors straight away but she had perked right up and was singing ‘Wheels on the Bus’ at the top of her voice from the back of the car all the way home, dancing away to the music and seeming on top form. We decided that if we hadn’t had a wet nappy before bed time that we would take her to the Emergency Doctors. We let her stay up a bit later (meanwhile we encouraged her to drink lots of water at every opportunity) and by the time we came to change her, she had finally done a wee. I was relived. It didn’t stop me googling all the bloody symptoms all night long though, getting myself more and more worked up. I agreed with my hubby that if she was no better the following morning we would take her to see a Doctor.

She had a bit of an unsettled night and despite having two lots of milk, once before bed and once upon waking in the morning, when it came to changing her, her nappy was dry. That was when I started to really worry. We let her sit around in her nappy whilst we quickly got ready and she suddenly started screaming, it was a really high pitched scream; she looked in pain. She started pulling at her nappy as if she was sore. We just quickly got her into a sleep suit and took her straight to our specialist Paediatrics A&E hospital.

We are extremely lucky to have a fabulous Hospital with a specialist Children’s A&E unit with specialist Nurses and Doctors who are so natural, warm and welcoming with children. We waited ten minutes max before we were triaged by two Nurses, one of whom we had met a couple of times before. She was so lovely and a familiar face was reassuring. They did her observations and because she had been vomiting as part of this episode of poor health, we were told we wouldn’t be able to wait in the usual waiting area with other patients due to the outbreak of the Norovirus and infection control. We were placed in our own side room which actually worked out for the best as we had our own cot, our own TV and our own space.


Little Miss was seen by a Doctor within half an hour, he advised that he thought she was presenting as having a virus but that he was concerned about the dry nappies. He was approachable and open and excellent in the way he established rapport with both us and Little Miss. He requested the infamous urine sample. Their policy is to request a ‘clean sample’ which meant catching her urine in a plastic cup – i.e. a mission impossible. Anyone got Tom Cruise on speed dial? No? No bother,  I’ve got this. It sounds easy enough, doesn’t it?! Nah-Ah.  I remember when she was admitted as an 8 week old baby we had to do that and I remember thinking ‘Oh my God, this is impossible!’ but little did I know that that was actual a piece of cake compared to repeating the task but this time with a very energetic, mobile, stubbornly independent baby-come-toddler. It didn’t help that Little Miss was over tired from missing her nap. We tried to encourage her to drink loads but try as we did, there was no sign of this urine.

I rocked her to sleep and she had a short nap in the cot. I stupidly thought she may wee in her sleep. I definitely wasn’t right. The Doctor kept coming by the room asking if we had managed to get the sample yet, so did the nurses. There wasn’t a fifteen minute period that went by where we didn’t see one of them checking in on us. When Little Miss woke up she was really grumpy and unsettled. It was obvious that something was making her extremely uncomfortable. She wanted a cuddle, then she didn’t want a cuddle, she wanted to watch Cbeebies on the TV, then she wanted it off, she wanted her drink but then she didn’t want her drink – nothing was of any comfort to her.

This went on for a good few hours before she started screaming in pain and as I comforted her, my hubby spied that long awaited trickle and caught it in the cup (almost perfectly but there were a few unwelcome splashes here and there on my leggings and the like). I could see her relief as soon as it was over. She instantly perked up, her whole face just brightened. She smiled and giggled again and was far more settled. The Doctor took the sample away and almost immediately returned to us and said they had found cells in her sample that were indicative of a urine infection but that it would need to be sent to the lab and it takes 3 days for the cultures to grow (or something like that, all the medical scientific stuff goes right over my head. If it aint fixed by a bit of Calpol and a squirt of olbas oil, I don’t have a clue!). The Doctor discussed the situation with us; he said that we could wait until the test results were back before starting antibiotic treatment to avoid the possibility of her taking treatment unnecessarily but he also said that if it does turn out to be a kidney infection or similar, waiting three days could cause damage to her kidneys. We took the decision to have her start the antibiotics straight away. The Doctor was so lovely, reassuring me that I wasn’t being a pedantic mother making a bad decision. He placed the decision firmly in our hands, having given us all the information we needed and said he would support us either way. It didn’t take long for us to decide; risking the health of her kidneys would never be an option for us.


While we waited for the prescription and discharge notes to be completed, Little Miss seemed to get a second wind and started enjoying the attention she was getting on the ward. My Husband discovered the play room and although she wasn’t allowed in there due to infection control, he found a toy pushchair and a little ride-on car and brought it in to our room for her to play on. That was it! She was off! Riding around the corridors like she owned the place, a big grin from ear to ear and definitely, definitely not looking poorly! Isn’t it incredible how children can go from one extreme to another within minutes?!

She got given a sticker, lots of high fives, waves and attention so I definitely don’t think the experience was traumatic for her! That is the benefit of having such a specialist children’s unit at our hospital. With my eldest I remember sitting in the same A&E as adults with various injuries or dispositions of varying degrees of seriousness and waiting for five, six hours sometimes in a waiting area not equipped to entertain children in any way whatsoever. It never put me at ease, that place. It felt traumatic just to sit in the waiting area. It certainly was never a place I relished taking my child to. Not that I want to ever have a need to take either of them to hospital, but, if it has to happen, we are so lucky that we have such a specialist unit on our doorstep for them.


I know the NHS gets bad press but I cannot fault the care we have received, both on Saturday, and over the years. We really are so lucky to know that, should one of our children gets hurt or ill or injured, we have a place to take them, staffed with a team that we have faith in and trust. That is something not to take for granted. Ever.


Saturday was a reminder of how blessed we are. I’m sure, in that hospital, there were children gravely ill. We were one of the lucky ones that eventually got to go home. Yes, it’s stressful when they get poorly. Tell me one element of parenting that isn’t! So, I may be stressed to the point of finding one too many grey hairs than I would care to admit at the ripe old age of 37, but I am so, so, so blessed.

I think I’m finding myself again

I’m sure many of you will understand me when I say I think I’ve lost myself for a little while. I’ve never been one to think or feel that in becoming a mum I lost myself, because I definitely don’t feel like that is the reason for it. I’ve been a mum for fifteen years so although we have a baby (more a toddler these days but I’m not ready to part with the term ‘baby’ just yet..) being a mum isn’t new to me. After ten years of trying to conceive our little lady, becoming a mum again was something I had dreamed about over and over and over again. My arms yearned to hold a baby; my heart yearned to be a mum again. When Little Miss came along she completed our family and with her she’s brought such joy. Both of them have.


So why do I feel like I’ve lost myself? I suppose I hadn’t really realised I had, to be honest. As a working mum, I throw myself in to the same routine every day, getting ourselves up and ready, getting the Big Lad off to school, getting the Little Miss off to nursery, getting to work, dealing with whatever work throws at me, then home with the kids and the bedtime routine ensues. By the time they have both settled down I am fighting with all my might to keep my eyes open.


As much as I love work and as much as I am passionate about my business and excited by where we are taking the business, I got myself in a rut, doing the same routine day after day with no time reserved on any day for doing anything specifically for ‘me’.


Last year I went through a period of going swimming a few times a week, only for half an hour each time, but it offered me some time just to focus on nothing other than myself. I was feeling much better on a physical level and it did me good to get out and do something outside of our usual routine. Then the winter came and I got lazy. I opted to curl up on the sofa in my pyjamas rather than head out for a swim. And now I’m out of habit of doing it and there just never seems any time for it anyway.


It wasn’t until my Mum and I went to a Psychic event and one of the Psychics picked up immediately on the fact that I had been feeling down and not feeling myself that I even recognized that I hadn’t been myself. It was like, in one statement from the Psychic, I suddenly realised that I had been feeling pretty low and not myself. I guess as mums we push our own emotions to the side and we rarely have the time or inclination to process them and really consider why we feel what we feel.


The revelation made me really thoughtful. I realised that I had stopped doing even the smallest of things that used to bring me pleasure as an individual. Not as a mum, not as a wife, not as a business owner – but as me. I realised that I hadn’t read a book in a very very long time. As an ex English Teacher, I’ve read hundreds of books and thoroughly enjoyed many of them. So why had I stopped reading? Maybe because I didn’t have time. Maybe because I didn’t make time for it.


The one thing that really lights fire in my belly is writing. I have always written creatively and nothing gives me greater satisfaction. Yes, I’ve written the occasional blog post but I haven’t explored the daily ideas I think about for future pieces of writing and I can’t understand why; there has been nothing stopping me doing a bit of writing after the kids go to bed each night. The only person stopping myself from doing it is me. I can’t even begin to understand why I would stop doing something that gives me such satisfaction and enjoyment.


Over the course of the last couple of weeks I have really made an effort to pursue time on a daily basis dedicated to what I want to do, dedicated to what will bring me enjoyment for me. I have started writing creatively again and it genuinely excites me. I have bought some new books and have started reading again. I might only manage ten minutes of reading a night before my eyes decide to close themselves out of sheer tiredness but that doesn’t matter – at least I am going to bed each night knowing that I have had some time out of that daily routine all about everybody else, to focus on me and what makes me happy.


As a woman I think we naturally tend to put others before ourselves. We’ll happily do whatever it takes to make our children happy, make our husband happy, or our parents, sister; the postman or the candlestick maker; we are generally far more comfortable devoting time to making others happy rather than spending time on ourselves.


I have had a realisation that in order for me to the best Mum I can be, I need that time for me. Having that time for me means that on an emotional level I am so much more happier and we shouldn’t underestimate the impact this has on our parenting.


Being a mum, or taking on any other roles, doesn’t mean we have to lose ourselves. I hadn’t even realised that I had got lost in the routine and monotony of the every day. I’m sure it won’t be the last time it happens. I think even just by acknowledging the fact that as people, as human beings, we deserve time for our interests, our ambitions, our hobbies, our enjoyment; is a huge step in the right direction.


I know how full on it can be as a Mum. I’ve done the nights where Little Miss has resisted sleep until the small hours and then you’ve got to get yourself straight to bed so that you’re able to be even the slightest big functional in the morning. I’m not daft enough to believe that there will always be time to focus on ourselves every day but we should definitely take ownership of that time where it is possible. Grab the five minutes here, the ten minutes there and spend it wisely. Spend it on something that ignites your soul. Something that excites you. Something just for you. Because, ultimately, we deserve it. It’s working for me. I’m so much better for it too.

Why Holidays are Everything to us.

The mornings are getting lighter and that winter snap in the air is gradually getting less and less. This can only mean one thing: the holiday season is in sight! My little family and I literally LIVE for our holidays. There is something very special about packing a bag (Okay, five point two suitcases, a hold all, a vanity case and a travel cot), turning our phones off and venturing off to a place where there are no plans, no clock watching, no work interruptions – just a week or two of focusing only on each other.

Being self employed and having our own business, we have to work really hard. As much as it would be nice to leave the office at 5pm every day and then switch off for the evening, it’s just not that easy. So, day to day I can’t help but feel I miss out on quality time with the kids. There is always an email to answer, a telephone call to take, a work matter to discuss with my husband; work just doesn’t stop. That is why holidays are so very precious to us. They provide us with a timescale in which we agree no phones, no work chat, no worries or stresses: just 100% family time. Over the years we have holidayed in loads of different places: Australia, Malaysia, America, Jamaica and other far ashore places but these days, particularly with a very young child, it is so much easier to embark on a short flight to somewhere relatively close which promises sunshine and fun times. We realised during our holidays in Europe that you don’t have to go long haul to have an amazing family holiday.


I love the excitement that surrounds choosing holiday destinations. Where it used to be star ratings, the number of bars on site and spa facilities, we now pay more attention to the facilities for the children. It is really important to us that we choose destinations that are family friendly, resorts that feel safe and ones that offer the kids plenty opportunities to unwind, have fun and, most of all, make precious memories.

Our favourite holiday destination for a family friendly, affordable break is Mallorca. The island literally welcomes children with open arms. I will never forget the locals in Mallorca fussing over our boy, telling him how beautiful he was. It was lovely. In Mallorca we’ve always felt so welcome; whether it’s been as we’ve entered a restaurant, a bar, a supermarket or a gift shop, the locals have always given us a lovely warm welcome and made us feel very at home. This is one of the main reasons why it is our go-to holiday destination.

Mallorca has so much to offer in terms of different resorts. Lots of the resorts are a long walk or short bus journey away so you aren’t necessarily limited to staying on the one resort your hotel is in. There is so much on offer in neighboring resorts that you never get bored; no two days have to be the same.

We like staying in C’an Picafort, a seaside town in the North of the island. It is such a friendly place, buzzing with busy-ness in some parts but equally has some areas which are totally laid back and tranquil. We originally chose C’an Picafort because there seemed to be something for everyone: there were family friendly pubs and restaurants with play areas for the kids, beautiful sandy beaches, a lot of touristy type shops and my absolute favourite: lots of fabulous busy markets.

For all we absolutely love holidays, we’re not ones for spending 8 hours on the beach, turning occasionally to ensure an even tan! We like to pack a lot in to our holidays, especially now we have children who need to be constantly entertained! We like to do a bit of everything: eat out, have a drink somewhere where the kids are happy to play, a bit of swimming, a mooch around the shops, a little walk and maybe even a game of crazy golf (which can get extremely competitive, let me tell you!).


If you’re in to nature, Mallorca brings it in bucket loads. S’Albufera Nature Park and Wetlands offers a different dynamic to the beach holiday. The park is home to birds from all over Europe who nest at the Park depending on the time of year; rare species like Osprey, Kingfishers and Eagles can be found there in certain months. If nature, trees, reed banks, ponds and pools are your thing, you will definitely enjoy a day spent at the Park and there are lots of interesting things to see for the kids too.

The beaches at C’an Picafort are absolutely beautiful but do tend to get busy. However, we discovered a quieter and more secluded beach surrounded by sand dunes in Playa de Muro. It is one of the longest beaches in the Balearic Islands at six kilometres long so plenty room to find a part of the beach just for you. The white sand and the clear, warm shallow waters make the beach something special. Playa de Muro is a much quieter and smaller resort but there are plenty bars and restaurants on hand should you need to eat or fancy a drink stop. If you fancy a more chilled out day at the coast and you want to get away from the crowds, I would definitely recommend seeking out Playa de Muro.

We love throwing the routines that we have at home out of the window for the duration of the holiday. We bin off bedtimes and nap times, and we just go with the flow. We love going out for dinner on an evening, and Mallorca offers a huge amount of variety when it comes to restaurants. We never had any issue finding restaurants that offered a children’s menu or facilities for children so there are plenty options when it comes to eating out. For that reason we never opt for all inclusive resorts or half board holidays because we love wandering around, looking for a different place to eat for the evening, experiencing as much of the resort as possible. Food has always been really affordable there and the atmosphere in the restaurants is very relaxed – nobody is pushing you to leave or throwing out the courses in record time. You are just left to relax and enjoy the evening.


We love finishing our evenings by taking a wander around the local area. There is always a new part of the town we haven’t yet explored and the town is buzzing on an evening (not in a ‘blow-your-whistle-rave’ type of way, just lots of families milling about, evening drinks, street vendors and hair braiders and lots of charming little tourist shops along the sea front that stay open until late). We love that a little wander and maybe a stop to look at some shops or for a drink or two extends our evening a bit. It also means that by the time we get back to the hotel, the kids are totally ready to knock out the zeds which leaves the hubby and I time to enjoy a pre bedtime glass of vino on the balcony before bed.

The biggest thing for us about any holiday is dedicating time to just enjoying each other. Seeing the kids faces covered in ice cream, giving in when they ask for ‘fizzy pop’ every time we stop for a drink, applying sun screen to their snow white skin every ten minutes because they insist on dive bombing in to the pool before it’s had a chance to dry, still sitting on the beach after telling them ‘we’re going in five minutes’ an hour ago because they haven’t quite finished their sand castle, saying yes to having waffles smothered in nutella for breakfast and seeing the delight on their faces when we announce that there is no bedtime because “we’re on our holidays” is everything. The statement ‘we’re on holiday’ is an excuse to relax the rules (maybe even break one or two) over-indulge, let go of all the daily stresses and strains back at home and just be us. Enjoy us.


It doesn’t get any better than being ‘us’.

 Mallorca is one of our holiday gems. Where is yours?







The Versatile Blogger Award

The lovely Amy from The Rolling Baby has very kindly nominated me to take part in The Versatile Blogger Award. The rules of the sche-bang are as follows:

  • Write 7 interesting facts about yourself.
  • Nominate 15 amazing bloggers for the award.

Now, the second task I don’t have a problem with because I am literally surrounded by amazing bloggers all day long and love the blogging community that we all have going on. Choosing just 15 may be an issue though. I have a lot of love for fellow bloggers!

As a thirty-something-hurtling-towards-a-forty-something-at-the-speed-of-light I don’t feel very ‘interesting’. Not sure where these 7 facts will take us and I can’t promise they will be interesting but I’ll give it a good bloody go because I am nothing if but a trier!

Okay, here goes….

  1. I met my husband on Christmas Eve. When I saw my mum the following morning, I told her that I had met the man I was going to marry. Even though I was with someone else at the time! Within three months we were engaged, within four months we had bought our first home together and within five months I was pregnant with my Big Lad. Many said it wouldn’t last. I’m not going to lie, it hasn’t all been red roses and rose petals for 16 years; there were times where I may have been inclined to agree with them. But, I can honestly say that we are a hundred times stronger for all the challenges we have faced and we have never been so happy. He is my soul mate. This is stomach churning soppy daftness I know, but he is. He just is.
  2. I’ve been very open about our fertility struggles with our second baby. Despite years and years of fertility treatment we only fell pregnant once as a direct result of the treatment. This sadly resulted in a miscarriage which hit us both hard. However, the interesting bit about this is that I have been told by a number of Mediums that the baby was a girl and has continued to grow in spirit and she now lives with us in our home and enjoys dancing at the bottom of our bed. Since we have had our Little Miss, I have been told that the girl in spirit is one of Little Miss’ spirit guide and that she is aware of her. My husband is very closed off to the idea. However, when, in the middle of the night one night, all of the toys downstairs randomly switched on together, making lots of noise, singing tunes and so on, even he was a little bit freaked out! Even a toy which had flat batteries and hadn’t worked for months, was playing sounds!
  3. I am a very spiritual person. I don’t claim to know a lot about it all but I am definitely making a real effort to understand it more. I believe in crystal healing and reiki healing. I have crystals in my baby’s nursery and my Big Lad’s bedroom to help create clean, healthy and positive energy for them. I also have crystals in every corner of my home and office.
  4. My husband and I work together. It hasn’t always been that way but certainly in the last 4 years we have worked together, in the same office, full time. A lot of people have told me that they could never work with their better half. We have made it work. I’m not saying it doesn’t come with its challenges, because it definitely does. But we have worked really hard to make our business successful and in order for that to happen, we have to be able to work well alongside each other. We have learnt that it is really important for us both to have very defined roles, very different roles, drawing on our own individual strengths and skills. We work in the same office but not on top of each other, our desks face different people. Sometimes if we’ve had a barney at home about one of us using the last of the milk for breakfast or something, it takes a conscious effort to leave the row at the door to the office but a workplace is no place for marital disputes! On the rare occasion we have had a bit of a ‘to-do’ at work, I have noticed that it has an impact on the whole office so it is definitely something we strive never to do!
  5. In addition to working with my husband, I also employ my Mum as my PA! Isn’t there an old saying about working with family? I can understand why it might not be an ideal situation for some but I have nothing but amazing things to say about our working relationship. In fact, I think it has changed my relationship with my mum for the better. We spend more time together and although it is mostly in a working environment , we are still able to have a bit of a natter over a coffee or lunch. My Mum is amazing at her job, which from a business perspective, makes it a sensible decision. My husband and her have a brilliant relationship, he sees her as his Mum as he doesn’t see his own mum and although we now employ other staff, I love that our business started based on a family affair. The way I see it, our business is our livelihood. It clothes our children, puts food in the fridge and keeps a roof over our heads. It is so important that our business works and that it is successful. So if we are going to employ someone, it has to be someone that we trust enough to care about the business just as much as we do. And there is nobody who I would trust more with our business than my Mum. She wants us to succeed and therefore she works as hard as we do, is as passionate as we are and cares as much as we do. Our arrangement might not be everybody’s cup of tea but it absolutely works for us.
  6. I am registered Disabled. I was diagnosed with widespread Rheumatoid Arthritis shortly after having my son fifteen years ago. It is believed that the traumatic birth may have triggered the disease. In recent years I have also been diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis of the spine also. Both conditions cause chronic pain, fatigue and brain fog amongst lots of other things. It has been a long road learning to cope with constant pain, every single day of my life. It is there when I go to sleep at night and is the last thing I think about, and it is the first thing I think about when I wake up every morning. I spent a lot of time during my twenties on long term sick from work, living in my Pyjamas, never leaving the house, sleeping day and night just to escape the pain. It has been a long road but the very reason I have thrown myself in to my work is because it is a coping mechanism for me. If I keep busy, the pain is more manageable than if I am sitting with nothing else to focus on but the pain. Some days are worse than others. I get flare ups where I can’t even turn myself on to my side in bed without help. I can’t get out of bed or get myself to the toilet. I have learnt to accept those days. I’ve learnt to stop being proud and accept help. I’ve learnt that some days I have to stop. My body is demanding it. I don’t like those days, and to this day I still feel like a bit of a fraud if I take time off work sick, but I have to listen to my body and go with it. I have been on high levels of morphine for many, many years and it helps to some degree with the pain. Unfortunately it does turn me in to a bit of a space cadet at times but being off my tits is sometimes a much better option to being in agony.
  7. I believe in the power of manifesting! I am currently attempting to manifest my dream home! I am imagining myself in the house, I am making plans for that house, I give it a bit of a wave every time we add it -make no mistake, that house is going to be our dream family home! I’m not sure when it will happen but it WILL happen. Because the universe is listening to me! I am sure of it! I love the idea of having a ‘dream board’ or ‘vision board’ too – that is something I am definitely going to sort in the coming weeks.

So, now I’ve bored you with facts about yours truly, let’s give these beautiful bloggers the love they deserve! Here are my fifteen faves…

  1. Rachael – http://www.rantingrachael.wordpress.com
  2. Theia – http://www.thesausagerollchronicles.wordpress.com
  3. Naomi – http://www.naomirowan.com
  4. Almost Sane Mom – http://www.almostsanemom.com
  5. Nippersnips – http://www.nippersnips.com
  6. Alice – http://www.letters-tomydaughter.co.uk
  7. Not so Special Mommy – http://www.notsospecialmommy.com
  8. Hels – http://www.thehelsproject.com
  9. The Mum Job – http://www.themumjob.wordpress.com
  10. Kassy – http://www.mummasmayhem.wordpress.com
  11. Amy Jane – http://www.amyjaneandbaby.com
  12. Laura – http://www.diaryofazombiemum.wordpress.com
  13. Anna – http://www.annainternationalblog.com
  14. It’s Mama – http://www.itsmamaxo.com
  15. The Muddled Mum – http://www.themuddledmum.com

The biggest of big love to Amy for the nomination – it’s been fun! To my fifteen faves, don’t forget to tag me in to your post! I am looking forward to these facts all about you!


How to Survive the First Year of Parenthood

How to survive the first year of parenthood….

So, as many of you know I have a 15 year old lad and a just over one year old little girl. Due to fertility issues it took us ten years to conceive our Little Miss and during that time we forgot it all. I forgot how small newborns were. We forgot how exhausting the sleep deprivation was. We forgot the timescales for weaning and immunisations. We forgot how much babies cost. We forgot EVERYTHING. The only thing we hadn’t forgotten was how to make a baby (and thank goodness for that!).

In a way, I think it was a purposeful loss of memory. Like all my brain cells got together and agreed ‘If she remembers how sheer bloody difficult it was, she might never want to do it again so let’s wipe her memory. Get rid of it all! The all-nighters, the projectile puking, the soggy shoulders, the I-haven’t-washed-my-hair-in-three-weeks look and every other tough time that they went through. Sayonara memories! Smell you later!”

Maybe it was for the best.

So when we were finally blessed with our Little Miss, it all came as quite a shock. Yes, we had been there before, but it was 14 years ago. It was a lifetime ago. A lot of the official guidance had changed so it was like having our first all over again. We were older (but certainly not wiser) and not as spritely as we had been with our first and having a high risk pregnancy followed by a special care baby placed us under pressure from the moment that little blue line changed our world.

I’ll tell you the punch line now though: it was so worth it. On many occasions over the course of the first year, it’s been tough. Like really tough. But never has ‘tough’ been so joyful, so full of love, so fulfilling.

 I’m no parenting expert (says the woman who has to bribe her one year old with a bag of Pombears, the top of a french stick and half a packet of chocolate buttons just to get round half of Asda) but thought I would share a few things we learned along the way:

  1. Pack a couple of different sized sleepsuits in your hospital bag. With my first (he was a whopping 9lb10oz so came out the size of a fully grown 3 year old) he was too big for newborn so needed the next size up and with my second, it was the opposite! She was far too small for newborn. I had lovingly chosen what was to be her ‘first outfit’ and all that went to pot when she was born so teeny. I ended up having to send my Hubby shopping for tiny baby sized clothes. I felt awful that I didn’t have something to put her in that fit her straight away. This wasn’t helped by the fact that my baby brain had led me to packing a hat for a 6-12 month old in my hospital bag. I ended up being given one of those nana-knitted wooly hats from the hospital to put on her when she was first born. I treasure it now though.
  2. Try and control your spending – this was something I was TERRIBLE at. I exercised no self control whatsoever but when I was handing over a black bag of brand new, tagged, unworn baby clothes to a pregnant friend, I sure wish I had. My baby would have had to remain at newborn size for three years to get through the wardrobe of clothes I had bought for her. I wasted so much money, which would have been far better spent on the boring stuff like nappies and wipes!



  1. Try not to romanticise the birth in your head – go in with an open mind, what will be will be. This is a biggie for me because both of my deliveries had their complications. I had an extremely difficult birth with my son which was incredibly traumatic and with my second it was an emergency section. So many mums visualise a boho-chic birthing-pool-with-whale-music-and-absolutely-no-pain-whatsoever- birth. Some mums get it. They are lucky. People like me don’t get that lucky! I think if I had gone in expecting a birth like that, I would have been extremely disappointed. All that mattered to me was that I had a healthy baby at the other end. I know that birthing experiences are very important to women – and so they should be – and women should absolutely have every say over how their birth is managed and planned. Unfortunately for me, both my deliveries went tits up but did it matter? No. My babies matter. They came through it, and that is all that matters.


  1. Take control of your first moments together – I learnt the hard way with my first. I welcomed every man, woman and child to meet my son when he was only a matter of days old. I soon felt really overwhelmed with it all. I resented handing my baby around all the friends and relatives for cuddles because I didn’t feel like I had even had a chance to enjoy those cuddles myself. With my second I was a bit of a Mum-Zilla. She was in special care for a while and quite poorly and I didn’t feel up to visitors. Nor was I ready to share her with anyone. We welcomed grandparents (and the cuddles, support and reassurance they brought with them) but we said no to everybody else. Once we got home, I still took my time before inviting friends and family around. I wanted time as a family. I wanted to close the doors on the world and just enjoy her. I wanted my Big Lad to adjust to having a baby sister without the doorbell going every half an hour. I think she was almost a month old before my best friend met her. I don’t regret it though. I’ll remember that time we had, feeling our way through becoming a family of four, forever. It was beautiful.


  1. Forget your usual standards. So, you used to have an immaculate home? You used to hoover on a daily basis? You used to make all meals from scratch? You used to put your make up on every morning? Whatever your standards were before having a baby, make no mistake that there is no shame in lowering them (and lowering them again) after having a baby. Becoming parents is the most beautiful gift. But it is bloody exhausting. For a while, you live in a bit of a bubble. A big, love filled bubble of loveliness. Then shit gets real. It has to get real, unfortunately. I would LOVE to spend the rest of my life in that love filled bubble but, and it’s an unfortunate but, life kicks in. The hubby goes back to work. The washing basket is overflowing. The fridge and kitchen cupboards are empty. Reality bursts that bubble and suddenly you are expected to do everything you did before having a baby, now with a baby. I remember on my hubby’s first day back to work after paternity leave, I tried to be the ultimate domesticated wife. I tried to make a hot pot for him coming home whilst feeding the baby and shushing her and hoovering and dusting then shushing some more. I ended up burning the tea. The hoover spit out crap instead of sucking it up because it needed emptying and I hadn’t even noticed. And the milk I had just lovingly fed my baby ended up being sprayed all over the sofa in a reflux inspired vomit sesh. Yup. Never have I ever looked less domesticated.

Just because the hubby went back to work and I was at home on maternity, I felt under immense pressure to be the all-singing-all-hoovering housewife. I put myself under pressure to have a homemade dinner ready for him coming home, a clean and tidy home, a freshly bathed and changed bubba for post-work cuddles and maybe even a dash of lippy on my chops. What he got instead was a warbling hormone crazed mother with vomit in her hair, a shit tip of a home and a burnt hot pot. Did it matter? No. Was he expecting anything different? No. Taking care of baby is a huge deal. It is bloody hard at times. Don’t be afraid to lower your standards while you feel your way in to motherhood. You’ll never look back on this time and say ‘I really wish I had kept my home tidier’ but you might think ‘I wish I had just lowered my standards and focused on me and my baby.’


  1. Trust your instincts. On a couple of occasions during her first year, I have felt, instinctively, that something has been wrong with Little Miss. I sometimes felt silly making a GP appointment ‘on a whim’ or phoning the Health Visitor for the 35th time that week to talk through something that I was sure was totally in my head. My GP told me to always trust my instincts. If you feel like something is wrong, don’t be afraid to say so or seek help. The consequences of not saying it could be too big.


  1. Sleep is a constant topic of debate amongst parents. Or, more like, lack of it. Sleep deprivation is hard. There are no two ways about it. And as much as I loved to steal extra night time snuggles, when you’ve been ‘night time snuggling’ for twenty three nights in a row with about 40 minutes of uninterrupted sleep, it gets wearing. I was the silly mother trying to be Super Woman, telling her husband to go back to sleep while I sort the baby out. I was worried that he wasn’t getting enough sleep for work. And, well, let’s face it, I’m on maternity leave, so I don’t need the sleep as much as he does. Right? Wrong. We all need sleep. I reckon even super duper survival expert Bear Grylls would agree with me. You’ve got to be in it together. It becomes impossible for one person to continually bear the weight of sleep deprivation. It leads to exhaustion, resentment, illness – it’s not good. Share the load. Do alternate nights, or alternate get ups. You’re in this together. Don’t try and be a Super Hero, just be you, be the best mum you can be whilst taking care of yourself also. You are no good to anyone if you end up collapsing with exhaustion!


  1. Take photos. Steal precious moments. Breathe it in. That might sound a bit airy fairy but believe me when I say that time flies. They aren’t small for long and that first year is really special. Even the evenings I spent pacing the floor with a baby who thought sleep was for the weak gave me the opportunity to steal precious moments. Holding her close to me, in the dark, in the silence, just me and her . Ok, I was an exhausted mess, but I consciously told myself that one day I will look back on that moment and want to relive it. So I held her a bit closer. I breathed her in. The smell of her, the soft touch of her skin, tracing her tiny fingers as they grasped mine. There is something to treasure in every moment.


  1. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for advice and don’t ever be afraid to ignore unwanted advice. Everyone thinks they are an expert when it comes to parenting. It is one of those topics that no one is ever going to agree on. We all have different ideas, different parenting styles, different ways of doing things. And thank goodness we do – it’s our differences that make us beautiful, after all. Get used to the idea that family, friends (and maybe even complete and utter strangers) will want to share their advice with you – even if you express no apparent need for it. Don’t take it personally. Listen to it if you like, consider it if you want to, but it is equally fine just to ignore the buggar and continue doing your own thing. My mother in law once mocked me for parenting my baby ‘as if I’d read a text book on it.’ I’m not sure what she meant by that. That I was trying my hardest to get it right? That I had done my research? That I was an uptight parent? I’m still not sure what she meant by it and she said it 15 years ago. But the look on her face when she said it definitely suggested that I was getting it wrong. I was only young at the time so it definitely knocked my confidence. Don’t give anyone that power. Parent the way you want to parent. By all means get support and advice but on your own terms – when you want it or need it – and forget everybody else.


  1. Finally, try not to compare your child to others. Both my babies have been slow at achieving the physical milestones like crawling and walking. With my first I actually lost sleep over the fact he wasn’t walking at 14 months. I would go to playgroups and see babies the same age as him whizzing around the place or see babies older than him at his nursery well ahead of him. I was convinced he was never going to walk. My Little Miss isn’t being much different either. She’s definitely got a bit of the lazy thing going on. I mean, why walk when you can flutter your eyelashes and get your big brother or daddy to carry you?! She’s a diva in a nappy. This time though I am so much more relaxed. Contrary to my fears, my Big Lad is not still crawling about at 15, he just walked in his own good time. Nothing good can come from comparing your child’s development to that of others. If you have any concerns about their development, it is best to see a professional for advice. Every baby is different, they will achieve milestones at different ages, they will grow and develop at their own pace. That doesn’t mean that there is anything to be concerned about. Just focus on your own little bundle and support them to learn and grow and flourish and they will get there.

I hope the above helps, even if just in a teeny way. Wherever you are in your first year, enjoy it. The joy our little treasures bring to our lives is just immeasurable. They are the most precious gift. Enjoy every moment. Even the poo and vomit filled ones.

This Old Dog is Learning Something New!

Who knew that, at the ripe old age of (almost) 37, I would discover a new passion AND learn something totally new. This old dog is learning new tricks and LOVING IT along the way.

It’s one thing learning new skills at work, like how to use a new software application, or a new procedure,  or learning new skills at home, like how to make a bottle of red disappear in record timing (just joking) (or am I?!) but it’s another thing entirely to discover something totally out there that is exciting, intriguing and interesting all in one.

I totally accept that what I’m learning isn’t for everyone. It’s a regular talking point (or arguing point, more like) in our office, and at home actually because my hubby thinks it’s absolute poppycock but I’m slowly reaching an age where I am less and less bothered about what other people think, and focusing on what I think of it instead.

I’ve always been quite spiritual in the sense that I believed in the after life, I’ve had regular readings from both psychics and spiritualists over the years and have had a few experiences in my home that I believe are the work of spirits. Like most people, up until fairly recently, I fully believed that to be able to communicate with spirits, angels and so on you had to have a gift; it wasn’t something that couldn’t be taught. You were either born with it or without it.

My interest in this peaked when I had a reading around a year ago. My Little Miss was a few months old. My Medium told me that she had the gift. She asked if people gravitated towards her when we were out, and she was right, they did. Whenever we are out and about, complete strangers would come and talk to her. I put this down to her being a baby (I mean, doesn’t everyone love babies?!) but my Medium told me that it wasn’t that. She explained that people were drawn to her because of her light, because of her sense of spirituality. She told me that my Little Miss had spirit guides and explained who they were. She warned me that Little Miss would continue to have this gift as she grows older and she advised me to train her to manage the gift, to know when to use it, to know how to protect herself and told me how to protect her energy from the potential negative energies from others around her. It felt like a huge responsibility. I knew nothing about this world –it was a whole new world that I had dabbled in and out a few times over the years but I certainly was not accustomed to this sort of thing. The Medium told me that she had had the gift from being a baby but that she was born in to a pagan family who embraced witch craft and helped her to understand how to use these special ‘tools’ she had been gifted with. She spoke of the significance of her father in training her how to open herself up to receive messages, but more importantly, how to close herself down to them too. I was like a rabbit in the headlights.

My hubby laughed when I told him. He certainly didn’t share my view that we needed to consider how we could best support Little Miss growing up if she did indeed have this ‘gift’. He told me to put the kettle on and the conversation was over. He just can’t even begin to consider that this world exists. And that is totally Okay, I know many people who have this belief – either as a result of religious views or simply because they can’t get their head around it and they believe in the logical, the proven.

The more I started to pay attention to my Little Miss, the more I started to notice that possibly she was able to see spirits. I was told by two separate mediums that there was a little girl spirit in our home that likes to dance at the bottom of our bed. Apparently this little girl is a playmate for our Little Miss. I do sometimes see her attention focus on something we can’t see and we have had a few happenings where the toys downstairs will suddenly start playing in the middle of the night, despite being switched off before bed. I think even my Hubby was a bit scared of what was going on that night (not that he’d ever admit it, of course).

I learned that my Medium was launching a weekly class aimed at introducing various spiritual practices. I decided that this was my opportunity to learn more about this world and I asked my mum to come along with me. To say we loved our first class would be the biggest understatement of the year – it was mesmirising. Every week we learn something new, focusing on new practices or therapies. They aren’t always spirit based, for example, we have had workshops on hypnosis and reiki. I am a huge fan of reiki healing anyway and have used it on a number of occasions but it was really special to hear about the theory behind the practice that has brought me so much comfort in the past.

One of the first things we learnt to do was to use a pendulum. The pendulum works with energies and spirits to indicate a yes or no answer. It was incredible to watch the Medium work with the pendulum, she would say ‘Is my name…’ and make up a name and the pendulum would tell her no, she would ask the same question for her actual name and the pendulum would start swinging in the opposite direction to denote a ‘yes’ answer. When the Medium handed out some of her spare pendulums to give us all a try I thought never in this world would we be able to learn this skill. Surely this is a gift, not a taught skill. We spent a while connecting with the crystal pendulums on our own, charging it up in our hands. We then worked with the pendulum and it was nothing short of amazing how absolutely clear it was that the pendulum was working with us to give us the answers to our questions. We asked it questions that we knew the answers to, to test its ‘powers’ and it got it right every time. We them had fun asking it questions about the future. Unfortunately it told us we weren’t going to win the lottery. I hate to say it, but I think it might be right there too (although, obviously, I’d be open to it being wrong on that question…).The excitement I felt at learning something completely new was something I can’t honestly say that I’ve felt in a long time. I got a real buzz from it. You don’t expect to stumble across something new at my age; especially not something that genuinely excites you. We went from the pendulum to working with angel cards. When the Medium set us up in groups to work with angel cards, I really was cynical that I could learn this. I had seen the Medium use the same cards during my one to one readings. She would always ask me to pull three cards out of the deck, one to symbolise my past, present and future. Then she would stare at each card for a while and interpret a message from each one. They were always so incredibly accurate, I was always bowled over by how apt each of the messages were.

So when the Medium told us that we would be working with the angels to deliver messages in the same way, I thought there was no way that I was going to be able to even try and do what she does with me in my readings. She sat with us in our small group and helped us to read cards for each other. It is difficult to put in to words the process we used as it wasn’t a logical one, or one that is easy to explain in writing. We tapped the cards to connect with the cards, and then we would hold the chosen card and simply stare at it. Some cards just had images on, some had writing on, some had a single word on, or a combination of any of those. We were told to take in the card, hold it in our hands and just say what we see, whatever message comes to us. It was incredible to see how the messages varied from person to person despite the cards being similar. I was so nervous about reading for another group member but when I looked at the card and absorbed what was on the card, a message did filter in to my brain. I can’t really explain it. The shapes and images on the card suddenly started to look like images relating to the message. A bit like when we look up at the clouds and we see faces or shapes. They are clouds, but if you look hard enough, you see other signs and images. I didn’t give a particularly long message but I was supported by the Medium who told me that if the card gives you nothing more, you don’t push it, you just leave it there.

We have since done a lot more work on angel cards and I am truly loving learning something new that can potentially be used to support myself and others through their day to day life. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it certainly goes down well with me. We have done other things such as ‘Psychic Circles’ where spirits have been invited in to communicate with us. That was a weird one. But equally interesting. We have done crystal meditations and crystal healings too. Every week we learn something new. It’s really exciting, and I love that I get to spend some one on one time with my mum learning something new that we are both interested in together.

I have affectionately termed our class ‘Weirdo Class’, as a nod to acknowledging that some people will think we have lost our minds and gone absolutely cream crackers. However we are loving it, and isn’t that all that matters?!

I might be looking for some guinea pigs soon! I would love to do some practice readings on willing participants! Practice makes perfect afterall!

Zero Sleeper to a Hero Sleeper!

How we went from a Hero Sleeper to a Zero Sleeper and Back Again

There is almost fourteen years between our first and our second child. We’d got past the sleep deprivation years ago with our first and so had been enjoying many years of lazy lie ins and good, decent nights’ sleep. So when our baby girl came along and brought sleep deprivation with her, it was a shock to the system. Of course, we knew it was coming so we had tried to prepare ourselves mentally for the situation but nothing can really prepare you for the twelve hour long scream-and snot-a-thons and the getting-up-to-put-the-dummy-back-in marathons that see you greet every single half hour on the clock through the night. I hate to digress but when is someone going to finally invent a contraption that keeps dummies in babies’ mouths? I for one would be screaming at Peter Jones from the other side of the telly to invest if someone took that invention into the ‘Den.

Having been through the sleep deprivation that the baby and toddler stage brought with it with our first, and having regained a better quality (and quantity!) of sleep, we desperately wanted to try and implement a healthy sleep routine for our Little Miss. Unfortunately this was impossible when she was first born due to her needing special care (I’m certain there is no night and day in special care – just lots of round-the-clock nurturing and care and lots of lovely, jolly Doctors and Nurses who do an incredible job regardless of the time of day) which saw her needing treatment round the clock. Once we got her home it was essential that we continued with that care and so we had to wake her through the night periodically for her medication. This really disturbed her and interrupted her sleep routine and so, for the first couple of months we just went with the flow. Once she was weaned off her medication though, that was when we really started to think about her routine and how we could promote a better quality of sleep for her (and us!).

Many years ago I did my training to become a qualified Baby Massage Instructor so I was aware of the benefits of using something like massage as part of a baby’s pre-bedtime routine. So, every night whether it was following her bath or her top to toe wash down, I would do some baby massage with her, with the lights low and any sounds down. I didn’t want her to become accustomed to needing silence to chill out and sleep so I was always very conscious to keep some noise going on but I kept it low enough to create a relaxing environment. Little Miss loved a bit of classical music when she was teeny so I used to play that sometimes when I massaged her. She wasn’t keen on lying on her front and being massaged but she did respond positively to lying on her back so I would massage her scalp, her face gently, and then move down slowly to her shoulders, arms, tummy, legs and all the way to her toes. I would always finish with the same stroke; using my two hands across her front and moving them towards each other in the shape of a heart. I would then quietly, and without much talk, slip her into her sleepsuit and give her her dummy and comfort blanket. I then gave her her evening feed and placed her down in her moses basket awake. I was really wary of getting drawn into the routine of having to rock/shush her off to sleep myself and I really wanted her to learn how to self soothe and get herself off to sleep. She did this really well and after looking around for a bit, her eyes would get heavier and heavier and she’d eventually drop off to sleep without any fuss.

It didn’t take long until she recognised this routine as being ‘bed time’ and I was really encouraged by the fact that she was able to get herself to sleep (which helped when she woke for night feeds because I could put her straight back down in the moses basket after a feed and she would go straight back to sleep which meant we weren’t up for long periods through the night) and she was soundly sleeping for sustained periods in between feeds. I was just starting to feel really smug thinking I had totally cracked it, when another month or two down the line she decided that she didn’t much like sleep on a night time anymore and decided that she was going to challenge the beautiful routine we had in place by constantly waking up all the time!

I was gutted. I really had thought that we had nailed it. She got poorly with a bad cold and she developed a night cough that disturbed her sleep terribly and I think, that because it went on so long, she just became accustomed to waking regularly through the night and then she wanted the comfort of a cuddle or a bit of the old ‘rock and shush’. We decided at that point to move her through to her own room. I wasn’t sure what else I could do to improve her sleep and I was acutely aware of the fact that my Hubby snores like a wild boar with a blocked nose so I did wonder whether he was disturbing her (as well as me!).

Things just deteriorated from this point. It got to the point that Little Miss would wake within half an hour of being put down on an evening and then I’d be back up there pacing the floors with her to get her back to sleep, then she’d be up again three or four times before we even made it to bed. Then the graveyard shift would commence and there were many, many nights where I spent more time pacing the floors of her nursery than I did in bed. This went on for months. She wouldn’t settle for my Hubby when he went through to see to her during the night so then I would go in to settle her (which was a big mistake because from then on she would only settle if I went in) and I would spend hours (I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not) and hours trying to get her back to sleep then transfer her in to her cot and exit the room like a stealthy ninja whose life depended on it (only with very creaky joints that like to creak at the most inopportune time). I sometimes hadn’t even made it back to my bed before she would wake again and start crying for me.

I know we all joke about sleep deprivation and we all know it’s coming when we have a baby but when I say I was sleep deprived and barely functional, I am not in any way exaggerating. I was surviving on a couple of hours sleep a night and most of that came from the naps I had when I was sat in the rocking chair in her nursery with her in my arms. I lost the capacity to think straight, to remember, to cope with the smallest of worries. I was an absolute mess. Throw in to the mix a return to full time work and I became ill with exhaustion.

It got to the point where I dreaded night time. I actually put off going to bed on an evening because I couldn’t face the thought of the up and down marathon that would start as a result. I would burst in to tears at the drop of a hat and I felt drained. I had no energy and no enthusiasm. I struggled with that in itself because I consider myself to be a positive and upbeat person most of the time (terms and conditions apply!). I started reaching out to friends and family for advice and I received a flood of ideas – some I knew instantly wouldn’t work with our Little Miss, and some I thought were worth a try. We tried things like the LUSH sleep cream, playing white noise, tweaking her day time naps and lots of other things to no avail. I also did my own research, scouring the internet for any advice or sleep aids that I could try with her. She was reaching one year old at this point and I worried that all of the advice I was reading seemed aimed at younger babies. I worried that we had ruined the possibility of getting her in to a positive sleep routine because she was too old. But both my hubby and I decided that we couldn’t not do anything because we couldn’t carry on with things the way they were.

We decided that we would try controlled crying with her. This wasn’t ideal for two reasons – firstly because her sustained crying would keep our eldest up through the night and he had school to go to in the morning and secondly because I’m the biggest softie to walk the planet and can’t bear to do nothing when she was crying. Her standing at the end of the cot and crying ‘Mama’ so I could hear it on the other side of the door was so hard. I know that this approach gets a mixed response from people. I totally get why some people can’t or won’t try it but I can equally understand why people do it and how they get good results from it. Our experience of it was initially quite bad. We did controlled crying for several hours one night, going in to reassure her every few minutes, lying her back down and so on but the second we left the room she was straight back up again and she almost made herself sick crying one night. It was awful. I know there are much worse things to experience in this world than your baby crying but I found it almost impossible.

We decided to attack the ‘all new and improved’ sleep routine from all angles. We cut out one of her daytime sleeps and we made a point of building in some good quality one to one (or one to two!) play time between collecting her from nursery and her going to bed through the week. I moved her bedtime story up to her room so we now have a story in dimmed lit room before her bed time bottle. We decided to take the leap and purchase a ‘My Hummy’ bear which plays white noise continuously for 60 minutes and has a sleep sensor so the white noise kicks in automatically if she stirs in bed and then it plays for another 60 minutes. I considered it quite an investment and considered buying one for a few weeks. Consequently we ended up ordering one at around 2am one morning when we were both stressed and exhausted and desperate to give anything a try. I had seen the positive reviews on Facebook so I was encouraged but I was concerned that my Little Miss was too old now to start using white noise. But I was desperate and thought anything was worth a try.


I was concerned because she didn’t take an instant liking to the lovely bear called Filbert – in fact she kept giving it back to me. I don’t know why because it is a beautifully made toy and despite its sound function it is lovely and soft and light. I introduced it to her as a play thing as I had hoped she would connect with it but she was really disinterested. However, I was determined to give Filbert a whirl and give him a chance to make a difference. I placed Filbert in her cot and start the white noise immediately after we finish our bedtime story and just before I start her bottle. She is very sleepy by the time she gets to the end of her bottle and I place her in her cot. She still wakes after half an hour which is really frustrating, it’s almost as if she can’t get in to that deep sleep phase initially. She cries when she wakes but she settles a lot quicker with the white noise going. I go into her room and stroke her head for a minute or so then come back out. We’ve had to do a bit of controlled crying on an evening after she first wakes but she’s not getting half as upset as before with the white noise going on at the same time. We are in there three times maximum before she goes back over to sleep. This happens maybe once or twice on an evening before we’ve gone to bed at the moment; I suspect that despite the best will in the world to be as quiet as possible, the noise of us downstairs and the Big Lad in his room next to hers, she must be being woken by the odd noise here and there. Once we all go to bed she really settles now. She is up maximum once through the night but (and this is HUGE but – get the fanfare at the ready and start up the drum roll…) she has consistently SLEPT THROUGH for three nights now!!! I could never have imagined that introducing just a couple of minor changes could have such an incredible impact.

What a difference it makes too! She greets us with a beautiful smile on a morning because she is well rested and content and I’m not having mummy meltdowns on a daily basis because my brain is actually getting some rest! I appreciate that it is still very early days and I’m acutely aware that all it will take is for her to get a bad cold and it will throw us off course completely but I am feeling so much more confident about her sleep (and my sleep!). Life really is brighter when you’ve knocked out a few decent hours of zeds. It may have taken us a while to find a routine that worked for our Little Miss but now we have, I am strictly going to persevere with it against all the odds if she has a little relapse. As recently as just last night we were doing controlled crying at around 9pm, I was returning to her room every few minutes to lay her back down in the cot and tuck her back in and she was stood crying at the end of the cot. Every bone, brain and heart in my body was screaming at me to pick her up, cradle her in my arms and hold her close. It’s not easy seeing your little treasure upset. Luckily common sense prevailed and I realised we’re in this now – we’ve started this sleep routine, now it’s down to us to ensure that we continue to provide consistency for her. She was fresh out the bath in a freshly laundered sleepsuit and I literally yearned to pick her up and hold her. Then a moment of harsh reality kicked in: my Little Miss didn’t NEED me to pick her up and cuddle her. She might have wanted it, but she certainly didn’t need it. That was more of my need than hers. And it was her needs that mattered. She certainly wasn’t impressed when I simply laid her back down and left the room but within ten minutes or so she was flat out enjoying a lovely sleep – exactly what she needed more than anything.

It’s been a tough few weeks and the lack of sleep has challenged me physically and emotionally but I am so glad we decided to tackle the issue head on. The easy way out would have been to carry on dozing with her in my arms in her nursery but that wasn’t helping anyone. It’s good to just face these things head on and get the right result for our little cherubs.

One final thing, I’m acutely aware that this may sound like a bit of a sales-pitch-type-all-round-love-in for My Hummy. It’s not. I’m not being paid to write this post and my opinions and views are 100% informed by our own experiences of using it. The team behind the My Hummy bears are a bit spesh though. They deserve all the positive reviews and credit they receive. We are totally thrilled with the impact little old Filbert has had on our wee one.

2017: The Year in Reflection

I know I’m a bit previous with this but Little Miss is poorly at the moment so is sleeping even less than normal (who knew that was even possible?!) and if I become any more sleep deprived over the next couple of days I would worry that I would, very genuinely, not be able to string a sentence together, never mind making that sentence meaningful or semi-interesting.

Plus there’s naff all on the telly and I need to keep my mind (and belly) off the chocolate and wine that is taunting me from the fridge.

I think most people in the UK would agree that 2017 was a bit of a bastard. My hubby has notifications set up on his phone to bleep when there is breaking news. There was a time during 2017 where my heart literally sunk every time his phone beeped because every single time it did, it was to report something hateful, sad, violent or worrying.  The only time I noticed it bleeping with good news was on the announcement of Prince Harry’s engagement. I’m sure there were other bits of good news here and there but very generally it was a shitter of a year generally. I’ve spent far too many hours this year sat in front of Sky News with a knot and churning in my stomach as news stories unfolded live. I’ve read of too many deaths. I’ve heard of so much injustice. I’ve seen too much hate.

I’m not minimising any of the tragic incidents that have happened during 2017. There were some utterly horrendous events that were truly senseless in every respect. Those reckless events stole life. Changed lives. For many, those events altered the way we live our every day lives, and the thought patterns that we have in certain places or at certain times. Whether we were there witnessing it in front of our very eyes, or watching from the protection of a TV screen, those events have taken enough from us. They’ve taken innocent lives. They’ve taken our peace of mind. They’ve taken our right to feel safe. They’ve taken enough from us already; no way are they going to take the year.

To re-balance things I asked the lovely folk of Twitter what their highlight of the year was. The responses were heart warming. There wasn’t one response that was not family or home based. There were a lot of births of beautiful new babies, where 2017 marked the significant start of new life. For those mums, dads and the babies themselves, 2017 will forever mean the start of something so precious. That certainly helped tipped the balance back in the right direction. There were marriages; weddings that united soul mates in matrimony and the start of an incredible new life together. The year 2017 will forever be recorded on their Marriage Certificate as a year to go down in their own history. Then there were other lovely highlights like moving to a dream home in the country, the start of a new job that paid more, overcoming mental health struggles and so much more. For all of these lovely people, 2017 was more than a year of doom. They showed up and insisted on 2017 giving them something positive in the wake of such sadness and hate. For these wonderful people, 2017 will forever go down in their personal or family history for a good reason. Reading all these lovely tweets certainly helped me to focus on the positives that 2017 brought us.

On a personal level, 2017 brought me one gift in particular. This gift totally opened my eyes. It made me view things differently; in a different light or from a different angle almost. It made me process thoughts and emotions in a way I hadn’t really done before. Want to know what 2017 brought me? It brought me realisation.

This time last year one of my closest friends was enjoying the festivities with her wider family; her parents, her sister and all the grandchildren. They celebrated Christmas and New Year like every other year, paying tribute to the family traditions on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Not once did they ever consider that it would be their last Christmas as a whole family. Only 8 months later my friend’s father was diagnosed with a terminal illness and despite his courageous fight and infinite strength, he sadly died only a matter of months afterwards. This year, my friend celebrated Christmas without her father, her mother without her husband and her children celebrated without their grandfather.

2017 saw my Step Father have his own collision with his health. Following diagnosis and prior to further tests, there was a point where we too as a family were faced with the possibility of his life being significantly shortened due to a terminal illness. We were extremely fortunate that following further tests, the consultant reassured us that it wasn’t terminal. It was a diagnosis that would possibly change his life slightly, but he was alive and staying alive and for us, that was all that mattered. For those few terrifying weeks, it was like staring down a barrel of a shot gun (not that I have ever actually done that, obviously). It felt like every fibre of our being was tensed in anticipation of the shot: the bad news, the prognosis. It was exhausting. We couldn’t relax, not even for a second.  We discussed action plans with my Mum, she looked at her finances and discussed how she would cope alone. For a moment, although brief, we had to picture our lives without the man who had gone from being our step father to our Dad. It looked dark and it looked empty.

2017 took my biological father. Actually, I’m going to change that. 2017 didn’t take him. He decided to take himself, a result of sustained drug and alcohol misuse over a period of tens and tens of years. I wasn’t in contact with him so I didn’t and don’t feel his absence. As harsh as it sounds, he was never the father he needed to be for my sister and I. Not as children, and certainly not as adults. He was given second chances, third chances, fifty-fifth chances over the years and each time he would let us down. In the end, we voted with our feet and decided that we were no longer willing to accept being treat like that. I hadn’t seen him for a number of years before he died. I surprised myself in that I reacted to the news of his death with some grief, albeit limited. I was angry at myself for feeling grief. I couldn’t understand why I would be grieving for a man who did nothing but let his children down. It wasn’t too long before I realised that I was grieving for the father that he wasn’t. Not for the father he was. His death meant that I would never hear an apology from him; I would never hear him begging for forgiveness; nor would I ever hear him asking for another chance and promising to make a go of being a proper father this time. Now the chances of this happening were pretty much zero. In all the recent years I was estranged from my father he never apologised or begged for forgiveness. His style was more akin to the ‘I’ve done nothing to apologise for’ denial. But his death made that final. His death meant that he would never be the father I needed him to be. Even if had lived to 104 I know, in reality, he would never have been the father I needed him to be. It would just never have happened. But his death meant that there wasn’t even that possibility.

Perhaps harder was the timing of it all. My father and my friend’s Father died within weeks of each other. As I listened to my friend’s final moments with her Dad, and how they begged for even just one more hour together, I felt dirty. I felt dirty because my father had abused his life. He had been blessed with a life full of possibilities. He was from a middle class family, his mother a Teacher and his father a Mayor and politician. He could have been anything he wanted to be. Instead, he chose death. I say ‘choose’ because only he decided to walk down the road of drink and drugs. Nobody pulled him down that path, nobody enticed him down there; he wasn’t born in to it or pressured in to going down that path. He knowingly went in that direction and it was only ever going to lead one way. I know there will be many people who will disagree with me, and that’s totally Ok, I’m not saying that my take on the whole thing is gospel and truth but it is my truth and that’s the only truth I can give.

There was my friend’s Father, who had never smoked, never abused drugs, had the odd beer occasionally and had built an entire family filled with love, truly making a difference with his life; and there was mine – someone who had carelessly squandered his life away with every single drink he took. It didn’t feel fair. I was embarrassed and ashamed that my father would have such a lack of understanding of how valuable life was when so many would have given anything and everything for just one more minute here on Earth with their loved ones. I didn’t share my Father’s view on life and I certainly didn’t approve of the way he squandered it away but I still felt a sense of it being linked to me, a sense of it being my fault, a sense of me needing to acknowledge it, because of the bare fact that I was his daughter. His genetics make me part of who I am.

Not once do we ever think, as we sit down around the dinner table about to tuck in to our Christmas dinner every December, and cheers our drinks for the 104th time (because the kids love doing it with their little beakers! – or is that just our family?!), that a year down the road, our lives could be so changed that we might never re-live this moment with all those we love again. Or at least, I never had done.  I had never just closed me eyes and breathed in the fact that we were all together. I had never just stopped a moment and allowed the gratitude to wash all over me, realising how utterly blessed I was to be living in that moment.

2017 has brought me the realisation that nobody on this earth is guaranteed a tomorrow. I actually raised this with my family on Christmas day as I really felt like I needed to just tell them all, as one big group, how much that moment, and the whole day, had meant to me because we’d spent it together. Some of my family totally got it whilst others felt it was a little morbid. That’s not how I see this gift at all. I see that 2017 has brought me a gift that not everyone gets the benefit of experiencing. Not everyone experiences something in their lives that brings home that cold reality, that harsh realisation.

If nobody is promised a tomorrow, then we have to make the best of every single ‘today’. That doesn’t mean we have to write a bucket list and start abseiling down bridges or jumping out of planes; it is more about just being aware. Being aware of the moments that are everything; being aware of how blessed we are to share moments with our loved ones. It is about gratitude. It’s about never taking things or people for granted. It’s about taking in those special moments and breathing every inch of them in, savouring them in our memories for ever. It’s about not wasting time or energy – or life – arguing over who forgot to put the milk back in the fridge, who didn’t replace the toilet roll when it ran out, or who spilled chicken korma over the sofa. It’s about leaving this earth, whenever that may be (let’s hope it’s gazillions of years away yet)  with not a single regret. It’s about doing what you want to do (only if it’s legal like…), telling people how you feel, loving without reservation or hesitation, really living your life in every sense of the word: it’s about making the most of every single day of your life – and the lives of the people you love.

Before this realisation, I’ve always been one for using the new year as a fresh start. Whether that be for a diet, healthier living, about achieving more at work or whatever – I’ve always seen it as a point in the year to reflect on the year gone by and I have to admit that I can’t remember the last time I said ’This year has been amazing! Bring on another one like it!’ In fact, I’m not sure I ever have looked back on a year positively. I do remember, however, all the times I’ve said ‘I can’t wait for this year to be over with’ or ‘Good riddance to 20XX!’ for, in hindsight, seemingly insignificant reasons. I am now able to look upon the closing of this year and the coming of the new year in a completely different way thanks to the realisation that 2017 has brought me.

I have now realised that it doesn’t matter what does or doesn’t happen in a year. As long as I am transitioning out of one year and in to another with all of my loved ones around me then there is no ‘bad year’ or reason to bid it ‘good riddance’, because I am blessed. As long as I have all the people I love with me as I embark on the journey out of this year and in to the next, nothing else matters. It really doesn’t.

For that reason, I’m not even sure if I even want to do the ‘new year’ thing. This time I’m not celebrating the departure of a bad year and the arrival of the blank canvas of the new one and all the possibilities it might bring. Instead, I want to celebrate every single day just how lucky and how incredibly blessed and grateful I am to have the people I love around me.

I hope you transition in to the new year with all the people you treasure the most around you.






The final #ThisMum: A Day in the Life of Amy.

Well hello festive folks! I’m sure the festivities are in full swing where you are and that you’re getting up to some fabulous crimbo shenanigans! Although that word takes on a whole new meaning when you have to grow up and be Mum! My ‘shenanigans’ aren’t the same as they used to be! It may not be all rock and roll these days but, you know, I wouldn’t change a thing. The best thing about Christmas is being able to see it through the eyes of the kids. It takes on a whole new meaning, doesn’t it? The magic of it all is just so special. I love that for one day in the year we believe in the unbelievable, we embrace the unrealistic and we celebrate family. I know it can be a stressful time for us mums, but   it’s the best stress I reckon. Beats stressing about a looming deadline at work, or stressing that we’ve got two wipes left and a shit storm in a nappy to deal with. Christmas stress is totally acceptable. 

I’m hoping that maybe once the kids are tucked up, you’ve nibbled Santa’s mince pie and deposited the prezzies under the tree you’ll have a couple of minutes to sit down (with a baileys, maybe?) and enjoy the final #ThisMum post of the series. 

Our final #ThisMum is Amy from her blog, Amyjane and Baby. Amy has a gorgeous nine month old baby boy called Freddie. I love that name, Freddie! We were going to call our Little Miss, Freddie – if she’d been a Little Mister, obviously. Amy is a stay at home mum at present and is currently working on her blog. Amy starts with a really honest account of how difficult she found motherhood when Freddie was teeny tiny, explaining that Freddie had silent reflux. I could really relate to this because our Little Miss was exactly the same. I’ve been showered in warm projectile vomited milk more times than I care to mention. I too struggled during it all. My Health Visitor was very dismissive at first. I felt like I was going mad, like I was the only one noticing that my baby girl wasn’t right, that something was wrong. I used to video her after feeds to evidence to the health visitor and GP that something wasn’t right. Eventually they got to the bottom of it and as soon as we changed her milk everything started looking up. 

A lot of mums are reluctant to admit when they are struggling. For fear of judgement, I guess. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with judgemental folk. It does encourage you to be more tight lipped about your struggles but we should all feel able to be honest, like Amy. It is this denial that causes mums to feel inadequate or a failure, because nobody else speaks out about how tough it can be having a new baby. I know blogging has certainly helped me to be more open about my honest feelings. I can’t thank Amy enough for being so open and allowing us in to her life for a day. It sounds like Amy and Freddie have such a lovely routine going where Freddie gets to spend one on one time with both Mum and Dad. That’s something we need to pay more attention to, I get lots of one on one time with the kids but a lot of the time the kids spend with my hubby are when we’re all together and like Amy says, it is important for Dads to have one on one time too. 

Without any further a do, here’s a day in the life of Amy:

On reflection, it probably took me until Freddie was over six months old to feel properly settled into Motherhood. We had a rough start. At six weeks old Freddie was diagnosed with Silent Reflux and although it breaks my heart to say this, it really tainted the first five months or so. Having a baby that screamed for long periods, wouldn’t lie in his pram and breastfed near enough constantly amongst other things made me doubt whether I was a good Mum or not. Since the Silent Reflux began to go away at around six months, Freddie and I have slowly settled into a routine. I can say with complete honesty now, that I love being Freddie’s Mum and apart from the occasional (and completely normal!) self-doubting moment, I know I am a good one. Here is a day in our life!

Freddie is my first baby and he is now nine months old. I had him when I was twenty-five which seems to be ‘young’ by the current standards. G (my husband) and I have been together on and off since we were fifteen and had settled into life together when I was around twenty so I felt ready. Although I don’t think you can ever really feel ready for a tiny whirlwind to turn your life upside down! I currently stay at home with Freddie whilst G goes to work. I am not sure I will return to my current job but I do know that I personally need something else on top of being a Mum, in order to feel fulfilled.

Our day starts around six-thirty/seven when Freddie wakes up- sometimes earlier! My husband takes Freddie downstairs and they have breakfast together and a bit of a play before G leaves for work. I tend to stay upstairs during that time savouring my morning coffee because I think it is important for the boys to spend some time together on their own too. After G leaves for work, Freddie and I have a bit of playtime and I also try and pop up a post on social media because Instagram is a guilty pleasure of mine!

At around half nine it is time for Freddie’s first nap, it is a short one because I wake him after around half an hour otherwise he won’t nap properly at lunchtime! I try and use this time to get ready because Freddie is currently obsessed with my beauty products etc and I have to watch him like a hawk! I will try and squeeze in a second coffee during his nap as well.

Waking Freddie up at around ten is one of my favourite parts of the day. I get to sneak in and watch him sleep- a bit creepy I know – and then enjoy sleepy cuddles together! I get him ready for the day around this time too. I am obsessed with baby boy clothes and Freddie has a far better wardrobe than I do. Baby Zara, Marks & Spencer and Next are my favourite places to pick up new clothes for him.

The time between his morning nap and his lunchtime nap is generally used for popping out to do errands, see friends or do a class. For the first eight months or so Freddie would be content with just people-watching at Tesco but now that he is crawling and pulling up he wants to explore! We do a Baby Sensory class which he absolutely loves and it is the one class I would highly recommend!

After Freddie has had his lunch, and deposited lots of it on the floor/tried to feed our two cockapoos, it is time for his second nap. Another highlight of my day is reading stories to him before his nap although at the moment he likes to sit on the book which makes it slightly challenging… I also use the time before his nap to potter around the upstairs trying to get some sort of semblance of order. With two dogs and a nine month old, I feel like I spend most of my time tidying up!

Freddie is generally asleep for around two hours so I take that opportunity to work on my blog. I started my blog five months ago and it has really helped me to feel like I have something for myself again. Over the last few weeks, it has started to grow a bit which is so exciting and has really motivated me to keep going. I love writing, I always have. It is so cathartic to share my experience on my little corner of the internet and connect with other Mums as well.

Once Freddie is up, he has a little play and then we head out on a dog walk. When Freddie is having a screamy day, taking him out in the pram with the dogs really seems to settle him. He loves facing out and watching the dogs run around and it helps me to get some fresh air. The rest of the afternoon is a it of a blur of trying to tackle our washing mountain, making Freddie’s tea and then beginning the bedtime routine.

Usually by Freddie’s bedtime, I am ready for a bit of a break. G doesn’t get home until around half six most days so up until recently, he didn’t get to see Freddie before he went to bed. Now that Freddie goes to bed at seven, G gets to have a cuddle before bed which I know means a lot to him. We always go upstairs a while before bedtime so he can burn off any energy by crawling around and getting into everything he shouldn’t… I use this time to pop some comfies on too!

Freddie has a very strict bedtime routine and has had the same one for several months now. To be honest, I think it was more for me than him at the beginning because I needed something to follow when I was finding everything very overwhelming. We do a massage with a special song, then read some books together, he has a final feed and I pop on some white noise. Nowadays he goes to sleep without much of a fuss which is a huge relief because having a bedtime battle at the end of a hard day is tough!

In the evenings, G takes over. He will cook us dinner and make me a cup of tea whilst I crack on with some more blogging stuff. I am trying to go to bed earlier at the moment because sometimes I lose track of the time enjoying the peace and quiet! Freddie is usually up for a feed around 4am but lately it has been a bit later which is a real treat.

Now that I have read it back I am not sure if our day is particularly interesting but I have enjoyed sharing it with you nonetheless. I would love to see you over on my blog soon and thank you very much for letting me share my day with you!


Freddie sounds like such a gorgeous boy and I loved all the opportunities that Amy has built in to his daily routine to enjoy songs, books and stories. If you enjoyed this (and I know you definitely did!) then you should go and check out Amy’s blog! You can find it here

If you’re one of these super trendy ‘insta types’ then you can look Amy up on instagram here! I am ashamed to admit that I have never tried Instagram. I know I definitely should for the sake of the blog but I feel a bit over the hill for it. I feel old when I see instagram photos and screenshots. I’ve just got to look in the mirror to feel old like so it’s not just Instagram’s fault I’m getting the pensioner feels! I really need to check it out, I know. I’m going to make an effort to enter the world of instagram in the new year. If you’re already making insta waves, keep an eye out for a lost soul in 2018 and give me a wave! (can you wave on Instagram?! I genuinely have no idea…)

And finally, you can check Amy out on Twitter here ( a platform I’m far more accustomed to!) A HUGE thanks to Amy for being so patient waiting for her guest blog post to go out, it was definitely worth waiting for and I have absolutely loved having Amy involved.

And with that, it’s a wrap! Like, it’s the end! I feel a bit emosh. How ridiculous is that?! It’s not like I’m picking up an oscar and doing my acceptance speech!! I’m emotional thinking of all the lovely Mums who have taken time out of their (very) busy lives to be part of the series. Whether we are a working mum, stay at home mum, a single mum – all mums are busy people. It’s the nature of the job; so I know how valuable time is. You can’t put a price on time when you’re a busy mum. I appreciate so much that all my fantastic guest bloggers have used their precious time to write a fabulous post for the series. As a relatively new blogger it has been a brilliant way to meet fellow bloggers and make connections, building friendships. I know that on a personal level this series has meant a lot to me. Reading about the days and feelings of other Mums has reassured me that I’m not the only mum feeling this, or doing that. Whilst we all lead very different lives, we have one huge thing in common: motherhood – and it’s bloody hard sometimes! Reassured by other posts, I know even more so now than ever that bad days come with the territory, that none of us are perfect and nor should we strive to be, we’re all doing our best.

I really hope that you have enjoyed the series as much as I have. I can’t thank every single Mum who guest blogged for me, enough. You are beautiful people and I wish you a very Merry Christmas. Looking forward to catching up on all your blogs over the Christmas hollibobs!

Now! Go and get yourselves another Baileys! You’ve earned it!


A Day in the Life #ThisMum: FattyVonVon

Brrrr! It’s chilly out there! It’s definitely an evening for curling up under a fluffy blanket with a hot cuppa and a bit of reading! And what better thing to read than another #ThisMum post! I have had this post in the bank and scheduled for a while and have been desperate to share it with you. This time we are invited by Fatty Von Von from fattyvonvon.com to get up close and personal with an average day in her life. I was really excited about this one because we’ve not had many Mums of older children involved in the series so I was cock-a-hoop to have a Mum of not one teenager but two teenagers featured!

A lot of this post resonated with me. Partly because, like Fatty Von Von, I have a teenager myself, but more so because I feel like my life is an absolute whirlwind at times, full of busy-ness. In fact, I’d go so far as to say my life is full on chaotic most of the time. Balancing full time work with raising a baby, a teenager, keeping a (relatively) clean home (note the absence of ‘tidy’ – I find all attempts at this futile), managing the social calendars of the kids, the taxis to and from places, the homework, the requests from nursery that come home on slips of paper (that inadvertently get lost) requesting she wears this on that day, or brings in something in particular on another, the ‘after hours’ work that can’t wait until the next morning, the washing (oh my god, the washing!), remembering the appointments – immunisations, orthodontist and the like and the list could go on and on. It is so hard. It’s flipping impossible sometimes. Reading Fatty Von Von’s post really switched a light on for me. When things get chaotic I blame myself. When I forget that Little Miss was supposed to wear a Christmas jumper on the party day, I blame myself. When I get half way through a nappy change and forget that I ran out of baby wipes and should have picked some up on my way home, I blame myself. If my Big Lad gets worked up over some really heavy Maths homework and I am completely unable to help him with it (Maths was never my thing), I blame myself.  Let’s face it, if the sky fell in tomorrow morning, I’d blame myself for that too. I can be really hard on myself, and I often attribute the chaos in our life solely to my inability to be the super-duper-all-singing-all-dancing-super organised-Mum that I wish I could be.  Fatty Von Von’s post made me realise that, actually, family life can be chaos for everyone, it’s the nature of the beast – especially when trying to balance work, family life, school and the rest. Maybe that is just how it has to be for now. Maybe it wouldn’t matter how organised I was, maybe that’s just the way it is for us. Maybe I’d even miss it if it wasn’t this way! Huge thanks to Fatty Von Von for this amazing read – you are going to love it. 


A day in the life of #FattyVonVon – I’m relatively new to blogging and started to enable me to share my health and fat reversal journey.  I’m a 40 something suburban mum of 2, Finlay 13 and Grace 12 (I hear  all parents of teenagers feeling my pain at this part) married to Mr C since 2003.  I’m a Psoriasis warrior and felt starting my blog could help others and certainly supports me in maintaining my sanity from the breakouts….

Like many of you it’s such a pick and mix of days…. I’m going to concentrate on this week.  A typical day starts at 5.30am, I work condensed hours Tuesday to Friday but for a fabulous flexible employer which works well for my family.  I try to leave early to avoid the Greater Manchester M60, my journey is around 50 minutes (on a good day).  Just before I leave I wake both kids who need to leave for school around 7.  My husband tends to do the morning stint as he works 10 minutes from home, they’ve got him wrapped around their fingers.  He’s a morning person so not to bad but Mr Grumpy by the time I get home.   It’s only 7.15 and I’ve received 4 calls from both kids, they are grumpy and one doesn’t do mornings, one does.  Mum I need …… to which I respond with the response.  Oh my who invented cars which are compatible with your phone, it doesn’t stop for 50 minutes

The kids had an incident on a public bus with another school and thought it would be a good idea to take the them to self defence to ensure they can protect themselves, not sure how these things work but they’ve been knocking lumps out of each since practicing it.  I feel like a wrestling referee, their both covered in bruises but say “mum it’s all part of growing up”. Mr C rings once, their doing my head in and won’t get ready as fighting, blooming eck you’re health and safety sort it out….. I contemplate not answering the phone but generally stuck in traffic.  I do forget you can hear the phone outside the car too when stationary in traffic.  I’m normally calm but 15 calls later I’m shouting down the phone, fortunately it’s minus 1 outside their car windows are closed – hope they are!!

I make a final call home and their all happy, they’ve missed their bus as Finlay forgot he had cooking despite me asking 100 times so Mr C has to take them half way with a stop at the shop.  This virtual parenting can be hard sometimes.  I do miss primary school sometimes as you know what’s going on most of the time, high schools another story.  I compose myself for the day ahead.  I work as a Programme Manager for a local authority so its a full on day.  I plan to leave at 2.30pm to avoid the traffic and work from home which is fabulous to sort the mess out before they come home.    I’m sure you’ll all join me in recognising this, the phone rings and it’s school, I see it flash up on my Fitbit and have to make my apologies during a meeting.  Your mind flashes with have they had an accident on what have they done – normally the latter.  Hello Mrs C, my response jokingly, which one…. my darling teenager decided to use the puff pastry Mr C bought for his cooking and place in the microwave for a long time without the teacher noticing (in total innocence) and blew it up, it setting it on fire.  They wanted to reassure me he was fine but in trouble for not following instructions.  I was torn between laughing (which is wrong) but the annoyance at his behaviour took over.  She did reassure me once they’d investigated the matter it was purely innocent on his behalf as he didn’t hear the instructions clearly (he was chatting with his friend).  Why are they using microwaves to cook, I thought the lesson was cooking!!  He’d been given a detention for not listening although it wasn’t intentional.  I’ve never shown him how to bake pastry #badmother.

Back to the job and secretly laughing at the scene but also annoyed at his stupidity.

Finished work a little later due to the unpredicted call, motorway was clear so I was home in 50 minutes – house relatively clean.  I’m very fortunate I’m in a position to share the morning mum role with Mr C.  I log back on to work but soon give up when they run through the door hungry, raiding the fridge and leaving a trail of mess.  I try to have a serious conversation with Finlay re the incident but give up, he’s adamant he was told to place the puff pastry in the microwave 😡. I’ll leave that chat to Mr C with his safety hat on.

It’s a busy night with mums taxi, dinner was very quick and one wants it and one doesn’t.  Their going through a fussy stage and shocks me as always ate a variety of food, I refuse to make a variety of meals and feel they want a restaurant menu at times.  I’ve resorted to giving them Joe Wicks book and choose the menus for the week.  6.15pm and it’s back in the traffic to dancing and cadets.  First drop off is Finlay, their fighting in the back of the car over (I’ve given up asking).  We get to cadets by the skin of our teeth as he wouldn’t get ready, it’s the same battle daily with his laid back approach. On the other hand Grace is Miss organised and is sat in her dancing kit well before her time and managed to do her homework (never have to chase her for this).  Their so yin and yang but a great balance.  Their also best of friends and very close (despite the recent fighting). I’m putting this down to teenager hormones which are challenging – any tips gratefully received.  I bought the Haynes teenager manual for a laugh and wrapped it for Mr C – it did make him smile though.  One packed off at cadets, back in the traffic for Grace and double dancing.  She’s having a diva strop as going to be late.  I try to ignore her but she’s jumping round like a kangaroo in the back of the car.  Why have tantrums started again over something so trivial, thought I’d left them behind aged 2.  She’s all calm as we make it on time, I get a grunt and wave smiling at her dressed all angelic for ballet with a stern facial expression.  Back home 7.30 and the temptation for a gin and tonic is tempting, I decide against it.  This is what got me fat over the years, opening the vino whilst cooking the dinner.  I’ve stopped having a tipple during the week now, fabulous willpower (for now).  Mr C’s doing the pick ups for 9 and 9.30.  Long days but their both home, still bickering and in bed for 10.  2 nights a week like this and rest is 8 o’clock bed for them.  I so miss the routine of “in the night garden” then bed at 7.  I’ve always been a routine mum with 2 kids a year apart.  Mr C worked nights for years so wasn’t there and needed mum sanity – appreciate it works different for everyone. The routine is getting more difficult as they hit the teens.  I can’t be bothered tidying tonight as been a draining day, know I should but it’s 11 and I’m back up at 5.30 (it can wait).  The Clan are all tucked up, it’s now 11.30, my heads whizzing but need to leave today behind ready for a new day, I’m sure it will be much easier tomorrow!!

You need to be gentle with yourself sometimes, we’re not all supermums all the time and it’s ok not to be ok.  We’ve had a tough year this year with both of us losing a parent within weeks of each other.  The impact on the family, especially the kids, has been hard mixed with starting a new job.  We’re taking one day at a time, helping the kids through their sadness but also taking time to be grateful for the time we have being healthy and happy.  I live in complete madness and I’ve had to accept it, life’s far too short to be unhappy.  Wake up each day with a smile and be grateful for your journeys.  As a family we do get periods and some weekends with a downtime day.  The kids are kept active for their health and learning journeys and wouldn’t have it any other way – be happy folks love FattyVonVon 💋

Huge thanks to FattyVonVon for sharing this with us. I loved the honesty of this piece – it just resonated with me on a whole new level, as I’m sure it has with many of you. If you liked this, you would LOVE FattyVonVon’s blog so make sure you pay it a visit here

Next up on Sunday evening is the final post of the series – I know it’ll be Christmas Eve and we’ll all be playing Santa but don’t forget to check back in, you don’t want to miss it.