The Highs and Lows of a Toddler’s Day

HIGH: Getting up is my favourite part of the day. Today I slept in for ages and then felt super refreshed and relaxed so chatted away in my cot to myself until Mama came in and covered me in kisses, then we went to see Daddy and I gave him high fives whilst he did a big poo.  Mama took me downstairs and I got to put on my welly boots with my pyjamas and we ran into the garden. Mama drinks her morning juice [editor’s note: this is coffee, not wine] and we talk about everything we can see and look at the flowers, and the birds, and what is growing and OH HELL YES LOOK THERE’S AN ANT. ‘ANT MAMA ANT’

LOW: Mama blew on my porridge to cool it down. I ABSOLUTELY did not want that, I wanted my porridge hotter than the scalding depths of hell. To tell her how upset I was I broke into hysterical tears, and she jumped to me asking what was wrong. I point at my porridge and screeched because goddamit I wanted it hot. She blew on it some more, and passed me a mouthful. IDIOT I WANTED IT HO…. oh wait a minute, this is actually pretty scrummy. Yum yum yum.

HIGH: I said ‘Park’ and guess what? Mama took me to the park! It was sunny and I was wearing my blue sandals with the buckle that’s really fun to try and undo. Oh and there’s a slide, and swings and a sandpit, and ducks, and some really interesting stuff called heras fencing round a broken part of the playpark. That’s my favourite. I go and point it out to Mama and say ‘oh no’ in case she hasn’t noticed it’s broken and she laughs and I say ‘oh no’ again and this time two other women laugh and stop and tell me I’m gorgeous. Duh, I know that, let’s all talk about how cool this fencing is though?

LOW: We ran out of snacks. WE RAN OUT OF SNACKS. This is not ok, and I know that I have already eaten two breakfasts, and a bag of Pom bears and a banana and an oaty bar but running out of snacks is totally unacceptable. I’m going to scream. Oh actually I might head butt the pushchair as well because, like I said – this is totally unacceptable.  I AM A GROWING BOY AND I WANT MORE SNACKS. WHERE’S THE EASTER EGGS? I hunted Easter eggs three weeks ago, and I just don’t understand why chocolate eggs aren’t everywhere. I WANT SNACKS AND EGGY EGG EGG NOW MAMA.

HIGH: Oh man the park was so good and now I’m in my pushchair and its warm and I’m cosy and zzzzzzzzzzzzz……. [editor’s note: after a tantrum in the park after R had eaten his way through a backpack full of snacks, this was one of mama’s high points of the day too. She drank coffee, took photos for Instagram, and told herself she would be more productive tomorrow]

LOW: I woke up back at home. What the what? What happened to the park? I know, ooooh I know – I’ll say ‘park’ that worked earlier. ‘PARK’. Huh? What do you mean no? ‘PARK’. Wait a minute, this isn’t how this works, look I will try one more time and I will go and get my shoes to show you exactly what I want ‘PARK’. PARRRRRRKKKKKK, PARK, PARK, PARK, PARK. OK if I can’t go to the park what about an EGG? EGG EGG PARK EGG PARK.

HIGH: DADA! Yayyyyyyy Daddy’s home, this is total number one best awesome super duper top part of the day. Big snugs, and kisses, ewwwwww daddy not kisses, ok, ok kisses. C’mon daddy lets go look in the garden, let me show you what I have done today. I have tipped water all over the patio and mixed it with soil. I have thrown some rice that Mama made for ‘messy play’ in the flower beds. Here are all of my teddies, I couldn’t decide which one to play with so got them all out, but then thought they were pretty boring to be honest so I got my toy car and my scooter and my new scuttlebug out. Oh and I emptied the Tupperware cupboard, I know you had fun matching all the lids for Mama the other day so we can do it again, look Daddy look!

LOW: I’ve escaped the clutches of a soggy nappy, and am gleefully running bottomless round the living room – nothing quite like the feeling of a breeze on your nether regions after being encased in a sweaty nappy all day. Hold up? What’s that feeling in my tummy? Oh no. Uh-oh. Oh no. Ohhhnooooooooo I’m going to poo, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do again? ‘MAMA!!!!!’

HIGH: She’s not a total moron, she deciphered my wiggling panicked stance, reminded me what to do (‘Do you need potty?), and we ran like Olympic athletes to the potty, and I sat down and did a class-A, grand old curling poop. Well I must demur; it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But I got showered in kisses, hugs, and a special treat – chocolate. This pooping lark is a-ok.

LOW: Whaddya mean its bedtime? I just pooed in a potty like a big boy I don’t go to bed when it’s still light out. Whaddya mean I have to have a bath??? I had one last night; just who do you think you are putting me in a bath. Brush my teeth?! NO, NO,NO. Oh haha jokes on you, I’m going to crawl all over your bed as you put the nappy on, let’s see if I can get the buttcream on your pillow again.

HIGH: *Yawns* oh actually I am quite tired, it’s been a busy day. And daddy’s doing bedtime which is super awesome because he is like a big massive snugly giant and I can curly up uder his wing and fall asleep. But I do miss Mama, she is a number one Mama, oh I know – if I wake up in the night I will cry for Mama and she will come and snuggle me until I fall asleep again. Oh that’s a good plan, snuggles with everyone. ‘NAH-NIGHT’

So I wrote this, thought it was hilarious, and realised I had written a very similar Day in The Life Of post a few months ago, but hey – it’s still funny right? Let me know the highs and lows of your toddler’s day!




No Sleep ‘Til Breakfast: Have We Conquered the Eighteen Month Sleep Regression?

Morning all. Have you noticed that it’s been a little while since I last discussed the nocturnal antics of my household? There are two reasons, first of all I had passed the point of no return with broken sleep and entered a zombie fugue stage, and secondly – when lately R started sleeping a little better, I haven’t wanted to jinx it!

Over the past eighteen months I have spent god knows how many hours reading about, researching, quizzing others with slumbering babes and talking about SLEEP. Or, more specifically, how my nocturnal bat-child doesn’t want to sleep.

You can read more about our sleep battles here and here, but to put it simply – in eighteen months we have had a grand total of six full nights sleeping through. That’s five nights out of five hundred and seventy seven days in which all three of us have had a full night’s sleep.

Six months ago, in our twelve month round up I mentioned how I thought R was sleeping a lot better.

I should have known better. The moment I pressed ‘POST’,  things took a turn for the worse. It was if someone had turned back the clock and I had a new born baby all over again.

R was waking up every forty minutes. Not settling at all at night unless he was on one of us, we would literally have to sit there for hours until he settled and wait until he was in a deep deep deeeeeep sleep before popping him in the cot and creeping ever so quietly out of the room.

One night that didn’t happen at all.

 I was up for five hours that night with him. I had tried everything, and ended up walking around the upstairs of our house rocking him in my arms like he was a tiny baby.

He wasn’t hungry.  Wasn’t thirsty. I’d given him Calpol. He wasn’t too hot, too cold, I changed his nappy and even his pyjamas in case it was a label irritating him or something.

I had sat in the usual spot with him until he was asleep and then popped him in the cot but he would immediately rear back up screeching unless I held him.

That was it, all night long, he wanted to be held by me.

Even in bed, I tried to get him to sleep next to me but he would only sleep LAID ON TOP of me. Yeah, you read that right. With me laid flat on my back he would only sleep curled up on my chest. Adorable and oh so cosy when you have a tiny baby, not so cute when your massive toddler is crushing your ribs and farting like a race horse.

So I paced, and rocked him, and cried in the dark.

Then when the clock had ticked on and on and on, I woke Danny up, chucked R at him and climbed into bed. Until my alarm went off two hours later and I had to face a client meeting when what I really needed was an IV of caffeine stat.

I’m not saying that being at home with a baby when you are absolutely exhausted is easy. Because I have been there and it was hard and it was awful and there were many tears shed, and many bitter arguments born of tiredness.

However, at least at home you can stay in your pyjamas. Or not do any washing up and rely on the magical telly box to do the parenting whilst you inhale instant coffee. You can put no make-up on, have a nap when your baby naps, and do ALL the online shopping.

But when you start crying on the train to work because you are so tired and you don’t know what is going wrong, and the hummus on your trousers is the last fucking straw. Well my chickens, that’s a whole pile of shit.

When your brain starts sliding away from you, and everything seems a bit fuzzy – but you have clients to slap on a smile for, emails to answer, and an endless to do list. All I can say is HOORAH for caffeine and chocolate.

It’s hard. It’s so bloody hard.

I am eternally grateful for the wonderful ladies in my office who instead of telling me what I should be doing, instead just told me it was shit and hard but it would get better. One of them tells me she remembers nothing of her son’s first year because it was just a tired blur. The other would top up the biscuit tin, and always make me a coffee.

I’d kiss them and clone them and hand them out at the labour and delivery ward if I could.

Because to all you well meaning but annoying and sometimes downright fucking deluded people out there who like to give baby sleep advice. I have DONE IT ALL. YES ALL OF IT. Short of shushing him off to sleep with a nip of gin, which is obviously a parenting faux pas, but I may have considered it once or twice.

I don’t need any more advice. I’ve got the grin and bare it and neck another Americano off to a fine art now. I have a brilliant concealer, and since I got the Kindle app on my phone, have spent many a night laid in R’s cot racing my way through a Jilly Cooper.

On those nights where I lay  there, aimlessly humming ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ I would remind myself ‘this too shall pass’.

And you know what, it did.

On the fifth of February R slept through for the first time.

Since then he has slept through a further FIVE times. Not record breaking, not every night, but that’s a hell of an uptake.

In addition to this, most nights now we are only up to him once, maybe twice and he’s on the whole easy to settle. Maybe up for an hour during the night tops.

Again, not earth shattering, not Princess Aurora sleep levels, but for us – bloody amazing.

OH OH OH and he treated us to a seven-thirty lie in on Easter weekend… three days in a row.

I woke up with so much energy, fizzing and popping and excited to start the day.

In fact that is a good way to describe me lately. Awake and excited. It’s so crazy how a slight improvement in sleep has made such a difference to my well-being.

I do more on an evening.

I feel better.

Heck lets blow my own trumpet here, my arse might be the size of a small planet from the amount of carbs I have consumed but I look better as well. All fresh faced and almost youthful.

It’s only by total coincidence when I saw on a friend’s Instagram stories that they were dealing with the eighteen month sleep regression that I began to wonder…. maybe we have gone through it?

R’s “bad” periods of sleep (I say this in quote marks because up to now it’s all been bad, by “bad” I mean really fucking terrible) have all coincided with rapid periods of development. When he learnt to crawl we all basically became nocturnal for several weeks. When he learnt to walk, we invested in a pricey but life saving coffee machine. And now, there’s been a bout of awful sleeping right before an explosion of speech.

So maybe, and I say this very tentatively, we have navigated our way through this latest sleep regression and our progress with sleep will continue to improve.

Obviously I know that so many things can disrupt sleep, teething, illness, any other stresses – but we’ve made it so far on a wing and a prayer (and absolutely no endorsement by any major coffee chains).

Here’s to a peaceful night for all!



PS. For any of you who have come here desperately seeking practical advice, or tips, we have recently introduced a toddler duvet and pillow to R’s cot which seem to have helped him settle himself in the night as sleeping bags restrict his movement too much. Also, he never used to enjoy teddies to snuggle but again these have been introduced to him from about twelve months old, and he has started to use them for comfort as well. Hope this helps, drop me a line if you want to talk more about sleep!

‘It Only Happens in the Movies’ an Honest Conversation about Sex, Orgasms, and Half-Lost Virginity

It Only Happens In the Movies - Holly Bourne.jpg

Reader, I finished  a book recently that I absolutely loved. ‘It Only Happens in the Movies’ by Holly Bourne.

If you follow me on Instagram then you might have seen this sunny lil’ number pop up a few times, and it’s for a good reason. BECAUSE IT’S AWESOME. I bought it on an Instagram recommendation (oh the power of social media), and also it had a gorgeous happy cover. It’s YA fiction, which I must admit I am not the biggest fan of, or the most knowledgeable about, but this book has totally blown me away.

To summarise the plot of the book is about a romance between two co-workers in a very middle class cinema – Audrey who is fitting work round her A-Level studies, and Harry  who makes his own films. Audrey, our protagonist, is totally over love following her parents messy separation and the book begins each chapter with a excerpt from a paper she is writing in which she critiques the ideals of love that are presented to us in romantic movies. However when she meets co-worker Harry, who is on-paper everything she is most definitely not looking for, a romance slowly blossoms.

I like Audrey, she’s not a straightforward character – she has feminist ideals, and is critical of the way romance is stereotypically portrayed within mainstream media. She struggles with her emotions, which affects her friendships, her studies, and we see her working through these emotions which is great – I love a character who is messy and complicated.

But that’s not the bit that made me sit up and think, oh holy shit this is pretty good.

What made me really admire this book, is the frank and open discussion of teenage sex.

We discover Audrey is a virgin, and after having decided to lose her virginity to her ex-boyfriend had an awful, painful attempt at intercourse… after which her dickhead of a ex dumped her. Audrey is completely mortified by this experience, made worse by her ex-boyfriend’s new relationship, which seems to involve a lot of snogging all over the sixth form common room.

Audrey takes the blame upon herself, turning away from her friends and drawing inwards as much as possible – avoiding all interaction with her ex to the point where it impacts her studies and hobbies. At first I felt a little irritated with her, like sis he’s just an idiot teenage boy who is obviously a total moron, GET THE FUCK OVER HIM AND STOP BEING SO AWKWARD.

But then I thought back to my teenage years, and I remember feeling light years behind EVERYONE sexually – convinced that everyone was shagging like rabbits and knew everything there was to know because… well I wasn’t!

It’s a horribly awkward stage because your knickers light up whenever you sit next to a cute boy in the common room, but equally you want to come off as a cool as a cucumber sex goddess. Whilst I don’t think I have ever come across as a cool as a cucumber sex goddess, even as a twenty something year old who knows her way round a dick (nearly wrote dick or two, but that’s another story) I still felt connected to this awkward teenage fictional character.

And THEN… Audrey starts rebuilding her friendships, and explains to her friend the attempt her ex-boyfriend made on her virginity. She explains how kissing felt incredible, so when he stuck his hand down her pants she let him carry on but he ‘pokes’ and fumbles, and she doesn’t know quite how it is meant to feel, all she knows is that she doesn’t like it.

She is sill blaming herself, but her friend tells her that he is the dick for (and I quote)…

‘prodding you like you’re all the buttons in Willy Wonka’s Great Glass Elevator, and then dumping you for not creaming all over the elevator’.

AMAZING. And not just cos I love an unexpected metaphor.

All of us need a friend like Audrey’s. Audrey feels humiliated because sex hasn’t turned her into the cool as a cucumber sex goddess of dreams, she feels like it’s her fault for not getting turned on, and for the failure of the relationship. But it’s quite obviously not, something as a reader you want to shout at her – but again,  I don’t blame her for feeling like that.

Without opening up to a female friend Audrey doesn’t know any different, she thinks that she should have been wildly excited, and it takes a slightly more knowledgeable friend to tell her that its just sometimes not that great!

 I’m looking back and trying to understand how my formative ideas of sex came about and this is making me fell REALLY BLOODY OLD. I left my teenage years almost a decade ago, but looking back there are still times which make me cringe with embarrassment – especially when it comes to sex.

I definitely do not remember reading anything like this when I was a teenager. I’m wracking my brain trying to think of the books I was reading that would have influenced my ideas of sex , but all I can think of are bodice ripping Mills and Boons (definitely not YA reads) in which the heroines act like Aubrey imagines with earthquaking orgasms as soon as anything goes near their silken wisps of underwear.

As Aubrey’s relationship with Harry develops, it gets physical and in the book she loses her virginity and has regular sex with him. And the conversations about sex continue in the same brilliantly honest fashion. Her first time after the previous disappointment is’t all romantic clutching and orgasms galore, her hymen doesn’t disappear like a unicorns fart – she describes losing her virginity honestly. It’s ok, she sort of gets what the whole sex thing is all about, but it’s not earth shattering.


She goes on to discover that she can’t orgasm through penetration alone and refuses to let Harry go down on her until she has had a few drinks one night. All of this is sounding really normal right? But I honestly haven’t read sex discussed so well in a book aimed at young adults before.

And I think it’s bloody important. Probably more so now than ever, when the internet and social media is permeating our lives so heavily – teens can easily access porn where orgasms are loud and frequent, and both sexes are impossibly shaven and stretchy. So it’s brill to have a protagonist who acknowledges that it’s not always awesome, that it can be embarrassing but perhaps most importantly opens up to her friends and through an honest open conversation learns more and feels empowered to move on.

‘It Only Happens In the Movies’ is a book I would highly recommend – for teens and adults alike, the plot was engaging with enough twists and unexpected moments to keep you entertained. I liked Audrey, and couldn’t help but like Harry despite his flaws and bad-boy nature. But as I’ve described, the open conversation around sex is what stood out to me – and I would definitely recommend it to any of you with teenage relatives!

In case you can’t tell, I’m all for a good discussion about whats happening between the sheets – have any of you read this book and what do you think of it? Also is anyone watching Sex Education on Netflix, I’m currently obsessed!



18 Months of Rufus

All together now… WHERE THE FUCK HAS THE TIME GONE. Yes, yes, I know, change the record Becks, time passes, get over it. I feel like this is another massive milestone though, in another six short months he will be two, and then he’s definitely not my little baby anymore!

This is the most amazing stage, my mind is blown daily by what R learns through socialising and interacting with the environment around him. Repeating ‘Douche’ after his daddy at the dinner table might not be our proudest parenting moment but oh my god they really do pick up everything.

Here’s what we are up to at 18 months old…

I L L N E S S:

What a great one to start on hey? But since our last update  three months ago we have spent a good two months of that passing bugs around and around the three of us.  R has had diarrhoea, constant colds, croup,  and as we speak he has a horrid phelgmy cough which has already kept us away from a playdate.

R seems to put up with this all stoically, he doesn’t get terribly whingy or whiny, even when diagnosed with croup it cleared up very quickly. Don’t get me wrong I am so thankful, that we haven’t had a hospital trip, and he hasn’t been seriously ill, but please for the love of God I just want to not have to wipe a nose every three seconds.

L O S I N G T H E D O D I E:

The dodie (dummy, pacifier, or as D called it – his Marlboroughs) has been a constant friend of R’s ever since he was  two weeks old. Whilst being adamant that I was never going to give him a dummy, after two weeks of R wanting to nurse constantly and never sleeping we needed something to give my nips a break. And luckily he took to his dummy and has got a great deal of comfort from it ever since. He used it to sleep, to nap, or if he was just tired and cranky that dodie was like instant calm!

However over the past few months I have started to wonder if he was a bit TOO attached to it. And when at fifteen months I mentioned he wasn’t speaking  much, I did wonder if it was dodie related.

So when the last dodie standing was lost in Manchester (no doubt thrown out of the pushchair by its owner) I said ok, no more. Let’s just go cold turkey. We expected all out war. Carnage. No sleep. Screaming baby. The works. But instead, when R asked for his dodie, we told him, ‘You lost it, Dodie all gone’, and he pretty much shrugged his little shoulders, accepted a cup of milk and fell asleep in front of the TV. The next day when he asked for it again I said ‘Dodie all gone, you lost it remember?’ and that was that.


S L E E P:

So the way these things seem to go, one update I am like CAN I GET AN AMEN UP IN HERE. And in the next update I am begging Starbucks to sponsor me.

But, let’s get real yo. Sleep has actually levelled out A LOT in the past three months. And by levelled out I mean, he has slept through FOUR TIMES PEOPLE. Not in row, but four full nights sleep after a year and a half of pure sleep deprived torture is sweet sweet nectar from the gods. We are currently in a pretty stable routine. He goes to bed about eight / half eight(yes it was earlier but the clocks going back is a real head fuck HUH?) and then sleeps until 5.45 precisely with just one or two wake ups, that maybe take half an hour in total to settle.

I can hear some of you grimacing at that but honestly, by R’s account that is heavenly sleep right there.

And as for me, well I no longer have a Clinique counter budget so I am happy for any respite my under eye bags are given.

T A L K I N G:

In my last update I was trying not to worry about R’ speech, and as usual with a little bit more time he has proven I had absolutely nothing to worry about. At the moment he literally has a new word every day, and is even stringing two together ‘all gone’, ‘more please’ ‘bye bye’. It’s bloody amazing, even if he does say ‘piss’ for ‘please’ – it’s AMAZING.

R A T E S:

His welly boots.

Playing in the Garden.

His wooden bricks now he can (finally!) build a tower.

Swapping forks with Mummy so I have to eat with a tiny plastic one and he gets the big proper one.

Copying everything we do.

H A T E S:

His pushchair.

EVERYTHING. Judging by how many times he says ‘NO’ in a day anyway.

M U M M Y  N E E D S:

A haircut, my post partum hair loss has finally grown in and to a decent length so I need a good mop chop!



How’s Flexible Working, Working For My Family?

flexible working.jpgAs I’m sitting here tappity tapping, and on the old Instagram snappity snapping I’ve realised that there’s a pretty big part of my life that I don’t  talk about that much. WORK.  Before becoming a Mum, work was just something I did. I enjoyed it, the people were nice and Monday mornings always a bitch amiright? But since becoming a Mum, I’ve become much more work aware – about work/life balance, flexible working, having a healthy mental approach to work, and creating a positive workplace environment.

The biggest ‘actual’ change since I started work, is that I now work four days a week instead of five, so lets start with that…


Flexible Working

First of all: what is flexible working? It is broadly defined on the UK Government website as ‘way of working that suits an employee’s needs, for example having flexible start and finish times, or working from home.’  It is also available ‘for all employees, not just parents.’

That being said, it isn’t something I was ever aware of before I became a parent.  I didn’t know that you could apply for flexible working in order to find a work/life balance that suits both you and your employer. That being said, across the UK, despite it being law since 2014 for anyone to be able to request flexible working, nearly 9 million employees would like to take advantage of it but due to their workplace policies, or job requirements, don’t have this option.

And, as a parent, I can see through my life and talking to other parents I know, that this is ridiculous. Nursery fees are bloody extortionate. The average commute time in the UK is 46 minutes, which adds up to a near ten hour work day. If both parents are in the office, not only is this cripplingly expensive, but there’s not a lot of family time left after working, sleeping and swearing at Northern Rail.

I believe that the concept of the ‘9-5 work day’ is very outmoded; it doesn’t suit modern life, it doesn’t suit family life, and for the largely office-based percentage of the working population – as long as you have wifi, I’m sure you could be ticking your way through your to-do list at home, in bed in your pyjamas or at a cramped and sweaty soft play cafe and no-one would be any the wiser.

What are our arrangements

D and I are extremely fortunate in that D’s parents, R’s grandparents, live close by and are happy to help out with childcare during the week. However they too have commitments so at the moment R is with his grandparents three days a week, a childminder one day a week, and then I take a day off to spend with R.

The reasons for doing this are twofold, firstly childcare is expensive. Even clocking in at the cheaper end of the scale we pay £40 a day for R to be at the childminders, even if he was only in there two days a week the resulting £640 bill a month would be a big chunk out of our wages. My wages for working that extra day would literally just cover the cost of someone else taking care of our child.

The biggest, and I mean above and beyond everything else, second reason  is that I get to spend one whole day a week just me and my child. Whilst that day might be a never ending run of dirty nappies, tantrums, and trying to catch up on the laundry  – even at its worst, it’s the best.

Honestly, those days with R are incredible.

How have I found working four days instead of five?

Now I’m not going to lie – at the moment my days off with R are the best days of my week. We tend to spend the morning at home, playing in the garden, reading, or running round the living room together. Whilst he naps, I will get on with pre-planned blog work. Writing content, scheduling tweets, or setting up the self timer and taking photos. Then once he’s up it is time for lunch, and a trip out – to the park, library, or sometimes into Manchester. Then late afternoon is for gardening together, tackling chores, and I’ll often try to take some more photos before cooking dinner.

Once R has gone to bed my evening is a continuation of the day. Whether that be finishing off blog posts, editing photos, or getting crafty and finishing off DIY jobs in the house. Whatever happens I finish those Tuesdays feeling calm, productive and very, very happy.

On the other hand, work…. I joke, I joke. I do actually bloody love my job ( I’m a wedding and events coordinator) and the venues that we have are genuinely so beautiful, my sales spiel is very easy. However it has taken a bit of adjusting to make four days work well.

Initially the day I had off with R was probably the worst day of the week to pick. It was a Friday which mean that every week I missed the week ahead meeting, which might be the only chance you get to see other managers that week. At the end of a three day weekend I would always feel out of sorts, and spend the first part of the morning doing my own little ‘week-ahead’ meeting, with just myself LOL, to remind me what was upcoming.

I’ve now switched to Tuesdays off, which seems to make my week flow a lot easier, and it means that it is Wednesday and hump day before I know it!

One thing that I have found has changed is that my attitude has shifted towards work slightly. Whilst previously I might have stayed an hour late on an evening if the inbox was overflowing and I had lots of work to get through, now I am like nope, not happening, Instead of staying late to finish something off, I’ll pick up the phone or fire off an email to my client telling them ‘ Oh Hi Sharon, it’s Rebecca here, I’ve got your email and am in the middle of putting together your quote but I will pick it up and email you first thing in the morning, have a lovely evening.’

Equally if Sharon’s at the bottom of the list and I have a lot more pressing stuff to do, I’ll tell her that as well and give her a realistic time frame when I will sort her out (oo-errr).

So guys, that was a really exciting explanation of effective time management wasn’t it?

But seriously, sometimes it’s not about putting in the hours – it’s what you do with them.

So is flexible working, working for us?

HELL YEAH! I think if we didn’t have grandparents to help out I would have only worked three days a week, and sometimes I do feel a little sad that a large chunk of R’s week isn’t with me. However, work is a good thing for me, and for the family financially.

It has made me realise however, that for many parents this one on one time with their children is limited to weekends and however many days holiday you can squeeze out of your employer. I wish it was more widely acceptable and available, and known about.

Not just for parents either. Maybe on a Wednesday morning you would really like to go to a class, learn French and then get a good long run in for a marathon you are training for? Or would like to leave work early on a Friday to travel and see your family, pick your niece up from school?

I think we all have things that are actually, a lot more important to us, and that we would treasure more than spending yet another hour in a meeting that probably most definitely could have been an email.

And if all employers (and employees) wake up to that, we would be a happier, lot more productive workforce.



Ps. For anyone wanting to know more about flexible working, then have a read of THIS and THIS.

Baby Led Weaning – One Year On

Baby Led Weaning

Holy fizzuck folks. I am probably going to start every blog post about R from now until forever with this sentence but seriously… WHERE DOES THE TIME GO? One year ago R moved on from his sweet sweet life of milky booby goodness and was introduced to the exciting world of solid food. Which he took to like a baby shark (do do doooo do do do) promptly gnashing his way through everything from sweet potatoes to steak. Of course there was still some milky booby goodness alongside this, but man that boy LOVES his food.

We waited until R was six months old for two reasons, it’s in keeping with the current NHS guidelines, and we wanted to do baby led weaning (BLW) – for which babies should be hitting certain milestones which happen more or less round the six month mark. If you haven’t read my previous post on BLW, then here’s a quick recap on what it’s all about.

BLW differs from traditional weaning in that baby eats what the family eats. Low salt and low sugar but essentially the same meal. No purees, no mashing, no blending up roast dinners – from the start they are given ‘proper’ food. Whilst it might be smushed, and mushed before eventually reaching their mouth, they learn to eat independently from the start.

Whilst over the past year I’ve had raised eyebrows over my yoghurt streaked walls, and days where I have literally wept at how often I have been on my knees wiping the floor, BLW is one of the best decisions we have made as a family. So for those of you who are currently wondering how the fuck you are going to rescue a blackberry stained babygrow, or a bib that has gone mouldy because it fell under the washing basket whilst covered in shepard’s pie (yes, that may have been me) then here’s a recap of our past twelve months.

BLW – 6-9 months

Ok, so this part is absolutely AMAZING. You get to see your baby experience the first tastes of different foods and watching your six month old pick something up and guide it determinedly to their mouth is MINDBLOWING. R took to food with no problem whatsoever, so at this stage I was loving experimenting with different bakes, different flavours, everything was so much fun to see him try.

I really enjoyed the initial stages of baby led weaning, there was no worries about what time it was and if he ‘had’ to eat. I didn’t bother introducing foods or tastes one by one (obviously if there were any concerns about allergies, or a family history of allergies I would have proceeded more slowly) I just gave him what we were having when we were having it.

But OH GOD the mess. The mess. You just have to move past it and accept it as part of the ride. Not so easy to do when on your knees scrubbing at a beige carpet and thinking ‘there goes my damage deposit’. Trust me guys. It gets better.

BLW- 9-12 months

As the hand-eye coordination improves, and the dexterity improves so did R’s ability to eat! The ‘pincer grip’ between finger and thumb is something you can really SEE develop as they go from picking up a fistful of peas, to picking them up delicately one at a time.

He also started walking, and I have fond memories of his first birthday where he toddled around our house which was crammed full of people, and every person he walked up to gave him a treat. He must of eaten so much cake that day – but hey it’s a birthday!

Teething really hit us hard at this point, and there were a couple of weeks where he didn’t seem to want his food. I actually think that BLW helped me feel calm throughout this as I would offer him a choice of food (maybe cereal, fruit and yoghurt) for his breakfast, and if he ate the yoghurt  I would offer him more of that. I don’t know if this is the right way to approach things, but R was still drinking his milk so I just hoped he would start eating when he wanted to… which he did!


BLW 12-15 months

During this time I went back to work, and our new routine kicked in. Three meals a day, and R has two/three snacks a day depending on what he is up to.

He also started at the childminders, where he will have lunch, and once a week dinner. Unsurprisingly he loves eating there, we often hear that he has hoovered up another child’s leftovers. It’s actually really interesting seeing what he picks up from eating at another family home, they had soup one day and our lovely childminder taught him to dip the bread in it to soak it up… and now he LOVES dipping stuff. As you can tell by the main picture… his gingerbread man has just taken a dunk in the milk he is now downing.

It is also around this time that I noticed the food to face ratio went down drastically! YAY ALL PRAISE THE WASHING MACHINE GODS. Of course things still do get pretty messy but not to the revolting state they were before.

One small worry I did have was  regarding cutlery, R still seemed to prefer his hands most of the time and I thought he should be using a spoon at least. I began to think that OMG BLW HAS TAUGHT HIM TO EAT WITH HIS HANDS. I have raised a Mowgli child, what have I done. However…

BLW 15-18 months

…now R eats confidently with not only a spoon, but a fork as well! It just suddenly seemed to click, and since the beginning of this year he has been getting better and better. Now I’m not going to pretend the kid knows his way round a silver service, but he can eat a shepard’s pie followed by a petit filous fairly tidily, no problem.

And I just sit there in awe, gawping at this child of mine stabbing peas with a fork!

However just as the eating is cracked, we learn to talk. And NO is his favourite word. NO to baths, NO to juice, NO to bedtime, and NO to food…. back to yoghurt streaked walls it is!

All in all, honestly though, there’s been ups and downs like I guess there is with every aspect of parenting. However BLW, involving R in our meals and letting him eat and try what he wants has made me feel very relaxed about mealtimes. I want him to enjoy food, to have a positive attitude towards food – and I feel like so far, it might have been a messy ride, but it’s been a fun one.

Have any of you done BLW? How are your children with food now?



10 Things You Miss When You Have a Toddler

1.Taking a shit in peace.Yeah, I said it. Whilst a lengthy twenty-five minute crap is the occupation of my better half I do still miss the days when I could poop without a little voice enquiring Mama? MAMA? MAMAAAAAA?! Or dodging toys that R is throwing over the baby gate at me, now that makes for an exciting toilet trip – avoiding flying wooden blocks whilst wiping.

2.Spontaneous drinks after work. Hell spontaneous supermarket trips after work. Spontaneous ANYTHING. If D or I want a night out with friends, then it is pencilled into the calendar months in advance and childminder drop offs and pick ups are negotiated on a, ‘well if you leave early today, you can stay late next week and I’ll do bath and bed time’ basis. Meanwhile if we want a night out together, it’s a full scale military operation. On Friday we went home from work at the same time and popped into Waitrose saying how nice it was strolling down the veg aisle child-free, only to receive a call from Granddad (that day’s childcare) checking when we would be back and reminding us to get milk. Trѐs romantic.

3.Morning Sex. Literally, I could not tell you the last time we had sex that was not very quietly after R has gone to bed. We don’t ever need to set an alarm, he wakes us up at precisely 6am every morning, so there’s nary a chance for sleepy spooning. LOL who am I kidding, if R slept for an extra half hour on a morning, we too would be snoring our heads off.

4.Charging your phone. Hmm, so this might not be a problem anyone else faces, but my child is OBSESSED with cables and plugs. So a phone charger is a double whammy. If it ever needs charging in the day, I have to smuggle it downstairs and plug my phone in secretly behind the sofa. And if he spots it, there are shrieks of excitement and next thing you know he is carrying my charger round trying to plug it in to other plugs. Not ok. I’m just living life on the edge over here with a battery permanently at 5%.

5.Not being Ill. Oh man, guys I cannot emphasise this enough.  We spent a solid two months sick at the beginning of this year, R picked up bugs everywhere he went – especially at the childminders/playgroup and then quickly passed them on to me and D. Wahoo. Shout out to the particularly memorable weekend where we all had the shits. When people talk about ‘making memories’ and #blessed, they fail to mention how you will end up laid on your child’s bedroom floor whilst they wreck it around you, praying that a) they can amuse themselves with a packet of wetwipes until your partner gets home and b) that you don’t shit yourself because no matter how many times you wipe your toddler’s arse, they ain’t gonna reciprocate that favour.

6.All your favourite TV programmes. Where weekday evenings were once for binging on Netflix until an indecent hour, now after the laundry has been folded, the toys put away and the general chaos tackled (read: put into the kitchen to deal with tomorrow) me and D are far to shattered to tackle anything more than a couple of light episodes of The Office (US version guys, c’mon!) Or maybe a film at the weekend. Suffice to say we are now so far behind with all our favourite shows that our TV schedule for the next year at least is already sorted.

7.Having clean trousers. There is nothing R likes more than grabbing my trousers and swinging from them, wiping his nose in passing as he goes. Cue me trying to pick bogeys discreetly off my mid-thigh area under the desk at work.

8.Your chic grown up living room. Those of you with a playroom in your house, now you truly are the chosen ones. The rest of us have had to remove anything delicate, or breakable up up and away out of little arms reach and our living rooms are slowly being taken over by brightly coloured toy detritus. One day I’ll get a bar cart and have a set up of spirits and glass decanters worthy of Emily Gilmore – but for now I’ll spend my days in Ikea buying yet more Kallaxes to try and store some of the mountains of toys in!

9.Space on your phone. It was bad enough when as a new born every single little squishy face and outfit was adorable but now… well when they are doing something hilarious you obviously have to video it! And take pictures. And more pictures! And another quick video to send to your parents on Whatsapp.  And toddlers are hilarious ALL THE TIME. Before you know it your phone is flashing a message at you to say it is ‘dangerously low on storage’, and you delete all your old selfies so you don’t ever have to look at how young and thin you once were.

10.Squishy new born babies. I think this is why there’s quite often a two year gap between siblings. Because they get to the human wrecking ball stage and you think awwwww remember when all they did was sleep on your chest and breathe sweet milky breath and not destroy anything? LETS HAVE ANOTHER AND NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.

 Hurrah! Not that we are planning another one but I definitely get all the feels when I see a scrunched up little froggy baby. What do you think guys? Anything I have missed?



Do You Forget the Pain of Labour?

Do you Remember labour pain

It was a poll on an Instagram story that got me thinking about this – do you forget the pain of labour? When you are pregnant, sat with a group of mums whilst you cradle your round tummy – especially if it’s your first, I think the stories are always shrouded with a bit of ‘don’t scare the poor girl’. Now I’ve had a baby, those same mothers have told me of stitches splitting, piles, and the gnarly recovery process.

However – interestingly, the pain aspect of it isn’t looked back on so much. The details that were left out when you were a naïve never-birthed-before focus on the messy realities, but not the pain.

For myself, this question was brought into play when a month or so ago I was brought up short by really bloody awful period pains. The kind where you find yourself rocking back and forth to try and lessen the cramps, and a hot water bottle might as well be surgically attached for your stomach.

Pain killers weren’t touching the sides and I took myself off for an early night, had a pain and hormone induced little weep into my pillow feeling very sorry for myself and very sad at the clichéd weepy bloated mess I was currently embodying.

As I munched through some emergency mini eggs hidden in my bedside drawer I started doing some deep breathing exercises and told myself not to be such a coward, I had pushed a baby out not that long ago.

But that’s the thing. When I look back at giving birth to R (which you can read all about here), its not the pain that I remember.

I remember my waters breaking, I vividly remember how that feels, how it happened, and frantically googling to see if I had just wet myself or if it was actually my waters breaking.

I remember the early stages, remember how I kept waddling up and down the stairs to the bathroom, before deciding it was the comfiest place to be and decamping upstairs.

I remember when I was told to call an ambulance how panicked and confused I felt, and how sure I was that the baby was going to be born in the bedroom.

I remember that Danny didn’t know where we kept the towels.

I remember the jolts of the ambulance ride, and the prickle of fear when they switched on the sirens.

I remember being happy to be buttnaked in the birthing suite.

I remember the sweat running down my body, I remember how much effort went into pushing only to be told he was stuck.

I remember being told they were going to give me an episiotomy and me thinking, fuck no you wont – and like that pushing him out.

And I remember the amazing warm, wet, ALIVE feeling of birthing a baby and having him plonked on your chest,  blood and shit (his not mine, thanks) everywhere.

But the pain? I look back now and think, hmm yeah I know it was painful and I will never forget the effort that went into pushing. But that was a pain more like running for miles and miles is painful. Your lungs burn and your body aches and you want to lie down and stop but you know you are getting somewhere.

And that’s a pretty shit analogy and I am sure it hurt a lot more then that, but trying to remember my labour – especially the pushing stage, that is all I can compare it to. It was a whole body effort, there is nothing before or since which has pushed my body to those levels of endurance but the pain aspect of it, I can’t remember that so clearly.

The sensations that I remember are exactly that – sensations. The cramps, the sweat, the pacing, the pressure. Not pain exactly.

However, I do remember a couple of moments of pain really clearly. One is having local anaesthetic injected into my perineum and the other is being stitched up after birth. I felt every single stitch that was put in me, and I am actually clenching at the memory.

I find it really odd that the things I remember as painful are ‘foreign’, if that makes sense?

It’s not a sensation I am unfamiliar with though,  whilst I aren’t scared of needles the ‘invasion’ is something that I find my body reacts really strongly too. Similarly having my blood pressure taken always takes two or three tries because as soon as I feel that cuff tighten I start to panic.

Is it a time thing? Is it just as time passes we forget? I don’t think so, because I can remember moments of pain, and also post-partum recovery very vividly.

I’m find this really interesting, writing this, and reading about other women looking back at their labour stories. Some remember it extremely vividly, where as others totally forget it.  It’s an extremely personal thing and can be affected by so many variables,. In particular  your mental state – the moments when I was panicked I felt like I couldn’t cope, and if more of the labour was like that (as it is for some) I am sure  I would have a totally different recollection of labour.

How do you remember your labour? Can you clearly remember the pain?



Staying Creative as a Mum

Being Creative as a MumCreative sounds so naff when I put it in a sentence, ‘being creative is incredibly important to me’ is the first line of many a crap art school CV. Well keeping creative and making things is something that means a lot to me. I write this blog, I draw, I do calligraphy, I paint with R, encourage him to make marks, we bake together and I like to cook new meals, trying out different ingredients. Creativity has many different forms – is something that is integral to many of us, but it’s also something I failed massively at when I became a mum.

The new born days. BLOODY HELL. Looking back I think I was totally overwhelmed, it was a good day when I had a shower and got the washing out of the machine to dry.  Things did start to get better, but practically, I felt like all my time was spent looking after R, trying to deal with the housework, or catching up on sleep. I honestly don’t know what I did to unwind, but it wasn’t anything creative. I didn’t read much, or do anything that really inspired me.

Before I started this blog, I knew for a long time that I wanted to start one up, that I wanted to write again. But I had nothing to draw from – I had everything that was going on in my life at that moment but had no concept of how to put it together.

Instagram and Twitter were amazing for me at this point; I started following other mums, other people doing also amazing things and began to get drawn into conversations. Conversations about motherhood, body positivity and being a new mum.

This led me (again through social media) to volunteer at Pregnant Then Screwed Live in May last year. For me I think this was a bit of a turning point, I felt like I was doing something purposeful even if it was only for a day. I listened to loads of amazing women, starting businesses campaigning for flexible working, basically being total bad-asses who also happened to be mums. All of these women were doing something creative, something positive, and were fitting it around the school run.

As soon as I started this blog up, right from the moment I put the first photo up of me in my pants holding baby R and writing about everything from post-partum periods to welcoming Spring, I began to realise just how much doing something creative and having a focus meant to me. It has impacted positively on my life, and given me the impetus  to get motoring on other things.

Where Do I Find Inspiration?

For me inspiration comes from all over. I write a lot about my life, especially since becoming a mum – and this inspiration comes from finding the humour in parenting, and talking about it honestly.

Outside of being a parent I find inspiration in many other places. One of these is just being outdoors (oh look – yet another blog post where I manage to fit in a reason why to get outside!), and I find different landscapes interest and provoke different ideas in me. It’s one of the reasons why I enjoy Manchester, and being in a city so much. There is always so much constantly changing to look at, the colours, textures and layers of history fascinate me.

Reading always inspires me, when I am really enjoying a book – one that makes me think, makes me look at something differently, or even just has a beautiful turn of phrase, I put it down and feel full of energy.

Magazines, and shops, and displays and just looking at shiny glittery newness inspires me. D calls me an advertisers wet dream because I see an awesome advert, or marketing campaign and think OMG YES THAT’S BLOODY BRILLIANT, GIMME GIMME. I then try to refrain from spending my money on whatever random product it is, but I have a folder full of adverts I’ve pulled from magazines just because I love them and they give me ideas.

I guess part of what Pregnant and The Screwed showed me, and LOL this is totally not what the event was about, but it made me realise you can’t be creative if you aren’t doing things that inspire you. I wasn’t spending the time to look at and read things that made me happy, made me think new ideas – not just that, but I wasn’t making time for them. For me to be really happy I needed to make the time for myself to read a magazine, read a book, go for a walk and a coffee by myself. Self care isn’t just taking the time to nurture your body, but your mind as well.

Fitting in Creative Time

One of the women really inspiring me at the moment is Jemma (Dorkface blog), who has taken maternity leave from her Etsy shop, and freelance art,  to welcome and settle into life with her gorgeous son. However despite this Jemma’s Instagram continues to be super bright and colourful, she’s created some awesome slogan tees and  her blog is killing it.  Recently on Instagram stories (and sorry Jemma if I am paraphrasing this awfully!) she was painting and talked about how being creative was self care. Good for the mind, which as we all know is something I feel very strongly about – taking care of yourself as a mum.

However, it can be bloody difficult to fit this in. I’m typing this as R is napping on the sofa between me and D, I’m writing and D is playing a videogame. But even if R wasn’t asleep I would be upstairs right now with my laptop and a coffee working on my blog. Because last night me and D agreed that I could spend today doing some writing whilst he looked after little munch, as next week me and R are going to my parent’s so D gets time on his own. Making sure we both get time to do what we want, as well as quality family time together has proved really successful so far, we both feel happier for having time to do our own things, as well as obviously spending plenty of time together as a family.

Not only this but you also have to get organised in order to maximise what time you do have whilst baby naps – and in  the newborn days this is SO BLOODY HARD – massive snaps to Jemma and to anyone else who manages to get anything done with a tiny baby! Since we have got into a more recognisable routine and I’ve know when and how long nap times are, I’ve pretty much planned them all out before the day has even begun. If I am painting/drawing, I’ll put together my materials the night before, if I am blogging I will have my notebooks together with my laptop, and if there’s housework to be done I will tackle that an area at a time so it gets done fast!

I also keep lists EVERYWHERE. Of photo ideas, DIY ideas, blog post ideas, what housework needs doing, you name it there’s a list for it. I jot them down as soon as I think of them, because if I am just too shattered that day after a rough night’s sleep, whereas before I could do whatever it is and nap later, now I have someone else to work round. Keeping running lists of ideas means they are there when I can come back to them.

And that’s also important. Part of parenthood is knowing that there will be times when all your plans turn to shit. Often, literally, shit. You might get nothing at all done that day and be too tired at the end of it to pick up a book, or read an article, or finish that blog post. But that’s ok. Have a brew, get what sleep you can, and face the next day with your game face and your positive pants on.



Our Favourite Books

World Book Day 2019

It’s World Book Day tomorrow, which means that in years to come I will be spending my night frantically crafting a wig out of tissue paper, or running to the nearest supermarket and praying that they have a kids costume left in R’s size. However tonight there’s no impending costume-day meltdowns, so I thought I would just talk to you about our favourite books.


Rebecca – Daphne du Maurier

Topping the list, and not just for the narcissistic thrill of carrying around a book with your name as the title, Rebecca is a book about death, love, gender and jealousy. The titular character is dead before the novel even starts, yet it is her character around which the plot and emotions swirl.

The protagonist is a naive young woman, who enters into a whirlwind romance with an older gentleman, Maxim de Winter, returning to his family home after a quick marriage and short honeymoon. Manderley, is an evocative dreamy place – polished to feminine perfection by the previous Mrs de Winter, Rebecca, who we discovered has died recently. The novel’s protagonist, who is never referred to by name, becomes obsessed with Rebecca, convinced she will never measure up to her.

A brilliant novel, is it odd if I start collecting copies?

The Passage – Justin Cronin

Vampirical apocalypse is what this novel is billed as, and right from the start you are know something catastrophic is going to happen. FBI Agent Wolgast is in charge of collecting death row prisoners who have been given the option to live out the rest of their lives in incarceration rather than lethal injection. These inmates are then used for experimentation by the government, who have discovered a virus – transmitted by vampire bats that can make humans disease-free and thus immortal. Whilst the term vampire is never used, the test subjects gain super strength, are virtually immune to attack and have a prodigious appetite for human flesh.

God knows, I love me some horror and this delivers it in buckets. One of the creepiest things I have ever read – it gave me nightmares. Now I know that’s not much of a recommendation, but if you like them dark and spooky this one’s for you.

 The Beach – Alex Garland

The Beach tells the story of Richard, a seasoned traveller who upon his first night on the Khao Sang Road, Bangkok, discovers the suicide of a follower traveller. The man, known only as Daffy Duck, leaves nothing but questions for the police and a hand-drawn map for Richard with directions to ‘The Beach’. ‘The Beach’ has become something of a legend amongst the young travelling community, for it is the home to a select group who are living beyond the reach of tourism on an elusive island. For Richard, plagued with half-memories of the glamour of Vietnam war movies visiting unknown Thai territory is irresistible. Alongside a young French couple he ventures into the forbidden land of the Thai national park, encountering drug barons and sharks on his quest for the ultimate traveller’s paradise.

On past readings I’ve enjoyed the hazy nature of this book, the travelling tales of a destination to good to be true. However each time I return to it I find something more to uncover, a different character to be interested in – meaning this is a firm favourite and one I’ll be reading over and over again!

11/22/63 – Stephen King

The first of many Stephen King novels I have read, this one is a story of time-travel and a man who journeys back in time in an attempt to prevent the assassination of John F Kennedy. However the past is resistant to it’s own future being changed, and twists events to suit its own path.

Whilst this is a bit of a best of a book, it is also the most borrowed one on my shelves (in fact it’s currently out on loan) so  if you have never read a  Stephen King novel before it’s a good place to start.


World Book Day 2019 Our favourite books



Spot the Dog Goes to the FarmEric Hill

Absolute Classic. Everyone needs a bit of Spot the Dog in their lives. Spot’s dad takes him to the farmyard to find some baby animals, but they have a bit of trouble finding them! R loves this because the flaps reveal the different animals. It’s a great introduction to not only animals, but also the names for their babies as well.

Hide and Seek Pig – Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler

This duo have the market cornered when it comes to children’s books, with their rhymes and cute woodland characters. If you haven’t heard of the Gruffalo, Room on the Broom or Stick Man then you must have been living under a rock… or maybe you just don’t have children!

The plot line is pretty simple, Hen hides from Pig, Pig seeks for Hen but can’t find her in any of the obvious hiding places – instead discovering a whole host of friends! It’s not one for me but R loves that the hide and seek flaps are all different shapes and sizes – great fun for little fingers.

Owl Babies – Martin Waddel & Patrick Benson

This is a beloved family tale, so when I saw a special edition I was charmed and immediately forked out for it, delighted to share the story with my own son. He immediately ripped the heads off the pop up owls and bent the cover. However despite the now disfigured owls, R loves this book.

It follows the story of three baby owls that wake up to find their owl mother gone. Each of the owls has a distinctly different character, and we love making different voices for each baby owl. If your toddler is of a less destructive bent then mine I would recommend the special edition as it really is a beautiful addition to any nursery.


The Dinosaur that Pooped Daddy – Tom Fletcher & Dougie Poynter

We were initially introduced to this series by ‘The Dinosaur That Pooped Christmas however after reading out loud about Santa Claus zooming out of a dinosaur’s bottom twenty times a day I had to stash that one away until December. And then this one became the new favourite…

Whilst R doesn’t get the bum humour yet, he does like counting down the items that daddy has left behind when the dinosaur eats him, which is also a countdown to the dinosaur pooping daddy out again! I think this one will be a favourite for years to come.

The SS: A New History – Adrian Weale

Well I can’t say that we have read this one, but R drags it from the bookcase every single day and brings it to me waving and pointing for my attention. It could be that he has a blossoming future as a historian, but I think the reason is the same one as to why he also loves the DVD copy we have of Die Hard. Both have large photos of men on their covers, and R likes to kiss their faces and say dada. (no, YOUR ovaries are exploding).

What are you reading this World Book Day?