The Power of Music

I never really gave much stock to the playing music to them in the womb thing. Sure, I tried it, didn’t really get much of a response at all to any music, barring a night when 8 months pregnant, stood fairly close to the DJ booth in a packed nightclub, with baba going mental to some song that was in the charts at the time. So I didn’t quite go full hung ho into the playing Mozart to E in the womb, in the hopes of him attaining 625 points the second he got into secondary school. He listened to what I listened to, which seemed to be mixture of sappy love songs, pop songs from the 90s and some Dubstep when his daddy decided that was what he should be exposed to from day one. Read More

Strongly Worded Letter to the 8 week vaccinations

Dear Vaccinations against horrible diseases I would never wish my son to get,

You are horrible folk. Yes I understand your intentions are noble. You wish to rid my son of the chance to get diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough, polio, hepatitis B and HiB, and then some. I appreciate this intent, truly, those are rather horrible illnesses to get and I’m plenty sure that his standard of living is for the better to not experience them.  Read More

The Road to “Yummy Mummy”

I’ve never been particularly thin or athletic-built, I was always that girl with the big chest and a few extra pounds, curvy if you will. My weight has gone up and down over the years but I’ve never taken all that many steps to change it. I wasn’t fully happy with how I looked some of the time, but I can say that it wasn’t against massive efforts to combat it.  Read More

The War Against Mammy

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My little fella is finally growing into normal, non premature baby, clothes sizes. Which gives us a lot more choice thankfully, because as cute as the tiny dungarees we got in Tesco were, after 8 weeks we were getting a little tired of the same four outfits! I’ve become one of those people who finds it difficult to walk past the baby section in any clothes shop, or Tesco, without picking up a little top, or dungarees, or cardigan (I really need to stop with the super cute cardigans, we are not getting cold enough weather for the gorgeous tiny things I pick up!). In my quest to fill my sons life with the cutest of the cute clothes that now finally fit him, I’ve discovered a prejudice against Mammy.  Read More

10 Things I’ve Learned as a New Mammy

Going from LearnerMama‘s Blog Linky, “Ten things I’ve learned as a Mother”, I’ve decided to add my list of discoveries of the last eight weeks to the pile. Being a new Mammy has certainly been a journey of discovery, and while I’m fully aware this is only the beginning, I feel like its been a hell of an education so far. Eight weeks, ten things, here we go.

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Wonder weeks aren’t so wonderful

Currently staring at the gorgeous sleeping tiny tyrant that is my son. Today he is gorgeous and lovely. Yesterday he was enacting his Guantanamo Bay torture techniques upon me, in what I can only hope was the tail end of the first of the wonder weeks; wonder week number one. At seven weeks (corrected age four and a half weeks) it’s due, so here’s hoping that is what that is, or I may be liable for a tantrum on that scale myself.Wonder Weeks - Parenting - Four Walls, Rainy Days Read More

They’re Cute when you can hand them back

I’ve slept in the last twelve hours. For about five of them. Not only that, I’ve had breakfast, and a shower, and am about to make a cup of tea and sit down to hopefully manage to get all of it drank (certainly should if he stays asleep until he’s due his next feed). I may even get to put on a wash and therefore have clean jeans tomorrow. For this reason, my son is gorgeous to me right now. He’s asleep in his car seat, making little grunting noises all snuggled up in his sleep suit and big blanket, and he is divinely gorgeous.  Read More

Welcome to Exhaustion

10 days old, madly in love, but dear god the exhaustion.

We’re at home being looked after by my parents while waiting for the paternity leave to start. Recovering from a c-section in a house that doesn’t have stairs, with extra help with the night time wake ups is something else entirely. Furthermore its outside of the institutionalisation of the hospital. Never thought I’d be so glad to not have Weetabix for breakfast (still getting the toast!). Read More