Month: May 2016

A note to a new mother. Mum to a mum.

Motherhood, whilst it stumbles along slowly in those first few exhausted weeks has flown by for me in a haze of being; being patient, being tired, being proud, being angry, being loved. My son is five, five, I have to catch my breath form the storm of emotions that number brings forward in my chest.

I blinked for a moment…

My beautiful son is confronting the years with delighted gusto whilst I hastily try and hold onto the time we have together, it falls through my fingers like fine sand. I am still skipping through being a ‘tryer’ and a ‘coper’..I wake daily to my mummy role more confident with the fact I don’t have all the answers. The idea of a ‘perfect’ mother has long been put on a high shelf with the dusty parenting books and although the thought of her still unnerves me she no longer stands next to me in the mirror to compare to. You cannot compare yourself to fiction.

I was thinking what advice would I give to new mummy me, how frightened and overwhelmed she was, how determined and vulnerable. So I wrote this post for the first time mothers who rely on Google and calling their own mothers at two am, and the seasoned mothers that will remember and nod that gave their reassurance and wisdom so generously to me.

Writing for wellbeing, an Orsolya Hernold guided journal review.

I have never kept a diary and yet, started blogging because I found writing freeing, a cathartic means of letting go, of expressing my thoughts and feelings, black text on white pages granting me a different, clearer perspective on things. In simple if I have a shitty day writing about it with a cup of tea makes me breathe easier, promotes positive emotional wellbeing and makes me more mindful of myself. It is also healthier than comfort scoffing a snickers in 3 seconds.

‘I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.’

— Anne Frank

When I was offered to review a guided journal created by Orsolya Hernold I jumped at the opportunity. It is a little different from the family friendly products I usually feature but this journal I picked for me, for my likes and wants. A journal will take my emotional outbursts with gentle silence and not criticise for my terrible grammar. I have a five year olds and therefore have a LOT of emotional outbursts to manage, both my own and his.


Start your engines. Stickibox craft kit. The cardboard car.

This post is about a box, and a boy, and all the good things that came from it…


Seeing Leo running around the lawn grasping a box that was increasingly getting covered in grass stains led me back down the dusty memories of childhood; I found myself hit with a feeling of nostalgia. I was once a master of the imaginary game, my sensory world when I was little being mud, water and trees.

We are an adventurous family, love the outdoors, being active and doing things together but today’s children have a new element in their lives.  Technology has an impact, there is no denying it and this post is not to argue for or against it; but I will say given the chance Leo would pick screen time over most other activities (we are strict with his time but understand it will be part of the currency of his life; as young as I feel I am yesterday’s child.)

Thinking of the dad I never had before father’s day and what a dad means to my son.

I have a father, obviously, it is a biological must for procreation. (Unless my mother is some kind of reproduction wizard, or is a biblical dungarees wearing miracle.) My dad and I don’t talk, are strangers in the street, created no sepia toned memories and he has never had the joy of seeing my son’s crooked smile.

My parents separated when I was a baby, my mum left the house with me and little else. We went back to my maternal family and he faded from my life swiftly after it had begun. I grew up in Powys amongst grass and sky, spending most of my time on a farm on a hill.  I am ever grateful for having the childhood of a country girl, everything was outside, everyone was your friend or your family, and everywhere had a sense of security (except for electric fences, deep ponds and standing behind grandad’s horses.) As a child I did not know different and this green stage of childhood was unappreciated. As a teen I, of course, hated all of these things, but as a woman looking back across the years, I can only be grateful and glad.

When I was younger I don’t recall any apparent pangs of ‘missing out’, it was me, my mum and when I was six, my little brother (who is now six-foot-huge). I also have no memories of the time where his dad was with us, even when I scrunch my eyes and urge my brain to try. I learnt that father’s leave and that my mother could do everything.  There is no anger left, time has taught me that parenthood is hard.


A grainy piece of 1994. Mummy and me.


Five places a Mummy blogs. My best ‘blog spots’ (That is not an innuendo).

Welcome to my blogging life, it may need some refinement. .


Yes I doodled a badly proportioned me sitting on the toilet Tweeting. Classy. 

1)The bathroom oddly enough is my social media headquarters. Though I don’t have a fluffy white cat to stroke. Good thing for the cat. I sit in that tiled room of blissful silence, perched on the loo (seat down) and have a quick scroll through Twitter. I retweet at speed. I get about four minutes before little hands tap on the door, ‘MUUUUMY are you pooing again?’ I think he believes I have bowel problems. Nope I just have no peace and quiet problems…Harassment problems…Five year old problems. The bath is a good place for reading, though the opportunity is a rare thing. It is risky practice, no one wants a submerged I Phone. I have to wait till Leo is doing his little snuffle-snore or he will wake up and try and climb in in his Spiderman onesie. Note: You have to put a towel by the bath as every half hour your screen gets too steamy to focus and you may end up Tweeting #hgfgsgjsfh.



Have a FANTASTIC LUSH Cosmic Box on us. Smell awesome. I want it. Cosmic_6634-1

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A parent’s patience. Do I have enough, do I do enough, and am I enough?

My son is five. It is fantastic. It is frustrating, I am flipping exhausted. The soundtrack to my days is, mum, mum, mum?! In a growingly persistent little voice.



My little boy has a lot of energy and struggles to focus, when he was younger someone suggested he was teetering on the periphery of a behavioural disorder. That or I was feeding him IV caffeine and glucose. All he wants is my time; mum, mum, mum, but time it races by like a river after the rain and I struggle to stay afloat. It flies in an endless quantity of hasty happenings. He never stops and always wants more; more fun, more snacks, more talk, more entertaining, I am breathless with keeping up. There’s painting, and pirate role-playing, and inquiries about planets. We skip, we play snap and we sing.


It is amazing and filled with love and laughter, but keeping it up for five hours is impossible without coffee.

Mum, mum mum, through the night, even in sleep he demands I be near him. I wake early and get dressed, get Leo up, reluctantly post his limbs into the correct holes in his uniform, feed him..fight over eating crusts, drive to school then straight to work, then straight back to school for pick up time, he has a snack and we go to whatever class is on that evening.

Is it a gym night, or a swim night, did I pack the right bag?

Mum, mum, mum!

Protect your little treasure. A creative way of keeping your children safe.

Last Wednesday I arrived at school, early as usual, pulled out my phone and sipped from my lukewarm bottle of water. The windows were rolled down as far as they could go.  Outside it was sunny with a timid breeze. Between work and school pick up is my allocated Twitter time, twenty minutes of quiet reading opportunity where I belly laugh to myself, knees resting on the steering wheel..probably looking rather deranged to any passers-by.

At ten to three I slowly wander through the playground, smiling and nodding at other mums and dad’s, waving to little ones toddling past grasping their hands. Outside the classroom I chat with the parents of my son’s schoolfellows, we huddle round the door trading sleep stories and where we have found the cheapest uniform.

Our little ones see us, small eager faces squash up against the window as they mouth inaudible things. Leo is normally delightedly saying, ‘I didn’t do any fighting!’ with a face covered in lunch, mud and occasionally red felt tip pen. I love seeing his delight when he sees me. He comes out, herded by the teacher in a sea of small people, tiny under coats, water bottles and book bags. Occasionally there will be an incomprehensible drawing on crunched up paper that is proudly presented.


A serious thought…

Working Parent Blogger nomination. Vote Jungle.




A lot of parents work. Parenting takes a lot of work. A lot of parents deserve this award so I am going to struggle to create a post that both conveys my immense gratitude at being nominated and my pride and respect for every other working parent out there that has one foot in the playground and one in the office…Hats off to everyone else that heads off to work with porridge in their hair and Lego in their pockets.


I am late writing this post, actually I am in my pyjamas hastily typing from a sofa bed somewhere in Wimbledon desperately trying to find Wi-Fi (I am not a city girl). I took two days off work and left my son with the OH (for the first time) and came for a fleeting and rare friend visit in the big smoke. It is good to take a break from juggling so many brightly coloured balls. Why is this relevant? I had a time-out because I have been struggling with being an at-work mummy recently so this nomination comes at a perfect time, it’s like a digital cuddle that says, you are doing ok. Actually you are frigging amazing and deserve a snickers.

Guest Post: Life with Two Boys and a Dog

A beautiful guest post that I fell in love with as a farm girl in the city, who is missing the  unaffected companionship of animals…


Being a single working mother of a four year old and an eight year old is not an easy task, especially when they are two hyperactive boys. I’ve never expected my life to be the way it turned out to be, but the only option I had was to accept my situation and make the best of it. My boys are golden, but they can be a handful. I am still in awe of all the energy they have, given that they go to school, have their sports activities and play outside in our back yard a lot.



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