Curled up safe – as horror unfolded in Manchester
My sweet boy,
As the bomb at Manchester Arena detonated on Monday night, you had just woken up.
As I shushed you and cuddled you, other mothers were finding themselves in a living nightmare.
As you eventually went back to sleep, tucked up in bed with me, news of the deaths of little ones, just a few years older than you was starting to spread.
When we woke it was to the horror that 22 people were dead – that a pop concert, that was packed with youngsters, had been targeted by terrorists.
I’ve been cuddling you just a touch tighter ever since. Continue reading
Prosecco and a newborn: And I deserved every sip
This week, so-called “slummy mummies” have come in for a bit of a lambasting.
Authors of books such as Hurrah for Gin and the Unmumsy Mum (who I adore) have been decried by a national newspaper for sharing their exploits of feeding their toddlers frozen fish fingers, swigging gin from baby cups and potty mouthed ranting about their kids online.
Which, as a mama and coming hot on the heels of mental health awareness week, rather makes my blood boil.
Being a mum is hard. Don’t get me wrong, I ADORE being a mother. Sonny Jim is truly all my oh-so-long awaited dreams come true. But I’m not superwoman – try as I may. Continue reading
Starting him young – I want Sonny Jim to be sea safe
What are the most important lessons we teach our children?
Don’t talk to strangers. Look both ways before you cross the road. Don’t tell lies.
How about learning to swim?
As the weather (finally!) starts warming up again, and Whit Monday and the summer holidays inch ever closer, we’re likely to be making the most of our beaches with our little ones.
And with all the fun to be had by the shore, it’s easy to forget just how dangerous it can be.
Drowning is the third highest cause of accidental death of children in the UK. More than 400 people accidentally drown in the UK every year – that’s one every 20 hours. Continue reading
A long time coming: Our little Sonny Jim
Two years ago, much of May was spent fretting about having a bit of an awkward conversation with my boss.
After almost a decade of trying for a baby, my husband and I were about to have IVF.
Six rounds of clomid and three rounds of IUI – despite there being nothing medically wrong with either of us – still hadn’t resulted in a baby, so we had finally been referred to Barts, St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London.
We were lucky. This was before the cut backs the NHS is now suffering. We were entitled to up to three rounds of IVF on the NHS. We didn’t have to face decisions like donating my eggs to fund our own fertility treatment. We just had to think about us. Continue reading
You probably won’t remember me. Though I’m sure there’s no such thing as a typical birth, my little boy’s was happily uneventful in the medical sense. There was no real drama. He was safely delivered just as your shift was ending, after a fairly long labour. He was healthy. And I was well. There was and is no real reason for you to remember me.
But we will never forget you.
Larissa. I’m sorry, I can’t remember your surname. It’s on the record of Sonny Jim’s birth, along with his weight and time he was born. That record is tucked away in a little memory box in his bedroom.
But anyway. Larissa. I first met you when you came on shift that morning. I’d already been in hospital for a few hours. I was, if I’m honest, just starting to get a bit panicked by all this giving birth malarkey. I was in pain. I felt out of control. I wasn’t sure I could actually do it anymore. Continue reading
Toddler life: Someone always ends up in their pants…
The other night, I was stood in the nursery at 1am trying to get Sonny Jim back into his cot without him waking up.
As I oh-so-gently tried to slide my arm from underneath his back I heard a group of drunkenly happy people chatting loudly as they wandered along our road.
I couldn’t help but smile somewhat ruefully at how times have changed (while inwardly praying they didn’t wake Sonny Jim.) But it got me thinking how actually, there’s a few similarities between those drunken nights out and life with a toddler…
You’re up all night. You know you’ll be tired the next day, but what can you do? Continue reading
Shaken not stirred: I try my hand at making Blank Canvas
I confess, I don’t get out much. Since Sonny Jim’s arrival you can usually find me in my PJs by 8pm.
So when I *do* go out, I need that night to be a good ‘un. Happily, the newest bar in Southend more than delivered.
I was invited to Revolution Southend’s preview night – ahead of its launch night tonight.
My BFF and I got a peek around the bar and (heated) roof terrace, I tried my hand at making my own cocktail (thanks Barney!) and got to grips with a scrumptious burger.
With the town’s nightclub scene rather dying out, following the closures in recent years of some big name venues (yes Churchills and Element I’m looking at you) cocktail bars/restaurants are starting to fill the void. Continue reading