Here are all my blogs about motherhood - please do feel free to comment on any that resonate with you.
that the place where I made them…
What if we stopped trying to fix it all, all of the time?
All is calm, all is bright.*
And then the magic happens.
What would happen if we treated ourselves like we treat our kids?
One of my biggest “a-ha” moments was when I discovered that there is no such thing as a parenting expert.
“Do they have a routine?” “Cut their nap?”
Whenever I see a breastfeeding woman now I have the muscle memory of the initial latch, the tingle, the squeeze, the flow, the sticky hands pulling my hair, gently pinching my skin, cuddling into the fold between my breasts.
"Sonia - am I doing it right?" "Doing what, Laura?" "Being a mum?" "How do you feel when you hold her?" "I love her, but I don't want to mess it up."
Baby arrives, and guess what? It loves to sleep on your chest. Great! But as soon as you put baby down in one of the aforementioned devices: “WAAAAAAAH!”
Someone take him! Just for an hour...
Was I a mum? A woman? A wife? A friend? How was a possibly going to be all things to all people as well as provide for the new tiny human?
“Is there a BLUE LIGHT in their room?”
No, just an iPad. But that’s fine, right?Have you tired moving their bedtime back? Maybe they just aren’t tired at bedtime?”
What do you need? Wet wipes. ‘
It isn't a teddy bear's picnic (we're not going on a bear hunt)
it's wind the mummy up, wind the mummy up, let's be blunt...
If I’m going to have to do imaginary play, at least let me have a wand that won’t quit.
It’s just so unpredictable. One day I feel like a total #winner - content, full of joy and - let’s be honest - a bit smug about my awesome parenting. The next - we’re all covered in porridge and the only thing to be smug about is my morning cleaning workout.
I panic as I realise the “special treat” is in the boot.
I knew what was happening. I knew and I tried to forget.
We thought we’d got confused during a Christmas telly campaign and adopted a bleating goat.
Another bedtime where I know I feel my love for you heavy in my bones. And so, how can I not write this to you, my most precious girl?
Good enough for rock and roll, but not for me...
10 ways in which I’m a brilliant Mum (oh how I love my daughter)