-
The Secret Lives of Parents: What Happens Before 7am
What happens before 7am? Let me tell you. It isn’t good. Nothing good happens before 7am (similar to my rule of parties in my twenties – nothing good happens after 2am. Go home at 2am. If I’m up at 2am now it is for very different reasons. Rarely featuring tequila.) So, before 7am, when non-parents’ alarms go off still leaving them time for the gym before work, or maybe a couple of presses of the snooze button… what do we do? 1. We negotiate. Think Theresa May and her hard Brexit, but we are working on bed-exit. You may NOT get out of bed until the sun on the Groclock…
-
PND – Why Aren’t We Talking About It?
How come we still aren’t talking about it? Why is it still so hush-hush? At Christmas, when charity buckets rattle collecting spare change for mental health charities, why am I still reading that new mums feel guilt and fear around the blues that follow the birth of a baby. If I broke my leg, I’d tell people. Hell, I’d probably put a witty post on Facebook and filter a snap of my cast on Instagram. And I’d sit back and wait for the sympathy. When I have a cold I ask my husband to pick up some Lemsip, a copy of Grazia and a KitKat and I demand full control of…
-
To all parents – stop beating yourself up
As a parent, you have multiple balls in the air at any one time. Actually, scrap that, as a non-parent I was always busy, with work, social life and family commitments. Throw two babies into the mix, and something is bound to give. My phone died on me this week, and whilst I got it fixed quickly, it’s left a bug in the system. Numerous appointments have fallen out of my schedule, and so when friends have texted to confirm I’ve had to apologise for double booking myself on what looked like an empty day. As a super organised people-pleaser, I hate letting people down, and issue apologetic texts, filled with repentant…
-
Please Don’t Stop the Music – How to Go Out When You’re A Parent
Things I miss since becoming a parent number eleventy billion – going to live music gigs. Don’t get me wrong, the Peppa Pig soundtrack that is a gentle and constant background in our home is an auditory delight, but it wouldn’t be my Spotify choice (fact – having kids messes with the algorithm). And so I was very excited about an afternoon of live music in a Shoreditch basement club I’d last seen at 3am many years ago. Adam and Sarada, founders of Wake Up Gigs, met at a music event and have enjoyed live music around the UK ever since. And then along came Edwin, now an incredibly cute toddler,…
-
The 10 Things I’ve Learned Since Becoming a Parent
Since becoming a parent, I’ve definitely become gross. I’m immune to bogies smeared on t-shirts (although I’d rather it wasn’t mine). I snack on half-fishfingers that have been pushed around a plate and finally rejected. Once I ate a finger of buttered toast off the floor, as it was easier than walking to the bin. I can only admit this as every parent I know has done the same thing. My standards are rock bottom. But they can probably go lower than that. What have I learned? Don’t buy anything white, cream, or pastel. FFS, why would you do such a thing? You can’t have nice things. My chiffon shirt…
-
How to give birth. (Start by shutting your ears.)
A friend of mine has just had her baby. She’s knackered, milky, blissed out, and then knackered again. Our beloved NHS got her baby out safely – gosh, how easy it is to forget that no matter how tough a labour experience we have we are so very lucky. And yet. And yet every mama’s journey from conception to delivery is different. But oh-so-many people tell you what you should be doing. Don’t touch booze. One glass won’t hurt. Sleep on your side. Sleep on a pillow. Get a pram. Use a sling. And you are sponge-like, soaking up the advice, panicking about the number of muslins you need (double whatever you think),…
You May Also Like
Childbirth: Expectations VS Reality
-
It Takes a Village to Raise a Child
I’m SO lucky to still have my parents – they are both still around in body and mind, although living three hours away gets them out of babysitting. The boys adore them, Grandpa kicks a ball and Granny does loads of cuddles and the occasional Scary Look, and it’s a mutually appreciative relationship. Flashback to me, aged 14, in the midst of puberty, shouting at my mum to fuck off because she didn’t understand. Me, aged 3, infamously refusing to be talked down off a sand-dune, and having an epic tantrum. Me, a couple of weeks ago, calling my mum because my husband was away and I was knackered and…
