A Bear’s tale

I love Marmite, Mummy does not

I love Marmite, Mummy does not

Hello everyone,

Mummy says she’s lost her writing mojo at the moment (I have no idea what that is, and apparently it’s not edible, so I didn’t give it any more thought). I personally think that September so far has been a pretty fun month – if she thought long and hard about it she’d probably find a whole load of things to blog about, but I’m 1 – I can’t tell her that. I can, however, write a little blog post myself (I know, I know – there’s no logic. But you’ve met my mummy, right? Logic isn’t really something she ‘does’).

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Trashy TV: In the Club

In the Club

Anyone else a bit gutted that In the Club has finished? Any 6-part series just about matches my attention span, so I stepped away  from the Gavin & Stacey boxset, turned off the re-runs of DIY SOS and thought I’d give this BBC1 tale of pregnancy and childbirth a go. If you haven’t finished watching it yet, don’t read on (and if you do read on, don’t tell me off for spoilers…you’ve been warned!) Continue reading

2013: a virtual time capsule

2013

Dear Bear

OK, I’m nearly a year late with this but it took me 10 months to get my backside in gear and start this blog – I was busy with nappies and the like. But when you’re older and you can read, and Daddy and I give you the wifi password and let you go on t’internet, we thought you’d like to know a few things that went on in the world in 2013, the year you were born.

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A birth is a birth

Signing up to NCT classes was – for us – among the best money we’ve ever spent on parenthood.

This isn’t because of the graphic photos that put the fear of God into everyone in the room (including the Dads), or even the bum-change practice with pretty realistic dirty nappies (English mustard and pesto are ruined for me).  No, the reason why I’d pay for them again and again is because we met people going through exactly the same thing, at exactly the same time and now have friends for (I hope) life.

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The one time my memory fails me

Uncanny2

Photographic proof: uncanny, eh?

Does anyone actually remember being pregnant?

I mean, I accept that I was – there is photographic evidence (and indeed a child) to prove it. I remember moaning about the heat, my feet, my back and heartburn, and I remember wearing bigger clothes for 6 months. I remember going down to the hospital for appointments, not drinking wine for 9 months, avoiding cheese and rare steak, sushi and uncooked eggs (although I do that as standard…raw eggs have never really appealed). Continue reading