Why Mummy gets on my nerves (written by The Boy, aged 2 and 3/4)

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Someone has to take control around here.

Man alive it’s tough being me. Not only do I have to help myself to chocolate and crisps from the snack drawer, I now find myself writing for the Boss’ blog too. I say ‘the Boss’; that’s what she likes to think. But we all know who’s in charge around here, and it sure isn’t her.

Don’t get me wrong, she is very handy to have around. It’s like having a housekeeper and a childminder and a bedtime story reader and a chef AND a chauffeur. And she wipes my bum, so I will definitely let her stay. But she doesn’t half get on my nerves, and I’ll tell you for why… Continue reading

2018: A dodgy vintage

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Things kind of stopped this year. I know I’ve been absent – I haven’t felt very bloggy, or like putting pen to paper. Some days I haven’t felt much at all. Instead of the laptop, I’ve needed to pause and concentrate on real life, and not the one we all weirdly aspire to on t’interweb. Continue reading

The Dunks do Devon (again)

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Somehow, presumably by some sort of wizardry and magic, we are now officially in charge of a 5 year old. Yes, today is Bear’s 5th birthday; 5 years of being a super-calm and definitely-got-my-stuff-together Wonder Mum, worthy of some sort of catalogue photoshoot or something.

I jest, obviously. We are NOT that family.

We have just come back from a lovely week in Cornwall. “But the title above says Devon?”, I hear you cry! You’re not wrong, and so begin our pre-birthday summer holiday shenanigans… Continue reading

The One for Bear’s Birthday

happy-birthday-cupcakeHello, it’s been a while…

I’m a bit rusty and out of practice with this blogging business, but I can’t keep putting it off. Which is what I have been doing because I always wanted the blog to make people smile, and I haven’t felt very smiley.

Tomorrow Bear turns 4, and a month today The Boy turns 1. Both massive milestones that I reckon need to be documented somewhere, because amidst the chaos of the last 12 months I am still standing. I have more grey hairs and I definitely drink more gin than ever before, but I am definitely still standing (or sitting on my backside with a glass of wine, but let’s not go into details).

A year ago today I was SO pregnant, massive, waddly and all sorts of moody. Little did I know that the proceeding four weeks were going to be the most normal me I would feel for quite some time. Because last September, things went a bit weird… Continue reading

Going swimming: How not to do it

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Chance would be a fine thing.

When it comes to our weekends, it’s often temptingly easier to chill out at home. The chaos of a normal week, and the usual sleep deprivation of having a newborn, has made us a bit lazy. Or, as we like to call it, sensible. But the same four walls get a bit…well…samey after a while, and although some trips we live to regret (or at the very least want to cry about) we’ve decided new year, new rules. Continue reading

2016: A mixed bag

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This time last year I didn’t really feel like gin. I know, shock horror.

While it was too early to do a test, and too early to get our hopes up, I had an inkling that I was pregnant. I was unjustifiably tired, I had heartburn from a glass of water, and I didn’t fancy gin. Something was definitely amiss. Continue reading

And then there were 4…

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Tired, happy, pyjama-clad family life!

Waters went, 13 hours or so of contractions, 2 doses of Pethidine and the all-important paracetamol (just to make you feel like you’re helping the pain, when really it’s not even touching the sides). After all that time, all that pain, you can imagine my delight at being told I had reached the dizzy heights of…ahem…4cm.

Then things became a bit lot of a blur. After an epidural, people started getting a bit panicky. Lots of rushing around, lots of flashing lights and monitors going nuts. A midwife hurriedly removed my nail varnish (she didn’t even file and buff, so I knew things were getting serious). Then I was in theatre being prepared for an emergency c-section. I honestly don’t remember much more than that – any recollections I do have are what Mr D has told me, and his memory is notoriously rubbish anyway.

That was first time around. I wanted #2 to be different. I wanted a natural birth. Turns out, though, you don’t always get what you want… Continue reading