A (sort of) open letter to me


When we went along to our first NCT meeting when I was pregnant with Bear, they asked us to each list 3 things that we like or enjoy. One of those “let’s all get to know each other” things (at a pretty sensible and respectable level, unlike 3 years later when us 8 Mums know WAY more than we probably need to know about one another).

On my list were 3 things I like – gin, chocolate and lists. Yes, lists. Continue reading

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.

Continue reading

The one time my memory fails me


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