My rules may control the fun, but you inject the fun in to this operation. That came naturally to you. You see the bigger picture. You're not offended if Daddy isn't the favourite, instead propping me up when only Mummy will do. You carry them when their legs are tired and swing them when their... Continue Reading →
Key skills A persistent individual with a diverse, self-taught skillset and an emphasis on attachment methods, interspersed with episodes of screaming in to pillows. Recent achievements include not losing either flight risk at the supermarket, remembering to put the defrosting meat out of the dogs' reach and taking the washing out of the machine within... Continue Reading →
The dogs; Spotty Crotch and Poo Monster. The kids; a Mini Dictator and Boob Baby. My sister tells me a mating is considered successful after the offspring has had offspring. That’s setting the bar a bit high so I’m aiming for bedtime, if we all make it to bedtime I’m winning.
Well that's it. My body is officially mine again and I never have to breastfeed for the rest of my life. There's some real positives to this; - No more making sure my tops have easy access - No more bloody expressing - Alcohol - Lots of alcohol - Normal, regular person bras - No... Continue Reading →
I'll try to do you justice, my little rainbow baby. My first baby. My sleep is for the weak baby. My little chatter baby. My never stops talking baby. My please stop now, I didn't think it was possible for the first year and a half of your life, but now I'm certain if I... Continue Reading →
This one's for Poo Monster. Before Boob Baby and the MD there was Poo Monster. I remember looking at him when I was pregnant wondering how I could ever love something more than I loved his little face. Sure, Spotty Crotch was there but he barely tolerates me. He only has eyes for Mr DD,... Continue Reading →