A Letter to my Firstborn


To my firstborn,

In just a few months, you’ll be turning 6. Wow – how did that happen? With each day that passes, I notice you changing and growing. You’re still my little boy, but your body is changing; you sometimes talk with the eloquence of someone beyond your years and your mind is eager to drink in everything that this world has to offer. I’m excited for you but I also wish time would just slow down a little.

I look back to the morning when you took your first steps, and I remember thinking that I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t be amazed by you being able to put one foot in front of the other. Yet, here you are, running around the playground with your friends, jumping off the sofa and racing your little brother up the stairs. How did those first wobbly steps become the confident strides of a big boy, without me really noticing?

Sometimes I look you when you’re watching tv and I catch a glimpse of the boy you’ll become – somehow, your almost-six-year-old features seem to momentarily age, and I can see a teenager sprawled out in front of me, long limbs everywhere, taking over the sofa.

I watch how you enjoy playing the protective older brother role to Little Monkey – in-between annoying the hell out of him, of course.  I’m so proud when I watch you together, as you help him put his coat on in the mornings. It only feels like yesterday that I was helping you with your coat and showing you how to do the zip. Now I can’t remember the last time I did your zip up, which gives me a feeling of pride at your self-sufficiency and slight sadness that there’s one less thing you need me to do.

There are still lots of flashes of innocence and unbridled moments of joy that make my heart sing. I love the fact that you still get excited when you find an odd-shaped Hula-Hoop in the packet, thrusting it in my face with such enthusiasm, in a bid to showcase your discovery.

Or when you read a new word correctly and you try to act all cool and nonchalant, but I can see the pride radiating out from beneath the beaming smile that you’re trying to suppress.

Last week you asked me to carry you up the stairs – and it made me so sad. Not because you’d asked – I will carry you for as long as I can – but because I realised, as I heaved your long limbs up and around me, that it’s only going to be a little while longer before you become too heavy for me to carry. And for a mummy, that’s a horrible prospect to stomach.

Some of my most precious moments with you are the ones I steal when you’re asleep, tucked up in your bed. When you don’t have to pretend to be the tough guy, when you don’t have to worry about remembering your spellings or who said what to you in the playground. I watch you in slumber and I see hints of my baby, and glimpses of the boy you are to become.

I suppose the painful truth is that you, my darling boy, were never meant to stay little and be mine forever. And as your biggest fan,  I’ll always support you and love you and help you find your wings.

And when you’re towering above me at 6 foot tall, and you no longer want to marry me, or think I’m cool or funny – just remember that you owe me at least 6 years of piggybacks up the stairs.

Love you always,
Mummy x

10 Things I Never Thought I’d Say as a Parent


Parenthood is a funny old world. Having kids is the most wonderful experience you can imagine. I’ve never felt love as much as I do when I look at my two boys. I’ve also never wanted to poke myself in the eye as much as I do at around 7pm each night, while I’m wrangling with two naked bedtime ninjas, who refuse to get into their pyjamas.

It’s a roller coaster ride that will take you on journeys you never thought you’d have and leads you to say things you never thought you’d have to verbalise.

Here are the top 10 things I never thought I’d hear myself say as a parent:

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The Truth About Having Two Kids

Two Kids

Last week a friend (who is expecting her second) asked me what it’s like to have two children. There were all sorts of answers that ran through my mind, but I didn’t want to scare the bejeezers out of her. So I said, “It’s amazing, but hectic. A shock to the system at first, but you’ll be fine.” Ahem.

So here is my guide to having one vs two children – and to those of you with more than two, I am in awe of everything you do!

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The Last Time.

Holding Hands
As I write this post, it’s Friday night, I’m in bed, in the dark, with about 5 inches of mattress to myself.  There’s a buffalo snoring on the other side of me (although just for the record, he most definitely ‘does not snore’) and in-between us is my (almost) 5-year-old son. His legs and arms are flailing all over the place and I’m in danger of ending up on the floor.

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The Internal Dialogue of a Parent on New Year’s Eve


NYElarge sze

  1. It’s New Year’s Eve – we should totally go out.
  2. We can’t go out – damn kids.
  3. It’s fine, we can stay in and party.
  4. And by ‘party’, I mean have a takeaway and drinks at home.
  5. In my pjs.
  6. We should go wild and have a fancy takeaway. It’s New Year’s Eve after-all.
  7. Stupid New Year’s Eve – any decent takeaway will take hours to deliver.
  8. Ok, we’ll have a kebab. With chips. And burger sauce.
  9. God, I must go on a diet from tomorrow.
  10. Maybe not tomorrow, but definitely from Monday.
  11. Is that footsteps I can hear on the landing?
  13. That kebab was amazing, I’m stuffed.
  14. I reckon I could squeeze in a small piece of chocolate.
  15. Now I feel sick.
  16. Maybe another glass of prosecco will help. The bubbles might just balance out the sugar-rush.
  17. Nope, still feel sick.
  18. It’s only 9.30pm…will I even make it to midnight?
  19. Must make some resolutions for tomorrow.
  20. I’ll make them in the morning when I feel less sick.
  21. God I love my sofa and tv.
  22. Fabulous view of the fireworks.
  23. Everyone looks like they’re having so much fun!
  24. Happy New Year everyone!
  25. Maybe we’ll go out next year.
  26. As long as I can wear my pyjamas.