Hello there poppets! / L Plate Mama

A couple of weeks ago me and my little men were out and about. It seems these days every time I leave the house I have to pack a full picnic for my growing and ever hungry boys. We were parked outside our destination, and I was peeling mandarins, the zesty fresh scent filling the car, passing the little crescents of juiciness over to their eager sticky little hands. As I twisted around in the drivers seat to hand over more segments, I was transported back in time to when the little hands were mine. I’ve been a parent for over 5 years now. Peeling fruit of varying descriptions and twisting round to feed my young. But somehow it seemed it should have been me, legs dangling down not touching the floor, taking segments of satsuma or clementine from my mum’s grown up hand (we didn’t really do mandarins in the UK when I was growing up, satsumas were the easily peeled citrus fruits of my youth). When did I become the grown up? The one driving the car, the one choosing or t...

It was two o’clock in the morning, and I awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. The Other-half was away for work, and my two  cherubs peacefully asleep. I had been immersed in the world of the Immortal Instruments, reading away the evening, absorbed in the battle between demons and shadowhunters. Even so I was not afraid. I knew the voice was that of the tortured soul, Anakin Skywalker. “If you are not with, you’re my enemy!” Anakin sulked. I untangled myself from the sheets, and found poor Bella-dog looking startled and disheveled on the rug next the action figure. Ah, I thought, Bella has managed to set the blasted thing off. Giving her a pat, I rescued Anakin, put him on the counter and went back to bed. Just as I was getting comfortable, “I shouldn’t have done that it’s not the jedi way”, too right Skywalker, you shouldn’t have. I heaved my weary self out of bed again. “I’m not the jedi I should be” the moody figure extolled. His voice seemed to be shouting throu...

Hello there! It'd been a while I know. My poor phone is brimming with fragments of my life, but none until now have made the transition to the outside world. This tidbit only has because my lovely father has been pestering me. :)  About three weeks ago, my little Moo was coughing his it's-not-asthma because-he's-under-two lungs out. I'd bundled him into the car and we were on our way to kindygym and I thought perhaps his coughing fits may attract stark looks from the other parents, wondering why I would deign t o bring my germ infested child within 5 feet of their cherubic offspring. He wasn't germ infested, and it was unlikely the other sleep deprived wrangled grown ups would have had the brain space to give me 'evils' but I didn't have the brain space for the possibility.  So on to Southland we went, with the glorious anonymity that goes with a large shopping centre. After some kinder chores at there at the post office and bank, it was time for ...

Here I am. Where I said I'd never be again. Beyond tired, short tempered and completely at a loss on how change the situation. Don't get me wrong, I don't want advice. I've read the books, I've dug the depths of the parenting websites and blogs, I've listened to well meaning advice.  My littlest beautiful precious child is a sleep thief of epic proportions. And he's 16 months. And I co sleep. And I feed to sleep. And I know that will have many thinking I've made this rod for my own back, no wonder I can't sleep with the darn thing sticking into me.  Chops as a bub hated sleep. Woke lots. And I slept in the floor of his room. For SIX months. I sat in his dark room and sooshed and patted and held my breath for days and days of my life.   Never again I said. Next time I'll be different, it'll be different.  But I gave even more to Moo. I set up a bed in his room, and have coslept from the day his tiny personage came home from the...