It was 5pm. Of course it was. 5pm is when their tiny resources are shot to pieces, when I'm desperately trying to tidy up and get dinner ready, because half of their bad temper is down to the fact that it's been a long time since lunch. I am busy because they need me to … Continue reading Angry mummy
I've been thirty for a week and I'm not dead yet. I jest. I've been gently bemoaning my age as this birthday has approached, but my heart hasn't really been in it. The one small moment of panic I had in January, where I sobbed 'I'M GOING TO BE THIRTY AND I DON'T KNOW IF … Continue reading A manifesto for being an all-round good egg at thirty
Mildly odd: Adam Dalgliesh I LIKE A MAN WHO KNOWS HIS WAY AROUND A MURDER SCENE. Dalgliesh doesn't have my heart like Hercule Poirot does, but he cuts a much more dashing figure in forensic overalls. He's tall. He's private. He writes tortured poetry. He drives a Jag. He is so clever it hurts and … Continue reading Fiction crushes I have had, in order of appropriateness
Having read about it here, I wanted to write about how I mother my babies day-to-day, every Mother’s Day. Here’s the fourth. A bit late this year! Dear Future Versions of Henry and Teddy, This has been my fourth Mothering Sunday, and you are three-and-a-half and twenty months, respectively. It’s the end of the day, … Continue reading This Is Where We Are: a letter to my sons on Mother’s Day (4)
If I am a good mother, it's because of my Nanna. It's because I learned from her that little things mean a lot to little people. It's because I know it's possible to bear physical limitations and pain with unbelievable grace. It's because I believe most problems can be solved with a weekly helping … Continue reading The women who made me
This guy. It's our seventh anniversary today, and he's about to get back from a week away. When he's gone I feel the lack of him everywhere, from our bed to our dinner table to the text messages I keep having to send because he's not there to tell things to. We will pick him … Continue reading Seven
I've left him for less than a minute, but I come in to find Teddy out of his high chair and squatting on the table. His cereal bowl is upside down and the leftover milk is puddling around his bare feet. He's wearing a codpiece nappy, groaning with wee, that has popped the buttons on … Continue reading Bear witness
Hello lovers! Ooh, someone oil me. I'm rusty. But here we are in the new, improved (hopefully) Make a Long Story Short! The gorgeous header is from my talented bro-in-law, Angus Dick, the fiddling with code comes courtesy of Mr Jeffcoat, and the ums and ahs and helpful suggestions were ALL ME, BABY. There are … Continue reading We’re baaaaack!