Ten years of Granny

We had a memorial service for Tim's Granny yesterday. Granny Ann. She passed away a couple of weeks ago. I haven't written about it because in a way it feels like borrowed grief. She wasn't my granny - I only knew her for ten years, not a whole lifetime. So it feels sort of presumptuous. … Continue reading Ten years of Granny

Speak up for your bad days: they’re important too

I had every intention of sitting down tonight and writing about T's birthday. We had a grand day. I've got lots of very pretty-looking pictures. But whenever I write something especially appreciative about my children on this blog, the universe intervenes to make sure they're little horrors the day after. And so they have been. … Continue reading Speak up for your bad days: they’re important too

Belong to where you are

I have this Anthony Burrill print on the wall of my downstairs loo. Ideally I would sit and ponder on it while I use the facilities, though of course I never use the facilities without a curious onlooker keen to hand me loo roll and compare genitalia. ('I just love talking to you', H said … Continue reading Belong to where you are

On ovary-wrestling

I've been struggling a bit with hormone rampages in the last few weeks. It's been hard not to tip myself into sadness or self-flagellation every time my tether's been shorter than I wanted, or I've forgotten to reply to an important message, or walked straight past the reusable shopping bags on my way out to Tesco … Continue reading On ovary-wrestling

A manifesto for being an all-round good egg at thirty

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

The women who made me

  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

Live a little

Come and sit by me, I want a chat. I feel two-dimensional, often, as the mother of two toddlers. And I need a better way of categorising them than that, for a start. 'Two toddlers' is too brief to convey the sweat and tears and bruises and seesawing emotions. It says nothing about the early … Continue reading Live a little

I eat my feelings, and maybe you do too

I am the sort of person who thinks a lot about food. You might be able to tell. Most of my jokes are about biscuits, aren't they? I maintain forever and always that a good biscuit joke sets most people at ease and, an additional benefit, encourages them to think more about biscuits. Lately I've … Continue reading I eat my feelings, and maybe you do too

Why I’ll be sending my kids to camp

I've just got back from girls' camp - well, not just: I've been back long enough to sleep for a couple of hours, to unpack all my moss-covered, grease-covered things, and to realise I'll be doing a full-body cringe for the rest of this week while my fiery sunburn dies down. I've only been involved in … Continue reading Why I’ll be sending my kids to camp

Small parks

We drove back towards town and I told them we'd find a playground. Nursery visits are necessary things, but not much fun for either of them: look at all these children and new toys! Nah, just kidding, let's go. We've been doing it all week, and we've still got some to go, and we're tired. … Continue reading Small parks