This Is Where We Are: a letter to my sons on Mother’s Day (5)

Every year on Mother's Day, I write about how I mother my babies day-to-day. I think they might like to know how the little things felt, as well as the big ones. Here goes the fifth (late again - will this become part of the tradition? Yes). Dear Future Versions of Henry and Teddy, This … Continue reading This Is Where We Are: a letter to my sons on Mother’s Day (5)

To the brand-new mother of two: embrace the chaos. Feel excellent about your pyjamas. This is all going to be fine.

To the brand-new mother of two, Hello! Are you up and about today? Does your head feel like it's above water? It's ok if not. It's ok if not. Listen, you probably don't know which end is up at the minute. You are used to being one half of a double act with your first … Continue reading To the brand-new mother of two: embrace the chaos. Feel excellent about your pyjamas. This is all going to be fine.

One thousand four hundred and sixty-one

Dear Henry, Today is your birthday, and you are four. We've just got you to bed after a long and thrilling day, and I sort of want to run back upstairs and get you up again. Being four is such a serious thing. Your birthday was the last milestone between you and school. As with … Continue reading One thousand four hundred and sixty-one

Things I want to remember about mornings

I found this post (and this one) this morning, and they both seem like someone else's life, as usual. Time for another installment.  Dear self, Here are some things you should never forget (even when your eye bags are capacious enough to keep things in): that the whole street knows when Son 2 has woken … Continue reading Things I want to remember about mornings

One thousand and ninety two

Dear Henry,Today you are three. Today has been a good day.It's getting harder to write about you properly, because describing you is becoming a challenge. The sweeping generalisations we hold up to babies - he's loud; he's busy; he's a good sleeper - are poor greyscale things when held up to the patterned light of … Continue reading One thousand and ninety two