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

Quarantine

Toddler illnesses teach me that I don't do well cooped up inside all day. Does that make me a tiny little bit like the gypsy Esmeralda, but with not-so-fabulous hair? Do you think if I asked my hairdresser tomorrow for Gypsy Esmeralda hair, she'd be able to work with it? Never mind. Henry's on-again-off-again flirtation … Continue reading Quarantine

Yoghurt-flavoured sadness

I caught another fluey virus this weekend (why?!?), at about the same time as my first-trimester sickness arrived. I can’t work out how much of it is pregnancy (bed=melodramatic) and how much is lurgy (bed=encouraged). Either way, as a combination they are lethal, and infuriating. Yesterday I sat floppily on a sofa all day, trying … Continue reading Yoghurt-flavoured sadness