Notes from the trenches: 7

'You'll miss this when it's gone!' people tell me. I like to remember this when I'm watching the slow seep of faeces under my fingernails, or engaged in a full-body wrestle with a boy and a supermarket trolley ('Bend your legs. BEND THEM. BEND. YOUR. LEGS'). Then I do a hollow laugh, likely as not. … Continue reading Notes from the trenches: 7

Angry mummy

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

Sackcloth and dummies

Here is what a baptism of fire looks like. We intended to get rid of the dummies gradually, honest. I mean pacifiers, binkies, whatever you call them in your house. We call them 'dodies' in ours. Whatever they're called, Henry loves them like they grew alongside him in the womb. (They did not.) But once … Continue reading Sackcloth and dummies

Two halves

This morning, while Henry was in the bath, we played Bodies. Where are Mummy's eyes? And where are Henry's eyes? What about Henry's feet? And where are Mummy's feet?  He gets mixed up a lot. Is this my nose or his? His knee or my knee? Often, he points to me when he means himself. … Continue reading Two halves