1. The ability to cry easily. There is something cathartic and unique about the sense of relief followed by a really good cry. I’ve never been one to hide my emotions and bottle up my feelings. If it’s in my head/heart, it’s generally all over my face and I’ve been known to cry at the most ridiculous things. Jim’s face as I welled up during Dolly’s Glastonbury performance of ‘I Will Always Love You’ was a sight to behold…
2. The fact that I’ve had my heart broken. Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate real love. The effortlessness, the lack of unnecessary drama (necessary drama = a big old air clearing row) the team work involved. I had my heart broken once, in my early twenties, and didn’t fall in love again until I met Jim nearly ten years later.
3. My twenties. Dancing, drinking, cavorting, laughing, crying, travelling – my twenties were pretty immense. I get exhausted just thinking about how hard we used to party and am often found sat with fellow ‘retired ravers’ when we get together over a civilised dinner having an ‘OMG do you remember that time we…’ conversation. Also – if my son grows up and starts playing up I’m fairly confident his elderly mother saying ‘you call THAT hardcore? I remember when I was your age…’ on a regular basis will put him off and he’ll end up being a bookworm brain surgeon who never goes out. Or something. Ahem.
So there I was, flipping absent-mindedly through yesterday’s Grazia (don’t judge – I need a regular fashion fix since cancelling my Red subscription in a fit of Goop-induced rage) when suddenly my senses were assailed by a scent so familiar I felt I’d been shoved on a sensory time machine and transported back to 1992.
Here I am, looking special in my festive sweater for Save The Children UK’s Christmas Jumper Day.
For every blogger who uploads a post about the campaign, along with a festive shot of themselves in a Christmas jumper, Westfield will donate £10 to Save the Children. Be sure to tweet the link to your blog post to @westfieldlondon so they know about it.
And if you don’t have a blog you can text WOOLLY to 70050 to donate £1.
Simple, fun, festive and it helps children all over the world – get it done!
I’ve been writing this post in my head since the day George was born. It started as a ‘top tips for new mums’ and has now developed into more of a ‘here’s how I stopped myself going mental’ post. Remember that this is all very subjective and that every baby/mother/father/in-law/whatever is different. I am not dictating what is right/wrong, I am merely sharing my personal experiences in the hopes that it might reassure a frantically Googling mum-to-be/new mum looking for some answers. We all march to the beat of our own drum but sometimes it’s nice to borrow somebody else’s headphones and have a listen to their music…
International Women’s Day and Mothers Day have fallen very close to each other this year – much to the disgruntlement of some men who seem to have forgotten there is an International Men’s Day and Fathers Day as well *eye roll* - so I thought I’d write a post dedicated to all the brilliant women I have known in my life. more
January is a depressing month isn’t it? The month we all deprive ourselves of our beloved booze and food and begin a gruelling exercise regime we aren’t very likely to stick to past March.
I have given myself a ‘lose the baby weight before your birthday’ rule and plan on doing one long ‘power walk’ per week – pushing George’s pram up and down all manner of hills in Hampstead, Epping and Primrose Hill – and I’ll also be doing my 30 Day Shred dvd when his royal highness deigns to have a nap for longer than 20 minutes (ha!). more
I haven’t had much inclination to blog since becoming a mum. I’m not really sure why but I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that it’s all a bit of a blur in the first few months really, isn’t it? They sleep, you don’t, they shit copiously, you don’t (thank you childbirth), they don’t fit into their new clothes, you don’t fit into your old clothes, etc etc etc. There isn’t really anything new or interesting I can add to the ‘new mum fugue state’ theme that any decent parent blogger worth their salt hasn’t already said, so I choose to keep schtum.
My friends and I have a ritual – normally associated with birthdays – where one/some/all of us will buy the birthday boy/girl what we call a ‘next level game changer’. The game changer is normally in the form of alcohol – the stronger the better, preferably including a worm – and it is usually from that point in the evening that things will take a turn for the silly.
I had my very own ‘next level game changer’ moment at precisely 3.54pm on Wednesday August 29th when my 7lb 9oz son made his way noisily into the world, a day earlier than expected. more