Month : June 2012


MTT: The BEST Sticky Ribs

When I was pregnant with Hux I tried not to subscribe to the whole ‘eating for two’ thing. One, because it’s not true, and two, because when I was pregnant with Elfie I ate two Pret pastries a day and it took me a year to lose three stone of pastry weight.
Breastfeeding, however, is a whole other matter.


9 Months Of A Bump

9 Months of Bump
When I reviewed my 9 months of a bump with Elfie I commented how amazing the body’s capacity to forget is. You look at photos of your pregnant bump and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside despite nine months of hell and illness. Don’t be fooled by my smiles, they’re just for the camera.


BritMums Live 2012

Feeding on the train / Train sleeping 
When I woke up on Friday morning and saw that some of my fake tan had transferred itself to Huxley’s head I knew it was a good omen: I was going to have fun at Brit Mums Live.
I was right, too.


To Dummy Or Not To Dummy?

I‘m finding myself at somewhat of a crossroads with Hux. He’s a very sucky baby – feeding on demand which is about every 2 hours right now – and I reckon his late night feeds especially have become about comfort rather than hunger.
At the moment I am of the mindset that I will feed on demand for a while longer before I start trying to establish more of a routine.


Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to my Daddy, my children’s Daddy, and the Daddies who aren’t with us any more but are still loved very much.

You do a terrific job and we are so lucky to have you in our lives, aside from the universal affliction of Dad beer and curry farting, bad jokes and your blindness to dust.


Huxley At 4 Weeks

Little Huxley was a whopping four weeks old yesterday and it feels like he’s been a part of our family forever. Being able to reference ‘the kids’ and ‘my son’ has been such a huge novelty I’ve found myself repeating it over and over this week.

Elfie Huxley

Sibling Love. Almost.

If I said I wasn’t worried about how Elfie was going to react to the new baby in our lives, I would be lying. I was terrified. What if she hated him and plotted different ways to poke his eyes out and display them on sticks in our front garden? Because almost-2-year-olds are capable of that sort of evil, for definite.


An Instagram Birth Story

The very last pregnancy photo / trying to relax with Balamory
In my naive, blissed-out natural birth-planning state, labour was to go one way, and one way only. The labour niggles would begin, I’d take a paracetamol and get some sleep, take a bath, strap on my TENS machine if it all got a bit much and head into hospital.