It seems that recently a lot of my life has been about trying to be a bit more selfish. In the wake of my PND I’ve realised that actually, there’s not a lot I do for myself, ALONE, and before last week I had not been on my own without children since last November.
We moved house about 6 weeks ago and I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about it.
When we first saw our old house I was totally in love with it. But I was also 6 months pregnant and the landlord of the place we were currently living had just put it up for sale and I didn’t want to end up moving into my parent’s house with a newborn baby.
When I was pregnant for the first time I wasn’t sure of much. I was completely confused at what childbirth would be like, I didn’t know if I would breast or bottle feed, or even if I wanted to be a stay at home mum or not. But there was thing I was sure of: the love I would feel for them in that hospital room.
So a couple of weeks ago around Shrove Tuesday, I was perusing Instagram as you do, and I kept getting visually slapped in the face by sweet things. Pancakes, cookies, fudge, MORE PANCAKES. Gawd.
I’ve never been a huge dessert fan but since I’ve stepped into the realm of little scary white pills my appetite had kicked up a notch.
As part of my ‘Become A Better Person Campaign 2013’ I have been trying to keep, or should I say GET fit.
There’s been the pancake race (harder than it looks. Bloody hell) that almost made me vomit and coming up I’m planning on a 5k and a 10k.
Huxley Harold. Our Bubby. When I’m with you my nose is permanently plastered to your neck, your ear, your hair. Because the smell of your baby creases is so delicious I wish I could bottle it and wear it every day, because I know before too long you’ll grow up and start smelling of PE lessons, cheesy feet and Lynx.
You might have noticed as of late that there have been a fair few sponsored posts and ads appearing round these here parts. I wanted to hold my hands up to that fact and explain to you why.
It’s always been a bit of an agreement that Will and I have had since Elfie was young that I won’t go back to work. At least, not proper London office-based 12 hour day-type work.