Saturday, 15 October 2016

I'M A SURVIVOR - Kicking the KIT days ass


I was reminded, very recently, how much of a jungle the working world is. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed popping into work to 'keep in touch'. It was great to see my colleagues, the new revamped offices and to catch up on the latest news. It really is amazing how quickly you slip back into the routine of it all, even in just one day.

However, I must tell you that going into the office after nine months away afforded me a whole new level of appreciation for the following items:
  1. flat shoes
  2. low lighting
  3. dull surfaces

Thursday, 13 October 2016

Footloose and Toddler-free: Mummy's 'Day Off'

I am my own worst enemy.

When I have a day without my adorable, yet inexhaustible, toddler, what happens? I want to spend the day tiring myself out.

It's ridiculous, isn't it? 

When the funded childcare hours finally kicked in and we realised we could keep Little O in nursery two days a week, even whilst I was on maternity leave, I was thrilled.



Two days! Two whole days to myself. Well, not exactly to myself, as I still have Baby R to look after. But, I reasoned, I can pop him on the floor and he'll waste twenty minutes amusing himself with a balloon and a mega block. It's not rocket science with a baby his age. Especially the second time round.

Late Monday afternoon, I realise that such a day is nigh and a warm glow, like a ray of the Majorcan sun, passes over me. I smugly consider the ten hours of potential sofa-lounging that exist a mere snooze away, save for the intermittent feeding and changing breaks of course. 

But what happens? 

Thursday, 6 October 2016

Baby talk: A minute in the life of an 8 month old

Baby talk: a minute in the life of an 8 month old
I have no idea what's going on. 

I swear, one minute I'm sitting happily in my highchair, the next - I'm flying through the air. I wish she would decide on where she wants me.

Hang on, are those are my toes?

I want that sock. 


Out of my way, woman! LET GO! I promise, if you don't let go of me, I'm regurging all over that nice top you put on specifically for Nana's visit.

Hmm. It doesn't taste as nice as rusk, but I reckon if I keep shoving stuff in my mouth, it won't be that long before I get fed again. Maybe I'll add in a loud wail for good measure.

She's putting me down. Where the hell am I now?