Brazenmom

So this Christmas we are hanging out in some random little town in the south west, called Lymington. As with all random towns, Lymington required some exploration – mostly in aid of satisfying my obsessive craving for small-town preserves. Instead of preserves, I found a gorgeous treasure that is now in the possession of my one-year-old daughter.

I’ll end the nail-biting suspense right about now. It’s a Little Red Riding Hood Rag Doll. She is just lovely. I am not really a dolly kind of gal… well, the plastic kind at least. But I do have a thing for Little Red, and this dolly could not be resisted. Read the rest of this entry »

Recently voted Britain’s Number One Bedtime Story by BBC Radio 2 listeners, The Gruffalo probably requires no introduction. Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler’s award winning book has captured the imagination of children worldwide. Read the rest of this entry »

Christmas seems to be a whole bunch more fun with children around. I guess it gives us (adults) the chance to revert back to that childhood excitement that spontaneously erupts at the mere thought of presents, lights, decorations and sweeties. Some of us (and I pat myself on the back) don’t really need an excuse to embrace the spirit of Christmas with excessive (childlike) enthusiasm, children or not. Even so, my one-year-old daughter has made Christmas time all the more lovely. Everything Christmassy has been tainted with a splash of Amelia – the colours are brighter, the mulled wine tastier, the Christmas trees bigger and ther Gingerbread men.. well… gingerier. Read the rest of this entry »

Girls are for dressing up. “Poor child” is what my best friend recently said of my one-year-old-daughter when commenting on the paraphernalia that adorns my child’s head. I don’t do head bands or anything too… poofy (yet) – poofy being relative of course. But I am big on clips. I can’t stop buying them and I can’t stop clipping them into my daughter’s hair. Read the rest of this entry »

I am a fan of the absurd. And Edward Lear’s The Owl and the Pussycat is right up my alley. The tale of an Owl and a Pussycat who set sail at sea in a beautiful pea-green boat is a rhyme that I rattled off as a child without considering what exactly I was rattling off. I recently acquired a copy of Louise Voce’s illustrated version of ‘The Owl’ and as I read it to my one-year-old daughter for the first time, I chuckled most of the way through. Lance is famous for his nonsense rhymes and The Owl and the Pussycat is surely his best known story. It goes like this: Read the rest of this entry »

My beautiful Amelia

It is really hard not to get all soppy and sentimental when I look back at the first year of your precious life. So, to avoid a flood I will simply say that I adore you. You inspire me to be better and I love you madly. You make me crazy, you make me laugh, you make me cry (for better or worse) and you make me feel more than I ever thought possible. My world is a magical place with you in it. Amelia, you are my muse and I will fight for you always.

Here’s what I know about you. You love the colour blue. You love bath time – one of your favourite activities is to play Picasso with your bath crayons. You wave goodbye to your daddy every morning when he picks up his bicycle helmet and heads for the door, and you get excited when you hear the door open at the end of every day because you know that your daddy is home. Read the rest of this entry »

Ever since my daughter was born, she has stared into space, focused on something invisible. Now that she’s a bit older, she smiles and coos at something only she can see. She could be crazy – considering her gene pool, that wouldn’t be too much of a surprise. (Grampa runs long-distance marathons for fun, Nanna’s alter ego is Pastor Poppie of Stuff, her three uncles switch accents throughout the day, Mommy has several characters in her head at any given time and Daddy gets paid to be someone else.) Or – and this is the option I’m going with – she sees angels. Read the rest of this entry »

My poor baby girl is suffering from her first cold. At the first sign of sniffles I reached for the saline drops, confident and in control. Angelique seemed confused the first time I put the drops in her nose but she didn’t protest.

By the evening of the first day, I was also starting to feel the tell-tale symptoms that a cold was developing. I dosed myself with orange juice and chicken soup and climbed into bed. The next morning both of us were miserable, and when I tried to give Angelique the saline drops she screamed as if I was trying to murder her. Read the rest of this entry »