Tag Archives: motherhood

Hell hath no fury like a toddler…

Third time around, toddlerhood is like labour. You know it’s going to hurt. But you always forget just how much until you’re doing it again. Today, I spent the day p***ing my toddler off. This was HIS interpretation, I should add. Here’s 8 ways in which I ruined his life today, according to him.

  1. I made his porridge too hot. Sorry, Goldilocks.
  2. I suggested he wear sandals. It being THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR and all. Nope. He wouldn’t have it. Rubber Spiderman wellies. That’s what he insisted on wearing. ALL DAY. Like, HOW hot must his feet have been?
  3. I wouldn’t pick him up and carry him. It being THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR. But he couldn’t walk, he just couldn’t. His words. I think I made it worse when I pointed out that maybe the hot, sweaty wellies weren’t helping.
  4. I stopped him from killing himself. Always a spoilsport, that’s me. Stopped him from playing by the road. Stopped him from climbing a ladder. Stopped him from trying to amputate his fingers on the bifold doors. None of which he thanked me for. No siree. I’m just that irritating woman who ruins ALL his fun.
  5. I shouted at him. At this point, I’d like to resort to his level and say that I DID NOT SHOUT FIRST. He shouted at me. At which point I may have raised my voice by way of response. *May.*
  6. I looked at him. Sometimes, I’m not allowed to look at him. I think a stroppy, slightly psychotic toddler may have inspired that saying, ‘If looks could kill.
  7. I gave his dinner to his sister. He didn’t want to eat his dinner. And because I’m well over the ‘Eat your dinner,‘ game, tonight when he refused to eat it, I gave it to his hungry sister. 10 minutes later he decided he wanted it and was HORRIFIED when I mentioned where it now was.
  8. I asked him to go to bed. We had a totally new reason why he couldn’t go to bed, tonight. Apparently, his bedroom was NOT his bedroom. He denied all knowledge of ever having seen it or been in it. ‘That’s not my bedroom,’ he said convincingly. ‘Look at it! IT’S NOT MINE.‘ I didn’t quite know how to answer that one. Maybe that excruciatingly painful series of ‘That’s Not My…‘ books could write a book on THAT.

I can’t wait for tomorrow. I bet I can triple this list without even trying, if he’s in the same mood he was in today. Yippee! More of me over on Facebook and Instagram.

Dear New Mum, I see you…

Dear New Mum,

It’s been a while since I wrote. I’m sorry for my silence. How are you doing?

I hope that today is a GOOD day. That you maybe got some sleep last night. If you didn’t, did you remember to be extra kind to yourself? Did you eat the cake? Did you watch the box set? Did you make a point of noticing something you did WELL?

It’s funny. This motherhood lark. Eight years ago, I joined the ranks. I was unprepared, overwhelmed and tried to control every little thing. I thought that as long as everything was in order, I would be ok. I would be a good mother. This worked on the days when everything went to plan. But often it didn’t. And actually, even when it did, the sheer fear of it falling apart left me feeling frazzled, confused and a bit low.

Eight years and three kids later and I am such a different mother. My third child has undoubtedly had the best of me. He’s so lucky. No Gina Ford for him. Just sleepovers in my bed. And understanding. And ice lollies for breakfast. Until recently, I thought that the years must have worn my parenting style down. That the third child must have worn me down. That my often chaotic, disorganised approach to life and parenting was born out of tiredness, laziness even and not wanting to fight too many battles. The other day, I realised this isn’t how it is at all. It’s not that I am chaotic or disorganised. It’s that I am able to choose what is important. What needs attending to. And what can wait. Basically? Everything can wait. Apart from my kids. Because these small people are growing up right under my nose, faster than I can bear. And I don’t want to miss any more moments than I already have. (Well, apart from the tantrumy moments. I could happily miss those.)

Finally, I have perspective. It’s all around me, every day. It’s in my eldest, almost 8 year old, who shows me how quick kids grow up. It’s in my middly who reminds me, just in case I forget. And it’s in my youngest, who has taught me to appreciate, rather than wish him (and the girls) away. Next year, my summer born boy will go to school. NEXT YEAR. There is no time to wish any of him away.

Why am I telling you this? Because it’s impossible to have this insight when you’re a new mum. Only time and experience can give it to us. But I want you to have just a little. If you can. Because I think it might help you when you feel like you’re drowning in those demanding early years. The hard moments can feel so long. So relentless. So endless. And they are. I haven’t forgotten. I see you, new mum. I do. You need so much physical energy. All the lifting alone. Of babies. Of buggies. Of SO MUCH STUFF. There’s always someone touching you. It feels as though there is no personal space.

Then, one day, almost overnight, your kids are at school. They come home from school and instead of hanging off of your leg, they go and play in their room. You have maybe 15 minutes to yourself before someone has hit someone else over the head with a gorilla (not a real one) and you have to intervene. You are not needed ALL OF THE TIME. And yet, you never ever saw this day coming. That your children would become less dependent on you in certain ways. How could they ever need you less? It just doesn’t seem possible when they are so new and pink and tiny. This perspective changes everything. Like when the toddler behaves illogically (again) and you find yourself smiling rather than despairing. Because you know this behaviour won’t last forever. It will pass. And turn into something else. Your almost eight year old is living proof of that. So is your five year old.

There is no time to wish any of them away.

(That said, please know that if you do find yourself wishing the days away, it’s perfectly normal and ok. Being a new mum is HARD but, one day, probably when you’re least expecting it, suddenly it will become easier. I am living proof of that.)

Much love to you AMAZING new mum.



You can also follow me on Instagram and Facebook. You might also want to treat yourself/drop heavy hints for someone else to treat you to The New Mum’s Notebook, sanity saving journal for new mums. I self-published it and Penguin Random House/Hutchinson have just bought the rights!

You are a great parent THIS VERY MINUTE.

The past few months, I’ve felt myself emerging from the early years of parenting. Like REALLY felt it. I’ve just bought the LAST box of nappies, after which I’m going to toilet train the boy and be nappy free for the first time in eight years (I am. I am. I am). The other day I took all three to London Zoo on the train and the tube on my own with NO BUGGY. Ok, the lack of buggy was a little bit stupid BUT we managed it. And I felt a huge sense of achievement as a result. It’s only going to get easier from here, I told myself. *Parents with teenage kids everywhere fall about laughing at this clearly delusional woman.* But, despite this, I will NEVER forget how tough the early years are. How tough a journey parenthood can be, in general. BUT, I also feel slightly differently about it these days. I wish I had back then. I’m not sure I’m ‘surviving’ motherhood anymore. I feel like I’m doing a bit better than that (I think we all are). Has my parenting changed or improved? No, not particularly. But my attitude to it definitely has. So I thought I’d share some things that have really helped shift my perspective. In case they help you too. (If I sound like a mad woman, it’s not my fault. The kids made me this way.)

  1. Accept that parenting will sometimes be hard, but don’t expect it to be and don’t resist it, when it is. There’s no getting away from it, some days are hard. No matter what you do. When you haven’t slept or one or all of the kids is sick or, worse, you’re sick but have to carry on regardless, you’re going to want to a) cry b) rant a lot and c) wish the day away. That’s normal and perfectly ok. But when we’re in these moments, we add further unnecessary suffering to our pain. Because we don’t just accept the feeling. We resist it. We feel bad about it. And we beat ourselves up. We let our minds generate tons of guilty and unpleasant thoughts. Whereas, if we just say to ourselves, ‘OK, this right now is rubbish but it’s no more than that,’ we can let it wash over us, we can even let the car crash and then we can dust ourselves off and carry on.
  2. Right this minute, YOU are the ultimate parent. This alone has changed the way I see everything. I wasn’t very kind to myself a lot of the time. I berated myself for things I didn’t like about myself (I can still do this when I’m not aware). I would think about the things I’ve done in the past that I wish I hadn’t. Like, I wish I hadn’t shouted at the kids. Blah blah blah. Then, I would try and make it up to myself by promising that I was going to be a better – a perfect – parent in the future. I wouldn’t shout at the kids ever again. I would be calm and collected. (Then I’d pick them up from school, and that was shot to s***). Any stuff you ever read about living in the now – one of the most effective CBT techniques I’ve learned – will tell you NOT to exist in the past or the future. Because you can’t. Physically, it’s impossible. Only your mind wants to maroon you in these places with regret or false hope. Accept yourself as you are RIGHT NOW. Because RIGHT NOW you are complete and don’t need to be anything else. Isn’t that liberating?
  3. Don’t let your thoughts convince you you’re something you’re not. The mind is a tool and it’s supposed to be used like a muscle in a leg. When it is needed and only then. But what ends up happening – and it’s so common we don’t even realise it’s not meant to be like this – is the mind works ALL of the time. Generating those incessant and mostly unconstructive thoughts that dominate our every waking moment. Or the ones where we’re trying to get to sleep. ‘The kids are driving me nuts, what if they’re psychopaths?’ or ‘She’s never going to sleep, ever, ever, ever,‘ or ‘Why did so and so do that?’ It’s incredibly difficult to stop the mind ticking over but once you’re aware of the thoughts it becomes possible to start letting them pass. If you’ve ever been to a yoga class you’ll have heard the teacher tell you to ‘notice the thoughts, but not judge them.‘ This is the ultimate power of living in the now – releasing you from that prison of whirring noise. YOU ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS. And most of your thoughts will NEVER EVER happen. Phew to that.
  4. Choose to see a situation differently. Your child is having a meltdown because you won’t let them wear one red shoe and one blue shoe. You’re late, again. And you can feel the stress levels rising. ‘WHY WON’T SHE JUST PUT HER SHOES ON?’ I have had this internal debate TOO MANY TIMES. Then I had a third child and suddenly it didn’t matter so much anymore. Choose to ignore the frustrating illogic of a toddler and let them wear their different coloured shoes. Then laugh about it. Anyone who sees me on the school run will know I practice what I preach. Often. Ahem.
  5. Zoom Zoom Zoom, We’re Going To The Moon! You know that feeling? When you’re exhausted. The kids are pivoting around you. It’s dinnertime and you just can’t be bothered to cook or even heat up a beige banquet of oven snacks? Or you’ve got to get up in the morning but you’re just so darn tired. I can be an AMAZING procrastinator. The best. Then, the other day, someone introduced me to the 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 technique. Where you basically count down and then do the thing you need to do. Maybe, I’ve spent too much time singing Zoom Zoom Zoom, We’re Going To The Moon but it really blooming works. And has revolutionised my lazy a***. Every single time.
  6. Let your inner being be the parent. Each and every one of us has an inner being. Not a Sigourney Weaver alien type being. I hope. More of a virtual one that’s fiercely linked to our instincts. Those strong instincts we have as parents. There’s a thought process that when we feel pain at the actions of someone else, we are not actually feeling pain because of what they’ve done, we’re feeling pain because it takes us so out of alignment with WHO WE ARE. It causes us to react in a way that doesn’t sit comfortably with us. So when our kids kick off, more often than not, an hour later we’re feeling bad and guilty. Ugh. Not because they refused to get dressed, didn’t eat their dinner or messed about at bedtime, but because we lost our s*** when they did this and we wanted to be able to react differently. Next time, we might. The time after that, we might not. Remember, never resist the moment. It is what it is.
  7. Be aware of the energy you’re giving to your kids. Energy never disappears, it gets transferred from one thing to another. The vibrational energy we give off determines what we get back. Your good mood? Will rub off on everyone you’ll meet. Your bad mood will do the same. If you’ve ever met someone and had that feeling of ‘hitting it off’ it’s because you’re feeding off one another’s light and energy. It’s the same when you meet someone and you don’t – perhaps your energy was a bit dismissive, lethargic or closed. Or theirs was. It’s the same with our kids. If I get up in a good mood and my kids are in a foul one, I instantly feel myself reacting negatively. Because they’re ruining my good mood and that’s just an annoying start to the day. Likewise, if the situation is reversed. But if I can continue, despite theirs, and be calm and empathetic and even try and make them laugh, we all fall into (happy) alignment with one another. This vibrational energy applies to every relationship in your life. So next time someone is antagonistic, sarcastic or dismissive of you, just have a little look inwards and see what vibe you were giving off too.
  8. Opt for LOVING your kids every time. It’s a given that we love our kids WHATEVER. Of course we do. But sometimes, we might, in the moment, forget to show this. Sometimes, I’m so p***ed off that they’ve smashed a glass (again) and busy ranting on about all the mess, that I don’t see that actually they didn’t mean it and they’re feeling a bit crushed too. There is no person in the world that can’t do with being shown unconditional love. It’s how people who have terrible wrongdoings done to them manage to forgive. We were all four years old and vulnerable once, right?
  9. Opt for LOVING yourself every time. Because there is no person in the world that can’t do with being shown unconditional love. Not even you. And who better to give it to you, than YOU?



More of me over on Facebook and Instagram. I have to say, I’m late to the game with Instagram but it is an AMAZING social media platform with loads of inspirational, supportive and motivational women and mums. Come hang out, if you’re not already.

To the mum who doubts herself.

Dear Mum,

If you’re reading this, then you have probably doubted yourself, at one time or another. Who hasn’t? Maybe you’re doing it right now. Doubting yourself doesn’t feel good, does it? It feels uncertain. But not only is it normal, it’s healthy. Usually. Because it means we’re questioning ourselves, which comes only from the desire to do right by our children. Yes, Doubt (just like its good buddy, Guilt) is also love, in disguise. LOVE.

Doubt is wanting the best for our children. But not always knowing how to provide it. Every parenting stage is new and challenging. Getting our babies to sleep. Helping them start school. Supporting them as they grow physically and emotionally. The phases come and go. And we’ve just got to learn on the job. No parent is completely confident in their abilities. There’s always that niggle in the back of our minds, ‘What if I get it wrong?

And we will get it wrong. Many times over. We haven’t done this before. We’re dealing with human beings, not a maths equation. But the best thing about parenting? We always get another chance to do it again. Better. Differently. And every time we do, the doubt passes and that’s another phase mastered. For now, anyway. We’ve learned something new and, in the process, given our children the greatest gift of all. We’ve showed them that making mistakes is not something to be scared of. That it’s a crucial part of getting it right. Eventually. That they never have to be perfect. (Amen to that.)

Sometimes, however, doubting ourselves as a parent isn’t healthy. It’s a negative emotion. And that’s when the doubt doesn’t come from us but from someone else. Other people start to sew seeds of doubt the minute we start this parenting journey. And they won’t stop. Sometimes it will be an innocent, throw away comment. Other times it will be more loaded than that and come from a place of insecurity where they need our decisions to reflect their own. So they can make peace with them. In short, it’s about them, not us.

We can’t stop the seed being sewn. But we can prevent it from growing. Let them plant it in their garden, not ours. If it isn’t constructive. If it doesn’t sit right with us or leave us feeling inspired. If it leaves us with that lurching feeling in our gut and asking, ‘Why did they say that?‘ it’s not a doubt that will ever serve us well or move us into a better place. It will grow weeds not flowers.

It’s hard to rise above it, especially when you’re a new parent. But as we become more experienced, as we get to know ourselves better as parents, we learn to ignore idle criticism. Because we have more confidence. And we realise that any sort of judgement is born out of insecurity and, very often, boredom. It has no truth. And if we choose not to listen to it, then it also has no audience. So, never get drawn into judging someone else’s parenting style, their choices or even their kids. It will only make you feel bad.

Finally, when you lose faith in yourself or your child. When you wonder if you can do this. When you lie awake at night feeling anxious. Look at how far you’ve already come. At what you’ve already achieved and mastered. You can do this better than you think.

There’s no doubt whatsoever, in fact.

Because you already are.

Much love to you.



If you’re a new mum in need of a little reassurance, check out The New Mum’s Notebook, 304 pages of sanity saving support. It’s available online now. More of me over on Facebook and Instagram.

Funny s*** new mums do.

By Amy Ransom on January 17, 2017 , 1 Comment

The other day I found a diary. That I barely remember writing. It’s full of entries to my first-born, documenting our first year together. It’s going to be serialised by The Daily Mail. Oh, hang on a minute. No, it’s not because it’s the DULLEST READ EVER. Full of crazy s*** I did and how much I loved her. Like every day, HOW MUCH I LOVED HER. No way do I remember enjoying motherhood anywhere near that much. Clearly I was a) sleep deprived b) hormonal and c) a total bloody liar. Anyway, I shared one particularly embarrassing post and lots of mums told me the ‘funny’ stuff they did with their firstborns. Here’s a summary. If you’re a first time mum sitting there fretting about Every. Single. Thing (as we all did), I hope this helps you chill out a bit. Because there are some things you really don’t need to do. Like ever.

1. THE SCENARIO: Roasting a chicken JUST for the stock at 11.30 PM at night for your newly weaned baby. (Then somehow finding the energy to write about it in your very sad diary.) Who knew you can get low salt stock cubes for this very purpose? (Everyone, but you.)
THE FUTURE: They will reward you by growing up, developing the sweetest tooth and eating all the E numbers they can lay their hands on. Whilst their sibling(s) who were weaned on dirt, air, party rings and whole (not low salt) Oxo cubes (eaten raw whilst you were too busy doing something else), turn their noses up at the sweet stuff and would much rather have a satsuma.
THE LEARNING: It’s going to be ok, whatever you do (or don’t do).

2. THE SCENARIO: Stimulating your baby in ridiculous ways. You spend most of the first year worrying about how to stimulate your baby. Are you doing enough with her? Reading enough? Talking to her enough? So you buy 34 Baby Einstein DVDs from eBay and convince yourself that she really enjoys watching one before her lunchtime nap (according to the very sad diary).
THE FUTURE: By the time you have more kids, you’ll be so exhausted and distracted you’ll only think about stimulants for you, not stimulating them. They will have a better vocabulary than you. Know their colours. And pretty much have been raised by Netflix.
THE LEARNING: You’re all the stimulation your baby needs. I promise. Oh ok, and maybe Netflix.

3. THE SCENARIO: Peeling things that were never meant to be peeled. Like grapes. Because, well, no reason really. It just feels like something a really good mum would do. (PS do cut grapes lengthways before serving, as they’re a choking hazard. The peeling bit has no benefits whatsoever though. Don’t say this blog isn’t useful haha.)
THE FUTURE: Not peeling things that were meant to be peeled. Because you’re so darn tired and your toddler is already halfway through the satsuma, skin and all, so what’s the point now?
THE LEARNING: You’re a good mum regardless of all this shizzle. You always have been.

4. THE SCENARIO: Sterilising EVERYTHING that might go near your baby. Like putting boiling water in the saucepan before putting, erm, fresh boiling water in it to cook the broccoli.
THE FUTURE: Eating actual animal poo.
THE LEARNING: Your baby is far more resilient than you think. Try not to obsess over their welfare. You’re doing a great job.

5. THE SCENARIO: Wondering if your baby is going to be a social pariah. Your baby/toddler bites another child at nursery. You have sleepless nights worrying that she’s going to be a social outcast whilst googling, ‘Is my baby a psychopath?’
THE FUTURE: She grows up to be funny, kind and aware that it’s not ok to go around biting people.
THE LEARNING: It’s a developmental phase. And one that most babies/toddlers go through. Seriously, don’t worry. It will pass.

6. THE SCENARIO: Thinking every mum is a better mum than you. Worrying that you’re not helping your baby to develop enough. Because Little Billy is already using a beaker AND holding it himself and your baby isn’t. Feeling out of your depth because all the other mothers seem to know more mum hacks than you.
THE FUTURE: One day soon, no one will give a s*** about this stuff. Or even remember it. Or remember anything, come to that.
THE LEARNING: We’re all out of our depth most of the time. You just learn to ride the wave of motherhood and chill the f*** out. Also? There’s no better mum for your child than you.

I really hope this helps you see what a great job you’re doing. I know when you’re in it, all this stuff is so overwhelming and it absolutely feels like you need to take the hardest path in order to do the best by your baby. But take it from us old mums, you really, really don’t. Happy mum. Happy baby. More reassurance available in The New Mum’s Notebook, sanity saving journal for new mums (it will definitely stop you roasting a chicken at 11.30 PM at night). Available online, priced £20.

‘A baby won’t change me’ (until it does)

This morning I posted a picture on my Facebook page with some words about the importance of finding mum friends. Your #mummassive, I called them. I was having a moment, remembering my NCT friends and how I couldn’t have survived the first year of motherhood without them. One mum commented that in an ideal world we’d all have that massive but a lot don’t, despite best effort. Motherhood can be lonely, she said (I know this, first hand). A lot of other mums liked her comment. And it made me wonder, am I being naive? Are there more mums out there alone than together, even though they’ve tried their best not to be? Are we spouting words about ‘finding mum friends’ that are just unrealistic and impossible to follow because some days we’re struggling to remember who we even are?

‘She’s having a baby!’

The first line I ever wrote when I started writing The New Mum’s Notebook was this. ‘Having a baby is wonderful. It can also be overwhelming.‘ I couldn’t think of any other way to say it. And if I had to sum up becoming a mum again, right now, this is what I would still say. I would say it every time a woman has a baby, no matter how many she has.

Having a baby is overwhelming.

(Let’s cut straight to the chase.)

Hanging on for dear life.

Before we become mums, we say stuff like, ‘A baby won’t change me. I’m still going to be me and not lose my sense of self.

I remember feeling this. I was petrified of losing my identity when I became a mum. So petrified that, when my first daughter was five months old, I wrote that list with 17 things on that I was going to do to be a good mum and STILL be myself. I also had an actual five year plan with things like ‘having a variety of hobbies,’ ‘learning new skills,’ and ‘playing the piano.’ What on earth did I think motherhood was going to be? I am now two years past that five year plan and I can tell you, I haven’t so much as touched a piano. And the hobbies? Well, I almost went to Zumba, once.

Does that count?

Who am I now?

So, despite our best intentions, motherhood shakes us to our cores.

It changes us. It makes us doubt ourselves. It makes us lose our confidence and forget how to interact with the rest of the world. I have friends who had huge careers and social lives before having kids that, some seven years on, are only just starting to find their feet again. And put on a nice pair of shoes.

I think this is why Instagram is so full of mums doing (great) stuff. To support their families, yes. To find a way of flexible working, yes. But more than anything? To hang onto themselves and some sense of who they were. Who they are.

And who they will be in the future.

I remember feeling lost.

So, when at times we’re struggling with our own sense of identity, I can see why me suggesting mums go out there and forge new friendships, when they’re often at their most vulnerable, sounds a bit idyllic and as overwhelming as the task of motherhood itself.

And it’s easy for me to write it, as I emerge from the baby bubble, now that baby no. 3 is almost two and a half. (It’s probably why I’m becoming one of those really irritating people feeling all nostalgic about it. If I ever write, ‘Enjoy them while they’re young,’ or ‘You’ll miss it when they’re older,’ please report me to Facebook. Or just go ahead and shoot me.)

But could I have done it when I was in the thick of it? Could I have put myself out there when I was feeling that intense sense of loneliness? When I was feeling forgotten. When I was feeling like I didn’t really have anything to say.

Possibly not. But I still believe we must try.

We are (probably) all in the same boat.

Mums have often said to me that groups they have tried to infiltrate are cliquey. And yes, there are some groups and women that may appear ‘cliquey.’ But the majority of women are not like this. The majority of women, of mums (new and old), are like me. And you. Feeling a bit shy or vulnerable or desperately trying to find those feet they once walked on.

Many of the new friends I’ve made since having kids have been in my lowest moments, when I wasn’t in a state to worry about what someone else might think. The mum I barely knew whose shoulder I cried (snotted) on. The mum who could see I was struggling and reached out. The mum who was warm and kind when I needed it. I hope I’ve done the same for others. These friendships might last a year or they might last forever, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that we open up. If we can. And reach out to one another. Otherwise, how do we ever know what boat someone else is really in? How do we know if they’re standoffish, painfully shy or just worrying they’re messing the whole thing up? It takes courage, which you might not think you have. But you have it, you do. And if you do open up and it comes to nothing, don’t give up. Move on. Try again. Your effort is never in vain.

Because, even if it seems they weren’t ready to receive it, to someone else, you have just been that mum who was warm and kind when they needed it.

And they’ll remember that forever, believe me.

Sorry for the mush. Sorry for the idyllic thoughts. But being a bit of an oversharer, I’ve learned that good things come when we talk to one another. I know we’re not all like this (thank god haha) and I’d love to hear your experiences. Tell me I’m wrong and idyllic (and possibly had too much sherry), I don’t mind at all! In the meantime, lots of love to ALL of you mums out there. You’re doing an amazing job and one day it won’t feel quite so suffocating, I promise.



Why I love parenting at Christmas…

Christmas. What’s not to love? Mulled wine. The Channel 5 Christmas movies. Stocking the cupboards with enough food to last 40 days for the two days of Christmas. Eating the cupboards with 40 days of food in, erm two days (by the 5th of December). Restocking the cupboards. (Repeat.) But when it comes to parenting at Christmas, THIS is where us parents have REALLY hit the jackpot. Here’s a few reasons why.

  1. Dinnertime. Feeding kids is one of the least rewarding aspects of parenting. Unless you’re Jamie Oliver who can do actual, clever stuff with actual ingredients. (Although I bet even his kids don’t really eat his dinners unless the food is beiger than beige.) But come the 1st of December and dinnertime doesn’t matter! Because everything you serve can be justified with, ‘It’s Christmas! Of course you can leave your peas. Here’s a mince pie (which have actual fruit in, by the way). Yes, go on, have another candy cane. It’s Christmas!’ Suddenly, you’re not an irresponsible, inconsistent parent who doesn’t follow through on their threat, ‘You’re NOT having pudding until you’ve eaten all your dinner.’ You’re just a parent at Christmas, kicking back, NOT being a Scrooge. Being Christmassy.
  2. Homework. Everyone who’s already at school knows that the Christmas term is sent to DESTROY parents (and kids). Dressing up days. Christmas Fairs. Donations. Teacher collections. Raffles. The fleecing of any money you’ve earned all year. All of this comes in this most joyous, final month of the year. Us parents respond by being so completely knackered/disorientated/drunk that we forget to police our kids in those final weeks. The reading diary stops coming home (and you stop nagging your child). You haven’t seen their recorder (or, in our case, ukelele – I know, don’t even get me started) in weeks. And the homework? Well, how realistic is it that they’re going to know ALL their times tables by Christmas anyway… erm…
  3. Bedtime. If you even had your children in any sort of routine to start with, now is when it starts to unravel. It starts slowly, when you’ve had a mulled wine at 4.30 PM because ‘It’s Christmas!’ and it’s served hot, so it barely qualifies as an alcoholic beverage. But it gathers momentum quickly and before you know it you’re hurtling towards, ‘Let’s never go to bed again. Because it’s Christmas. Let’s have another mulled wine and a candy cane!’  This will become a regret of gigantic proportions come January but, for now, you’re just all too joyous (drunk and high on sugar) to care.
  4. TV. If it has a Christmas prop in it, you can watch it. FACT. Christmas films are bordering on educational because all Christmas movies (especially on Channel 5 or Netflix) have a moving message that teaches your children to be better people. And possibly even prompts them to save the world one day. Are you going to be the person that says no to TV ALL day and hinders that? Nope. Me neither.
  5. Everything else. You soon learn that there isn’t anything that can’t be excused or justified with the mention of Christmas. You can blame bad behaviour (theirs and yours) on the general excitement of Christmas. Tantrums. Defiance. Overtiredness. All you have to do is pronounce, ‘It’s Christmas!’ Because, let’s face it, only a Scrooge can argue with that, right? Now. Who fancies another mulled wine (‘hot’ gin)?

Happy December! Here’s to mulled wine at 4.30 PM and kicking back. We’ve earned it. More of me over on Facebook and Instagram. Don’t forget to also check out our fab interactive advent calendar with loads of mum-to-be and new mum gift ideas AND exclusive discounts. 

The 12 Days of Motherhood (best sung loudly)

To get us all into the Christmas spirit and celebrate the launch of The New Mum’s Notebook Advent Calendar (24 days of fabulous gifts with some amazing, exclusive discounts), here’s a modified version of The 12 Days of Christmas. For all you new mums out there. And all us old mums who still remember those first 12 rollercoaster days of motherhood, oh so vividly. Or have completely blocked them out, because, well, we can barely remember what we did yesterday. Best sung to the tune of the original. In public. With lots of people staring at you, wondering what on earth you’re doing. Altogether now, ‘WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? WE’RE SLEEP DEPRIVED, DON’T YOU KNOW?’

On the First Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Second Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Third Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
Ouch! My boobs hurt.
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Fourth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Fifth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Sixth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Seventh Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Eighth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
I need chocolate cake.
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Ninth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
Tell me it gets easier
I need chocolate cake.
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Tenth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
My midwife’s signed me off!
Tell me it gets easier
I need chocolate cake.
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Eleventh Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
It’s ok that I’m knackered
My midwife’s signed me off!
Tell me it gets easier
I need chocolate cake.
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

On the Twelfth Day of Motherhood a new mum said to me
I can blooming do this.
It’s ok that I’m knackered
My midwife’s signed me off!
Tell me it gets easier
I need chocolate cake.
When will I sleep?
I can sort of do this.
This is full on.
Why am I crying?
Ouch! My boobs hurt
What do I do?
And I’d murder some toast and a cup of tea

(And I said to her, you CAN blooming do this. Keep going new mum. You’re AMAZING. And here’s that well earned toast and a cup of tea.)

Follow me on Instagram to get daily notifications of our Advent Calendar and grab those discounts. We’ve got some REALLY exciting brands and gifts to share with you from small businesses. And don’t forget our very own Notebook! The New Mum’s Notebook is the perfect gift and stocking filler for all mums-to-be and new mums this Christmas. Happy 1st December!

A skincare range that embraces time

In the summer, the oh so lovely Jane Scrivner sent me a box of her beautiful skincare range. I’ve been using the range for three months now and my skin is transformed. From dull and grey in tone, prone to blemishes with the beginnings of some very definite lines to plump, smooth and a glow that’s there, even if I don’t wear a scrap of make up.

Pure and simple.

I had the pleasure of sitting with Jane at dinner, once. She is warm and approachable and the ultimate entrepreneur, building this amazing brand after 24 years in the skincare industry. She prides herself on using raw materials and ingredients that are pure, natural, preferably organic and, most importantly, that work.

Jane isn’t about trying to look decades younger than you are or denying your age (she’s actually told me to embrace approaching 40. Eek.) She’s about taking care of your skin inside and out so it looks as good as it can look. This is why every product comes with the lovely touch of her Skin Nutrition Tips, highlighting the things that damage our skin, which we should mostly avoid. Caffeine. Alcohol. Sugar. (Sorry.)

The essential oils in her products are the best she can find. And they’re the best you’ll ever use on your skin.

My daily skincare routine.

I’ve been using the Nourishing cleanser twice a day. It’s so amazing in fragrance and feel, you’ll want to eat it. A combination of balancing, elastin and collagen promoting Organic Jojoba Oil, with beeswax and nine ‘skin loving’ essential oils. I use this morning and night, applying it to dry skin and washing it off with a flannel. Occasionally, if I feel my skin needs it, I apply another thin layer at night and sleep with it on as a beauty balm. I credit this cleanser alone with improving my skin and tackling those annoying blemishes that we surely should not still be getting in our 30s. Because, for the first time ever, I feel that my skin is actually clean after I’ve used it. And yes, it does remove every trace of make-up, even mascara.

In the morning, I follow this with Jane’s Skin Elixir Daily Facial Moisturiser, a combination of organic Jojoba Oil and essential oils of Ylang Ylang, Elemi, Eucalptus, Frankincense, Lemongrass, Lavender, Myrrh, Sandalwood and Sweet Orange, which balance out any skin type. Clever, eh? Like all of Jane’s products, it smells absolutely heavenly. One pump warmed between your fingers and patted into clean, dry skin is all that you need.

At night I use the Affirmative Firming, Toning Facial Oil, which if I was only allowed to use ONE product in the whole world on any part of my body, THIS would be it. (I’d also be putting up a good fight for the Nourishing cleanser.) This is a ‘skin superfood’ concoction blended with seven core oils; apricot kernel, jojoba, moringa, red raspberry, acai, pomegranate and sea buckthorn. It feels slightly thicker than the Skin Elixir and I love this indulgent feeling at nighttime. I can see the difference the moment I’ve put this on. Literally. My skin is plumper, firmer and looks instantly younger. I sound like an advert, I know, but it’s true. There’s no other way I can say it.

Jane’s oils never make your skin feel oily. She is very focused on this and says that you should always use a small amount. The look is radiant, not oil-slick, so you really don’t need much, which also means Jane’s products go a long way giving you quality and value. Regardless of which oil I’ve used, I always finish off with Jane’s brand new ‘OO’ Cream (Over Oil), a unique combination of collagen stimulating oatmeal, calming & protective argan oil, cooling aloe gel and vitamin E for enhanced protection. It moisturises and seals in all the goodness of those amazing oils and feels completely luxurious. And I’m convinced it has sort of blemish healing power because the next morning my skin is so much clearer.

Time for you.

Jane’s skincare range is so luxurious it makes you want to be almost ceremonious about using it. That’s the sort of products they are. I actually enjoy applying them and get into bed to put on the oil and OO cream so I can really relish the moment and breathe. Often, as a busy mum of three, it’s the first moment I’ve had to myself all day. To think about myself. To do something for myself. To just be in the moment.

And that is what I love about Jane’s products, most of all.

Embracing time.

Jane kindly sent me these products to review, having already previously sampled and loved the cleanser. This is not an affiliate link nor do I make any money from sales of this product. All opinions are, as always, my own and I simply like to share new products with you, that I think rock!

What sort of mum are you?

Take the Surviving Motherhood quiz and find out. Score 1 point for every a) answer, 2 points for every b) answer and 0 points for every c) answer

1. Have you ever:

a) Drank a gin in a can on the toilet

b) Drank two gin in a cans on the toilet

c) What’s a gin in a can?

2. You get to the school gates and remember that you’ve forgotten your child’s playtime snack. Do you:

a) Feel a bit bad but really, what can you do about it now?

b) Wish them good luck before legging it. You’re late for your spin class (aka coffee and cake at the gym).

c) Rush home immediately cursing yourself all the way for being so reckless, before returning to school with a mixed fruit salad of mango, pineapple and lychee.

3. You’re completely knackered with a splitting headache but promised your kids you’d take them to the hell that is soft play. Do you:

a) Promise to take them tomorrow and hope they forget.

b) Deny all knowledge of ever having made such a promise.

c) You’re never tired because you’re always in bed by 9.30 PM. But, if you did fall ill, you’d take them regardless. Their needs come first and you wouldn’t dream of breaking a promise. Or lying.

4. Where do you stand on playdates?

a) You’d rather not, but every now and again you can just about suffer one.

b) You love them! As long as they’re at someone else’s house.

c) You think they’re a joy. Who doesn’t love an excuse to get out the craft basket and entertain someone else’s offspring?

5. Crafts. Yay or Nay?

a) You’ll do it as long as you’re slightly inebriated.

b) The last time you saw a pipe cleaner, it was circa 1985 and you were wearing sweatbands.

c) You have a craft basket, drawer and are currently turning your spare room into a craft room.

6. A good meal is:

a) Anything beige.

b) Wotsits. With a fork. You’re not a slob.

c) The perfectly balanced plate of protein, carbohydrates and vegetables. Your children love your cooking and often ask for ‘More green, Mummy, more green!’

7. Let’s talk about bedtime. Your routine is:

a) Patchy. But you do try to instil some structure into the evening, before your kids spend the next two hours taking turns to come down and ruin your life.

b) Non existent. But, if you’re feeling organised, you’ll factor in a cat’s lick (courtesy of the cat), two gin in a cans on the toilet and a quick flick through ‘That’s not my fairy,‘ which you’ve managed to convince your kids is only two pages long. 10 victorious minutes later you’re sat down in front of DIY SOS whilst your kids spend the next four hours dicking about upstairs. People moan about bedtime. But you can’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve got this s*** down!

c) Flawless. A bath every night. Clean PJs. Milk and a sugar free homemade cookie followed by three chapters of Enid Blyton and 15 minutes of stroking before your kids drift off into a deep sleep and wake in the same position, 12 hours later.

Your score:

0 points – Fake Mum: Your children aren’t real are they? That’s why they’re so damn perfect. And you’re so damn smug. 

1-6 points – Slightly Less Crap Mum: You’re predominantly crap, like most of us. But every now and again you remember a dressing up day at school or to reply to a party invite, which puts you one gin in a can ahead of Crap Mum. Good effort! 

7-12 points – Definitely Crap Mum: Sorry. But you knew this before you took the quiz, didn’t you? Help yourself to another gin in a can and let it go. Actually? You couldn’t care less, could you?