In a recent comment-conversation, the lovely Rose said: ‘Oh I envy little L, I imagine she has a great wardrobe of clothes!’ I had to think about this, because a) yes, she does (thanks to her generous grandma, little L is sporting Ugg Boots, pink Ralph Lauren corduroys and a white Petit Bateau hooded jacket in the picture above) and b) I envy her myself, because she’s better dressed than me. Realising this kind of hurt, but it’s the truth and it’s time to face it: I am a slummy mummy.
Little L will turn six months next Thursday. Time to start weaning your baby – as recommended by The Department of Health. However, we started to wean her at about 20 weeks. In contrary to my insecurities regarding how to breastfeed my baby, I made this decision based on a little research, a lot of gut feeling and closely watching my baby. In the end it was her who gave me all the clues that breast (only) is no longer best
Little L is having her first ever cold. And ever so generous, she passed it on to me. Not without mummy pride I realised that we managed to get pretty far without the slightest sign of a sniff. Can you believe that she’s five and a half months already?
SMACK. I remember the tingling sensation on my cheek and how astonished I was about the loudness a flat hand landing on my face could cause. Smacking wasn’t one of my mother’s preferred educational measures, but in this particular case she made an exception and put in all her fears and anger and frustration.
Having renovated a house recently, I can honestly say that watching paint dry is more exciting than attempting to diet. The last diet (remember Fat Smash: peas and lentils and lentils and peas) was ditched after four days. Four days! Instead we went to New York and tucked into pancakes (sky-high pancake piles soaked in maple syrup, accompanied by fried eggs and bacon), pizza and gigantic chocolate chip cookies. Only to be followed by the New England diet, i.e. lobsters and melted butter, corn on the cob and pumpkin pie. I know this is going to surprise you, but I STILL haven’t lost those last three pounds.
Hotsling baby carrier to give away. Attention: only for the seasoned user
When I was pregnant with little L, I envisioned myself as one of those boho style mummies: long hair floating in the wind, wrapped in a poncho, baby L snugly propped into her baby pouch carrier.
Last Sunday was seeing little L and me attending the Christening of L’s babyfriend T. On our way to the reception, one of the guests asked me, if I was going to have little L baptised. Answering the question herself, she said ‘Well, I guess it’s better to have them baptised at an early age.’ Is it? I am not quite so sure.
Big M embarked on a trip this morning to spend the weekend on his brother’s stag ‘night’, leaving me with a thick and heavy cloud hanging over my head. Let’s called it the post-vacation blues.
We were counting the days to our first family vacation. Two weeks on the French Atlantic coast. Our first holiday since our honeymoon and our first ever holiday as a family. Our expectations weren’t disappointed, au contraire! Although, I noticed a few little differences to the style in which we took on les vacances before having little L.
Two weeks on Île de Ré, and not only did I gain a tan, but also a few extra inches around the waist. My trousers appear to hug my hips in a tight embrace. The two stick together like first time lovesick teenagers. Let’s hope this summer romance isn’t more than a short-lived fling. You ask how this could happen? An analysis of photo material should bring light into this sombre affair.