I need to have a bit of a rant here, one of these niggly things that has been rattling around my head for a while.
I love the NHS, do not doubt me when I say that. It’s a bloody wonderful service and we are super lucky to have it. However, some of the people within it are (I guess as is any percentage of a large workforce) decidedly unrepresentative of their professional body.
Over the course of the last year or so my GP has seen myself and my two boys a number of times due to various things and each time I have found him very dismissive. I’m not the type of person to hurry to the doctor unless it’s something I feel is serious and now I’m a much more confident parent, second time around, I also know that if I’m taking my kids there it’s because I’m genuinely concerned and not just over anxious.
Each time he has left me feeling like some silly girl who’s wasting his time with my concerns – this is so unacceptable! Imagine I allowed his behaviour to put me off going in and my child’s cough or upset stomach turned out to be something far more serious?
My other bug bear is judgy health visitors. Actually I get quite wound up by anyone judging my parenting choices but your HV especially is meant to support you and advise you. Not judge and make you feel shit. The most recent example I have seen was from Megan of It’s The Mother – she had been given a bit of a stern chat from her HV after revealing that she had been cosleeping with her baby girl in order to get some reasonable rest whilst solo parenting for a few weeks. Seriously?! A genuinely sleep deprived parent who isn’t taking any opportunities to get a decent sleep is more of a concern than one who allows their 8 month old to come into bed for a rest. We have H in our bed loads and all the chat I get is “oh you have made a rod for your own back” – come back and tell me that again if he’s still sleeping in my bed at 14 Mavis!! I could go on and on about the whole cosleeping thing because the UK is one of the few countries who really is against it and having read (thoroughly!!) up on it, I am a big advocate if it’s what you wish to do and do it safely.
Enjoying a wee snuggle before bedtime in the big bed!
Anyway, this was a far longer rant than planned but clearly I had some chat to get off my chest! Thanks, as always, for reading along. Please share your moan of the week with me so I know I’m not the only grump out there!!
When we were invited along to The Bridge Inn Ratho to have breakfast with Santa I jumped at the chance! I love brunch, all things festive and road trips so it was too much for me to resist despite having pretty much no clue where Ratho was! #weegiesontour
Harrison spent no time at all getting stuck in to the amazing pancakes and cooked breakfasts that we ordered which allowed this mama to drink a cuppa and eat my own breakfast for a nice change. The scrambled eggs were particularly awesome and the pancakes are super fluffy.
A very jolly Santa appeared and in a frankly civilised manner his elves herded our wild cats, sorry small children, into a group to sing a few Christmas songs and handed out a lovely gift to them each. After that we grabbed a photo with the big guy himself and took the opportunity to catch up with a few of my favourite East coast mama bloggers who were in attendance with their Small’s too!
As wonderfully festive and blissful as this All sounds (and it was fabulous!) I have to share the reality…..
He HATED Santa 🙈😂🎅🏻
What fun festive activities are you all up to this year?
Soft play is hell on earth, it is sticky and loud and full of the worst horror
‘other people’s children!’
Sometimes it is a necessary evil, particularly after 3 days at home with a restless toddler and a squalling baby when it’s been pissing rain. Soft play can be survived, but only by following certain rules which I am happy to share with you….
1. Be prepared. Mentally as well as sartorially. Psyching yourself up for the
sheer volume, scent and lurid colour scheme of the venue is a must. A bit
of outfit planning is essential too, make sure you have on socks as you
will be dragged in to play at some stage and no one wants to stand
barefoot on an unidentifiable puddle. High waisted jeans or some reliable
leggings are useful for saving you from flashing your greying granny
pants. Anything polyester is going to become a potential fire hazard on
the ginormous slide of death so best to avoid. Goes without saying that
any ‘nice’ items of clothing should be left in the safety of the wardrobe.
2. Take out a large bank loan. The cost of the entrance fee, average tasting
coffee, surprisingly delicious traybakes, jumbo jugs of weak diluting juice
and slightly soggy sandwiches is comparable to the GDP of Belgium but
your life will not be worth living if you don’t provide these nutritious
goods for your offspring. I once tried to offer some fruit that I had
brought in myself and was nearly taken prisoner and smothered in the
ball pool. Lesson learned.
3. Bring back up. To be in with half a chance at sipping a mouthful of that
overpriced lukewarm latte and a bite of cake you will need another
desperate mama to work in shifts with. One gets to herd the feral kids
while the other takes a well deserved 3 minute break. It isn’t a failsafe
plan but it gives you half a chance at least.
4. Try and maintain your calm. Personally I find it near impossible not to
lamp our local man-child ‘wee Tommy’ after he’s half trampled the
babies (in the UNDER 5’S section!!) and deliberately terrorised my son
whilst swigging from a can of Monster. It is frowned upon to beat the kids
up, so instead just loudly and passive-aggressively ask where his mother
is and throw him your best death glares.
5. More prep….your now entirely lord of the flies feral children will battle
you to the death to avoid leaving Soft Play. You will need bribes, and
6. Finally – know your limits! I know it might seem the better option but on a
hangover or particularly knackered day it just isn’t worth it. Stay home,
leave CBeebies on repeat and have a handy stash of snacks to throw at
them on a regular basis while you cling to your mobile and hide under a
I would also recommend having wine for when you get home to help wipe
the memory from your frazzled brain. Or gin. Or both.
Good luck fellow soft play adventurers!
So recently I had been picking up some vibes from a certain group of women that I know through one of our baby classes. Nothing mean had been said, no outright lines drawn, just a general air of ‘off’ and I couldn’t work out what I had done wrong…
To read the rest of this post, please head over to Bad Mum Magazine where it was originally published 💕💕
I have always been one to get carried away with things. The ‘do everything to excess’ trait in me is both a blessing and a curse. The positive aspect is that I go all out on projects that inspire me, and if I love you then I’m all in and all over your sweet ass self. The down side is that I often end up in predicaments, less so these days with two small kids but there is still plenty of scope. I’m sure my other half and exes have lost count of the times I have said causally that ‘it’s only dinner and a few drinks, won’t be later than 10’ only to stagger through the door at 3am with one shoe and eye make up halfway down my face.
As you can see from the clip above, my evening out on Thursday night wasn’t much different to that scenario. I had gone along to a bloggers learning event hosted by Scottish Bloggers Collective in the relatively new but lovely Epoch Glasgow in Princes Square and it all started off very sensibly.
A welcome Mojito and some excellent chat about bloggers, PRs and brands and how to work together. Sober Katie took lots of notes, asked questions and was properly engaged. We then enjoyed another rum based cocktail and some canapés and broke session to mingle a little bit….here is where it all went a bit awry. Hayleigh and I went to sample some of the Old J Spiced Rum and it was so delicious we sampled one shot, and then another, and then a few more for good measure. It’s bloody delicious FYI!
Look how happy our wee rum soaked faces are!!
Needless to say having not eaten a proper dinner, and being quiet well behaved mums (haha) we ended up spectacularly drunk. Everyone was our best pal and everything was massively entertaining to us, special apologies to the young man with the Gallic name in Wetherspoons that begrudgingly served us.
The next day was not quite as glitzy or as entertaining to me. My head was heavy, my stomach was not happy with me and I had to get my shit together in order to do the school run and then attend Gymboree class with the baby! I managed, by some miracle and all the snacks to do both chunder free, although it was a close call when doing the Hokey Cokey. Thankfully I had my partner in crime Hayleigh and our two tots to cheer me up and share a lunch of all the cheese and carbs.
The hangovers get harder to recover from every year that goes by but this one was definitely worth it! I may even enjoy one of my Old J Spiced Rum samples this evening now I feel human again.
Currently life feels a bit like it’s flying past in a total blur and I am just trying to keep up. Thankfully it’s loads of brilliant things that I have on the go so it’s mostly a positive blur but I’m finding it a tad overwhelming.
Actual image of me at the moment!
The result of this is dropped balls, the metaphorical type of course! The actual writing side of the blog has become distinctly neglected. Instagram is just easier, quicker and is where I have a lot more contacts and followers so tends to become the favourite child when life gets manic. So apologies, dear readers, I will get back into the swing of weekly writing!
My main cause of blur and big news is that I have been scrambling around trying to decide what to do about my return to work. I had my request for part time/flexible working denied and was facing a return to work full time from November. A prospect I didn’t much cherish with two small kids one of whom I don’t even have with me 7 days of the week due to custody arrangements.
Randomly, while in a local jewellers with my Mum, we were discussing my situation and the owner overheard. She quickly spoke up and said she was looking for someone and did I want to give her my CV and have a chat? Fast forward a few weeks, some serious soul searching, a lot of conversations and number crunching and I am leaving the world of insurance. After 7 years and the frankly crushing disappointment of the denial of my request it felt like the right time. Not only do I get to now work amongst the most stunning diamonds all day, they are also letting me run their social media and marketing which is a dream role for me!
Also me…in the display window!
The only down side of all this is that I will be returning to work sooner than originally planned and have a few extra balls to juggle in terms of childcare arrangements and adapting to an altogether new role.
I have a few reviews to write up and post so keep an eye out for those, but please be patient with me while I work out my best balance.
Any tips on how to keep things all ticking along with out burning out would be much appreciated!
I’m so excited to bring you all another guest post but this time from my lovely work colleague Steve and about parenting from a Dads perspective!
It’s been nearly two years since Judith and I were blessed with Eloisa, a beautiful little baby girl.
Up until the day she was born I was (naively) expecting a walking, talking little person to leap into the world all ready for me to read bedtime stories to, teach to ride a bike, race round the park with and have chats with as I drove her to and from music and sports clubs – boy did I have a wake up call.
Sleepless nights, the absolute heartbreak of rejection when only mummy will do, baby puke, brown sticky stuff in places you’d never thought you’d see it (not least when your super efficient daddy nappy change turns out to be slightly too early), yet more baby puke and cries for which no number of Google searches could provide you with a solution – the truth is that in the early days it the whole thing scared the living daylights out of me.
These days we have a toddler who is determined to operate at full throttle, who gets frustrated when her demands are not complied with, who possesses the power of choice (this I greet with a sense of pride albeit frustration when she ‘chooses’ that she doesn’t want to wear shoes for her walk to nursery) and who only last week hurled a badminton racket because Judith tried to go first so that she could explain how the game was played – yes that’s right – the terrible twos are upon us.
These days Judith still does most of the day to day mechanics but at least I can play my part – usually by providing goofy yet entertaining distraction whilst Judith attends to the more important jobs (we play to our strengths you see and besides I’ve never quite overcome the trauma of ‘that’ nappy change) and I’m finally beginning to see glimpses of that walking, talking little person I was excited to meet two years ago.
It can still be hard, frustrating, annoying and sometimes downright terrifying (especially where climbing and running is involved) but one little smile, an extended hand for you to hold or puckered lips for her bedtime kiss makes you realise that this parenting lark ain’t so bad after all.
Thanks Steve 💕