The Spice Girls are reuniting! (Well, except for Posh). Viva Forever! The news has had me harking back to the era of Girl Power and wondering what my three-year-old daughter would make of The Spice Girls. She certainly knows how to tell you what she wants, what she really, really wants. But she was born …
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Sitting at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee beside me, my neck is aching from sitting hunched over a screen in an unsupportive chair and I am batting away a small hand that wants to poke at the computer. As I wonder what state my back is going to be in when …
There is sand in my bed. Not very much but enough to scratch and irritate me as I toss and turn trying to get comfortable. My night of intended rest and relaxation is disturbed by these few small tiny grains of annoyance. Just another niggling aggravation that mounts up to create the vast, expanding beach …
The floor is scattered with debris - balls of shredded newspaper, discarded toys and half eaten cakes that have been trodden into the carpet. A popped balloon lies deflated on the floor, all its puff and promise destroyed by the events of the day. Sitting shell-shocked in a chair gazing around me, I feel much …
I like naughty people. I just find myself drawn to them. I'm not an out-and-out rebel myself, but I enjoy lurking in their shadows. Usually too timid to be the first to break the rules, I'll merrily follow in the footsteps of a troublemaker and join in their revolution once it's got going. Goody two-shoes, …
Things have been a little frantic at Nursery Whines HQ this week. But we have had time to enjoy a few of life’s hidden delights. Everyday things that we may take for granted, but that an almost three-year-old can still appreciate the rapture of. Here are seven simple pleasures we enjoyed this week. 1. The …
Parenting certainly has its problems, and children can be complicated - to say the least. But it has occurred to me of late that perhaps I do not paint my child in the best light. In complaining about the difficulties I encounter in my daily life as a mother, I am always the victim and …
In almost every room in my house there is now a piece of paper hung or taped on the wall somewhere, documenting somebody's failure. Daddy's failure to make a decent Reward Chart. Mummy's failure to remember to stick the relevant stickers onto the chart. My daughter's failure to grasp that the purpose of the chart …
Here I am - airing my dirty laundry in public again. Rifling through the wardrobe I'm struggling to find anything for my daughter - and indeed myself - to wear that is not soiled. They've been through the wash - we're not going to smell - but every dress, every T-shirt, bears a blotch or …
Before I even fell pregnant I always said I didn't want a girl. "Because what if she's prettier than me?!" I would exclaim. What a life - doomed to be the wicked mother who gazes into her magic mirror at her wizened face, seething with jealousy at the enchanting young creature that gambles about behind …
