Our babywearing journey so far

When I heard that this week was International Babywearing Week, my first thought was that some people take pieces of cloth a little too seriously. A public awareness week for slings, carriers and such things? Really? But actually, I can’t believe how passionate I’ve become about the subject myself. What began as a mode of transport has become a lifestyle for Talitha and me. She has, quite literally, attached herself to me. Back in April I asked for a woven wrap for my birthday merely as an alternative to the pram. When it arrived, a gift from my parents, I…

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Pass me the non-alcoholic vino

Ten years ago I sneaked into a bar with a friend, wearing very different clothes to what my mother had seen me leave home in. With uncertainty I had my first sip of alcohol. It was all a bit of a joke. I don’t even like fizzy drinks and it was rum and Coke. Later that year or maybe the next, a cousin took me a nightclub and plied me with screwdrivers (vodka and orange juice). She hadn’t meant to. She’d had a lot to drink herself and kept forgetting she’d got me drinks. I bet she’s forgotten this ever…

No tummy time, Mummy

My daughter hates tummy time. I know, I should probably be a good mother and push her to achieve her developmental goals. But you know what? Life is too short for those ten minutes she’s supposed to be on her tummy. For a start, when is this tummy time supposed to happen? She’s never awake for more than two or three hours and she spends about an hour of that feeding. See where I’m going with this? Tummy time equals baby puke. Not worth it. Sign up for my newsletter

Lost my dignity at The MADs

I’m not sure how a joke about an unused uterus would go down at BAFTA but how else could the self-proclaimed un-broody Muireann Carey-Campbell (Bangs and a Bun) open the Mums and Dads Blog Awards? My day started with demonstrations of nappy-changing, bottle-feeding and babywearing to reassure my brother, his girlfriend and, mostly, myself that they could babysit without the world ending. They were filling in between me leaving for London and Laurence getting home from work. (Quick sidenote: Be ye less stupid – don’t leave your baby for 24 hours if you’re breastfeeding. I thought, “My milk supply is…

Five things I’d do if I had a newborn …

At almost sixteen weeks it finally seems official that Talitha is not a newborn. She’s passed the eleven-pound mark on most newborn disposable nappies and grown too long for all her 0-3 months’ clothing. Those first twelve weeks, that fourth trimester, was such brief time and yet living it took yonks. Looking back with the sagely wisdom of one with a slightly less young baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d change if I could have a do-over of the newborn thing. These aren’t regrets so much as a gentle interrogation of the experience for next time. 1. I’d get…

I’m leaving my baby

At noon on Friday, I will board a train with a dress in my bag and without a baby on my chest. She’ll be snuggled up in a sling worn by her uncle who I’m leaving armed with eco-disposables. I felt it unfair to expect him to fold cloth on top of looking after my oft-confirmed demanding baby. I will sit on that train to London, reading The Other Boleyn Girl and hoping it’s trashy enough to distract me from what I’m leaving behind. I made the decision to go to the MAD Blog Awards months ago. You voted my…

The water doctor

We call him “the water doctor”. My cousins joke that you could break yuh han’ an’ Grandpa would jus’ tell you to drink more water. He trained in, I think, Ireland, working hard into his, I think, seventies and still going, sometimes paid in fresh produce. He delivered me into my parents’ bedroom in that little flat we grew up in. The one with leak stains on the ceiling. Now that I’ve got his great-gran’, I remember the stories of how he saved my infant brother’s life. And I still find myself trusting his medical opinion above all others. Sign…