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I got my first ever pair of DC trainers  when I was 15 years old. My brother and his friends were very into skateboarding. I was very into my brother’s friends.
One day, they decided to go to Harrow to a skate park. I tagged along. Within the skate park was a shop. In this shop was the nicest pair of DC trainers I had ever seen. They were a thing of beauty. I fell instantly in love.

There was just one small problem.  They were £25 and I had £4.73

I wonder if Royals Wills and Kate are bickering over baby names. The husband I spent months doing it. Apparently it’s the most argued about issue for first-time-parents. My advice would be, don’t bloody bother. We never called any of ours any of the names we had spent nine (and-a-half) months rowing over anyway.


So primary school children (in Wales) have been told they cannot use the toilet unless they ask in Welsh. How awful. I am so relieved I don’t live in Wales.

I live in a weak-bladdered family. It’s my mother-in-law’s fault for having a 11lb baby (the husband), which is apparently the reason I had three 9lb babies.

My pelvic floor is more like a perforated sieve.

So more and more parents are shopping for baby products between midnight and 6am. How sensible of them. What a productive thing to do with the long sleepless hours. My husband and I tend to spend them arguing about who is more tired, why our children don’t sleep, why we even had children and then, (depending on how bad the night goes) why we even got married in the first place.

Why do I feel the need to share so much personal information about myself, to anyone, all the time? 

I just read Jamie’s blog post about being a blushing SAHD dad who has to hear FAR too much about the mums he spends time with.

It got me thinking.

I do that. A lot.