There are times when you’re a mum when you want to (and do) cry…with exhaustion, frustration, anger, overwhelmed-ness, guilt, worry…
And there are times like this, when the house is quiet and you sit back and think over your old life.
There are times when you’re a mum when you want to (and do) cry…with exhaustion, frustration, anger, overwhelmed-ness, guilt, worry…
And there are times like this, when the house is quiet and you sit back and think over your old life.
There’s something about becoming a mum (or at least there was in my case) which brings out the instinct to go all mama bear on anyone who gets too close to the cubs in the wrong way. Even if said person is not a hunter but is just intending to stroke those cute little cubs. So if you want to avoid a (verbal) mauling, try and avoid doing the following: Continue reading
It’s hard to admit, but my first few months with newborn twins were not the most fun I’ve ever had.
And not having the most fun led to another feeling, guilt. I felt that I should be enjoying it. As the pregnancy got tough I’d consoled myself by thinking I would enjoy it. But there was a (large) part of me that wasn’t. Continue reading
As night approaches the die has been cast, tonight we are going to start the graduated extinction method.
Multimummy puts out a clock on the living room table, a bottle of water, a notebook and a baby sleep book. She’s decided that during this process she’s going to give up on sleep once BabyBoy wakes up, and instead sit up with the monitor on, ready to time the intervals between going in to check he’s ok. A notebook is used to note down the minutes and to write down any observations. The baby sleep book outlines the method – she will have it ready to refer to during her vigil. Continue reading
Things are about to get controversial…
Most of the sleep training info I’ve read has lots of quotes from parents who’ve been through the process (whether it’s worked or not). This is a bit different, because we’re in the middle of sleep training BabyBoy. Continue reading