• in Orla’s bag

    Not the ubiquitous ‘what’s in my bag’ post (crushed baby crisps, used tissues & the same novel I’ve been reading for the last 7 months, of course!), but Orla’s bag, a snapshot of her little life, right now. ‘Ba’!’ she exclaims, dragging it along the cobbles behind her; sitting with it on the doorstep, waiting

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  • lions & fleabags

    My friend Helen writes & illustrates the most wonderful books for children. She’s also one of my favourite people ever, a hugely inspirational mama and has a wardrobe full of Things I Want to Steal, but they don’t seem to mention that much when they read her stories on cbeebies/Blue Peter, or when she illustrates

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  • baby changing

    A strange sadness, to leave the house Orla knows so well. She’s splashed in this bath since her very first week; she knows which wobbly floorboards to skip, as she leads my by the hand to bed. She knows where the raisins are kept, and the way to the park, and the best windows to

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  • Imperfectly

    It’s much too easy to let my blog & instagram slide into being part of the ‘perfect life’ myth – that idea that everyone else has everything great, & you’re the only one dealing with the crap. So, to redress the balance: I have really bad anxiety. I sometimes cancel plans because leaving the house

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  • mother’s day

    I found her under a gooseberry bush, which is a euphemism of course for a labour so painful I really-actually thought I was going to die. I did not find childbirth spiritual or beautiful. Instead, it found me, violent & terrifying; a trauma so gruesome that under any other circumstance you’d be given a week

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  • One

    She is one. This seems completely impossible, but the calendar confirms is is true. She sleeps snuggled close to one of us in our big bed. She likes to tuck her feet around against my tummy for warmth, & push against me, just like she did when she grew inside. She uses words – uh

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