Please excuse the off-parenting post, but this seemed the best way to let regular readers know that as I’m moving websites at the moment, there may be a little disruption whilst everything gets shifted over. So if things look a bit strange – well stranger than normal – rest assured, I will be back… Lucky you!
As I know even less about websites than I do about babies, I’m mainly crossing my fingers and saying a prayer that email subscribers move over seamlessly, and understand that this should be the case. However if you don’t get a new post from me in the next week or so, please check back here at the usual address www.bigtroubleinlittlenappies so we don’t lose touch! Thanks 🙂 Continue reading
I am writing this somewhat reluctantly, but after verbal attempts to negotiate broke down without resolution, I am left with little choice. I have been in your employment for over 18 months now, and whilst I enjoy my post immensely, a few changes to my contract are required in order for me to attain some work / life balance.
I wouldn’t usually take a formal approach to this kind of thing, but it can be tricky to hold a sensible conversation with you. You regularly laugh in my face when I am trying to express my dissatisfaction with something you have done, and I find your interruptions – usually involving a request to sing or provide food – rather rude when I am in the middle of making an important point. Continue reading
Dining out, breaking bread, cooking-avoidance… whatever you want to call it: visiting eateries is widely considered a pleasant, social and relaxed experience. Plus, it means no washing up and a guaranteed pudding option. What’s not to like?
When two become three and life changes beyond all recognition, be assured there is no need to give up your hobby (is visiting restaurants a hobby? If not it certainly should be), you may just need to make a few tiny adaptions. So without further ado, here’s how to eat out with your little one. It’s still totally worth the money if you have money to burn. Continue reading
Like many excited soon-to-be Mums, I read the baby books and daydreamed naively about how perfect life would be with our new bundle. Sure, we would be tired, but we’ve been tired before – it’s no big deal and it’s only for the first few weeks anyway – right? I would nap in the day, exercise, bake and of course, go out and about and offer baby plenty of play and stimulation – easy.
When my son came along though, we appeared to be working from different manuals, and looking after a baby really wasn’t quite what I expected, or had been led to believe. Continue reading
Despite being unable to brief our eggs or sperm on exactly when to meet, the debate rages on:
When is the right – and best – time to have a baby? From the time of year to the time of life, most everyone has an opinion. I see it crop up regularly; in the media, on blogs and forums, and amongst family and friends. I have partaken, I have listened and I have accepted that timing is, of course, the most vital thing. Not the everything-changing child itself you understand, the timing is what really matters.
For starters: you should definitely not have a baby in any of the following months (you have been warned):
We all have changes we’d like to make, and our little tots are no different. Given the opportunity, toddlers are very open to self-improvement and actually don’t believe the world revolves around them and their every whim. They simply need the chance to express their thoughts and will then begin to make a positive difference. Good for them!
The following are real accounts from one and two-year-old’s, spoken or written in their own words; although all names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved. Any similarity between these children and mine or my friends’ is purely coincidental. Ahem. Continue reading
If you don’t have a Christmas Party to attend this year, because you are a stay at home parent or perhaps because your colleagues don’t like you; you are in good company. Whilst other adults are sensibly spending the run-up to Christmas getting trollied on their work do and strutting their stuff to Mariah Carey without fear of reproach, I am at home. A lone Santa hat on the sofa, Love Actually on the television, mince pie crumbs on my dressing gown. Across town, turkey is gobbled, crackers are pulled, shots are poured and a very merry time is had by all.
Until the vomiting begins, alongside the realisation that they are no longer 22. Continue reading