February.

Eurgh.

Not a very inspiring month is it? It’s cold, the evenings are still dark, and you know that at some point you’re going to be forced to make pancakes that no one really wants to eat. Hardly surprising that my mind has been wandering forward to summer, imagining being able to sit outside with my lunch, feeling the warmth of the sun on my shoulders.

I’m having a bit of dilemma though when it comes to planning holidays. For a start, you know when you’re taking children with you that it’s never really a ‘break’, so you’re reluctant to spend too much money or travel too far for what will essentially be like being at home but without your own bed and favourite tea bags for comfort.

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Would you rather have a child or a horse?

It’s a very good question, and a prime example of the kind of high-brow discussions that go on at a Cuddledry team meeting.

“I’d definitely rather have a kid,” declared Helen, Cuddledry Director, mum of three, and all round savvy businesswoman, “horses have got more legs.”

The conversation stopped, and we all turned to look at her.

“What?” she said, looking at us blankly as though it was a completely obvious point to make. “Seriously, have you seen the price of Clarks shoes lately?” View Post

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Working in the nursery industry, I come across a whole range of apparently ‘must have’ baby products. Some are genuinely useful, others I think we could probably do without.

There are some though that are just downright stupid.

I wanted to share with you this compilation from Baby Gizmo of some of the most ridiculous baby products ever.

Like the Daddy Saddle. Really? This is a baby product? Sounds a bit kinky to me.

This is the list – see what you think: http://www.babygizmo.com/news/ridiculousbabyproducts2011.php

What’s your favourite?

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They say every child is different, and how right they are.

First time around, I was blessed with what, on reflection, I appreciate was something of a miracle baby. At six weeks old, Bee was sleeping 12 hours through the night. Throughout her early years she could be left with anybody, was happy to go anywhere in the car, would eat most things, and was generally a pretty chilled out child. It was all down to me of course. Me and my ‘relaxed parenting style’.

Oh, how we laugh. View Post

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I was cleaning Belle’s teeth the other night when she started to cry. Partly I’m sure due to the fact that I was feeling a bit cross and my vigorous brushing was making her gums bleed, but partly just because she was tired at nearly the end of a long week, and when she’s tired she likes to come up with a little something to feel sad about.

“It’s going to hurt even more you know if you’re sobbing,” I tell her, full of sympathy as always, “because your head keeps bobbing about.”

“It’s not that!” she wailed, pausing to spit blood into the sink, “I’m sad for another reason.”

Of course she is.

I blame Jacqueline Wilson. Ever since she started reading those books it’s like she’s aspiring to be some kind of damaged child in a care home, wrestling with divorce or the death of a much-loved cat. View Post

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I’ve decided it’s time to stop Belle watching so much television, effective immediately, with an additional complete ban on the Disney Channel. It’s a tough decision, given that the TV represents a significant chunk of my childcare, but I fear I have to do it, for two reasons.

Partly it’s because she seems to have become possessed with the spirit of Hannah Montana, and just cannot do as she is told without either hideous amounts of heavy sarcasm and talk-to-the-hand style arms gestures, or furious door slamming and feet stamping.  Also, I’m becoming seriously concerned about the amount of advertising she is being exposed to. View Post

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An hour ago, Belle left for her very first sleepover.

A few months ago I did pose the question, how old should a child be before they go to a sleepover? I was a bit concerned about Belle’s rather dubious sleeping habits, and was imagining having to do a mercy dash in the middle of the night to rescue her.

I’ve decided though to take the chance, partly because we are five days into the Easter holidays now and quite frankly I could do with a break. This afternoon, after listening to her sing ‘snood, snood, snood, look at my snood, snood snood’ for what felt like five years, and consequently snapping at her to ‘shut up, please!’ I think someone else’s house is really the best place for her. View Post

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Anyone who knows me even fairly well will be snorting at the idea of me even asking this question. ‘Would Jo deliberately lose a game just so her children could win?’ Er, no.

I am very competitive, I always have been, and even though I know that there is probably a good argument for letting children win games from time to time, I just can’t physically do it. I justify it by saying that I believe it’s important for them not to have success handed to them on a plate, that letting them win doesn’t teach them anything, but basically I just can’t stand losing.

It’s not a malicious thing, it’s just something in me that takes over. I very rarely get properly angry, but I imagine it’s a similar sensation to the red mist descending. My normal, rational self gets shoved to one side and a fierce, competitive instinct takes over. View Post

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What kind of parent are you?

Photo by Nick Wilkes on Unsplash

Most of us have a vague idea in our heads of the kind of parent we want to be.

Maybe you want to be the strict one, the kind of parent that can get homework done swiftly with just a carefully raised eyebrow, or perhaps you’d rather be the ‘they’re going to do it anyway so I’d rather it was under my roof’ type, who dishes out cans of Strongbow and condoms every weekend.

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I’ve done my life the wrong way round really. I have a child starting her A-levels this year. I am only 32.

When I grow up I don’t want to be wealthy. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t aspire to have a big house in the country, with a mortgage to match, or expensive holidays. I’m not looking to start a family either. I’ve done that bit.

When I grow up I want to be free. I want to shed responsibility, not gain it. When I grow up I want to be able to choose where I live and what I do. I want to get up and go to bed whenever I feel like it and if I fancy going somewhere for a while, I will just go.

I’ve always harboured a secret dream of living in a mobile library, travelling around, selling interesting books and visiting interesting places.

A friend saw this and took a picture for me. “I thought it’d be perfect for you,” he said. “It has ‘The Universe at Your Fingertips’ written down the side.”

I love it.

The Universe at Your Fingertips.

That’s what I want when I grow up.

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Generally, I am pretty liberal-minded when it comes to eating and drinking. I will eat food I drop on the floor at home, happily eat left over pizza for breakfast, lick sambuca off another woman’s breast etc etc

On Sunday though, I had a drink related incident that turned even my stomach.

I was sitting in the cafe at the gym, enjoying a cup of coffee and reading a book. Before you all howl in disbelief, I will clarify that I wasn’t actually there EXERCISING. Heaven forbid. No, I was just sat waiting for Belle while she was swimming with her Dad.

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Belle wants a sleepover.

*groans*

She’s never had a friend from school sleep over before, or been invited come to that. I don’t know if it’s just that at eight, she is a bit young, or if all the other kids are doing it but just not inviting her. I hope it’s the former, otherwise that would be a bit sad.

She’s never really been a ‘sleeper’. She relegated her dad to a mattress on the bedroom floor for several months when she was a toddler, sleeping in bed with me, waking every hour or so, and it wasn’t until she started school that she began to properly sleep through the night.

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