I'm not really big on routine, but without a certain amount of basic organisation, you can't adult, much less parent. When I look back at the babyhood of my eldest child, who is now seven, I remember an unstructured, loved-up haze of breastfeeding, snuggling, more breastfeeding and more snuggling. It was bliss and I never… Continue reading Life With Lachie
Haircut day is the bane of my existence. The stuff nightmares are made of, that humiliating (and deafening) experience involving a wailing toddler sitting atop my knees, his head spinning from side to side Exorcist style, his hands swatting away the stylist’s clippers, his mouth a sticky mess of Mentos and clumped together blonde baby… Continue reading The necessary evil that is the toddler haircut.