This week has been trying. It’s been a week filled with the rhetoric of quasi political debate, lots of it based largely on a combination of tabloid fear-mongering, a mash-up of Internet memes and something vaguely intelligent that some bloke
I often look at my children and wonder how their personalities came to be so completely different. Given the same set of choices, the same rules and parameters, they will come to three very different conclusions or points in time.
This morning the 5yo gouged the face of the 4yo. Luckily we’d recently cut off all her nails so all she left were red marks that quickly faded. An hour later, en route to that there London, the 4yo retaliated,
I wish I’d written down all of the things I swore I’d never do. It would be hysterical to look back on it now and muse on how high my expectations were. I’d like to interview my former self and
It’s not been the best of weeks chez Battling. Sending our youngest off to school has been a trial. A week of unsettled tears from our 5yo hasn’t helped and at this point everything feels terribly raw, our emotions bubbling
Sometimes you need a little time before you can write about something. Time to decipher the emotions, space to let things be long enough to see a clear path. Last week, when my youngest child started school, I really didn’t
As you get older the whole concept of a birthday changes. As I lay pretending to be asleep in my bed this morning I could hear the excited whispers of little people covering the bed with cards and presents, negotiating