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Tag: mummy

Not just for Kate Middleton : Seraphine – Leeds, Review

I was lucky enough to be invited to a new maternity store opening in the Victoria Quarter, Leeds. But to be entirely honest with you I had never heard of the name ‘Seraphine‘. None the less, I accepted the invite, stroked my huge 33 week pregnant stomach and decided we should go – if only to get out of the house for the first time in weeks. I had a look at their website and it became glaringly obvious that there was a reason I had not heard of this brand – it was a brand worn by goddesses such as Kate Winslet, Gwen Stefani, Benedict Cumberbatch’s lucky wife and The Duchess of Cambridge herself. They had clearly made a mistake inviting me. My main concern was that this…

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Mum like no one’s watching

Mum like no one’s watching Apparently I have always had an issue with people looking at me. My mum said when I was tiny I would say “Mummy, why are they looking at me?” when out in town. She would say “because you’re so pretty sweetheart” (Mums always know what to say) but of course I didn’t believe her. As I got older and she got less patient she would say “Stephanie, people don’t care about you! They’re too worried about themselves.” But this worry of what other people think of me has remained. When I brought my new born home I honestly felt I was on some sort of Big Brother new mum cam with a panel of Health visitors and midwives in some sort of forced torturous…

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The Arduous Age of Why

The Age of Why My four year old has reached a mile stone. He has entered the age of ‘Why’. I had heard of this stage but had underestimated the damaging effect of this era on the parents. My sympathy is with you if you are currently in this age. It started about two weeks ago on our way to swimming: “Why do we need roads?” Say what now? “Why do we need roads?” Erm… for the cars to go on? (Phew, dodged that one, glad that’s over!) “Why do we need cars?” Say what now? “Why do we need cars?” To get from A to B? It’s at this point you realise that you’re really and truly not qualified to answer life’s toughest questions, to be a parent…

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The pathetic tragicness of November

What came first? November or depression? I can’t quite tell at this point. Picture me, if you will – I’m sat in bed, a total of five (yes fucking five) cold sores across my bottom lip and two ulcers on my tongue (a sure sign that my internal organs are waving the white flag). My nose is fully blocked, I am hardly breathing. Have you tried singing wheels on the bus with only one blow hole? There is condensation dripping down the windows, my heating is on full whack and my tired brain is stressing about the bills. And mould. I’m sipping herbal tea and shoving a banana down my throat (please now, this is not the time) because I am trying to get my body to not give…

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