Dear precious first born… We have something to tell you

Mummy's Writing Darling

Dear precious first born, there is something pressing we need to discuss with you.

I write this on the eve of a fairly important event. You see, someone is arriving tomorrow – someone who you’re going to be spending a lot of time with – like it or not.

I know you’re young and we don’t talk much – unless it’s about frogs or cars. But I suppose now is as good a time as any to try and have this conversation. I know you think mummy has been eating A LOT lately and my stomach has outgrown the both of us. I see your horrified face when I’m in the shower – but I haven’t swallowed your monster truck set – I’ve been growing a little life long friend for you.

The good news is it’s a brother! And you know boys are cool right? Really cool. And he will love your cars! And your train set. But, of course, only if you want him to love them. No one will force you to share your cars with him. I know you don’t know the word “share” yet – I never learned it myself! But we will have plenty of time to discuss sharing in the years to come.

Now I don’t want you to worry about favouritism. It’s not an issue. You, my darling, are our precious first born! We only have eyes for you (but let’s just keep that between ourselves shall we? Your brother doesn’t need to know!)

Anyway! If the pregnancy is anything to go by – I think your brother is going to be an arse! So much more difficult than you were. But again – ssshh.

I’ve been wondering why on earth we decided to have another baby to be honest. You’re so wonderful! If it ain’t broke – why try and fix it?! What possessed us? Were we just showing off?! Was it a case of when you buy a fancy juicer you only use once and you feel like you haven’t got your money’s worth! We should use it one more time – just to see if it still works?!

But here we are and tomorrow our tiny little family will be transformed to a bigger one. Though we do promise – this will be the only addition. You can relax.

So although it might be unsettling / shocking tomorrow and over the next few months while you get used to him – we just want you to know that you’ll always be our precious first born and we could never ever love you any less! Er… That came out wrong. What I mean is – we will never change our love for you. Just don’t tell your bro.

I’m going to miss you so much over the next few days and I hope you don’t miss me too much. I also hope your dad doesn’t only feed you crisps and biscuits – I’ve given him a detailed list of instructions, don’t worry.

All my love,


(Dear baby number 2 – don’t worry! I’ve placated your brother, We know the truth – see you tomorrow). X


About Our Affair

I am the back in the kitchen

We need to talk about our affair

Baby, I think he’s on to us.

I know we’ve been careful. We’ve skulked about and met in the twilight hours, we are sure not to even so much as look at each other when he’s about. But I fear we may not have been as careful as we should.

These past seven weeks have been magical. They say you can’t love two people at the same time – but they were wrong. As soon as I laid my eyes on you I was in love.

Don’t get me wrong – I still loved him, but in a different way.

Sometimes with you … it’s just easier. With him – it’s complicated. He wants to talk and play games and craves all my attention. Whereas you – all you want to do is stare in my eyes and be held. And you smell so good. And you’re so frickin gorgeous. Everyone says so.

My phone is full of pictures of you I fear he might see – but I can’t stop, and I can’t delete them.

We have our secret hour – at 4am, when it’s just the two of us. I make a cup of tea and we just lay together and giggle and lie in peace. The whole house sleeps unaware of our secret love affair. It makes me so happy. Just our time. But the guilt I feel is immeasurable.

The other night I just sat at the end of his bed weeping, weeping that I had betrayed him – that I had replaced him. Wept for our old relationship – when he was the one and only, the precious first.

And I thought he had no clue – I thought we were carrying on and he hadn’t noticed. How could I be so arrogant? So naive? ┬áIn the last couple of weeks he’s not sleeping, he’s angry and he wants to spend much more time with me. Baby, I think he knows.

I’ve done my best to reassure him. I never mention you, I try and have one on one time and I tell him all the time that he is the only one for me. “I love you” I say 200 times a day. But I fear things will never be the same.

Dear New Born – we need to cool it. The toddler, he knows…

mummy's writing darling


The Slow Clap


Yesterday evening, thirteen hours into my day with my two young sons, I sat, slumped on the closed toilet lid watching them in the bath together. The three year old, long and slender, pale, the water only covering his bent knees; The ten month old sitting stoutly, portly and stocky, his two lone teeth shining in a goofy grin, the water rippling around his Buddha stomach. The baby smacked the surface of the water with his sausage like paws a few times and looked shocked at the water hitting his face – and repeat. The eldest talked his younger brother through the bath process – showed him the sponge, talked about the temperature of the water etc.

I sat half coma-like, half in panic attack alertness to ensure that both of their heads were kept above water – the same state I spend most days of motherhood.

It’s been pretty bleak lately in our household. Depression and anxiety has drawn in and I’ve not really been treasuring too many moments of being a mummy. To be perfectly honest I have been fantasising about working, about being away from home; home which lately feels so far from the word. My house feels like a prison, a trap. Four walls with me trapped inside for twenty four hours just trying to keep plodding along, keeping the boys alive, clean, changed, fed. And again. And again. And again.

In my dirty tracksuit, my hair undone, no make up, looking utterly shocking I ran the bath, carried through the motions: “keep them clean, keep them fed, keep them happy.” I slumped on the toilet seat and thought about what next. How many hours till the next thing?

Suddenly my baby boy stood upright on the bath mat, he let go of the side of the bath, looked me square in the face and very surely but slowly clapped his hands together. He had never clapped before.

I let out a shocked squeak alerting me I was there. “That’s it! Well done!” I laughed. This spurred him on and he continued with more excitement. I clapped back to show him he was doing it correctly. The eldest stood upright too, trying to get in on the action. “Look mummy!” he shouted as he clapped maniacally at me. “Yes darling, wow! Well done!” I said back, playing along, mustn’t play favourites – even though he’s been able to clap for a fair few years now.

So there my two sons stood, upright, bare, in all their glory, staring at me with dancing joyous eyes, clapping enthusiastically, and there I sat clapping back at them, grinning, beaming, us all laughing goofily. We laughed harder and harder and clapped longer and I felt a little sun crack through the clouds.

In a stage of life where there are no appraisals, no promotions, no one there to reassure me I’m doing a good job – I’ll take my sons’ slow clap. A bit of me felt it was my youngest telling me he really loved having a bath with his big brother. I’ll take their praise of me – at the end of the day, all that matters is their approval; their slow clap.