Family Wellness Mama

As a former Early Years professional and a parent, I have to say that Save The Children’s rather sweeping declaration that' 'every nursery in Britain needs a qualified teacher' will feel like a kick in the teeth to many childcare professionals and parents. According to them, no amount of early years training or parenting experience can match a teacher, fresh out of university, when it comes to educating our 2-year-olds. While I agree with Save The Children (and the 13 Doctors, Physicians and Education Specialists who have put their names to the  report ) about the importance of early learning, I do not think it necessary to have toddlers taught by teachers. Children learn the most in the first five years of life. Their brains are like tiny neuron filled sponges with connections and pathways just waiting to be made. The only way this can happen is by exposing them to as much of their environment as possible, particularly through sensory and physical play. If th

With less than five days to go there’s no getting away from it. My joy filled year of freedom is nearly over and I have to haul my ass back in to work. Ok, it’s just 3 KIT  days, I still have 6 weeks holiday left, but it marks the beginning of the end. No more wearing whatever I can lay my hands on. No more doing what I want, when I want. No more eating whenever I feel like or driving when the roads are empty! No, as of Friday I am once again a working mum and I could cry. Roughly, I think this puts me at stage 4 in the Ending Maternity Leave Grief process – one more to go! If you’re not familiar with the five stages of Ending Maternity Leave Grief I’ve listed them below: 1 .        Denial -  So I've got 12 months to earn enough money to stay at home with my little cherub, that’s doable right? I mean look at this house, I’m practically sitting on a gold mine here - Is that a first edition Harry Potter on the bookshelf! 2.        Anger -  What do you mean

Before I had a C-section  I naively believed that they were a soft option to labour. I looked at the glamorous mums in the glossy magazines, going in with a face full of make-up and not a strand of hair out of place, numb from the navel down while the surgeons slid their babies out of a neat little letter hole, and thought, that looks easy. How wrong I was. Fast forward 6 hours to the agony of the painkillers wearing off, the morphine making you itch like a flea ridden cat and the tiny human screaming for attention next to you, and a Cesarean can seem much less fun. I consider myself to be something of a C-section veteran (though mine were unplanned and both after at least a day of agony and futile hypnobirthing) but even I am astounded by the lack of information out there on C-section recovery. Now I’m not going to patronise you with talk of ‘feet up and rest’ like some of the other helpful (or unhelpful) websites. I’m from the real world where aforementioned tiny human n

I’ve been pretty vocal about the fact that my current life ambition is to be a work from home mum. Being, say, a freelance writer (hint hint to any passing editors) would give me the freedom to work from the sofa in my pyjamas, with a box of maltesers.  It’s the dream, and a very appealing one since I’d be able to avoid skyrocketing childcare costs and choose my own working hours. So imagine my delight when not one, not two but three lovely people, made me aware of some exciting ‘business opportunities’.  They were opportunities to earn thousands of pounds and work from home, if I wanted more information all I had to do was ask. It all seemed too good to be true, because it was. Upon further investigation these multi-level marketing  companies seemed suspiciously like  pyramid schemes . Now I’m not going to name names, because the triangular shaped fat cats will sue my ass, instead I’m going to write a little list: 5 ways to spot a pyramid scheme: You have to pa

I’ve kind of fallen out of love with breastfeeding, there I said it! My baby boy has more teeth coming through and his preferred teething rings are my poor nipples. Now I’m trying to be patient and I know we’ll get through this. So, I’ve written a little list to run through in my head each time he flashes those milky whites. Five reasons why breastfeeding rocks: I can eat all the cake – Yep 500 extra calories just for me. That roughly translates to about 2 fancy cupcakes a day, yum. I’m saving money – It’s month two of my Maternity Induced Poverty  and it’s comforting to know that I’m saving £550  a year by breastfeeding. That’s like a new pair of shoes every month! I can have a lie in – Thanks to round the clock feeds in the early days, I’m owed about 3000 sleeps-in and I happily remind my husband of this fact whenever he has a day off. I can be lazy – Aside from my lie down feeding, aka my accidental co-sleeping habit , breastfeeding allows me to bypas

Sat here looking at his cute little face and hearing his adorable chuckles of laughter, it’s hard to believe that my angel faced boy is kicking my ass every night. Because, when it comes to sleep, this kid has got me beat. It started out innocently enough. I was exhausted after 6 months of getting up every few hours (cheers breastfeeding) and had the bright idea that Lie down night feeding  was the answer. How very wrong I was. The lie down night feeds roughly translated to me falling asleep whilst feeding my little cherub - only waking to roll over and pop him on the other boob. I know I should have felt guilty about the whole ‘co-sleeping is a no-no’ rule but I couldn’t, I was too busy enjoying all of the sleep. So, I resolved to put the little guy back in his cot just as soon as I’d caught up on my own sleep. That day never came and, four months later he’s still in our bed! The night starts out well enough; he has his last feed in his bedroom and goes to sleep i

I wish the race card was a real thing, something to be pulled out, like a red card, whenever someone wished to be treated fairly, or in my case as fairly as my Caucasian friends. I would have carried my race card with me when I was nine and my teenage neighbour thought it funny to shout the N word and sing a racist jingle as I passed her house, every morning on the way to school. Her words still rang in my head as the teacher took the morning register.  I would definitely have pulled out my race card a few years ago when a grown man roared the N word at me from across the street, threatening violence when I stopped to challenge him. I didn’t need to see the video  posted online to know that racism is still alive in my beautiful city. The foul mouthed tirade aimed at the unfortunate doorman, just doing his job on Sunday night, wasn’t the first of its kind but the optimist in me prays that it will be the last. As a mother I try to teach my son patience when people innoc