Yet another blogging mummy

 Last night, after I worked, then picked up Pickle from school, then bought milk at the supermarket, I came into the house, dropped my stuff, and said to my husband "I have to lie down". I went into my room, closed the door, lay down, and watched a Swedish crime drama on Netflix.  About half an hour later, I heard my Pickle call from the other room "Mummy!" I said "No." She said "Why?" and that was the entirety of the conversation. During the night, I slept at 9:30, when she did, after an hour of trying to get her off to sleep. She woke up at 3 am, at which point I went with her to the loo (nightly occurrence, I literally cannot wait until she can do this by herself) then after this she needed water, and she went back to sleep, I did not. I couldn't sleep until 6. Nights are not good. Generally she wakes me up 2-3 times a night.  The other night, she woke up, realised that I was right smack dab in the middle of the deepest part of my REM cycl...

Recently, we had a friend over for a play date. In the past, this child has been challenging, to put it mildly. We have been avoiding playdates with her for a long time, as they unerringly ended in tears from my child soon after they had started, and apart from the reality that I don't like to see her in tears as a result of the bullying words of another, it was also never worth the stress of mediation between the two children that it inevitably caused.  Today, I found the girl a different child completely. She seemed to have grown up and learned how to play with other children. It was quite lovely having her over, and I found her to be the sensible one, teaching my daughter rather than making her feel inadequate, taunting her, and pushing her around.  An aside: The past few times she has visited, I have set very, very clear, firm rules, and I have told her that if she breaks these rules, she will go home immediately. For some reason, it seemed to work. I have never been firm ...

The funniest thing in my day by far these days, is when my five year old has to have a poo. She still has to have me or daddy right next to her when she goes, and the process goes a little like this; Usually at suppertime, and generally when we have only just persuaded her to have her first bite after much cajoling, bribing, using play and imagination (as each and every instagram video seems to suggest is the only way to do it) and then having failed at all these tactics and resorting to blackmail, threats and lies, she slips off her chair and chirrups in a slightly panicky voice "Mummy mummy mummy I needapoo I needapoo I needaPOO!!!!" as she waddles with haste to the bathroom, holding her bum with both hands, having left it almost too late as always.  My husband and I exchange glances and within a millisecond decide silently between us who will go using a lightening speed tally of who is the most tired, who has worked the most today, who has just been playing with her for th...