Let’s talk about poo….

Shit. Poop. Crap. Turd. Number 2. The corn-eyed buttsnake. I never thought I would become so fascinated with poo – until the Womb Raider came along. Before her birth, I was like most people and avoided it wherever possible. Of course, I have to go like everyone else and I pick up after my dogs’ daily…

Maiming your first-born.

I’m gazing at the Womb Raider’s™ tiny little fingers and I think, “Those little fingernails are getting a bit long.” So I ask The Husband™ to get a baby nail clipping kit. Diligently, he comes home with a cute little set including clippers, scissors and a file. I’ve got her laying in her cot and…

A day to forget

My day has gone something like this… Womb Raider wakes at 5.10am for a breakfast of boob and some party time. After providing the feast to end all feasts I hand her to Dad as she decides that more sleep is not on her agenda. “Take her out and shut the door thanks!!” I croak. Hooray…

Milk Cannons

Boobs, tits, knockers, jugs, hooters, fun bags, the twins, white pointers, cans. There are many names for women’s breasts, but once you have a baby they take on new meaning. No longer are they the source of fun for men, a fashion accessory or a couple of firm (if you are lucky) friends. They become…

Humble beginnings

Over the weekend while the Womb Raider was feasting on the milk cannons, I had a moment of reflection. I started to go back to where it all began, the moment of conception where my life would change forever. I hadn’t really given too much thought to what this moment would be like, but there…