The pain that never goes away
It happened three years ago, the first time I was cut up and opened; a small incision marked at the junction where belly meets pelvis, a set of hands pushed the right spot and then whoosh- out she came; my child, my daughter, the being that had been swimming in amniotic bliss for the past …
I love your little fears
You are done with nursery and have started school. Uniforms, ringing bells, rules; it’s a whole new ball game. Barely three days later , you fell sick. A week at home with the flu, television and mummy and now it’s time to go back. You wake up grumpy and don’t want to get dressed. I …
why my libido is not my best-friend anymore
Note: Reader discretion advised You still want to go on ? Ok don’t say I didn’t warn you… So I’ve been putting off talking about the topic of sex for a while. Partially because I may have forgotten what it actually is, but mostly for the fear of scandalizing you poor souls out there. But …
I will always be crazy
When you were born and bundled into my arms, I looked at your tiny face, fingers and toes and worried that you were underweight. At four months, I sat like a hawk, watching and waiting for the first roll. The milestone app said you were supposed to start rolling at four months- roll dammit! Four …
beauty lies in the eye of the teddy-holder
Little Ri has outgrown all the baby proofing controls installed at home. Like a little chimpanzee she observes how we bypass them and then systematically begins to decimate their purpose. Drawers are being opened, stools being carried around to reach higher sources of fragile objects. Suddenly the sky is the limit for her and she’s …
Bali with baby
Bali. I’d been planning this baby-free vacation with the hubster for months. Sun, sand, cocktails and most importantly – no baby. Arrangements had been made to deposit her with my parents and swoooosh… I’d be off on a jet plane to an island where all I had to worry about for six days was myself …
Why mothers need a trophy… everyday
I deserve a trophy. Actually all mothers do. One made with the world’s finest chocolate and filled with expensive champagne, preferably connected to a portal with a bottomless pitcher that permits automatic replenishment once drained. Why you ask. Because of the crap we have to put up with. And sometimes that’s in the literal sense. …
You
You’re two now. A little girl with a growing heart. Slides at the park scare you but you try your best to conquer them, climbing in the opposite direction, so you don’t see how high you’re going. Nothing gives you more joy in the world than chocolate pudding. Not even mom and dad. Peas, pomegranate …