Bath Chat

One of my favourite parts of the day is the ten minutes I always have – round about half six in the evening- sitting on the sofa, breathing out at the end of a long afternoon, and listening to DorkySon and DorkyDad chatting in the bath.

If he isn’t travelling for work, DorkyDad always does bathtime. It is sacred boy time, where he and DorkySon chat about their day, sing songs to each other, make up stories, practice the alphabet and generally enjoy each other’s company.

More recently, DorkySon has started using it as the time to ask any big questions that have been troubling him, or bring up any issues that have been playing on his mind.
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Once upon a time…

DorkySon has always loved us to read stories to him. As long as there’s a cuddly grown-up and a book nearby, he’s the happiest boy in the world.

A couple of nights ago, DorkyDad and I were a little surprised to suddenly find that the storytelling roles had reversed.

Sit on the floor Mummy.” said DorkySon. “Sit down Daddy. I’m going to tell you a story.

We did as we were told, and sat down on the carpet. DorkySon sat down in front of us and took a deep breath.
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About a Boy

I have been trying to write this post for months, but it has been left lying dormant in my drafts folder. I’ve thought about it a lot, but when it came to the writing I couldn’t get beyond the first line. At least I couldn’t until last night, when I had something of a lightbulb moment.

Here’s that troublesome first line:

“I never realised how physical it would be, having a little boy.”
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The Baby Explosion

Do you ever feel like you’re in the middle of a baby explosion? Like every time you turn on your computer there’s another pregnancy or birth announcement from a friend?

It’s a warm, cosy, cockle-warming place to be. There is nothing more lovely than when people you love and care about have good news to share.
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Guest Post: Pregnancy and Parenting as an Older Mum

This guest post is from the lovely Lisa Farrell who you can follow on Twitter here. She has previously written a post on DorkyMum about her daughter’s imaginary friend Polla, but this honest and moving post is about her journey to motherhood.

My 4 year old daughter, my youngest, starts school this September. I have, in the last few weeks, put in her application for the local infant school where her brother went. She will be very happy there and she is DESPERATE to go. I, however, am finding this year a bit too emotional. She is my last baby and she is growing up so quickly I can barely believe it.
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