A Wardrobe of Mother-Guilt

There are few things that make me happier than sharing guest posts on the blog, and especially so when it’s a post from someone I’m a big fan of myself. Michelle at The American Resident is one of my very favourite bloggers. An American living in the UK, dealing with all things expat, she is a wonderful, evocative and honest writer, whose posts on her own blog have moved me to tears of both joy and sadness in the past. In person, she is an irresistibly charming mix of introversion, big warm smiles and blue hair dye. If you love her writing as much as I do, please do pop over to her blog, or at the very least say hello on Twitter.


I watched from the platform while my daughter and her granddad found their seats on the train.  Then the frustrating minute of waving, smiling, holding back tears, and waving some more, wishing the train would Just Go, now that she was beyond One Last Hug for the next two weeks. Then slowly the train began to move. I waved again, trying to look cheerful, sending her happiness vibes. Have fun but be safe, my smile said. She returned a blissfully carefree smile of excitement. She loves her visits to the grandparents, hours spent at the local stables, no pressure, no demands to empty the dishwasher, ‘but you must help out, even if they don’t ask.’ ‘I know mum. I do.’ Continue reading

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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Guest Post: The See-Saw

Caroline is Mum to two girls – one who never stops looking at herself in the mirror and another who can scoot at 32mph – and currently juggles part time working with her itch to write. She started writing at Scribbling Mum but can now be found writing at her new blog Letters from your Mum, lurking on twitter as @scribblingmum and writing at various other places around the internet.
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Guest Post: The Day I Rescued a Drowning Dog

This is a guest post from Rhiannon, who has been married to “Husband” for 3.5 years and together we have “Toddler”, a just turned 2 year old, and “Baby” a nearly 7 month old. She introduces herself below.

“I started blogging in November 2011 as a way of trying to reclaim a little bit of time and space just for myself. Although I love being a mum, I feel I’ve lost my identity along the way and my blog is helping me to rediscover myself. So far, it’s been a harder journey than I anticipated, especially now that postnatal depression has reared its ugly head.

I blog about anything and everything that may pop into my mind with a healthy dose of Buffy the Vampire Slayer thrown in for good measure.

It may take time but just like Buffy, I’m on a mission to become A Hell Of A Woman.” 
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On Being an Uncle

green toy dinosaur on a white stair banister

This is a guest blog from one of my favourite people, Adam Ramsay. When he’s not being an uncle, you can find him tweeting as @AdamRamsay 

There can be few things on earth better than being an uncle.

It’s only happened to me once, so far. My nephew is, like me, called Adam. He’s so named for a lost best friend of his father, for generations of paternal ancestors, and because ‘Adam’ is both Arabic and Scots. Like him.

Like me, he was born in Ninewells hospital, Dundee. I sat up all night with my mother and my sister. We played Scrabble. I lost. I always do with my sister. It was dreich late January, and the labour lasted for hours. But then, eventually, there he was: my blissful brother. And there he was, his tiny son. I remember losing my breath slightly at his beauty, my heart slowing to appreciate the moment. Continue reading