Motherhood without the manual

The joys (and overwhelming shit) of motherhood.

  • D for Depression (eek),  Motherhood without the manual

    Being a depressed parent – the effect on children

    Being a parent is one of the hardest things in the world, we all know that. Being a depressed parent is even harder. Of course I can only speak from my own experience in which I see my depression affecting my parenting in horrible ways every day. I snap at my children and my husband, and anger easily (I’m ashamed to admit that I have sworn at my children more than once.) I don’t want to play or interact with them, and then the guilt mounts to top it all off. Catastrophizing is also common, especially when my son has had febrile seizures and I think he is going to…

  • Motherhood without the manual

    Toilet Training Troubles

    One year. That is how long we have been toilet training, or attempting to, our youngest son for. Charlie has just had his fourth birthday and it was just after his third birthday when, after an earlier unsuccessful attempt, we decided to really crack on with it. I didn’t expect that we would still be doing this a year later! There have been many times during this year when we thought we had finally conquered it, and numerous occasions of wanting to give up and just stick a nappy on him. Today was one of those days, irrespective of our reaching the illustrious one year milestone. Upon picking Charlie up…

  • Motherhood without the manual

    Febrile Seizures

    Febrile seizures are not something I had heard of before my five year old Dylan had his first one at the age of two. He had had a temperature overnight and I, my husband Mark and Dylan were dozing on the sofa the following afternoon after a sleepless night. I suddenly woke to the sound of my husband calling either mine or Dylan’s name (I can’t remember which) in a frantic manner. I looked at Dylan who had been cuddling in to me and he was slumped and dribbling, his lips blue and his breathing laboured. We had no idea what had happened, but as I ran 999 in a…

  • Motherhood without the manual

    Can you see the teacher after school please?

    The rhetorical question that strikes fear into a parent’s heart, and one which I have been asked a handful of times since our five year old Dylan started school. As husband and I sat on the miniscule chairs which could not contain more than one adult bum cheek, we wondered what Dylan had done this time. It turns out he had spat on a reception child, tripped a fellow year 1 pupil up and generally made some “bad choices”. Dylan maintained he had only spat on the child accidentally whilst talking (you have to admire the excuses), the one he had tripped had pushed in front of him in a…