• 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…

  • Food and fatness

    Emotional eating alert

    I am an emotional eater, an overeater, a binge eater, food addict and general greedy guts. Morbidly obese (I might actually be super morbidly obese which is quite something) at 5ft 2ins and a size 24, I can’t even see myself anymore. But I think that is the aim actually, to be invisible, which seems ironic given how much space I now take up. I’ve written about my half-hearted attempt to lose weight in my previous blog, Finally Stuffed, and detailed my struggle to overcome emotional eating (which predictably ended in no actual action on my part to make the weight loss occur). What is emotional eating? For me, emotional…

  • D for Depression (eek)

    The real face of depression

    So, here is the post I’ve been unsure about writing for a while now but, in the interest of keeping my writing always real and honest, here it goes! I am depressed, I think. At some point a long time ago, perhaps in my morose mid-teens, I saw a doctor and discovered I was depressed. I don’t think at that point I was offered any medication, perhaps just some brief counselling which I have no recollection of attending. I’ve worn the badge of depression ever since (only visible to those close to me), almost defensively lest anyone dare challenge its authenticity. Having sampled several different antidepressants and types of counselling…

  • Work, Careers and muddling through

    Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?

    I still don’t! I recently found an old notebook from when I was about fourteen years old, and it was all very serious stuff; full of sage musings about the state of the world and my quest to right all the wrongs therein, it also contained a dedicated careers section. Here I listed all the pros and cons of each potential career choice in great detail, as if there were no barrier to any of these potential paths except in my ability to sufficiently weigh up said pros and cons. My top four career choices were: astronaut, marine biologist, vet and geologist. I laughed at some of my derogatory ‘con’…

  • 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…