The seven years were mixed with good news and bad news. Cancer gone, cancer reappearing. At the same time, and I suspect to have a semblance of normality, my brother decided to pursue his studies and become a medical doctor. Equally and perhaps with a sense of urgency he also married and celebrated the arrival of a son soon afterwards, when he was only twenty-one.
The light bulb moment came when I listened to someone giving a talk entitled 'Rhythms of life'. The speaker talked about the tyranny of busyness and the frantic pace of life that we lead, which not only takes its toll on us, but sucks everyone around us into our spinning vortex.
It really is time to stop telling women what they can and cannot wear and slut shaming them for bearing flesh. The outfits were pretty similar to what girls wear for gymnastics and were costumes for a huge performance
If you have children with a birthday around this already jam-packed time of year, then you know what I am talking about: a manic period of birthday AND Christmas shopping, birthday AND Christmas party preparations, birthday AND Christmas gift-wrapping, answering relatives' requests for birthday AND Christmas gift ideas.
The diagnosis, illness and treatment had been like a massive earthquake, destroying everything. How was I going to rebuild? Was there time to rebuild? My life has been shortened. While the diagnosis was not terminal, predictions vary. So much uncertainty.
Shopping has been our family sport since generations. We sweat over it like a bunch of honeybees. Working relentlessly without taking a vacation. And yet none of us qualifies to come even close to being a seasoned, respectable shopper.
It's hard to tell to what extent are my children responsible for the fatigue, headaches and muscle pain and what is the side effects from the meds. It doesn't even matter, what matters is that I'm going to see them growing up.
The office Christmas party season is upon us! Yay. Time to meet with work colleagues for the annual knees-up to celebrate the holiday period over food...
Parents, we need your help, to get the UK's children wanting to learn maths and striving to be good at it. There are some people out there that are already doing this. The problem is...
This Christmas, instead of buying those extra gifts for yourself, why not put your money towards improving the lives of these vulnerable people? Here are a list of five charities in need of your help this Christmas.
Christmas is nearly here! Festive fun, presents, family and good food. Well that's the finished result anyway. What about all of the hard work before it gets to the fun part? Months of budgeting, shopping, wrapping, planning meals, organising family and remembering to move the elf on the shelf every night!
Last year, when my husband Rob died, I sacked off Christmas. I didn't buy any presents, I didn't give a fuck about the John Lewis advert and I left the country to spend it in India. And people, I loved Christmas. The lights in Oxford Circus. Pigs in blankets, mulled wine, all the cheesy jingles Spotify can muster into a playlist. It was a time when we spent it as a family with my sister and parents, and Rob would cook Christmas day dinner. We'd fight over Strictly and Doctor Who. Our dog Daisy would clamber over all the presents believing them to be hers. I couldn't imagine celebrating it again without feeling overwhelmed by the absence of him. But this year, we've decided to spend it again as a family.
Philip De Ste Croix, head of future planning at Damsons shares practical and emotional advice for parents and families, who are faced with telling the...
What we are witnessing is vast becoming an epidemic. The cost of youth loneliness is up to £34 billion in London alone and in addition the past few years has seen a significant rise in the number of young people seeking counselling for emotional and mental distress, which has been linked back to loneliness.
Needing help is seen as weakness- through our own eyes, mostly. We micro-manage everything, constantly told what we do wrong, how we eat is wrong, words we use are wrong, 'blogging 'experts' everywhere, mum shaming, superhuman parents all over our Facebook feed.
While walking in a wonderful Christmas market in Copenhagen last weekend, he announced loudly and proudly to his 6 year old sister that of course Father Christmas is not real and it is in fact Mum and Dad who bring the presents.