I'm sorry you've already watched more TV than your big brother, and you're two years younger. And that I'm both proud and slightly mortified that your first word is Peppa (the Pig, not the condiment).
As a nation, we seem to put ourselves under more and more pressure each year to make Christmas better and to try and make people happy - and as a result we make ourselves miserable.
I had never really experienced death until I lost my grandfather in 2014. Four weeks later, my mother was diagnosed as terminally ill, and she passed in March 2015. These were excruciating losses, but little did I know that this was just the beginning of losing people from my life.
Tiredness when you have a child does not disappear. It stays with you like eczema. I haven't had a dream in 18 months. In fact, I haven't slept in 18 months. I am currently defying medical science. My brain has basically told its replenishment team to take permanent annual leave as there is no point in replenishing brain cells and restocking my general well-being. They agreed.
I want to raise my boys to be feminists or should I re-name that equalists? And really, I mean "we" want to raise them as such, and not just "I" who wants to do this, as husband and I are on the same page with this one.
I wrote in December about doing Christmas brilliantly. I hope everyone did and had a great time. Part of that ramble was saying that Christmas is an opportunity to end the year well and start a new one well. Ending something well has become a bit of a theme over the last few weeks for a number of reasons.
Let your toddler commandeer your iPhone - and accidentally post to Facebook on your behalf (be careful what photos you have stored...).
Family broadcasting is big business - there are lots of kid shows on air. As the gatekeepers of screen time, mums often play a role in which TV programs their children like. What your kids watch says a lot about you as a parent. For instance...
For the first few days, my pupils were so large, my eyes looked black. I thought this was because I had seen Death and now even looked as different as I felt. But I discovered that this, too is normal. Powerful emotions like love, or pain, make your pupils dilate. So grief can turn your eyes black. The blue is now, gradually returning.
2015 was probably one of the worst years of my life. I know, a bit of a depressing start to this blog plost. The thing about 2015 is despite the many valleys and storms, there was just something so beautiful and amazing about it.
Whether young or old; male or female; rich or poor; the new calendar year is upon us all and represents a fresh opportunity for change for many. Although, psychologically, change can occur at any moment on any given day of the year, you cannot deny that people ooze positivity at this time of year.
To fill out the 1-year-old's baby book without making it obvious I forgot to do it at the time. Sticking photos in should be a piece of cake. Remembering the dates of when each of her eight teeth came through could be a bit more tricky.
Christmas means something different to everyone. For some, it's a time to spend with family; for children, it's usually about Santa and the presents; and for others, it is of course about the birth of Jesus Christ. For me, inevitably you might argue, it's about the food.
You see Santa, I seem to have lost the ability to sleep soundly. One which I had spent years practicing. I used to be so good at it. Sleeping through the loudest of bangs whereas now? Now the slightest sniff out of place jolts me from my slumber.
A soul group is simply a collection of people who gravitate and travel through life - or part of life - together. They could be from completely different histories, social backgrounds, age groups and interests, who happen to meet under the most extraordinary or the most nondescript circumstances.
Let's be clear. The worst thing about this time of year isn't sh*t gifts, it's not the midnight-on-New-Years texting your ex from the disabled bog you used to shag in, sobbing as Auld Lang Syne roars through two inches of wooden door you've locked to hide behind... It's the insufferable Facebook statuses that follow in the days between.