The amount of times people have said to me, "Are they all yours?" is untrue. I was crazy and didn't take up the government's 15 hours of free childcare when I had the third one (apart from my daughter had three mornings at Pre-School), so the majority of my maternity leave I would always be out with the three of them.
Most of my conversations now revolve around being a dad, occasionally unusual topics such as is it OK to have a sit down wee if you're tired pop into conversation, but ultimately everything ends up circling back to parenting as if every road leads there. 'I love the new Ferrari......' 'its amazing, I wonder if you can get a buggy in?'
I hate the word HARD. It's so uninspiring, so meaningless. It gives me chills down my spine and reminds me why I never seemed to achieve anything worth shouting about until I had children. I always thought life was hard.
Few things trouble a foster care more than having to refuse a child placement. It is one of the most difficult decisions we face and is never taken lightly. We are committed to providing a safe haven to vulnerable children.
Walking along the Tube platform I noticed an elderly couple. The woman was on the train, and, through the open doors, she was holding the hands of a man. They were gazing at each other. The emotion in both their faces was palpable. Something was being said between them, unspoken.
This piece is all about the quiet heroes in my life; the ones that stood by me through the indescribable horrors of my condition. They saw a boy cry himself to sleep, a teenager fall apart and a man's fight for recovery but the consistent correlation was they stood by me.
My mother grew up near the poverty line and has maintained a sense of lack or overspending her whole life. My father grew up with plenty of money but in an environment that bred a heightened sense of frugality.
On Thursday night, I watched the Channel 4 documentary My Son The Jihadi with my mother. We watched a lot of the programme in silence , listening to the dignified words of a mother in clear anguish...
We take so much for granted. At our grandson's first birthday party we meet some of our daughter's friends. Now parents themselves, they gather with their babies and toddlers, sharing stories about broken nights and nappies, first steps and playgroups. Our home fills with the laughter of children and the accompanying chat of watchful parents. As hosts, our role is to make sure there is plenty of food and drink, so we spend a frantic, if joyous, couple of hours on the go.
Over the past couple of years, a combination of chronic pain, work-related stress, feeling miserable and all the associated medications have destroyed my libido. Obliterated it even, like sexual napalm.
f you are a parent who is wondering how you can develop or improve the relationship with your young child, don't feel like you have to face this task alone. Children's centres are there to help all parents and their children, and who need anything from a place to meet others, routine advice or more significant help.
Since giving birth to my beautiful boy three years ago I have been my own worst critic. Am I doing enough for my son? Am I giving him what he needs? Am I being the best mother I can be?
Now, aged 35, with many of my peers embarking on their first pregnancy, not to mention, for some of them, leadership roles, I feel compelled to take stock - to appreciate what I've achieved, consider where I'm going, and take a good hard look at what it is I really want from my life.
Your baby is cranky, cranky, cranky, and doesn't appreciate the warm sunshine and the change of scenery. Not one bit. Your toddlers, on the other hand, are overly enthusiastic; they're all over the stray cats, sharp rocks, and keep wandering off to the edge of the pool every time you turn towards your coffee.
As part of BIHR's 15 Days of Action to mark the 15th anniversary of the Human Rights Act (HRA), we are marking landmark moments in the Act's history. ...
We can't hide from it, just as we can't trot down the M25 in a horse and cart anymore, so we have to find a way of managing it and making it part of a balanced life. It is part of our children's lives and brings many wonderful benefits - any five year old who has played on Google Earth knows the mind bending sense of awe of zooming out and out from their home to see the planet as a green and blue sphere.