Firsts

Last weekend, I drove with my baby in the car for the first time.

It was terrifying.

We were on our way to a first birthday party (there have been lots of those lately!) just an 11-minute drive away. And though there were no meltdowns from either of us (thank goodness) and though I successfully navigated two incidences of cars playing chicken with me on narrow roads (one of which was a police car with sirens on full blast), I was still shaking when I reached my destination and close to tears when I asked my friend to check that where I parked was okay.

But, I did it, and I talked to A in the car the whole time - trying to keep myself calm while listening to his sweet babbling.

On our way home, my GPS didn't take me the back the way I came for some reason, and I ended up on the roundabout of my nightmares, plus the freeway! Instead of panicking, I just laughed. Much like my first solo trip to IKEA (where I took a wrong turn and ended up on an industrial estate before going the wrong way down a one-way street while a bemused driver watched as I reversed onto a busy road), I took it as a sign from the universe that I could handle the unexpected.

And, thankfully, although I got into the wrong lane for the 20th time at yet another roundabout while exiting the freeway, I managed to get us home and through the door in one piece.

I know I need to practice more and I know my confidence drops the less I drive here.

But.

Oh, how I miss the wide lanes and generous parking spaces in the US!

Stay tuned for more driving adventures ...

p.s. how sweet is this hanger from Red Hand Gang - and this Tobias & The Bear tee (a gift from a friend!)?

The Juggle Is Real

I stole this line from an Instagram friend (@anglopologie), but it sums up my first week as a working mama pretty darn well.

I mean, it was a shock to the system!

I'm currently working four days per week: Monday - Wednesday in the office and Thursday from home. On Monday morning, I anxiously woke before my alarm went off, peered at my little one's sleeping face, crept out of bed, and proceeded to dress in the dark (I plan my outfit the night before now!). Gone are the days I'd change 5-6 times before leaving the house because I was unhappy with my original outfit. And buh-bye rolling-out-of bed-at-the-very-last-minute!

I did my make-up in a flash and scooped up the baby, who looked as bewildered as me to be up at this time of the morning. I changed him ("No, really, stop - STOP - wriggling. Mama does NOT have time for - STOP. STOP IT!") before plonking him in his high chair downstairs and proceeding to run around like a chicken with its head cut off in the kitchen, defrosting frozen cubes of food I'd prepared the day before for his lunch, while making peanut butter toast fingers for his breakfast and periodically feeding him spoonfuls of oatmeal.

Before I knew it, I heard a key turn in the door and our nanny arrived with her baby in tow (who's three months younger than mine), shouting a cheerful, "Good morning!". I threw on my coat and babbled, "He's not finished with his breakfast. He's due a poo today. He can have a yogurt as a snack and the porridge fingers I made last night. OH. I accidentally left his snowsuit in the washing machine, so you'll need to put him in the back-up-snowsuit if you take them outside. THANK YOU!"

And - silly move on my part - as I closed the door behind me, I looked back. What did the movies teach us? TO NEVER LOOK BACK. And I did, and it was THE WORST. My baby's high chair is (foolishly) positioned in view of the front door. So what did I see when I glanced back? The worried and confused expression on his little face; his neck craned to get a better look at me, his brows upturned in two perfect inverted commas. Right before the door clicked shut.

My eyes pricked with tears as I sped-walk to the bus and my emotions were made all the more worse when the bus route took us past the hospital and - I'm not kidding - the actual room I labored in. I mean, crazy, right?

But as soon as I got on the tube, I was in "work mode" again and everything quickly became both strange and familiar: the crush of commuters angling for an empty seat; the passive-aggressive 'tuts' and sighs when someone took up too much room in the doorway or aisle; the rush to get out of the station.

At work, everyone was very lovely and kept exclaiming how glad they were to have me back. I spent my first day or so filing away some papers (and re-reading previous emails I'd sent, surprised at my confident and authoritative tone and wondering if I'd ever achieve that level of assurance again) and scraping the dusty crevices of my brain for answers when co-workers came to ask me questions. They were there - just a little out of reach. I realized I need to re-familiarize myself quickly; like returning to school after summer vacation.

I nervously checked my phone for WhatsApp updates from our nanny (she sent pictures of a smiling baby clutching a balloon, then eating a mini quiche with his hands) and bolted out the door at the end of the day, running - no, sprinting - for the train home.

And he was not happy to see me. He was angry. I opened the door to a furious baby, standing in his Stokke Tripp Trapp chair, flapping his arms and angry-crying with an accusatory look as if to say, 'Where have you BEEN?' But, as soon as I picked him up and we had a cuddle, he forgave me (and when his dad came home from work early, he was even happier - I thought he'd take flight, his arms began flapping so maniacally!). We did his bath-time routine together as a family and put him to bed, before John and I cooked dinner together and caught up on our day.

By the time Friday rolled along, I really, really cherished having the whole day to ourselves - just the two of us. More so, admittedly, than if I were home all week long.

I still feel a little sick to my stomach on Sunday night just thinking of the workload ahead of me (I'm effectively cramming five days into four) and I'm sad that my juggling act has taken a real toll on this blog and my Instagram presence, but - I hope to carve a tiny slice of time out of my schedule to keep writing and creating.

Sending lots of love to working mamas (and SINGLE mamas - how do you do it?) out there. The juggle is very, very real.

#ShopSmall Spotlight: Small Bob

When our baby was born four weeks early, I was completely unprepared. I had no clothes for him, let alone any that would accommodate my postpartum, nursing body. I spent the first few days of his life shuttling back and forth between our hospital's Special Care Baby Unit, where he stayed after I'd been discharged. Nothing could have readied me for that feeling of arriving home without our baby. When we finally brought him home five days later, I was overjoyed. But he was readmitted to the hospital just two days after that. Crying, I called my best friend from the hospital room as he slept soundly in a tiny cot, stripped down to his diaper to receive phototherapy treatment for jaundice. I was distraught, recovering from a difficult and traumatic birth, and worried sick about my baby.

"What can I do for you?" she asked gently.

"I have nothing to wear," I sobbed. John had been running back and forth between the hospital and our house to bring me his oversized t-shirts and sweatpants, as nothing fit. I spent most of the time in the hospital topless as I had no nursing-friendly tops, but I didn't care what the doctors or nurses thought as I was completely focused on feeding my baby (plus, I was like a zombie!).

My friend showed up just three hours later with a bag bulging full of nursing tops and bras, the softest sweatpants I'd ever felt, and maternity tops in Breton stripes. Plus a packet of gummy bears and two glossy magazines.

I cried again.

Because sometimes, after birth, all the focus is on the baby, and not necessarily on the mother (if at all). I'd labored for 42 hours and endured a forceps delivery, plus an episiotomy. All I cared about was my child, but in that moment - when my friend brought over that huge bag of gifts - it felt so nice to be taken care of too.

And that's what I love about Small Bob, a company founded by Mica Martino in 2017 that sells thoughtfully curated gift sets for babies and mamas. From wonderfully soft Organic Zoo onesies to gorgeously scented rose and patchouli bath salts, these sets make the perfect gift for first-time (or repeat) mamas. Because - speaking from experience - self-care was the last thing on my mind hours after I delivered. But I also quickly learned that I had to have food, sleep, and relaxation in order to provide the nourishment my baby needed.

You can build your own gift set with Small Bob or purchase one of their stunning existing sets. I'd love to build a bespoke set for a friend - I'd throw in some hand cream (because you're washing your hands all the time with a newborn), a BIBS pacifier, and some baby milestone cards.

Small Bob also carries a range of their own nursery art - simple yet impactful prints in pretty pastels that would look sweet in any nursery (we've stuck ours up with some washi tape).

I'm thrilled to be sharing this wonderful brand with you and I hope you love it as much as I do. I'm running an exciting giveaway over on Instagram, if you're interested - the winner will take home a piece of Small Bob wall art of his/her choosing!

My gift set was provided courtesy of Small Bob, an independent brand I love. All opinions are my own. Purchase your own unique gift sets here.

What Podcasts Are You Listening To?

Recently, I've fallen into a new morning routine: I put the baby in his highchair, make myself a bagel (and porridge, fruit and yogurt for him), and ask Google Home to tell me the latest news headlines. Then I sit down to feed him and ... tell Google to play me a podcast.

It was an idea that John had long ago, when our baby was much younger and I still didn't have much semblance of a morning routine ... I was an exhausted feeding machine and my only respite was the time I had in front of the TV while I fed and fed ... and fed. I barely had the energy to do anything else. Observing me watching the nth episode of Gilmore Girls (for the nth time), John said, "I know, why don't you listen to podcasts instead? That way you can still go around the house ... doing stuff." I think I wanted to reach over from my position on the couch and - using what little reserved energy I had - throttle him. At that time, television was my only saving grace; it helped keep me sane, comforted, and entertained all at once.

But now as my baby's a bit older and beginning to comprehend the world around him (and I've got a bit more freedom - emphasis on "a bit"), I'm conscious of the amount of TV I have on in the house. Don't get me wrong: when I really need to get something done (like shred the pile of papers threatening to become a trip hazard by our home office door) and every single toy is just not good enough, I have been known to dunk the baby in front of the YouTube channel playing his favorite songs (I like Super Simple Songs, FYI) for 15 - 20 minutes. It happens.

So, I'm loving my - our - new podcast routine. I get to listen to something relatively engaging while getting things done and my baby isn't a TV zombie (yet).

Through Google podcasts, I've learned something new through TED Radio Hour (which takes excerpts from Ted Talks and interviews the presenter) and listened to fascinating interviews via NPR's Fresh Air (like that uncomfortable one with Leonard Cohen's son, Adam Cohen - well, at least, I found it a little awkward when he declined to read a poem on air after being asked to).

I listened to this incredible podcast about Jorge Bracero, who played an instrumental (and truly inspirational) role in Puerto Rico's recovery in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria, which hit the island in September 2017. I then found his Facebook page and told him just what I thought ("You're incredible! A hero!"), and he replied to say thank you! It was pretty cool.

One day, John came downstairs and asked me what I was listening to. "I don't know - it's a podcast about mushrooms, I think," I replied, spooning another glob of prune puree into a wide little mouth that resembled an eager baby robin's beak (my child's method of eating involves opening his mouth as wide as his jaw will allow, raising his eyebrows into two inverted quotation marks, and making appreciative "Mmm mmm" sounds as he swallows).

"This is so boring!" John exclaimed. "And this guy's voice is so annoying!"

"Well, kind of," I said. "But I've listened to all the other ones and there's nothing else on that I'm interested in."

So, I'd love to know ... what podcasts are you listening to? Do you have any to recommend? I'm not really into podcasts about politics (because they just make me angry, and I prefer reading articles about this anyway) or finance (because I sort of glaze over), but I do have a wide range of interests ... I'd be up for anything, really. Especially anything random, but interesting.

Please help! I can't listen to another podcast about the powers of psychedelic mushrooms or Miriam Webster's "Word of the Day".

Thanks! And muah.