International Stammering Awareness Day


Monday 22nd October 2018. International Stammering Awareness Day. A day that saw Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and many more social media platforms flooded with posts about Stammering. People sharing their experiences. A chance for people to express themselves, embrace their stammer and say “hey I stammer and that’s ok” a chance for people like me to say “my child stammers and I’m proud, every single day, of his courage and ability to carry on regardless” a day where we all came together, no matter how far apart, and joined hands to support one another and raise awareness.

My child stammers. My son. Since he could first string more than 1 word together. It’s been, and remains to be, a struggle for him and us, a never ending roller coaster ride with so many twists and turns it leaves us dizzy and worn out. But it’s a journey worth taking and it…

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Kids, the pup and my man


I can hear the kids playing upstairs – the fake American accents are in full swing 😂 so funny! I could listen to them all day when they are like this, playing nicely and getting along. Won’t last long though, soon they’ll be bickering because one doesn’t want to do what the other one does or one of them will decide they want to change roles and the other one won’t want to! “That’s not fair! It’s my turn.” And then comes the inevitable “MUUUUUUUUM!” And that sound of two sets of feet running across the laminate floor, into the hallway and down the stairs. It’s a race, who can get to me first to tattle tail?

But, right now, it’s peaceful. I’m sat on the sofa and the dog is laying by the window (yes we now have a puppy!) sleeping peacefully.

There was quite a long time where…

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A punch in the gut


A little while ago I wrote about my half sister and how her losing her partner made me realise I feel for her as a human being and not as family.

Well, the 25th July saw the 20 year anniversary of our dads passing and her 28th birthday. I had just done some shopping and had loaded everything into the car when, as I started the engine, I glanced up and there she was. She had just got out of her uncle’s car, her youngest in a pushchair and her eldest by her side. Off went the engine, I stood up with one foot out of the car and found myself calling her name across the car park. Honestly, in that moment, I think it was more of a defence tactic – a case of avoiding the backlash if she had in fact seen me and I chose to drive…

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I’m not “Mummy” anymore 😢😍😬😀


So it dawned on me, at about midnight last night when I couldn’t sleep, that I am no longer “Mummy” to either of my kids! Sure, other people refer to me as Mummy when talking to my kids and I think I probably do, in a kind of third person way while talking to my youngest. But they don’t. My babies don’t call me Mummy and I’m not sure how I feel about that? I’m proud that they’re growing but sad at the same time! It’s so weird. Parenthood is a funny old thing, the mix of emotions is really quite strange. I remember noticing pretty quickly when our eldest stopped saying Mummy and Daddy. Also, I picked up on when he stopped saying Nanny. But our youngest, I’m not even sure! I’m racking my brains, trying to think of the last time I heard her call me Mummy or…

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Another day, another “ball pit”


So here we are again. The “ball pit”, a different one from my last “ball pit” post but basically the same.

In principle I should be annoyed that it’s always me doing these things, you see my husband is off playing golf somewhere with other dads from the family! Haha they’re all the bloody same. But I’m not annoyed, I won’t allow myself to be. I like to see my kids do things, progress, grow. I can probably tell you everything my kids are capable of. As loving a father as my husband is, he misses a lot. I want him to see them how I do, to know them inside and out. But everyone is different, he’s happy and they’re happy so I’m happy 😃

I watch with pride at how far they have come. My eldest is off in the football area playing with complete strangers. His stammer…

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For us not you


Why am I worried?

What’s the worst they can say? It’s all bullshit anyway.

A quick visit once (maybe twice) a year to chuck some flowers down, you think that proves you care? You think that makes up for the sorry state of it? The neglect over the last 20years? You think that gives you the right to claim ownership and to block us out?

We’re out of order? How dare we! How dare we what exactly? Oh yes, that’s it, how dare we make our dads grave look nice. How dare we put our hearts and souls (not to mention blood, sweat and hard earned money) into making it somewhere nice to visit.

How dare we indeed.

We’re inconsiderate and disrespectful. We did it to upset you. Of course we did.

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A bit of a scare


Before I start this post, I would like to say this story doesn’t have a horrible ending, I’m just venting!

So, I found a lump. I’ll set the scene: approximately 3am I was awoken with a searing pain. Half asleep my hand shot to my right breast, the pain was in a specific place to the right and directly under my armpit. As I felt the area there it was.


I kept feeling it as if I was expecting it to disappear. It didn’t.

Now, it hadn’t occurred to me that cancerous lumps are usually painless. All I could think was “Oh shit”. I didn’t really sleep well for the rest of the night and when I did I dreamt of the lump. I remember dreaming that I couldn’t get a doctors appointment and that I was arguing with the receptionist – then, weirdly she tells me she’ll book…

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