Two years after the idea was born, Confessions of a Coffee Group Dropout is on the shelves
I am not good at self-promotion, but I am going to give it a shot anyway, because if you can't write about your new book with the pretty pink cover on your very own blog, there probably isn't anywhere you can safely do so.
Who wants to sit around and talk about nappies and gripe water anyway?
Mini-mister is six months old. He can roll, squeal like a dolphin for 40 minutes at a time and blow raspberries, he has two teeth and a wonderfully silly sense of humour and he likes to play with his feet. In the time he has made these great strides in becoming a more fully functioning person, his mother has bombed out of two coffee groups.
God, save me from the supermums
Forgive me my presumption for I am new to this mothering game, but as far as I am concerned, if I’m losing sleep over it, I’m qualified to comment.
Parenting is amazing, but you don't have to love it every moment of every day. Right?
Do you love being a mother? Do you love it?
As a new mother I get asked this all the time. Usually I answer, 'Yes,' with the appropriate aw-shucks grin. But sometimes I tell the truth, which is rather more complicated.
It was W.C. Fields, wasn’t it, who made that enlightened and penetrating remark about the wisdom of avoiding animals and children?
I am no great animal lover. Not that I’d do them any harm, mind you, but I always circumnavigate paddocks containing beeves that look the least aggressive and I’ve always thoroughly disliked zoos.
