Here I am! I know some of you have noticed I've been gone because you've bothered to ask me about it and, man!, boy! (woman? girl? person?), was that a wonderful ego boost. It answered my "Who am I writing all this FOR?" question - there are three people out there and I'm writing it for YOU.

It may be another year until the next post, mind you, because I still haven't figured out WHAT I'm writing.

I have the usual concerns about my children's privacy. I've even *gasp* switched my Instagram to private, although I've yet to figure out how else to gauge my worth as a human being, if not through likes and bot-generated comments: "Nice capture! [thumbs up emoji] [kissing face]".

And, as usual, I'm bouncing back and forth between wanting to be funny and wanting to pass myself off as some sort of expert on... um... accepting the unpredictability of small children with grace, patience and dignity, I suppose (unrelated: I cried because my three year old wanted an apple this morning).

So, until I figure all of that out, I'm going for my old fallback of clumping a load of thoughts together in one big, fairly incoherent mess mass. With headings. For tidiness. And tea breaks.

Starting with the most important thing: the baby is allergic to... something. Almost certainly milk. Possibly nuts and/or wheat and/or cats and/or Justin Fletcher (I know I am) and/or eggs and/or any other allergen you care to mention. We're at the start of the very long wait to visit the allergy clinic but, in the meantime, we're not entirely certain what to feed the child. I mean, she can't survive on melty puffs, can she?

Or can she?

I mean: she'd give it a good try.

So, all allergies-and-weaning advice is welcome.

What I do know, though, is that the spreadsheet I've put together for tracking her diet, reactions and activities is a thing of beauty. When we can afford for me to go back to work, this chart alone will get me an office job. I'd do one for the other kid, too, but I don't need a record of how many Fab ice lollies she's managed to talk me into giving her.

Speaking Of My Kids
Sometimes I post photos of them on Facebook. Tutorials on how to respond with hearts (appropriate) instead of thumbs ups (inadequate) are available upon request. Small fee may be payable.

We Ordered A New Mattress
The confirmation email says "Our delivery team is looking forward to meeting you." I feel the marketing team may be putting words in the delivery team's mouth.

I mean, I love the idea that there's a fleet of delivery drivers heading out each morning, whooping because somebody called Sarah is going to show them where to put a parcel, but I've done customer service and - other than that one woman who used to bring us homemade cake in the video shop - the customers were never the bit I looked forward to.

We Also Ordered An Air Purifier
Why, yes, we are a single income family, but I recently came into... well... not enough money for a new kitchen by any means, but enough money to make our old kitchen legal, let's say.

Anyway, the instructions which came with the air purifier said very specifically not to let children play with it. Mine spent forty-five minutes this morning pressing the beepy buttons, switching the glowy blue light on and off, and waving their extremities over the fan. Parenting two kids - it's all about the breaking of the rules.

That, and fishing stickers out of your baby's mouth.

  1. Do siblings give each other birthday (and, I guess, Christmas) presents when they're tiny? Our three year old is already planning what to get her seven month old sister for her birthday; I'm not sure if she's expecting to have to pay for it with the £3.14 in her piggy bank or not.
  2. On a related note: do elephants strike you as a low maintenance sort of pet? 
Oh, Sod
That squeak tells me we're back to thirty minute naps. Catch you all again... perhaps.