The Life of a Lavery Toddler

Me and my Bro Mum enjoyed bright colours Since as early as I can remember, I knew I wanted to be a mother. I would go well and truly gaga for babies from a young young age. I actually remember regularly pleading with my mum to have another baby. Is it weird that I was broody at the age of 7? I mean, I just googled it there, and it would seem that it is weird? Who knew!  Anyway, my ideal childhood scenario would have been my mother having another child when I was about 7 years-old. Really, it would have only been smart from my mum's perspective. I would have been an absolute asset to the care-giving process. Raising a child would have been a breeze. If her back was sore, I could have pushed the pram. If she was busy with housework, I could have entertained the baby. Really, if she had only seen it from my perspective, it would have been an absolute no-brainer. Instead, my dear naive mother had other ideas. She, like many, opted to have her kids close together. What a foo

M E R R Y  C H R I S T M A S  E V E R Y O N E ! So, I have seen a lot of lovely festive posts and I thought, I really need to get in on this. Everyone loves an upbeat and feel-good Christmas post, right? But, do you know what, writing about Sunshines and Rainbows, or should I say Mince Pies and Santa Trees, is just a bit boring... I don't know, maybe my genre of blog is less feel-good, and more feel-bad? Is that even a thing? Anyway, I thought I would attempt a Zaz-style Christmas post! December 2018 Having a child has definitely increased my Christmas buzz. I never used to be that Christmassy. Don't get me wrong, I have always enjoyed it. But I'm not one of those Christmas fanatics who  live  for Christmas. You know the ones. They have a 90-day build up, and a countdown on Facebook. This year though, I honestly just can't wait to just spend the day with my family. I have so many games lined up. But, good games. Not ones that go on for 4 flipping hours (

Cian, one week old As a woman with shoulder length hair I am quite low maintenance when it comes to any hair-related grooming. I probably get my hair cut every six months in a good year. I think my last haircut was April and it is just while I write this that I am considering booking an appointment. It's not even the price that is a deterrent for me. That's only because I found a salon which is quite reasonable, and doesn't charge you a week's salary for a trim. For me, it is just not at the top the priority list of things to do at the weekend. For men however, hair grooming is a whole different ball game. For the first six years of our relationship, I was never conscious of the frequency of Jack's haircuts. I think he must have been barbering in secret. Now I realise that it's not just Jack, it's all men. My male colleagues are just as bad and my Dad is probably the worst topping the charts with at least three visits a quarter. So now having a son

Nappy change at 3 days old I am not even going to waste my energy attempting to make this blog post high brow. This post is all about poos. You can package them up any way you want. I guess some people might find other words less offensive? Maybe saying poo-poo sounds cuter? I don't know. But in reality, you can't polish a turd, so why try. For the record my poos will not be discussed here, just my son's poos. He's only 2, so that's more acceptable right? One thing that never really bothered me about having a baby, was the poo. Actually, from birth you are encouraged to monitor your child's poos quite closely. I would always be pretty pleased when he produced one. It was far better than the alternative. Constipation is not funny. I think it helps that for as long as I can remember, talking about bowel movements has been encouraged in my family. I honestly believe that's the way to do it. Get it out in the open. The discussion, not the poo. I do know