Oh hello there you little fucker.

I see you, down there on the left. It's you that has been making my life hell for the past few weeks, huh? All white and sharp like you don't give a damn. You're the reason she won't go to anyone else but me, screams uncontrollably when I'm paying for something at the check out and has poo that's as fluid as the wine the I neck every night after a day of teething tantrums.

Well it's nice of you to finally think about making an appearance. So when are you going to show yourself in your full glory? Because I'm telling you now, you're hurting my little baby and I don't take too kindly to that. Especially not when, in turn, she's hurting me. Smacking me in the face, screaming in my ear and insisting I carry her everywhere so my muscles ache every night when I get in to bed.

Sort it out. I haven't got enough bibs to deal with your shit.

The skirt that isn't a 'Mummy skirt'.

Today I bought a new skirt. I showed my Mum and was met with 'should you be wearing that? You're a Mum now.'


When I was three, and I remember this clearly, she wore a lime green bodycon skirt that was shorter than the one I got today. She also had zebra print clothes, leopard print clothes, neon clothes, short skirts, crop tops and skinny jeans. All of this I shall remind her of when I speak to her later (hello Mum, I know you read this YOU HYPOCRITE LOLZ). If I can find the photos of her in these clothes I will scan them and post on here just to embarrass her.

What I'm getting at is, just because you're a Mum it doesn't mean you have to cover yourself up from head to toe. I still wear short dresses and skirts (with tights - my cellulite wont let me wear them bare). Sometimes I flash a bit of cleavage - it makes me feel sexy and reminds me that even though I'm a Mum I'm still a person and I can still be fashionable.

I don't have to be a frump, my Mum most definitely wasn't.

Skirt from Topshop. Buy it here.

Following in her Mothers footsteps (shoes)...

Lilian & Mr Monkeybum's first trip to the farm.

Today we went to Old McDonald's Farm in Brentwood. Lilian wasn't really bothered by the animals, she was more interested in trying to eat the fence but it was a good day out.

Excuse the monkey's rear.

God Bless America.

Unfortunately the cow wasn't for sale.


Crashed out in the car.

Stay tuned for Lilian and Monkeybum's next adventure.

Happy Sunday evening xo

M is for Mumma.

She only went and said it, didn't she?! Last night while I was getting her ready for bed.

Not a babble, the actual word.

She said it and shocked, I said it back to her. She repeated it so I said it again and it went on and on like that for ten minutes. Then I stopped but she still carried on!

Mumma was Lilian's first word, a word that she repeated again today. A word that made me so proud I could burst into a thousand fireworks, squealing and whizzing around the room.

It made me so smug, I cant help but grin like a Cheshire cat.

(It probably had something to do with the fact that I've been chanting it to her every day since she was born.)


It started off badly. She was in a bad mood from the moment Daddy walked out of the door.

And then I put her in this.

We played with these.

Don't judge me, it kept her quiet.


Then two of the crazy Aunts came round.

Happy baby!

Something for the Mums...

Just quickly, while Lil is quiet....

If you're a Mum, go take a look. See...we can be fashionable, stylish and all the rest and have a baby.

Enjoy your day xo

It's all better now.

We had a cuddle.

And then I had a glass of wine.

Enjoy your evening xoxo

The day I got a lot of poo on me.

Today has been a bad day. One of those days where a crate of wine wouldn't go a miss.

I took Lilian to the shops and for about twenty minutes she was fine. And then she screamed. After forty five minutes she stopped and did a big poo. And then she screamed.

It gets worse.

She screamed while I tried to undress her and change her nappy and because she was wriggling so much it had gone all up her back. And then it went all over me. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Then she pinched my arm so hard I had to stop myself from throwing her in the nappy bin. I wanted to cry, being a Mum is shit when she's like this. It's not all lovely lunches while the babe sleeps or baking cakes while she sits in her highchair watching. It's fucking hard. 

Sometimes I don't want to be a Mum. I feel bad for this even though I know everyone feels like it at times. And then she pulls a funny face and the guilt drowns me.

I miss my old life. I've got lost in my title again and it's about time I was Me for a bit.

Tonight I shall get drunk.


Lilian is dribbling approximately 3 litres of dibble a day (that's a guess, possibly an exaggeration). I blame her teething.

Her normal bibs no longer fit the bill, we need the hardcore bibs now.

I found the most beautiful little oilcloth bibs this morning on Beauty and the Bib. Great for her dribbles and for when it's time to start her on the hard stuff (solids not vodka).


Say bib. Bib bib bib bib. Lost all meaning hasn't it.

Tea for two.

After a tip off from that marvellous place called Twitter, I stumbled across the most beautiful tea set that, straight away, I just knew I had to get for Lilian.

Adorable, huh? It's from a great little place called Catbird in Brooklyn, New York. 

I can imagine her sitting in her makeshift tea shop, serving tea to her dolls and teddy bears. It's enough to make me want to squeal with glee. 

When I pop to New York in November I shall be swing by and purchase her first tea set. You can buy it here (they ship worldwide and sell the cutest initial rings because lets face it, we all deserve a treat every now and then).


Today it has been hard. Motherhood that is. A stroppy, teething, tantrum throwing four month old has today made my life hell.

I know it isn't her fault but that doesn't make it any easier. I have a feeling it will never be easy. Because let's face it, girls are hard work.

My Dads hair went grey shortly before my (now 15 year old) sister was born. My husbands hair went grey about three days after meeting me. I have a feeling that under all this hair dye mine is 70% grey, I just don't let the roots grow out quick enough to be able to tell.

People tell you it's hard, having a baby. They just don't tell you how hard. Don't get me wrong, the positives out weigh the negatives every time but bringing up a kid ain't no fairytale.

I'm currently watching Lilian's Dad try to calm her down as she pushes her bottle away and makes a noise that resembles a whiny puppy. He's a lot more patient than I am. But then he's married to me.

Like mother like daughter rings true right now.

Another week gone and none the wiser...

This week was sponsored by lack of sleep, again.

Lilian has been teething really badly and doesn't want to do anything except be picked up or cuddled by me. She isn't interested in anyone else and whilst I am flattered and feel a bit smug about this, I haven't done anything I need to do this week.

We're off to Spain in three weeks and I haven't even started to think about what I need to take. Lists need to be written, clothes need to be purchased and the house is a tip! I wont even get started on the size of the ironing pile.

And I'm still none the wiser about this parenting lark. To be honest, I'm making it up as I go along. As long as she doesn't grow up to be lazy, expecting everyone to give her handouts, loose with her morals and mouthy (I know a few young people like this) then I guess all will be ok.

Watch this space, I suppose...

Out of stock.

Lil just had her last set of jabs until she is one. I say set, she had all but one due to the surgery being out of stock.

Out of stock? Did the admin girl forget to place an order?

Surely then all appointments should be cancelled until they have the full set in stock? No?

This is the same surgery I am making a formal complaint about due to a past incident (I am changing surgery now). I don't usually go there when it comes to politics as I don't like to upset people with my views about this country but bejesus is the NHS so far down the toilet you can't remember whether you flushed the loo or not.


Oh tit off.

Breast is best, breast is best.

Oh is it now?

I understand that breast milk is best for your baby and I appreciate that but it isn't always best for the lady.

When I was pregnant I was adamant that I wouldn't breast feed so my husband could share the night feeds with me and to be honest, I didn't really want to flop my droopy boobs out every two hours. I was being selfish.

But laying there drugged up to the eyeballs, waiting for Lilian to arrive, I changed my mind. That is, until I had my stomach cut open.

The pain I felt after I'd had her hit me a few hours after the epidural wore off. I was told I could start breastfeeding later that day. I changed my mind again. Barely able to walk, think, pick up my daughter... How the hell was I going to cope with her attached to my breast? It was final, formula milk all the way.

The day I arrived home I was in a lot of pain. I was only allowed to take paracetamol and paracetamol couldn't touch me. The health visitor did her rounds and asked me if I'd consider breastfeeding and I really wanted to say yes but I just couldn't go through any more pain. I was finding it hard to move around and climbing the stairs was a nightmare. Sitting up in bed was near impossible. I just couldn't say yes and it broke my heart.

I admire any woman that breast feeds. It's a wonderful thing, so intimate. What I don't admire are busybodies that have only had natural births and preach to the world that women should breast feed and that you're a failure if you don't. Stop being so bloody ignorant. There are hundreds of reasons why woman can't breastfeed and if they choose not to for purely selfish reasons, so what? They've spent the last nine months doing one of the most selfless things possible.

Give the formula feeding Mums a break. What happened to the sisterhood?

You should be supporting other Mothers, not giving them grief.


Lilian. I don't remember what life was like before her (not entirely true - it was a string of drunken nights, hungover mornings and a hell of a lot of headfucking) and I certainly cannot begin to imagine what life would be like without her.

Go get your sick bucket...

I've watched her closely today, wasted quite a bit of time just watching and drinking up her every move. She has made me realise how precious time is and how I don't want to waste a waking moment. She is my whole world. If the planet imploded and all that was left was me and Lil on a tiny island, well that would be ok with me.

Before her I was a selfish wreck. I didn't care who I hurt or hurled drunken abuse at. I enjoyed falling down the stairs or through the door completely steaming. I laughed at my sprained ankle or broken toe, it was all a joke to me. But now I see I was a huge great fool and it was all an act to cover up the hole in my heart.

That little monster has made me a better person. Now I have morals and reasoning and while I'm still an absolute nightmare when it comes to finances, I realise that I don't need the Mulberry bag I was promised on the operating table or the leopard print boots I'm craving or my wrinkles smoothed out with Botox. As long as I have a healthy, happy baby I don't need anything.

Because everything I write about fashion and what I want and the things I need - it's all words. All I need is her.

Cotton wool.

Today was the day my heart stopped.

After bathing Lilian I noticed the soles of her feet and palms were bright blue. I called NHS Direct and they directed me to the local walk in surgery where the useless, fat, lazy bitch of a receptionist told me I had an hours wait.

Now do excuse me while I go off on a rant... A FUCKING HOUR??????? You do know it is a baby in that car seat, not a fucking chimpanzee? No. I will not wait an hour. GO ON A FUCKING DIET.

So off we went to A&E. Funny because when we got there we were told that the stupid fat bitch should have directed us straight to A&E (don't worry, complaint already sent).

After checks, Lil was given the all clear and it was explained that when babies are cold, their circulation goes a bit crazy and their feet and hands go blue but I was totally right to get it checked out. Well that was a barrel of sugar coated almonds. I think my heart stopped beating for a while there.

I have never felt like that before. It's amazing how powerful that baby is. She can stop my heart (well it felt like she did). First A&E trip done and I'm praying to all the Gods that it was the last (obvs ain't going to happen it is, you know what these bloody kids are like...).

From this day forward she's back in her bundle of cotton wool - white with navy stripes, gotta fash it up 'cos that child is gonna be wrapped up in it for a looooong time...

(Sorry for the sweary bits. That stupid woman made me angry.)

SMS Style Awards

I have been whittled down to one of six finalists in the South Molton Street Style Awards. For me, this is a massive compliment as I thought I'd lost all sense of fashion when I fell pregnant. Seems not.

The five other finalists are pretty damn stylish so really I know I don't stand a chance but it isn't all about winning of course. Thanks to Anna at SMS Style I have regained the confidence I lost when I fell pregnant. Good news for me, bad news for my husbands bank balance...

Only gone and got my bloody fashion mojo back, ain't I?!

(Go take a look here and vote for your favourite)


Baby Friendly Footwear?

I need a new pair of boots for Autumn. I'm lusting after these:

Perfect for carrying a baby that doesn't want to sit in her pram, right?


I'm laying on the floor on a blanket with Lilian, talking to her about Autumn. Not the weather it brings, or how the leaves turn the most beautiful colours. I haven't told her about Halloween or Bonfire night.

But I have told her about Autumn fashion. All that other stuff she'll learn at school. Today though she is having a lesson at the school of Mummy entitled: AW11.

She has learnt all about my boot addiction, which coats I intend to purchase (blanket and a 60's style one which I'm constantly on the look out for), where I have found the most amazing shoes (ASOS), who has surprised me for Autumn (River Island) and who is teasing me for yet another season (Mulberry - they're doing a leopard print collection).

She has listened carefully and made noises in all the right places. But when I asked her what she thought of what autumnal pieces I have so far, she threw up.

This can only mean one thing: clear out the wardrobe and start again...

A+ for her. C- for the bank balance.

Uh oh.

All around me, people are getting pregnant. Every day someone pops up on Facebook or Twitter and announce their news and it's making me broody for baby number two.

I know. What the fuck. My thoughts exactly. I DO NOT want another baby as lovely as Lilian is (except for when she wakes me up at 5am and wants to play). I do miss the feeling of being pregnant though, even though it was a horrendous one most of the time.

I miss the bump and the scans and the wondering who the baby will look like (me, mostly). I even miss people invading my personal space to rub the bump.

They say you forget how traumatic the pregnancy was once you have them and it's true although I have only just forgotten. One thing I shall not forget though is sneezing when I was 30 weeks pregnant and wetting myself. And this wasn't just a dribble. Oh the joys...