2 boys, 10 years, 10 posts

10 years of facebook posts about the battles, sorry I mean delights, of raising 2 boys… 24 Nov 2010 (age 1 & 2) Andrew’s lesson for today: don’t use Robert’s potty as a hat when you don’t like getting your hair shampooed. 6 July 2011 (age 2 & 3) A bit of muffin caught in…

Working mother guilt

Working mother guilt really peaks at this time of year. It’s awful enough when I feel bad about not being with my children; not picking them up from school myself, not always being able to go to the endless number of school events that require parental attendance these days. But there are two weeks during the summer…

17. Solitude, part two

This post is the seventeenth and final in a series which starts HERE. (December 1998) Every morning I strap my baby to my chest and walk around Sousse. Being winter, many of the Casanova types that cause me so much hassle are not around. I walk to the market to buy fresh vegetables and fish and find that having a…

16. Solitude, part one

This post is the sixteenth and penultimate in a series which starts HERE. (December 1998) When I pass out in the treatment room, with my baby strapped to my front, the pharmacist catches me before I hit the ground. I am not a regular fainter; this is the only time I’ve been unconscious in my life. It’s the…

14. Anxiety

This post is the fourteenth in a series which starts HERE. (October 2014) Sousse in the dark is a nightmare. Although I lived there from 1997-99, my memories are hazy and now there is a new one-way system in place, as well as much development. The traffic chaos is the same; crazy lane changing, laden mopeds weaving through…

13. Tri-lingual birthday cakes

This post is the thirteenth in a series which starts HERE. (October 2014) After the visit to show my daughter her father’s gravestone (link to that post), we return to find the house filling with relatives and neighbours who want to celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday and welcome her to their village. In addition to various men and…

Avoiding the Postman

I had two babies who were bad sleepers. I was up with both of them several times a night and I was knackered. Not in a light hearted ‘I’ll joke about this one day’ fashion – it was more of a drained, angry feeling I dragged about with me all day. My one aim of…