I have a confession to make. I'm Greek (well British Greek) and up until recently I'd never given my child hummus. I know, you better sit down and sip on some brandy. It's pretty shocking stuff.
Incredible illustrator, magazine founder and creator of Financially Hard Times and utterly all round wonderful young man, Tom Casson is kindly closing my Blogging Carnival with an illustration of my Dad: Papa G. The drawing which perfectly captures Pops was inspired by one of my early and most favourite of posts: Dad and a Little Case of Chicken Pox.
I was born and bred a Catholic. Growing up in West Ireland to an Irish Mother whose own family stemmed from a deeply religious background it was inevitable I would follow the same path. Admiration, of course, to my parents for continuing not only this upbringing when we moved to England, but in also making the effort (because as I have since found out it IS an effort) for my sisters and I, to be schooled in Catholic schools.
When Caleb was born, Sophie was 11 and babies were just about the best thing ever. Nothing she could do to help was never too much trouble. The age gap hadn't really crossed my mind when I fell pregnant and the fact I still had a child at junior school may have contributed to that. Initially all seemed fine..
I don’t know how it happened. Once, I was able to leave the house for a loaf of bread without having to give thirty minutes notice. I could even make it back again with time to spare before Eastenders started. These days, events like this take so much preparation and fore-warning that I would rather go without toast and opt for an easier life all round.
You have lofty ideals about what you will and won't do with your imaginary children. Then the reality of parenthood nappy-slaps you off that pedestal.
Things I promised my pre-baby self I'd never do:
