Pic All my life I’ve been a good sleeper. Apart from a bit of the “I’m Scared of Monsters” childhood period and the “Teenage Angst is Eating me up Inside” period, I’ve done fairly well. I loved my eight hours of sleep a night and thrived on the occasions I could get ten! A bad night? Six hours. It was enough to make me a little bit homicidal. A night out on the town? Look, I’d need the usual eight, plus a few more to get me less…drunk and grumpy. Oh how things change! At the moment, we’re dealing with the Little Mister’s recovery from his four month old immunisation…
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It’s the little things.
Pic I used to have big dreams. To travel the world. Accidentally be discovered dancing and singing in my car and then becoming an overnight rock star success. Have my iPhone handy just at the very moment my dog does something hilarious like walking like a human or befriending an elephant, so I could record it and become a YouTube sensation. You know, big stuff. Now, ten weeks after having one of those tiny humans (I think they’re called bebbehs) my dreams have become somewhat simpler. Shall I share these simple dreams with you? Shall I? I dream of… Doing number 2s without hearing the baby crying for me Look,…