10 things that change the minute you become a mum

1. You learn to do everything at speed

I can now apply my makeup in exactly three minutes, the shower has barely warmed up by the time I get out and I don't think I've properly chewed any of my food since Pip was born, let alone actually tasted it.

2. Self maintenance is no longer a priority*

My monthly eyebrow appointment is now a distant memory, I have roots down to my shoulders (that's still 'in', right?) and the nail polish on my toes has all but worn away. And that's just the areas that are visible...

*Unless you've joined Aquatots, in which case it's all hands to the deck

3. Your brain is only ever, at best, 70% on the task in hand

The other 30% is wondering whether the baby's room is too hot/too cold, which breast you last fed on  or if it's too soon to introduce another vegetable to the weaning chart. Or you're just fantasising about falling asleep on that gorgeously soft sofa in the doctor's waiting room.

4. You substitute the odd word here and there for something totally random

Recent examples: "We've got nappy bags for dinner," "You ok to switch the onion on?" and "Is that the pram alarm I can hear?"

5. You care less about what people think (and also care more at the same time)

I couldn't give two hoots if someone notices the dried sick on my shoulder, but heaven forbid someone comments on my parenting choices.

6. You start telling it like it is

Who's got time for skirting around the subject? Life's too short for all that nonsense (says the person who'd bend over backwards not to cause any confrontation only a few months ago.)

7. You talk about babies all the time. Literally, 24/7.

I honestly had no idea how many hours you could while away, discussing babies' sleep patterns (or lack thereof) and the perils of breastfeeding. I'm beginning to wonder if I can hold a conversation about anything other than babies any more.

8. You sing. A lot.

...And most of the time it's absolute gibberish. In our house we now sing as the nappy's being changed, we sing on the way to the bath, we sing in the bath and we sing (very loudly over the screaming) on our way out of the bath and during the drying/dressing process. God knows what the neighbours think (but I stopped caring a long time ago - see point 5).

9. Your wardrobe becomes full of garments made of static-inducing fabrics, to avoid having to do any ironing

I can't imagine ever having the time to iron a cotton t-shirt, let alone battle with those ridiculously expensive linen trousers.

10. You talk to people using the third person, via your baby

"We had a lovely time at the park, didn't we?", "We're late because someone had a nappy explosion, didn't they?" (all said several octaves higher than your usual speaking voice). Cringe.

Right, we need to feed (!), so until next time...

Josie x

Parenting goal #1: The drama-free mummy date

Nothing quite beats the euphoria experienced directly after a drama-free mummy date. It's up there with getting the all clear at the dentist or nailing a presentation at work. Hashtag winning, right there.

I was nervous about meeting my friend and her 11 month old baby for coffee this morning. How ridiculous does that sound? I've known her since we were at playgroup and she's seen me in all manner of states yet, for some reason, I still had a knot in my stomach as I left the house and headed for the bus stop.

This is because, three weeks ago, I had the mummy date from hell. It started well (Pip lulled me into a false sense of security by drifting off to sleep just as we walked down the high street towards Boston Tea Party) and ended with me vowing to never, ever leave the house again. Bit dramatic, in hindsight.

Basically, to cut a long story short, Pip screamed/wailed at full pelt for a solid hour. 'Got a good set of lungs on her, that one.' Yep, she has. She had fed and napped that morning, so God knows what was going on, but by the end I was totally frazzled and ended up feeding her on a park bench to calm her down, despite not wearing a nursing bra or appropriate clothing. The passing cyclists got more than an eyeful, but by that point my dignity had well and truly done a runner.

So, back to today. Pip fell asleep on the bus and woke the minute we walked into the coffee shop (oh no, here we go again, I thought). I peered gingerly into the pram but, instead of the pink eyebrows (her cue for us all to take cover), I was greeted by an enormous smile beaming back at me.

I lifted Pip onto my knee and she was mesmerised by my friend's baby, who was having a whale of a time sat in his highchair. And... we were able to chat for a whole hour!! Obviously, we paused for the odd knee bob and peek-a-boo, but on the whole our little babies were more than content just taking in the scenery and admiring each other. What a stark contrast to the previous date.

Walking back to the bus, I felt on cloud nine. Perhaps I can actually do this mummy thing. Maybe it's safe to leave the confines of the house every once in a while. My mind started racing, I might take Pip swimming, we could go on a picnic, we could even manage a holiday! On the bus home I told the driver to keep the change (who does that on a bus??) and even engaged in a conversation with a toddler who was rubbing his grubby fingers all over Pip's pram (anyone who knows me will know this is very out of character!).

In reality, I think the main difference between the two mummy dates was the fact that my friend's baby is older than Pip, so she was just fixated on all that he could do. Not really anything to do with me suddenly nailing parenthood. Perhaps that's the answer... I need to borrow a baby who's a few months older than Pip to accompany us at times when I could really do with a contented baby for an hour or two. There's probably some science in there somewhere, explaining that babies make great leaps when with older children etc. etc.

Obviously, I'm under no illusion that I could quite easily have another mummy date from hell in the near future, but for now I'm going to stick the kettle on, browse Travelzoo and bask in this glory for a little longer.

Josie x

Top 5 tips for successful breastfeeding

This is a post I never, ever thought I'd be writing. Breastfeeding did not come naturally to me, and the struggles I went through definitely warrant their own post (in the pipeline).

However, over the past three months, I feel like I've learnt a few survival tips, which will hopefully help some of you fellow mums out there.

1. Do not feed on a bad latch

I know this is an obvious one, but I cannot stress the importance of this enough. In the early days, yes, breastfeeding hurts. But it shouldn't be excruciating. I remember one particular time when I was resting my feet on the Argos book and, unbeknown to me, throughout the feed I'd shredded the entire front page with my toe curling! As a result of feeding on a bad latch, my nipples ended up cracked and bleeding, which led to multiple other problems.

If the feed is still unbearable a minute or so into the feed, then unlatch and try again.

A great place to look for advice is La Leche League GB.

2. Air dry whenever and wherever possible

Damp nipples that are wrapped up in non-breathable breast pads and clothing are asking for trouble. I had a terrible time with thrush in the early weeks and I wouldn't wish the pain on my worst enemy.

After a feed, be sure to let your nipples dry fully before covering them up. Ideally, leave your top off for a good 10 minutes or so. Trust me, you'll get so used to walking around topless you'll almost certainly walk past your window at one point or answer the front door with your bra up round your neck!!

3. Invest in some reusable breast pads

As mentioned above, I was blighted by thrush, and I'm sure the plastic-backed breast pads I was using didn't help. Plus, their hard texture irritated my super-sensitive nipples and even stuck to the open wounds (nice).

So, I invested in some washable breast pads, which are breathable and much softer on the skin. I chose these and have no complaints. Just remember, if you have an infection, change the pads at least after every feed and wash them on a high temperature.

4. Slather on the coconut oil

Yes, Lansinoh is award-winning and is recommended on pretty much every breastfeeding website and in numerous articles. However, I did not get on with it. I found it sticky and, not to mention, very expensive.

I've always been a fan of using oils for skincare and swore by argon oil and coconut oil throughout my pregnancy. For me, it just seemed right to use an oil to treat my poor, cracked nipples. And it worked!

Within a few days of switching to coconut oil, I immediately saw an improvement. The red-raw skin around my nipples dried up and dropped off (sorry if TMI!!) and unveiled lovely soft, supple skin underneath. And the cracks across my nipples gradually closed over, and became far less painful over time.

Even now, three months into breastfeeding, I still religiously apply coconut oil after every feed, as I am terrified of my skin going back to how it was in those first few weeks!

I know you can spend a fortune on coconut oil, but I get this one from Aldi! Total bargain at £2.49 and it lasts forever!

5. Have a change of scenery

This was a bit of a lightbulb moment for me.

I'd been feeding on the same sofa in our house, with the same feeding pillow, since returning from the hospital. I had a lot of mini breakdowns on that sofa!! The morning my breasts were so engorged that little Pip wouldn't feed was a real low point and tears were shed. Just looking at that sofa, even now, conjures up a whole host of negative emotions.

Then, one day, I was at my parents' house and needed to feed Pip. Being in a different location, without all my breastfeeding paraphernalia, allowed me to take a fresh approach to feeding and it was honestly such a liberating moment. I actually thought, for the first time, I can do this.

From then on, I never fed on the main sofa in our house. I moved to the hard, upright sofa (which I had originally ruled out as being too uncomfortable for long feeding marathons) and ditched the breastfeeding pillow and replaced it with just an ordinary cushion (like I had at my parents' house). The new sofa made me sit more upright and less hunched over, and I naturally crossed my legs, and for me that just worked.

So, experiment with different positions around the house (oi oi!) until you find a place that feels right for you. And treat every new location as a fresh start.

Josie x

The birth plan? To have no plan!

Minor life update since my last posts in...hang on...2014?? Surely not. Anyway, big development in the shape of a small, squidgy human being. Yes, that's right, I've had a baby.

I thought I'd ease myself back in gently with a look back over the birth, and share with you my thoughts and opinions on birth plans.

From the minute I fell pregnant, I was determined to try and not be influenced by the reams and reams of information online and in print about what's 'right' when it comes to the birth. Don't get me wrong, I went to antenatal classes and read my fair share of books, but I wanted to draw my own conclusions and not feel pressurised into behaving a certain way when it all kicked off. Easier said than done.

Are you going to have pain relief? Are you having a home birth? What about hypnobirthing? As the impending due date drew closer, I suddenly felt immense pressure from everyone and no-one in particular to shun any kind of intervention and turn the whole thing into an 'experience'; something to be enjoyed and savoured. As someone who cares about healthy living and who had taken particular care of themselves through pregnancy, it seemed like this is what I should be doing. This is what would be best for my baby.

So, as a result, I sat down with my midwife at my birth plan appointment and stoically claimed I would be rejecting all pain relief.

But, as a first-time mum, how could I possibly know what my birth was going to be like? I thought I had a high pain tolerance but, equally, I'd never gone through anything like childbirth before, so how did I know how I would react? Not particularly well, as it turns out!

My contractions started on a Wednesday evening in January. Throughout that night they progressed rapidly, and were soon three minutes apart. My husband and I got out of bed and had the bags by the door. And then, everything stopped. My contractions started slowing down, to the point where they were 10 minutes apart, then 20, then 30! I guess adrenaline had kicked in and interfered with the oxytocin (see - I did listen in the antenatal classes!)

All through Thursday and Friday I battled on with, on average, contractions every 10 minutes. A trip to the hospital revealed I was 1cm dilated (a low point, tbh, as I could imagine being in labour for the next couple of weeks at this rate!).

By Friday evening, I'd made the decision to be induced; something I had categorically said I wouldn't do, as it would most definitely result in having to use pain relief. However, by this point I hadn't slept a wink for two nights and was exhausted. I couldn't risk the labour tipping into another day, as I just didn't think I'd have the energy to cope with that.

So, at about midnight, I was wired up (again, something I didn't want, as it meant I couldn't move freely around the room anymore). But, by this point, I honestly didn't care. I just wanted to get this baby out safely, and as quickly as possible.

As the drugs started to work, the contractions reached a whole new level. I tried gas and air, but really didn't like the drunk feeling it gave. I wanted to feel in control, and I didn't on gas and air.

Feeling drained from the exceptionally long labour, I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to take the pain away so I could focus on the task in hand. I reached a point and I didn't think I could carry on. I guess my pain tolerance isn't as high as I thought. And that's ABSOLUTELY FINE. All this pressure I had put on myself to go pain-free suddenly felt so silly and irrelevant. At that moment in time I needed pain relief to continue, it's as simple as that. There is no shame in accepting what's on offer. It's what's right for you at that moment, not what felt right in the comfy doctor's surgery three weeks previously.

I chose to have an epidural. I had read a lot about epidurals, and made an educated assessment that it was what I wanted to do. My advice to anyone not considering pain relief would be to still read about and fully understand all your options, in case your plan changes, like mine did.

I had my epidural at about 2am. It took longer than usual to work on one side of my body, for some reason, so I was advised to shift positions to allow it to move through my body. As a result, the epidural peaked just as I was fully dilated. I don't think this is usually the case, as it is good to be able to have some feeling as you are pushing.

As things had progressed so quickly, the midwife actually suggested I rest for an hour to prepare myself for the final push. This is something that most definitely was not in my birth plan! A little sleep once I was fully dilated?! I didn't even know that was possible!

So, that's what happened - my husband and I dozed for an hour and were then woken up to have the baby!

Despite not being able to feel a thing (literally, not a single twinge!), I somehow knew what to do. The midwives counted me down to each contraction and, with my renewed energy, I pushed like crazy (something I know I wouldn't have been able to do without my power nap).

And after just 20 minutes, at 4.29am, our beautiful baby girl was born.

My memories from those moments are so clear. I was actually enjoying pushing and think I even cracked a couple of jokes. I remember everything; my husband's tears, my daughter being lifted onto my chest, stroking her hair for the very first time.

Those final moments were a far cry from the images I've seen on TV, of animalistic women, screaming and hallucinating as their babies are born. Please don't judge me for saying that; I honestly have so much respect for anyone who does it pain-free. But, for me, an epidural was the best decision I could have possibly made. It allowed me to savour every moment of that unique experience and take in every little detail. It wasn't on the plan but I wouldn't change a thing. My advice? Make a plan but don't be scared to change it if you feel it's right at that moment in time; you know you better than anyone.

Josie x