Bit of a shock the other day – a postcard dropped through the letterbox, featuring a large picture of a young girl, in great distress, soaking wet, make-up running, apparently covered in bruises and clutching a few shreds of clothing around her naked shoulders. She’d obviously had a horrible time – raped, battered, something horrible …
I’ve never heard anyone go all gooey-eyed and say, ‘oh, I’d really love a teenager. They’re so cute, all those empty cups in their rooms, the piles of dirty clothes, the 3am phone calls …’ Just as well, when you have a baby, that the teenage years are a long, long way away. By then, …
Ok. Can I just ask you this one question? Which do you think is the most aesthetically pleasing advent calendar? Is it this one, crafted from wood, hand-painted in dove grey with touches of pale teal and terracotta, and complete with its own personal Santa loitering by the door: Or this one? A tacky, …
The children are all deep into the new term now, and it’s as though the holidays never happened. I miss our long chats, lounging around the kitchen table, about life, the universe and everything. Although one conversation with my girls did disturb me deeply. I had known, of course, that teenage girls separate themselves out …
There’s a huge hoo-ha coming our way about girls and the internet. It’s generated by an American writer and journalist called Caitlin Flanagan who, I’m sure, is utterly delightful, but comes over like someone who is never happier than when stirring up tornados in teacups. One of her previous books was subtitled Loving and Loathing …
Well, here we are in week two of the half term and I have descended into full teenage behaviour patterns, getting up at 12, slopping around in my dressing gown, and complaining when asked to do anything. Meanwhile, Child One is revising night and day for her dreaded GCSEs and Child Two is getting on …
Be warned, all you mothers of nice, neat toddlers with one pair of shoes each, or even primary school mums, whose offspring just have a couple of pairs. Here is a picture of the cupboard downstairs where my DVDs were supposed to go: I’m not even going to show you a picture of the bench …
Freedom is a tricky issue. Once upon a time, with a toddler attached to each leg, the question was, ‘how do I get five minutes to myself?’ Nowadays, it’s the girls running away from me, as fast as their sickeningly long and gorgeous teenage legs can carry them. I completely understand that teenagers need freedom. But how much …