This week Ted is revelling in his crowning glory and rubbing salt into poor Daddy's increasingly receding hairline

"At the risk of bottle-shaming my son, I’m pretty sure this is our fifth bottle of the night, which given the fact we haven’t even hit the nine o’clock news is too much bottle."

This week I attempt to network at a comedy festival while simultaneously wrestling coffee capsules from Ted and running in flip flops

I’m sure I found the heat just as tricky when pregnant with Ted in the summer of 2020, but this time it feels a lot more oppressive

Because the house-move has dragged on a bit, this was the week I rolled up my sleeves, channelled my latent múinteoir and told Fred we are getting the last bits done if it kills us

Both my husband and toddler are high-energy extroverts, while my idea of a dream holiday is sitting alone in a darkened room staring into space

Much like I wore Fred down initially and tricked him into our relationship, so too has Fred worn me down and convinced me to book a holiday in the sun

We are currently in the throes of potty training, and so far, much like my comedy reviews, results have been mixed

"I was sitting on my favourite horse-shaped seesaw yesterday when a child — who couldn’t have been more than five — marched over to me and informed me that the playground equipment was “just for kids”."

Waiting for these scans is like holding your breath, for weeks on end, and the fear can be all-consuming