I hate weaning; it’s not as bad as potty training but comes a close second. With the twins I remember is fishing out threads from sweet potato, knackering out not two but three food processors, and covering everything in…

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Dear Santa,

How you doing old man?

Stressed I imagine? I have to say respect to you for still managing to ho, ho, ho throughout December. If I were you I would send all these letters back return to sender. How often do you get mail January to November and then suddenly everyone wants a piece of you when the snow starts to fall. And does anyone, apart from meals on wheels, ever pop in to see how you are doing? It must be lonely since Mrs Claus ran off with that elf.

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When the twins were little I adored being stopped in the street by everyone who wanted to comment on my beautiful babies. So much so that I grew resentful when I would leave the house and people wouldn’t approach me in the street. I think I became a little obsessive as I felt people simply had to comment on how well I was doing and how gorgeous the little ones were and in retrospect I do apologise to anyone whose ankles I clipped with my double

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We made it!

We got through baby beautifuls blessing without either twin girl or boy shaming us and getting the entire family barred from the pearly gates. It was touch and go for a while, twin girl did start her blasphemous repetition of ‘Jesus, Jesus’ once again and the vicar did break out in a visible sweat but all was averted by a quick hymn.

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