Sleeping through… about bloody time!

You finally did it,

You slept through the night.

I stayed up for you

But your eyes were shut tight.

Months we have waited

For this day to arrive,

To be honest I’m shocked

That I’m still alive.

With such little sleep,

You drove me half crazy.

I begged and I pleaded

For a day to be lazy.

Up in the night,

Feeding and rocking,

When would Uncle Yawn

Come a knocking?

Stroking your nose and

Rubbing your back,

Walking round looking like

I was on crack.

Everyone said 

We should leave you to cry.

I just couldn’t bare it,

The pitch was too high!

You needed to learn

To “self soothe”,

Then I was told 

Your sleep would improve.

Bollocks I reckon,

You still can’t “self settle”,

But you slept through the night

You deserve a medal.

Will it continue

Or was it pure luck?

I hope you keep sleeping

Or that would sure suck.


An ode to baby led weaning

6 months came around

And all of a sudden,

My wee little bubba

Became quite the glutton.

He watched from afar 

As mum and dad ate,

High time he decided

For food on his plate.

We tried with a spoon

To fill up his tummy,

But no he was stubborn

Just like his mummy.

Cheeky man wanted

To use his hands,

Not giving a toss

What mummy had planned.

Cucumber, toast,

Tomato and peas,

One mum I heard

Gave chrysanthemum tea!

Bananas and broccoli,

Get shovelled in,

A shame most of it

Ends up in the bin.

Porridge and pasta

Squelched between fingers,

With cheese I find

The smell don’t half linger.

Eggs, ham, tuna,

Even wild boar,

Go into his mouth

Then onto the floor.

Avocado, peaches,

Papaya too,

You’d never believe

What comes out in his poo.

Nappies are now

A treasure chest,

Filled with goodies like raisins,

Just look out for his vest.

The high chair being

His favourite place

To clear out his bowels

It’s such a disgrace!

At family dinners

His tummy will rumble,

A poonami is coming

Daddy will grumble.

He sits on his throne

Face red as he trumps,

The stench travels quickly

One almighty dump.

Quick mummy yells

Get him in the bath

But baby don’t care

He thinks it’s a laugh.

He wriggles with glee

As his arse is bared

Touches his bum

And gets shit in his hair!

Oh what a disaster

This has all been,

Don’t worry mama

One day he’ll be clean.

What are you thinking? A poem for my boy.

What are you thinking,

Oh baby of mine?

I wish you could tell me,

But you can’t by design.

You’re too young to open 

Your mouth and speak words,

Instead all you do

Is a fuck load of turds.

If only I knew 

What all the sounds mean,

Instead I’m left guessing

Which oraface to clean.

What are you thinking,

Oh darling of mine?

Are you judging mummy

As she slugs on her wine?

I can see in your eyes

That the cogs are turning,

I just don’t have a clue

For what you are yearning.

Is it milk that you wish for,

Or just a quick nap?

Perhaps it’s too sunny

And you desire a cap?

Do you need a bum change,

Or something to chew?

Maybe you’re bored

And want something new?

Oh how I long

To hear you speak words,

Then it’ll be easy

To act on what’s heard.

For now though my prince,

I just have to guess.

Please bare with me,

I’m doing my best!