If you are the proud owner of small humans, you’re in for a treat today. I have the honour of introducing you to this stunning book, Five Minutes, Alfie – AND – if you keep reading, there’s a fantastic GIVEAWAY. Now, don’t say I don’t look after you!
Brazen Mummy Writes is part of the book tour for this delightful new children’s book, written by the talented Lily Mae Walters.
Firstly, let me show you the thing they call “the blurb”, which is that fun teaser on the back of the book:
The Blurb for Five Minutes, Alfie
Alfie snuggles down in bed, dreams still in his little head.
He dreams he’s a king going out for a ride. “A dragon sleeps in front of the gate,” they cried.
The brazen alternative to sleep training is…well, no sleep training. (Ooh, and a few extra hot tips which I’ll share with you at the end.)
OK, so maybe it doesn’t sound all that crazy. But bear with me, because I wish I’d known this.
I’m here to tell you that if you decide not to ‘sleep train’ your baby, if you shun the books and theories and just kind of see what happens…
If you go with the flow, let nature take its course, help your child get to sleep any which way you can rather than following some stinky set of ‘rules’…
It will probably be OK.
And that’s the bit the books, courses and even sleep helplines don’t tell you. Because they don’t want you to know it will be alright. Otherwise who will buy their books, their courses and fund their pesky helplines? Err, well nobody, I guess.
You may have caught my Mother’s Day post, in which I apologised to my mum for a lifetime of being a bit of a selfish toad. So staying topical, I have a Father’s Day poem for you. It is from my little boy to his Daddy. Yes, he’s very advanced for a toddler, don’t you think! It’s all his own work. (So excuse the formatting – he’s just a kid!)
One thing I wasn’t prepared for when motherhood kicked off was the amount of time I’d spend feeling guilty. When I haven’t actually done anything wrong!
That DREADED mum guilt. Do you know the thing I mean? It seems to pop up everywhere, like an uninvited jack-in-the-box, with a dumb taunting face and stupid flashing fairy lights. Quite honestly, I wish it would just pee off.
It can quite happily invite itself to any situation. Wobbly toddler has a little topple (whilst you may have been checking your phone)? GUILTY. Baby gets nappy rash because you tried out those two-for-one nappies? GUILTY ONCE MORE.
And if you caught my recent post about comparing your little one to others, you’ll know I feel that panic every time I see a child acing something I haven’t taught my offspring to do.
(Ooh, excited side note – I have a FREEBIE for you at the end..!)
Guilty About the Little Things
Now here’s a mum guilt example. When I was pregnant, I read ALL OF THE BOOKS. I mean, I love a good book anyway, and who doesn’t get excited about a project(!)
Well, this one book called Brain Rules for Baby suggested that children under two shouldn’t watch TV. It was written by a very clever brain scientist, so who was I to argue. (Yes, yes, I know. First time mum with all those crazy ideals! PFFFFFFFFF.)
Overwhelm. Now there’s a snazzy little buzzword. If you’re feeling like you’re going to smash a few plates with all this juggling, keep reading, mumma. We’re going to fix all of that in a jiffy…
(Also – when did overwhelm become a noun as well as a verb?
Was it when we all became so overwhelmingly overwhelmed, that some flashy business guru had to invent more jargon? Well, don’t let it be said Brazen Mummy doesn’t keep you on the cutting edge of fancy schmancy lingo.
So are you suffering with this overwhelm too?
And what does it look like?
Err, you know that thing when you’ve got so much stuff to do you can barely stop for breath? When you might just yank your frazzled hair out and scream big ugly swear bombs just for the eff of it? Yes, well that. (So a friend tells me…)
You may wonder why Brazen Mummy would suffer with this overwhelm. Aren’t I “just” a stay at home mum? Well, firstly, this mumming is a damn sight more demanding than my years of swanning around the office. The days when I could pee solo and make coffee the first time the kettle boiled.
Mumming is a twenty-four hour Piccadilly circus, with no pay and a two foot boss who can tantrum like a b*tch.