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Mummy Blogger Natasha gives us her best Money Saving Tips for Mums.

As I look over my expenses from last month, I can’t quite believe how costly Christmas has become now that I have a little one.  It shouldn’t be a shock; they say that babies cost about £50,000,000 in the first year or something mental like that.  But now that the festive cheer has gone, and all we’re left with are heating bills and un-kept New Year’s resolutions.  So I’ve come up with a list of a few things that should help us all make it through the next few pay days!

 > Meal times – as appealing as baby ready meals appear for their convenience, its far more cost effective to make your own.  If you’re cooking spag bol for the family, just remove a load for baby before adding any salt and these can be frozen in batches.  The same goes for dessert.  Got a load of fruit that’s getting soft?  Just whack it all in a blender and freeze in ice cube trays to pop out what you need when required.

 > Clothes and toys – ebay is a great source of clothes, purely because our babies are never in them for long.  There are also many Facebook selling pages for local toys and clothes available in your area.  Just do a search for your town and the word ‘baby’ or ‘sale’ and you should find loads.

 > Sign up to baby clubs – pretty much every supermarket out there has a baby club nowadays, and signing up gives you the heads up on events and money off vouchers.  It’s still worth shopping around though, sometimes the offers aren’t as good as they seem!

 > Bedding – baby sheets and blankets can rack up a ludicrous amount of money.  You can buy double sheets for adult beds, cut them in half and give them a quick hem on a sewing machine.  Alternative, drop it all off at Grandma’s and ask her to do it!

 > Nappies – if you’re brave enough, opt for reusable nappies.  If not, buy disposables in bulk when sales and events are on and stock up.

 > Days out – there are so many places to take the little one’s for an enjoyable day out without having to spend a penny.  Sites like www.daysoutuk.com, www.moneysavingexpert.com and www.visitengland.com are a great source of information.

 > Fun play – you don’t need to spend a fortune on toys to keep your sprogs entertained, lots of things can be made with simple household items.  Bottles can be filled with beans or rice to make fun rattles (just make sure the lids are stuck on with glue to sellotape), play dough can be made with flour and water for messy play.

If you have any other money saving ideas, please feel free to post them on our FB page!  Photos are also welcome.  

Mummy Blogger Natasha reviews the Petite Star 2 - in - 1 Adventure Walker

When I was asked to test out the Petite Star 2 in 1 Adventure Walker I was excited.  I would have been even more excited if I could have fit in it myself, but Shyloh trying it out on my behalf would have to suffice.  I think Shyloh was suitably impressed too. is was meant to be a Christmas gift, but I don’t think either of us could wait, so it got opened early.  It was surprisingly easy to assemble (which was good as I’m about as DIY minded as Mr Bean), and we were soon up and running, so to speak.

First thing that caught Shyloh's attention were the flashing lights and noises, neither of which were overbearing, but kept her entertained.  I do wish we would have got one of these earlier (it’s suitable from 6 months as a bouncer), as it would have freed up my arms in the early days.  But for now she was skating around the place like a sugared up bat out of hell, laughing her head off.  I would say, the walker is only really suitable for hard wood or laminate flooring (like all walkers really) – she got somewhat frustrated on the carpet.

The walker has 3 different height settings, which is really handy when her friends come over to play and they also want a go.  And the bike-shaped handle bars are removable so that I can pop snacks or other toys on the tray.  All in all I was really impressed with the 2 in 1 Adventure Walker.

Nursery Value are currently offering 10% off all their products so don’t miss out!

Buy the Adventure Walker here for just £59.99

Believe it or not, Shyloh has just turned a year old.  I don’t quite know where the time has gone, it seems like only yesterday she was attached to my boob 24/7 and puking all over me (fun times).  I’m sure every parent has an overwhelming sense of pride for their offspring, but I look at her developing and learning so quickly and marvel at how bloody intelligent she is.  She is truly her mother’s daughter!

Over the months I have seen a real little personality developing in her.  In addition to my great intellect, she also seems to have obtained my temperament – I am yet to establish whether this is a good thing.  She is confident, friendly and such a happy baby, but is also strong willed, passionate, and at times a right pain in the arse (it’s like looking in the mirror!).  Her favourite word is ‘no’ and she cuddles everything and everyone; her teddy, the postman, the ps3 remote. 

It seems to be getting easier as she gets older.  We understand each other; she tells me what she wants and how she’s feeling through words, noises and pointing.  Every day she seems to learn a new word – yesterday she poked me square in the eye, almost blinding me for life, and yelled, ‘eyyyyyeeeeeeeee’!  Mum has also been teaching her Spanish, so I get to wake up in the morning to her jumping up and down in her cot proclaiming, ‘teta, teta!’ (which I have just found out means breast, but she is actually referring to the teat on her bottle – thanks mum!). 

She’s not quite walking yet, but I am in certainly no rush – it’s hard enough keeping up with Shyloh Speedy Crawler Piercy as it is!  She’s tottering along if I hold onto her hands, which is hilarious as she seems to have adopted a Basil Fawlty style of walking!  Swimming on the other hand is a totally different ball game – she adores it and happily swims under water, through hoops and everything!  The other month she pulled herself out of the swimming pool and crawled off, much to the amazement of the instructor and other mums.

I’m loving seeing my little bundle of doom develop into a crazy little lady and love hearing all the new things that escape her mouth – exciting times ahead!

Picture the scene... beautifully immaculate house (ok, that may be a slight exaggeration!); late Edwardian property with period features, stripped floorboards.  In comes Shyloh.  And she’s hungry. 

For some reason I thought I’d go down the baby led weaning route.  To those who have no idea what that means, it roughly translates to, ‘let your baby fling food all over the walls, floor, cat, etc’.  Ok, it causes far more mess than fat kids in a pie eating contest, but in all honesty I think it’s been worth it.

I knew that Shyloh was ready to start eating solids when she stole a strawberry off my plate and shoved it in her mouth.  She’s lucky I didn’t try to take it back, as I’m usually very precious over my strawberries, but it was just too entertaining watching her suck the hell out of the fruit, drooling red slobber down her front.

From that point on, I became the puree queen – I was pretty anal about it, and made sure she started off on bland savoury foods, working her way up to flavoursome fruits.  Me and Thom had previously spent £400 on a blender (we were sucked in at a food festival, but the man said it’s the best blender in the world so it must be true!), so I was making sure I got my money’s worth. 

I started out pureeing things, as in all honestly, I was too scared to do baby led weaning – even though I had read up on it, I was terrified she’d choke on something.  But I didn’t really need to be concerned.  A baby’s gag reflex, unlike ours, is only halfway down their tongue, so if she attempted something that was too big for her, it soon came flying back in my general direction. 

Shyloh has been wonderful with her food, and continues to amaze me.  From about seven months old, she has been able to feed herself at meal times, she eats everything we eat, from coconut and chilli thai curry, to salmon and cous cous.  You can tell she really enjoys her food – I generally gauge this from how far the food has spread around her face. 

I must say though, not everyone is a fan of my method of teaching Shyloh enjoyment in eating.  My mum thinks, and I quote, that I’m, ‘bringing her up like a savage’.  I do try explaining the benefits but I’ve given up now.  I now just find secret fulfilment when Shy flings her food across mum’s freshly hovered floor. 

For anyone looking to try baby led weaning, I’d say go for it. I can give Shyloh a whole pear and she’ll work her way through it, leaving the core, or she’ll eat melon off the rind.  She’s learning to enjoy different flavours, textures and shapes at her own pace, whilst being part of family meals and eating healthily.  She’s awesome and I’m so proud of her, even if she does wreck my dining room three times a day!

I’ve just turned 30.  Yes I know, it’s hard to believe, given that I have the sprightly demeanour of an 18 year old, but nevertheless, here we are.  I always promised myself I’d have a child by the time I hit the big Three-O, but previously it was over drunken conversations with a close friend; ‘if I’m not settled down by the time I’m 30, you’re knocking me up, ok?’.  Thankfully for Thom (or unluckily, don’t think he’s decided yet!) he came along and changed my life forever.

I didn’t think I would feel any different turning 30, but I really do.  I’m pretty sure my body has become less cooperative with my brain.  I want to run marathons, jump off cliffs, go surfing, just like those girls on tampon adverts, but my body just isn’t up for it.  I take one look at the ‘Tank’ (aka, the Charisma) and wonder how I ever mustered the strength to push it up hills just after having a baby.  But it has its uses, for come winter (which will be in about a week knowing our luck with weather) me and Shy will be easing through the snow thanks to its massive tyres. 

I also seem to find pleasure in smaller things nowadays.  Don’t get me wrong, Shyloh is the source of my happiness, but you know you’re getting old when you’re excited about the new steam mop you’ve just purchased… not good.  Once upon a time it was dancing, movies and alcohol – these days it’s more about sleeping, mortgages and a nice cup of tea.  Putting it into words is depressing!

I knew my life would change with the arrival of a child, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for exactly how much.  I envisaged myself, a less attractive Anglea Jolie, swanning around the place, juggling life as an awesome Earth Mother, a full time worky person and amazing girlfriend.  In reality, I look dishevelled most days, I hate work, and I’m pretty sure Thom wants to kill me. 

Saying all that though, it’s amazing how Shyloh has the ability to make me feel ancient one moment (my own little vampire, slowly draining the life from me!), then the next, she does something so unbelievably cute that I feel as carefree as teenager on the last day of school.  I love her so much, I never knew quite how much happiness one tiny pooping, screaming, puking thing could bring. 

So to summarise… I guess I feel old, but young, all at once.  I intend to enjoy every waking moment with my Mini Me, not take life to seriously, and take each day as it comes.  Try new things, show Shyloh the world (ok, Aylesbury!), and always try to say yes to new things.  I’m pretty sure that should stop my aging in its tracks.  Stick that in your pipe and smoke it Dorian Gray! 

As we're soon approaching National Breastfeeding Awareness Week (25th June) I thought it only apt to write a blog about how my life has changed now that my boobs seem to be permanently out. It was always my intention to breastfeed, but I never really realised how hard it would be to get the hang of, and quite how difficult the whole process would be. I guess I imagined it to be something along the lines of; boob out, whack her on, jobs a good'un, but it didn't quite go like that.

I might as well take you back to the beginning - the birth of my wonderful monster. She latched on as soon as she came out, and almost instantly a feeling of utter pride washed over me. I found it amazing how this tiny thing, barely an hour old, seemed to know exactly what to do. Unfortunately, my euphoria was short lived, for by the time we got round to her third feed, it was like she'd forgotten. Plus, my nipples hurt like mad (sorry to any men reading this, but you have to know, it can be bloody painful at the start!). I asked a midwife for assistance, as I was deeply hormonal (not surprisingly), and concerned that Shyloh would starve... I was told to massage my breast and collect any drops that came out into a syringe. I immediately started sobbing, and it wasn't until the next duty midwife came along that she suggested laying down to feed her, which worked a treat. Obstacle number one over.

The early days are quite a blur, but I remember it being very tricky to get the hang of what I was actually supposed to be doing, and how best to teach Shyloh. Thom would have to make me a little bed of a million blankets on the living room floor so I could lay down every feed (glad we grew out of that!), and the cats would always want to lay with us. I felt like I was always breastfeeding in the early days, and to be honest I probably was, for there was a point where Shy would feed every 1.5 to 2 hours. We went to a breastfeeding clinic, and bless Thom, he had to sit there with a dozen women all with their baps out... probably would have been a pleasant experience for him under other circumstances! I also leaked like mad, I would be feeding off of one boob and the other would start gushing... ok, that's probably too much information, but you need to know these things!

I've had to feed in some pretty interesting places. Remembrance Day, slap bang on the 2 minute silence, Shyloh starts wailing so I resorted to feeding her on the floor of the cobble stoned market square in front of hundreds of veterans. During an interview... yes, you read right. Not only did I have to show my bits to four men I would potentially be working for, but baby then decides to puke everywhere. Suffice to say, I didn't get the job. I've had to walk through countless shopping centres, supermarkets, town centres, parks, restaurants etc with Shyloh attached to me. Great fun.

Thankfully, pretty much everyone has been really open and supportive when it comes to breastfeeding in public places, and my friends are used to me being half naked in front of them by now. My best friend was slightly uncomfortable to begin with, when I'd have to feed Shyloh he would sheepishly avert eye contact, slowly head towards the door whilst saying, 'I think I'm going to go see what Thom is up to' (bless him). I've had another friend, who is a glamour photographer and therefore used to boobs of all shapes and sizes, sit pretty much on top of me whilst I was feeding, stare at my boobs, going 'that's amazing, doesn't that hurt, why is she pulling like that, how many holes does it come out of, does it squirt everywhere or trickle out, what colour is it, that's sooooooo amazing!!'. I guess some people would have been traumatised by the barrage of questions, but I was really pleased that he was interested and wanted to know more about it all.

Not to say that everyone is in agreement. My mother, of all people has been a pain, and frequently asks me when I'm going to stop as it's an 'inconvenience' (grrr!). Once, in the very early days, she proclaimed 'that's not how you do it', and proceeded to shove my boob into Shy's mouth. I have had to bite my tongue on several occasions, and in the end sent her an email with information on breastfeeding so that she could stop coming out with ludicrous comments such as, 'you're milk isn't good any more', 'there is no point doing it after six months', and my personal favourite, 'if you carry on it's just selfish'. I have felt like slapping her in the face with a breast pad before, but I remind myself that it was all very different in her day.

There is a lot of support out there for women who want to learn more about it, or are struggling to get to grips with it. I don't think I could have coped without the breastfeeding cafe and the friends I made there. There are also groups, such as Le Leche League, who were a massive help when my milk production went down. For anyone who is thinking of breastfeeding, I would advise it wholeheartedly - I'm not going to bang on about the benefits as I'd be here all day, but I would say don't give up, it's hard work, but so so so worth it in the long run. I love the bond I have with Shyloh, and I will always remember this time fondly. It's been eight months now and I'm 'still' breastfeeding. An no, I have no intention to stop just yet. Why should I? There is so much contradiction when it comes to the how long to breastfeed for, but I believe that it's down to the individual. As far as I'm concerned, Shyloh will stop when she's ready. Ok, I may have to consider reevaluating this if she's coming home from middle school and asking for a feed! And anyway, if I stop now, I'd have to start buying milk to put it Thom's tea! Ha, just kidding Thom! Or am I? :) 

To be able to fully explain why I love our Charisma so much, I firstly need to tell you about our debacle with our initial travel system purchase.  It was from a well know company, not sounding dissimilar to 'Brotherwear'... we purchased an 'Xtreme' (yes its so much cooler sounding without the 'e') a good six months before our bundle of doom was due to arrive.  Good job too, because we had to change it four times.  Yes, you heard correctly.  

I'm going to tell you all about my labour now... and I think at this point 98% of you will probably stop reading.  But for those of you with strong stomachs and balls of steel, here it is.  God knows why I'm actually telling you this, and I really hope it doesn't put you off having children of your own someday, but I think I'm also doing it to try and make sense of everything that happened in what felt like 16 hours of madness.  Trust me, I've asked Thom and he can't quite put it to words either.  

I'd been to the hospital for the 58th time with reduced movements.  Ok, it wasn't actually the 58th time, but it felt like it - when it's your first pregnancy you're not really sure what to expect, but they'd told me to keep and eye on the little one's jiggling so here I was again.  Turned out it was a good job I had gone; the fluid around her had reduced drastically, so they said I needed to be induced.  That was my whole birthing plan out the window - I had intended to do it all in the birthing centre, with low lighting, me in the pool relaxed, transcending to another plain of inner calm, Thom in the corner singing Kum Ba Yah while our darling angel entered this world... but no.  I wasn't best pleased, but the only thing on my mind was ensuring she was safe and well.  

Thom lovingly brought me a curry for my last meal as a non-parent and I was the envy of the ward.  I would have happily shared it with the midwife if she could have got Shyloh out that night as I was sick of waiting and getting impatient, but there were a load of other women also there to be induced.  The woman next to me said she was having to wait until Friday (it was now Tuesday), so I wasn't holding my breath, but after nine months of puking, diarrhoea and looking like a whale I just wanted to meet my baby. 

The next morning I was sent down to be induced, and I can honestly say it was the most painful thing I have ever experienced (sorry to those who have got this coming) and was then told the contractions you feel when induced are far more painful than if it were to occur naturally, as your body is being thrust into labour.  Great.  They started coming an hour after induction, starting from a scale of 'ooooh that was uncomfortable' increasing to 'get the sodding doctor in here noooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!' (think the girl from the Exorcist and you've pretty much got the picture).  I was left like that for SEVEN hours, and it was the longest seven hours of my life - not even a paracetamol to ease the pain (they wouldn't give me one!), and was even told not to use my TENS machine yet, as I couldn't possibly be in labour.  It wasn't until a very anxious Thom rushed for a doctor before I went on a mental rampage through the hospital to find one, that he came in, took one look and said 'oh yes, she's definitely in labour!'.  

I was then moved into my labour room and after that my memory starts to get a little patchy... I think I remember pretty much all of it, but then bits come back, like flashbacks of a freaky dream had the night before.  I wont tell you everything, I don't want to bore you by telling you how, once high on gas and air, I spent the next two hours going 'I loooovvveee this song' to every song that came on my ipod, grinning insanely like a tipsy Cheshire Cat and telling Thom I loved him every five seconds.  And, lets face it, I also don't want to scare the hell out of you either.  I feel like everything went wrong - the woman who put the drip into my hand somehow managed to make the needle go in one part and come out the other (it looked pretty horrific, and I think Thom was about to chunder) then had the audacity to ask if she could break my waters!  Thom relishes in telling me they looked like knitting needles, but I stop him from divulging further.  The guy who put in my epidural managed to hit a nerve which was excruciating and had to be removed and done again (try being told not to move when you're having contractions every few minutes!).  Shyloh kept on wriggling and they couldn't locate her heartbeat, so I had to have an internal monitor put in (don't ask).  I basically had a million wires coming out of me.  Thom, in the meantime, had fallen asleep on a beanbag on the floor... bless, it must have been so exhausting for him (that's sarcasm by the way!).  

I couldn't tell you how much time had passed, but I did know I'd been doing this for a very long time (I gauged this by the volume of drool coming from Thom's mouth as he slept!).  I was keen to see it through and get her out as naturally as possible, especially as my labour was now differing so much from my original plan, but soon, the doctors came rushing in as her heart rate had dropped - that was pretty scary.  They had to do a procedure where they went in and took blood from her head to test the oxygen levels (they didn't take enough and had to do it again - told you everything went wrong!).  They then let me carry on, but it quickly dropped again, and it was at this point they informed me that they would have to perform an emergency c section.  I didn't care any more, all I wanted was for Shy to be safe and well.  

I can't remember much of being moved and prepped for surgery, I just remember lights, lots of people around, being numbed up to my arms (very weird sensation).  I do however remember feeling very nervous - not because of the c section, but because this was it, I was finally going to meet my daughter.  From the moment of being taking into surgery it only took them four minutes to get her out; I still find this pretty incredible that they can work so quickly, but they made me feel like I was in safe hands.  I heard her cry and that was it, I was in tears, Thom was in tears.  It was by far the best moment of my life.  I can't possibly explain what it felt like to see her the first time (I'm even welling up as I write this) as the only emotion that I can describe from that moment was an overwhelming, unconditional love.  She from that second became everything to me.  Although she looked like a miniature version of Phil Mitchell I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world.  

Reading back I realise that a lot of the labour sounds like a horror story, and believe me, I've given you the 12 rated theatrical version (not the 18 rated directors cut with all the gory bits left in!).  But one thing I can say is that I would do it a million times over; Shyloh was unequivocally worth it.   And yes, I would go through it all again for another, but much to Thom's dismay, we are NOT having enough for a five-a-side game!