Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

Blog to Book - Fashionably Late

I am writing Fashionably Late, an irreverent guide to having children later in life. Did you become a mother over 35? If so, and you'd like to tell me your story please contact me at mail@motheratlarge.com.

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Activities

Edinburgh Book Festival appearance

Nicola Morgan, head of the Society of Authors in Scotland, and the Edinburgh International Book Festival have asked me to do a writer's workshop at the festival in August on blogging, social networking and books. Wonderful news, but I did feel honour-bound to point out that following the collapse of The Friday Project I don't currently have a book contract. I didn't want them to take me under false pretences. Were they sure they still wanted me? Not a problem, said the organisers. They already knew all about my publisher going bust (very sorry, sure something good would come of it) and could I please talk a bit to the audience about my experiences with The Friday Project? Well, fine. I can do that. Only other snag is that I'm due to give birth just six weeks earlier. But my friend Vanessa has offered to look after the baby in the refreshment tent while I do the workshop. So looks like we're in business. Anyone in Edinburgh in August, do please come along if you get the chance. I'll do my best to make it informative and fun.

Posted 20 April 2008 13:04 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Activities Blogging Books Fashionably Late - the book Out and about

Easter break

So, our Easter break in the Scottish Borders. First, the good bits: daffodils, teashops, time with husband and child, ruined abbeys, Easter eggs (Beanie's egg is pictured left) and cherry cake. Plus I managed to drive us there and back - a big deal for me, as I must be one of the most timid drivers in Scotland. And the bad bits? Freak weather conditions: hailstorms and snow. Va-vay and I arguing about the route. And about my driving. And - worst bit - a group of fifty 10-year-old boys invading our youth hostel on Saturday night, banging on the door of our family room, rattling the door handle and shouting at us, forcing Va-vay, Beanie and me to flee in terror to a local hotel at 9pm. Though in a way, moving to the hotel was one of the good bits, because it (unlike the hostel) had central heating, lavender toiletries, coal fires, wood panelling, good cheer, tranquillity, attentive but unobtrusive staff, ensuite bathrooms, a television and top-notch bedding. I will never take any of these for granted again. Not after Schoolboy Saturday. And yesterday, Va-vay came home bearing a new piece of geekery - a Sat Nav system for the car to avoid further map-reading arguments. He has already had hours of fun programming it and is now talking excitedly about future trips. I should have known the way to win him round to driving was via technology. I had best get back to my (paid) work to find funds to pay for it all.

Posted 25 March 2008 12:08 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

Activities Car Holidays

Chasing butterflies

At the weekend I took Beanie to a place called Butterfly World, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, the city where we live. She has been talking about it ever since. Oh, that feeling of being able to do something that made her happy. Wonderful. Butterflies (Beanie calls them 'flies') fluttered overhead in an old greenhouse converted into a sort of tropical paradise. Followed us, pirouetted, swooped out of nowhere. Beanie stumbled towards them, hands held out in greeting. Trays of oranges hung from the ceiling. Butterfly nosh?

We threw money in a wishing well, inspected carp, goldfish and a catfish, eyed up iguanas, looked at terrapins and had a quick look at the reptile and creepy crawly section in a room at the back. Being there made my skin crawl. But Beanie and I both loved Butterfly World. Something alarmed me, though, as I bought my ticket. Sellotaped to the counter was an advert. It read: "For sale. A large python. £40 ono. Friendly and easy to manage."

Posted 11 March 2008 14:07 | Number of comments: 9 | Comments

Activities Daughter Edinburgh Out and about

Weekend, or, what if you die?

Shedworking, one of my favourite sites, is running a theatre review I wrote for them about a production of Walden, a one-man show from Magnetic North about a man who flees civilisation to live in isolation in a hut in the woods. It was great fun going to the theatre (they even gave me a complimentary press ticket, something I haven't enjoyed in years) and because I went on my own I chatted to other people in the audience afterwards. Nothing to do with late parenting, but a mini-highlight of the weekend.

Somewhat closer to home, Va-vay, Beanie and I went to our local Home Birth Support Group at the weekend. Beanie was entranced when a pregnant lady stuck her tongue out at her (in a friendly way) - and revealed a rather splendid tongue piercing. I knew I needed the Support Group after I told a friend last week I was planning a home birth and she said: "What if you die?" My friend, who is not from this country, then said: "Well, maybe compared to an NHS hospital birth it is the best thing to do." Huh. It's one thing for me to criticise the NHS, but I don't like it when other people do. The Support Group nodded and smiled when I recounted all this, before bursting into tears, and said they hear this kind of thing a lot. They said that statistically home births are safer than hospitals. That people who are negative about you having a home birth are often just worried for you. Beanie beamed as I sat cross-legged on the floor, weeping, then made friends with a small boy wearing a T-Shirt saying "Born at Home". Although not yet two years old herself, Beanie loves pointing out "babies" she sees out and about, saying the word "baby" in great excitement, as if the child in question belongs to a different generation from herself. When in fact there's an age gap of twelve months between them. She spent the rest of the event cuddling the "baby". His mum was there too. Alive and well.

Other News

A friend is organising a fertility afternoon at the Aditi Yoga Centre in Edinburgh on Sunday 2 March from two till five. This is a chance to hear expert speakers on how to improve the chances of becoming pregnant, maintaining a healthy pregnancy and much more. Topics covered include acupuncture, chinese herbal medicine, homeopathy, mind and the body, natural ovulatory cycle, nutrition and yoga. Open to all. Donation £5 per person.

Posted 04 February 2008 11:01 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Activities Angst Childbirth Daughter Dilemmas Friends Fun Health Home birth Out and about Pregnancy

Underwater

Although only 14 weeks pregnant, I'm already 'showing'. My midwife Lorna said it was the muscles 'remembering' from last time. That is the charitable interpretation. The uncharitable one is that ever since my health visitor told me last summer to stop dieting if I wanted to conceive again, I have denied myself nothing. Working at home I snack away all day. I'm so embarrassed by how big I've got that I don't even like admitting to my due date - because people assume I'm further along than I am and look surprised when I say it's still six months away. Last night I found some aqua-natal classes at the local pool. I think it's time to sign up for those classes. First though I plan to buy a maternity swimsuit. My only current swimsuit ('cozzie' as we say in Scotland) was bought for our honeymoon and has special stomach-clinching panels. Don't want baby to be uncomfortable.

Posted 14 January 2008 17:31 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Activities New baby

Twelfth night

Woke at 6.15am today, gripped by worry about something that seemed all-consuming at the time but that twelve hours later I cannot exactly remember. Might have been due to over-tiredness following a jaunt yesterday to 'the west coast' of Scotland, an epic journey for the three of us, since I've hardly left my bedroom in the past three months. People in Edinburgh refer to the 'west coast' in a way that makes the place sound like California - and just about as far away. That is misleading. For anybody not familiar with 'Glesgie', my sense is that parallels with Los Angeles are limited. Unless you get red-faced old men on the bus coming up to you in LA, speaking to you in incomprehensible accents, pawing at your child's pram and scaring the wits out of you.

The gentleman in question struck up a conversation with us from the other side of a bus. It was hard to tell if he was friendly, pissed, mad or a danger, because I couldn't understand half of what he said due to his accent, so I kept my head down and tried to ignore him, but this snatch came through: "Och, ah remember whit it wiz like maself, bringing up a wean," he told us. "Ah had a bairn oaff an Englishwoman. Ah wisnae there, like, ye ken, but I saw whit it wiz like fair her." Great - hands-on parenting from dad. As we were on a bus, attempts at escape seemed futile. I did consider jumping off but didn't know where we were, so decided to sit tight. When he got 'oaff' at the same stop as us and insisted on helping with the pram despite us repeatedly saying 'thank you' and 'goodbye' (I might be Scottish but can be so very English) I thought we'd never shake him, but he slunk off eventually as two policemen hove into view.

However, overall it was a good trip, we saw stuffed animals (Va-vay, being an animal-lover, flinched at the sight of them, but Beanie and I didn't let it put us off), Grayson Perry pots, and I taught Va-vay (an Englishman) how to pronounce Sauchiehall (as in the name of the city's main shopping street). The best bit? We came home happier than ever to be Burghers (as in Edinburgh), not Weegies, as denizens of each city are supposed to call themselves.

Later on at home that evening I want to know why Va-vay and I react so differently to 'incidents' like the one with Bus Man:

"I just feel annoyed someone's bothering us," says Va-vay. "Whereas you feel threatened. That's why you think about it for days afterwards. I don't think about it again after it's happened."

"Really? You really don't think about it for ages and ages after?"

"No, I really don't, I just forget about it," he says, looking surprised, before turning over and going to sleep.

"Errr... could you tell me how that works?" I ask, thinking that no way does he deserve to go to sleep while I lie there imagining all the 'what ifs'.

"No, I can't," he says. "Because you're female. And you wouldn't get it."

If I ever get the chance to come back in another life, I want to come back as a man.

Posted 06 January 2008 19:27 | Number of comments: 15 | Comments

Activities Angst

Take to the hills

Edinburgh residents reading this will know about the beauty of the Pentland Hills that surround the city to the south, guarding it in a semi-circle of heather, hill, reservoir and woodland that gives views stretching over the town to the sea beyond. It is easy to forget Edinburgh is a coastal town, coming to a halt at the water's edge, perhaps because the weather does so little to encourage a trip to the seaside. Yet out on the hills, the city looks like an island or peninsula, lapped by water.

Before we bought a car earlier this year, we had limited means of getting out to the hills. On one occasion we resorted to taking a taxi to the start of a walk, dressed in walking boots, fleeces and gaiters (buses didn't go there). It reminded me of a journalist who boasted he had to take a taxi to the front line of a war somewhere in Africa. I forget where exactly. Hope he was still able to claim on expenses.

Now we have the noble beast, we drove out to Harlaw Reservoir under our own steam. I still find driving stressful, almost a year after buying the car, but there doesn't seem much alternative if we're to go anywhere interesting.

We waited inside the car until all the dogs barking and milling about the carpark had moved on. I'm useless with dogs. Beanie used to love them; now I fear I've passed my phobias onto her. She gets nervous too.

Beanie travelled in a backpack carried by her father. We managed a full circuit of the reservoir, overseen by the charred hulk of Black Hill (501m), whose blackened slopes are the result of 'muirburn'.

We spotted greylag and pink-footed geese, that roost in the Pentlands in winter-time (living in Greenland the rest of the year, greylag geese see Edinburgh as the equivalent of a winter holiday in the Caribbean or Florida), sheep, horses and some cows. Beanie greeted them all, except the geese, with the word: 'bear'.

On our return to the car we realised we'd lost one of Beanie's shoes somewhere on our walk. If anyone reading this spots a girl's shoe (size 4.5) out by Harlaw reservoir, please drop me a line.

Posted 30 December 2007 22:52 | Number of comments: 0 | Comments

Activities Car Daughter Out and about

Vote on your 'Treasured Places'

Those of you who live here in Scotland might be interested in Treasured Places, a free on-line poll to choose the country's favourite historical image. It's run by the Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland , a heritage organisation that documents Scotland's past, and voting remains open until Thursday (25 Oct). The Commission is staging the vote to celebrate its 100th anniversary next year.

Voters can choose from a hundred pictures that range from shots of the Dean Bridge, Edinburgh (top left) to Craigievar Castle, Aberdeenshire (middle left), Drum Castle, also in Aberdeenshire, (bottom left) and Elgin Cathedral in Moray. There are some gems in there, such as images of the Churchill Barrier at Scapa Flow, Abbotsford House in the Borders, the Bell Rock Lighthouse in Angus, and the Bilsland Crest from the Thistle Chapel in St Giles Cathedral. Or you can nominate your own image.

The top ten images will feature in a major centenary exhibition at the Edinburgh City Art Centre in 2008 and the winner will be celebrated by a poem written by Valerie Gillies. The winner will be announced on Saturday (27 Oct). Lest you wonder about my involvement in the project (and, please, no jokes, thank you all the same, about historical monuments/older mothers, really not in the mood), let's just say one of the organisers is a close relative of someone who comments on this site frequently. Beyond that, my lips are sealed.

Posted 23 October 2007 23:56 | Number of comments: 2 | Comments

Activities Edinburgh Fun Holidays Out and about Older mother

Jammin'

For years, I aspired to be a domestic goddess. I had all these fantasies about how when I got married I would practise the arts of cooking, knitting, patchwork, pottery, quilting, tapestry, gardening and jam-making.

My future life as wife and mother was so perfect in my singleton imagination. I was going to be the kind of earth mother who made her own organic stock from scratch, could run up a pair of curtains on her machine and had a pasta-maker I used, oh, more than once. Since I only got married at 37, I had a long time to polish up the fantasies, without much of a reality check. Now here I am at the coal face. And I realise how very difficult a job being a good housewife can be. This stuff is tough. Much, much tougher than people acknowledge. But I'm no quitter.

Here is my progress report so far.

1. Cooking

Two or three nights a week I manage a proper home-cooked meal for Va-vay. The rest of the time it's ready meals via M&S. Beanie is refusing to eat anything I cook her. She downs her spoon and bangs on the table for Petit Filou. It's pretty dispiriting. I try not to take it personally.

2. Knitting

Reasonable success here. I've made Beanie a blanket, stuffed hippo and monkey and am half-way through a cardigan for her.

3. Patchwork

Zero progress. Nul points.

4. Pottery

Attended class. Managed to make and glaze large plantpot, of which I am disproportionately proud. I love it. Gave Va-vay evil looks when he suggested re-patriating it to one of his cupboards.

5. Quilting

Thought about going to class. Decided against, on grounds of lack of time.

6. Tapestry

Have stitched in another tulip on a canvas I bought four years ago. My sister came round. Looked at the canvas. Said: "Is there any woman in the world who doesn't have a half-finished tapestry kicking round somewhere in the house?" I don't know. Is there?

7. Gardening

Have applied for an allotment. Estimated waiting time: five years. They are all the rage in Edinburgh after Antonia Swinson wrote her enchanting book about them, You Are What You Grow. Meantime, I have geraniums.

8. Jam-making

Have tried hard here, with mixed results. Two nights ago I made my first attempt at this, after Granny gave me two pounds of plums from her garden. It was all going so well.... then we got to the part where the recipe said to turn the heat up as high as it will go, and then in seconds my beautiful red jam turned into caramelised brown treacle (pictured). Gutting. It's still edible, despite being carbonised.

Other News

I've been lucky enough to get a couple of awards recently.

Lovely Omega Mum at 3kidsnojob, a daily must-read for me, kindly gave me this one:

Many thanks, Omega Mum. There are lots of people I'd like to award it to. I've decided I'd like to pass it on to DJ Kirkby, since her blog Novel with No Name has got me so involved I'm hopping up and down with rage at what's happening to her heroine, a new mother with a less-than-supportive husband.

Lou at the Wonderful World of Anna Gibson was good enough to give me this Nice Matters award. Lou has a young daughter close in age to Beanie and writes about so many experiences I've had as well. Her blog has helped me realise I'm not alone in many of my fears and worries about being a new mum. Many thanks for the award, Lou. Much appreciated.

I'm sorry I couldn't award this to more people. In the end, I've had to choose two, so here goes: I'd like to pass it on to Erica of Littlemummy and British Parent Bloggers, because I enjoy her blogging tremendously, she truly is a nice person and we're friends.

I'd also like to give it to Vicky, of Little Legends, the free guide to places for kids in the UK, and Manic Mama, an entertaining mamalogue about life looking after her three little boys.

Posted 12 September 2007 22:16 | Number of comments: 16 | Comments

Activities Blogging Domestic chaos Food Older mother

Let's fix it

Social conditioning starts young. I learnt this from a cursory ten minutes last night in front of my new favourite TV channel CBeebies. Women can hardly be surprised their menfolk focus on solutions and practicalities, when young boys are encouraged to model themselves on Bob "Let's fix it" the Builder. Bob is a likeable chap and good sort, but includes machines among his friends. I suspect if the government ever got serious about getting more women into IT, it would probably have to tackle gender issues with Bob's TV show first.

Likeable though he is, I wonder if Bob's storing up long-term trouble in relationships with his focus on machines. Will Bob grow up to be a man who'll listen to and empathise with his partner? Poor Bob. He'll probably get into trouble with her by putting on his hard hat and rushing to fix things, all well-meaning and wanting to please. Then she might complain: "You never listen to me! I feel so unheard." And he'll be left feeling all confused. All down to misguided early conditioning. Tragic, really.

As for us girls, could CBeebies not have found us a better inspiration than Uppsy Daisy, the sweet-natured but feisty heroine of In the Night Garden? Iggle Piggle, her great pal, doesn't look old enough to be allowed out with this young lady. If I was his mum, I'd be practising disapproving looks. Doing clever things with her hair and repeating her own name isn't much of a way for Uppsy Daisy to pass the time. I'd get bored. She just skips around the garden and flicks her hair. Electronically. She doesn't get to go in the lovely boat with Iggle Piggle and his red blanket. Also, I was a teeny bit scared of her in the episode where she found out some naughty person had been bold enough to sleep in the motorised bed that follows her everywhere. As Derek Jacobi intoned in the beautiful voice-over: "Only Uppsy Daisy sleeps in Uppsy Daisy's bed." Well, that's us told.

Then there's the question of the Pontypine family, who live in a semi with net curtains, which they sometimes twitch, by the foot of a large tree. All ten of them. Is it any wonder we suffer this tyranny for large families, given nightly bombardment by the Pontys and their eight children? Last night Beanie and I counted the Ponty progeny in and out of more flowerpots than I care to remember by cold light of day. What's more, all the Ponty babies are of identical height..... meaning Mrs Pontypine must have given birth to octuplets. Now that's pressure.

Posted 11 September 2007 11:38 | Number of comments: 19 | Comments

Activities Childcare Domestic chaos Fun

L Plates Mum

Reading last week the story of a rise in unjust adoptions, I was taken back to my fears as an L Plates mum when Beanie first arrived and I hadn't a clue how to get from one minute to the next so sat in my flat shaking, wondering what to do next. Terrified the Baby Police (my friendly health visitor) would rumble me, I asked a friend who's a paediatrician if I'd get into trouble for general ineptitude in the matter of caring for a newborn. "No," she told me. "Not unless you're doing drugs or hitting her." Big sigh of relief, since I was guilty of neither crime, though I continued to fear the weekly health clinic weigh-ins when I had to de-robe Beanie and pop her in a set of kitchen scales. It felt like the neo-natal equivalent of annual performance appraisals.

Other News

In the Night Garden

Thanks to Littlemummy, who has a posting on how much her daughter Erin loves this programme, Beanie has discovered In the Night Garden on CBeebies. She's so excited by it, she insists on standing up and swaying furiously while it's on, waving at Iggle Piggle, Uppsy Daisy and their friends in what I take to be ecstasy, though her waves cause me a small pang of heartache, when I think how the characters will never wave back at her and see how unsuspecting she is of this. Her dad and I are pretty taken with In the Night Garden too. Va-vay in particular enjoys repeating the names of the different characters to himself. Sitting eating his veggie dinner a couple of nights ago he said, apropos of nothing in particular: "Tombliboos." Short pause. "Tombliboos." Va-vay, who has a degree in linguistics, is trying to pass his love of In the Night Garden off to me as an interest in the development of infant speech patterns. An interest that has led to him starting to get home earlier from work, in time for the 6.20pm start time. My cup, it runneth over.

Posted 26 August 2007 11:26 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

Activities Childcare Daughter Dilemmas Domestic chaos Home Husband News

Prize money

The unthinkable has happened - I've made some money from blogging! And it's all been unintentional. Vicky and Piers at Little Legends, the free service to allow parents to find out what's good in their area and share their views, have given me a £50 joint-first prize for my comments on the site. I'm absolutely delighted, not least because I didn't even realise there was a prize available, and also because I'm now enjoying planning how I'll spend my winnings on a family day out planned around local activities suggested on the Little Legends site. Once the rain stops...

For those who don't already know it, Little Legends is a great way of allowing parents across the UK to share knowledge and ideas about schools, nurseries, activities, days out, classes, clubs, parks, hotels, pubs and cafes. Since it started at the beginning of this year, it's gathered more than 36,000 recommendations.

Despite having three little boys to look after, Vicky still finds time to write an entertaining Little Legends blog about fun things to do as a parent. Do have a look and visit the site. It's a valuable resource for all parents. The more people who contribute to the site, the better it will be!

On the subject of prizes, Flowerpot has kindly given me a Thoughtful Blogger Award. Thank you, Flowerpot. I'd like to pass it on (in no particular order) to Mid-Lifer, Land of Sand, My Wee Scottish Blog, Guineapigmum and Elsie Button. Ladies, you're all a great read.

Posted 11 August 2007 12:15 | Number of comments: 15 | Comments

Activities Out and about Awards Blogging

Fringe benefits

Here's another picture from our weekend out and about enjoying the Edinburgh festival; with The Bean in the foreground on my shoulders. I'll be running pictures most days throughout the various Edinburgh festivals to give you an idea of how much fun the city can be come showtime in August, when it becomes home to the world's largest arts festival.

One of the nicest things about being a parent in Edinburgh at this time of the year is the super-abundance of street theatre to entertain and divert children. On Saturday Beanie and I enjoyed watching a group of about twenty youngsters enact a graceful Oriental dance in Princes Street Gardens, under the stony gaze of Sir Walter Scott. The dance involved some clever stuff with red fans, that made a sound like gun shots as the dancers unfurled them.

Someone from the dance group gave Beanie a show flyer they'd found time to craft into an origami bird. I hate to be a cliche, but because all of this is so new and amazing to her, I find myself enjoying these seemingly simple events with a new appreciation and delight. That said, Beanie wasn't sufficiently overawed by the beauty of her origami bird to desist from chewing the poor creature's head off. But that could have been a sign of her appreciation. It's not always easy to interpret these things.

Later, up in the High Street, she enjoyed sitting on my shoulders to watch a unicyclist, the entire length of his back tattooed with feathery wings, entertain the crowds. Her dad took this picture of her, and has patiently explained to me about three times already this morning how to re-size it for the web. I think I've got it now.

Posted 07 August 2007 11:11 | Number of comments: 9 | Comments

Activities Edinburgh Fun Out and about Festival

To Market

Farmers Market Edinburgh Yesterday, for the first time, we went to the Edinburgh Farmers' Market, which takes place every Saturday from 9am to 2pm on Castle Terrace. It's not a bad place to take a young child, though it can be hard to get a buggy through all the legs and there are no specific activities for kids that I could see.

But needless to say, The Bean was in heaven, with lots of people paying her attention, the smell of roasting meat, the holiday atmosphere - and of course the delicious, if rather expensive, food to sample, taste and buy.

We didn't focus on the more brutal side of the market and rushed her past the roast pig splayed out across the width of one entire stall, its snout tilted at an indignant angle, and the bloodied plastic bags of locally-reared ostrich and venison.

For my part, I liked the sense of being out in the countryside, even though the market takes place on the top of a multi-storeyed car park, about as urban a venue as you could imagine. All that locally-grown produce and so many farmers - I could almost smell haystacks in amongst the concrete.

The Bean notched up a couple of firsts - first taste of icecream (strawberry, fat-free) - and first taste of roast lamb, from a stall run by Cairns Farm, based out in the local Pentland Hills where Va-vay and I enjoy walking. She loved both, though I suspect a marginal preference for the ice-cream.

Queueing for my lamb roll, I did have a momentary pang for the poor beast that Beanie and I were to eat, and wondered if we'd maybe even seen the unfortunate lamb in question while on a walk. But then I decided I was being ridiculous and didn't let it bother me too much.

Va-vay, who is far more principled than me, is vegetarian, and made do for his lunch with a hummous sandwich that I thought looked pretty ordinary next to my roasted lamb. But he didn't seem to mind. One of the most annoying things about Va-vay is his saintliness.

One downside to the market is the shortage of benches and tables. We had to perch on the pavement next to a tree to eat our comestibles, as Va-vay likes to call food eaten on the move.

Once we started eating I became anti-social in the extreme to my lunch companions, just grunting mono-syllabically from time to time as I ate my lamb, garnished with both apple and mint and rowan jelly.

Too much chatter gets in the way of savouring every mouthful in peace, you see. As you can probably tell, I don't get out much these days. As we lose the bunker mentality of The Bean's first year, I'm hoping that will change.

Posted 22 July 2007 14:34 | Number of comments: 18 | Comments

Edinburgh Out and about Activities

Mother at Large

Welcome to this site. It's based on my personal experiences of becoming a mother a little later in life. If, like me, you waited a while to have children you're in good company. More and more of us are waiting until our late 30s or even 40s to become parents. Some might even say we're fashionably late.

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About me

Mother at Large dreams of crossing the Pyrenees with her young daughter. For now, getting to playgroup takes all her energy. To find out more read her full profile.