Pest vs boss mum

The fight does in my throat a lump in its place. The tired washes over me Like waves, crashing. The shame of being your pest burns in my soul. I wrote this poem at the end of a particularly hard day. I wanted to advocate but I was burnt out, the repercussions of advocacy weighed

why CIs?

A couple of weeks ago I sat in an appointment with my son (and a surgeon) to discuss his surgery. The surgeon made a flippant comment that prompted me to think about why we chose implants for our boy. He said that the whole point of cochlear implants is for speech. It stung because I

What I wish the church would understand about disability…

Being the parent of a disabled child is an absolute joy, and a total privilege. A child’s purpose is never solely to teach parents, but our son has undoubtedly taught me more than I’ve taught him; about life, privilege, faith, God.. I could go on and on. I’m so proud of him, just as I

No deafness please, I’m hearing.

Let’s talk cochlear implants. What do you think of when you see the words? For me, they are a risky option for my child, a decision that weighs down heavily on already tired shoulders. We are learning the views of many Deaf adults and the history behind these views which makes for painful learning and

Where are your manners, mama?

As he handed me the ball with his left hand he looked up into my eyes, frowning, then lifted his right hand to his chin and pulled it forward signing “thank you” and repeated himself in what was clearly a passive aggressive reminder for what I should be saying to him. This telling off was

No stress please, it’s Christmas.

The summer before your wee one starts school (/secondary school/ university); the run up to a loved one having an operation; pregnancy; those weeks between accepting a job offer and actually starting it, these are very different times of life but have something in common: they are all examples of the time periods where life

Proud to be

Black history month  The theme of Black History Month this year is ‘Proud To Be’. We try to teach our children to be proud of who they are, and that means their Nigerian (& Scottish) heritage all year round. Basics like eating egusi with pounded yam and saying goodnight in Yoruba each night, Nigerian life

The new kid.

This morning, amidst the whirlwind of breakfast eating, uniform ironing and snack organising, it hit me that it was my son’s last day before the summer; the milestone last day of Primary 1. It seems no time at all since last summer which I spent panicking over uniform sizes and the perfect schoolbag and I

No kneeling please, we’re football fans.

Footballers taking the knee in protest against racism have received boos from their “fans”. I can’t get my head around it, even if you’re a loud and proud racist why would you boo your own team before they play a match- do these people think that will help their team win?! Cries of being against

“Sturdy” isn’t a compliment, and other lessons from marriage.

“Is something wrong?” he asked tentatively. “No. I’m fine.” I uttered, knowing the words were a lie as soon as they escaped my mouth. By the look on his face I could tell he recognised the lie too (anyone who’s ever met a woman could probably realise that “I’m fine” should set alarm bells ringing!).