These days, all we have to do is look at her funny and she’s flung herself on the ground, thrashing her legs this way and that way, squealing like a lamb on its way to the naughty chair.

The world as I have known it has come to an end. Where peace once flowed like a river, there are now streams of milk.

A friend asked me what language Adoti communicates in.

Week after week I moan and groan about how the girl-child is running me ragged, turning my home into a madhouse and generally causing a ruckus.

So. It seems that my sassy, lil’ Miss Independent has realised that for the first nine months of her life, she was literally tethered to her Ma’ by way of an umbilical cord.

She does not have all her words yet, but communication is not something she grapples with.

There's never a dull moment at our house.

This child has me by the you-know-whats, you think to yourself. She is the boss of me.

Oh Dear Mother of God. Pray for me now in the hour of my need. My child wants to kill me.

Life can be tough. I wake up some mornings to find that there is literally nothing to smile about. The kind of mornings when the alarm goes off but only the birds hear it, meaning that the day is off to a late start even before you realise that the power is out.

I have known him since he was in vitro. At the time, no one knew he was a baby boy.

My daughter’s favourite new word is “Ha-yaa!!” She says it all the time.

Of late, it has been somewhat of a challenge getting Adoti to do as she is told. At fourteen months, she is convinced that she can make her own decisions and do as she pleases.

I remember laughing at a friend when she told me her one-year old daughter spoke Chinese, in other words, a language she did not understand.

People often come down on me for claiming that there is a “gay agenda” that seeks to create a homosexual frame of reference when discussing any issue on the global stage.

I am feeling sorry for my kid. No, she is not a baby goat, or any type of farm animal, even though she does squeal like a little piglet from time to time.

Last week was a winter of our discontent. Yes, just the one, for I’m sure there are more to come. I know there will be sunshine as well as rain, but Adoti and I can do sunshine.

I took comfort in the knowledge that children are God’s messengers bearing the eternal gifts of love and light — and for that I will be forever thankful.

It has been one year since Mademoiselle Adoti made her grand entry into this world, sucking on her finger and acting like she was down with the whole birth thing.

They are two healthy, happy kids who are still living in a world untouched by darkness and all the ills that thrive in the shadows.

But with this 'digitalisation' has come a plethora of modern-day challenges, not the least of which is addiction to both drugs and alcohol.

It has been a peaceful week. We have a new nanny and so far, things are going well. Adoti has warmed up to her and the two of them get up to all kinds of mischief together.

First order of business: If you are a mum who stays home with her kids, I salute you. No, really. Sincerely. Stay-at-home mums? You rock. It is not for nothing that they call it the hardest job in the world.

There is witch in Russian folklore. An old, haggard, often toothless (or tooth-challenged) woman who appears in many a fairy tale, scaring children witless.

There was blood. A lot of it.

From newborn, to infant to toddler and back again, it might be time to call baby a name other than that which denotes the current stage of her development.

We are 8! It has been eight months since the child was born.

There’s a style of child rearing called attachment parenting. According to Attachment Parenting International, an organisation with the self-proclaimed mission to nurture children for a compassionate world, AP is “an application of sensitive, responsive parenting...based in the practice of nurturing parenting methods that create strong emotional bonds, also known as secure attachment, between children and their parent(s).”

Kuzaa si kazi. That is what they say.

Christmas is especially memorable for me this year because unto to me a child was given.

Mama’s at the ‘dressing up’ stage and baby’s not having any of it.

My tongue is usually wedged firmly in my cheek when I speak about enrolling the child in a performance arts school, becoming a ‘momager ‘and grooming her for fame and fortune.

Much as we might want to believe that sperm and bank accounts are all a woman needs, that is not the case.

I never thought I would ever have something in common with a politician but it would appear that myself and a certain senator might have a shared experience — we have both been frozen by people who refuse to listen to reason.

My mum used to say that a mother is her child’s first God.

The child is going to be a star. You can take that to the piggy bank.

PHOEBE JAY will soon have a toddler since baby has not only began to sit, but puts her nose in everyone’s business and causes a ruckus when stopped from splashing water at bath time

When you are preggers, you hear a lot of things. Naturally, all you really want to know is what giving birth is like. How painful is it? How long does it last?