Sleep is such a huge topic for me, for our household actually and the reason being is that we're not getting all that much of it. Noah is, he always slept well, a complete diamond and a textbook child. Patrick however, not so much. It's no secret he's our wild child, we love him for it, he's fierce and feisty, I wouldn't want him any other way. But if I could have one magic wish, rub the lamp and have a genie grant me something, it would be that he'd sleep through the night. I've lost the courage to even think of a full nights sleep anymore, but just one when I didn't need to wake up six times would be great. There's this false sense of your child will be sleeping through when they're a toddler, but I don't know all that many parents who fall into this category, why this illusion of sleeping children? I feel like I was tricked into believing that sleep was a given, not a privilege. Boy, oh boy, how wrong was I?


If you look at a map of the UK we're pretty much slap bang in the middle, give or take a little, which  sounds great but let me tell you for a girl that grew up with Blackpool around the corner, being equally as far in any direction from a coastline, hurts my heart. Living in the north west as a child meant that holidays to the British seaside were a regular occurrence, I don't think it would have been a good year if we'd not visited the illuminations, or sucked on a stick of rock long enough for a dentist to cringe. As a ten year old me, Blackpool was the be all and end all, hearing the words 'We're going to the pleasure beach' would be the adult equivalent of hearing 'I've just booked a holiday to the Maldives'. Nothing could top it. And though you may think that in becoming an adult I'd grow out of the lust for candy floss and hot sugar donuts, I can promise you it's quite the contrary, for me visiting the cheesy seaside towns are a right of passage and still it's something my boys have yet to experience.


Ever since I was little, there was something about holidays that felt so magical. I distinctly remember having those flutters in my tummy the night before we were due to fly. Not being able to sleep, the excitement and adrenaline almost pulsing through my veins. Something that never really changed as I grew up, the more I saw the more I wanted to see.  I've been fortunate, with my parents having the foresight to see just how valuable travel is, and ensuring they passed that wisdom onto us by giving us passports littered with stamps. They set the bar high, but I want to reach it. I want to see new countries and cultures through my sons eyes, there isn't much that can beat watching tiny toddler toes pad through the sandy dunes for the first time, or seeing their chubby hands pressed up against the cabin windows, peering down at the world beneath them. They are magical moments, and we want to experience them over and over again. If travel were a bug then we are truly bitten by it.