So, what do you do when someone says 'You should blog!' ?

Well, first, of course, you deny it. Probably out of a mixture of modesty, false modesty, disbelief, and irritation. Irritation, of course, because of the 'Haven't I got ENOUGH to do?' instinct. Until you realise that the reason they are saying you should blog is because you're already writing blog-like posts, only without the recognition. So, in due course, your ego expands, you type the word 'blog' into Google, and arrive fairly shortly, although with a lot of shouting at your tintyweb connection, at this destination.

Then you have to confront the complicated question - what do you want your blog to be called? Blimey. This could make or break the moment. This could mean internet obscurity - or notoriety. Eeek. As an avid reader of many excellent blogs, I paused. This is the definition of your life!!! A blog is merely a fancy tintyweb word for diary, after all. And it's a good job I never considered myself particularly rational or I'd question the whole concept of putting your diary out there for all to see right here. With previous disclaimer, of course, I won't. To define your diary, and henceforth your life, in a snappy and interesting title - that's more of a challenge than the introductory blog post.

So, welcome everyone, to Lullabies and Lunacy. Succinct, don't you think? A fair reflection on my current situation as chief entertainer of one amusing small person, and a twist on my opinion of the world that allowed that situation to become so. Myself, a mother? I'm not even a grown up.

If you walked down the street singing, you'd either be considered a lunatic or an X-factor reject. I'm not discounting the possibility that these two things are one and the same. However, if you walk down the street singing with a small child in tow, well, that's OK.....I mean, I few funny looks from the prudish amongst us, but most generally accept you're not singing 'the wheels on the bus' for your own amusement. Except for the fact that I usually am - the song choice is the small one's, the choice to sing is mine - and I quite enjoy the freedom to behave like a lunatic.

Ask me again when she's a teenager, won't you?

So, I'm blogging. Here it is. Welcome.