35 Eating cereal straight out of the box

OK, it’s possible that this is just me along with that category of adult males who never learned how to use the oven.

But when you’ve just had a baby, you often find yourself eating foods alone that once used to be a mere component of a nutritionally balanced meal. A solitary chunk of cheese, say. Or half a tomato. Possibly a lone finger of KitKat (admittedly this was never actually part of a balanced meal, but you probably would have managed two fingers in one sitting).

Getting it together to find a bowl, put the cornflakes in it, pour milk on top and find a spoon? You must be joking. Plus you’d have to go out and actually buy a pint of milk. You’re still in your dressing gown, for heaven’s sake, and it’s 4pm.

Lunch, once taken somewhere between 1pm and 2pm, is a hurried, disjointed affair at half-past three, enjoyed during that brief window of time when your baby isn’t hungry, tired, needing to be changed, suffering from ennui/existential angst/separation anxiety ('Mummy has left the room! I'm pretty sure she's gone forever this time!') or just being difficult for no good reason. That’s on a good day. On a bad one, it’s half-past five.

Other strange things you may find yourself eating in lieu of a proper meal include: chocolate digestives (for breakfast), cold toast (without butter; see also cold tea and, worst of all, cold soup). Possibly some unhappy shredded lettuce on its own if you’re having a fat day. Tuna, straight out of the can, wolfed down unceremoniously like dogfood. A Nutrigrain, whose vaguely food-a-ceutical packaging and blurb makes you feel virtuous even if it is basically a Jammy Dodger in disguise.

It goes without saying, you will also eat the remains of whatever disgusting goo your baby is eating today. (Remember girls it only takes an extra 100 calories a day to add up to an extra 10lb of weight a year.) Though you positively draw the line at pureed parsnip. You may no longer be able to participate in all the major food groups, but you still have your standards.

32 Watching Loose Women with the subtitles on

For me, it all started a couple of years back with Deadwood. For those unfamiliar with this superior US drama, it’s set in a lawless 1870s goldrush camp and stars Ian ‘Lovejoy’ McShane as a Machiavellian saloon owner. Pride and Prejudice this ain’t, with profuse swearing and brothels on every corner. The language that the characters speak is almost Shakespearian in its eloquence and wit, some of it apparently even written in iambic pentameters – and with subtitles on I found I was able to appreciate it to a whole new level. Then came The Wire. I had no idea what the hell was going on at the start, only that it looked a bit scary. But the jargon of Baltimore's inner city drug runners suddenly became poetic – rather than plain incomprehensible – with the subtitles switched permanently to ‘on’. Before long I was watching loads of things with subtitles on – films, Frasier, Mad Men.

And then I had my baby and subtitles really came into their own. With the constant crying, gurgling, babbling and plinky tunes that now forms the background noise of life, subtitles are no longer handy for catching those missed witticisms and asides, they are darn well crucial for following the plot. OK, I know Loose Women doesn’t have a plot but you know what I mean (actually live subtitles tend to be annoyingly hit and miss, it has to be said - see above image).

Now if I don’t have subtitles on for anything other than Teletubbies, I feel I am trying to play snooker underwater or the piano blind-folded. I never realised quite how much dialogue I missed before as 'method' actors fashionably mumble, grunt and slur their way through scripts. For instance, the brilliant new 30 Rock on Five USA doesn't have subtitles, unlike the DVD box set - and I find it irritating beyond belief when I do miss the odd line here and there.

Anyway. Subtitles. Try them. I promise you’ll be hooked before you know it too.

26 Talking About Babies (2)

We like talking about babies because if we didn't we'd explode. Unlike our days pre-mummyhood, which were semi-predictable and comprehensible in comparison (and dang it, didn't we blabber anyway - bluddy work, bluddy tube, bluddy wobbly tummy), our days post-baby are impossible to predict and thoroughly flummoxing (bluddy potty training, bluddy buggy, bluddy wobbly tummy). If we couldn't blather on about it to somebody else (mummy or not) we'd end up, probably, chewing temazepam to keep our mouths busy with something. Which women did, in droves, before we woke up to the fact that - actually - we COULD admit to ourselves that motherhood was just slightly more difficult than we'd presupposed.

At around the same time being a mother was accepted as a valid 'role', society realised that children and babies weren't only to be 'seen and not heard' but little people with real feelings. Instead of leaving them at the bottom of the garden to 'exercise their lungs' mothers went with them to the bottom of the garden and pointed out the flowers. So sue us that we found our 10-month-old's first word "fowa" as cute. At least we heard them. And instead of smacking them into submission we cared to find some other ways of disciplining. Ones that involved rather more thought - and, woe betide us - some discussion with others! And, for better or worse, advice gleaned from books and websites.

And we talk about babies because we have to. Modern motherhood is a talking point because today's hi-tech fast-food world is frought with obstacles and contradictions. We are harangued to breastfeed from the off but are treated as pariahs in public life when we do. We are told to get back to work and pop the poppets into pre-school at 2 years old [never mind the finances never add up]. Next day we're told we're selfish cows for wanting some independence and to go home and knit some sustainable wool nappies [this time the finances definitely don't add up]. We are told by our own mothers we're doing everything wrong and are told by society we are doing everything wrong. Is there any surprise we have a little chat amongst ourselves?

Yes, there's a point at which we even bore ourselves. But if you're mothering 24/7, isolated in your corner of a big city, sites like Mumsnet can provide true solace and - incredibly - conversation NOT about babies including movies, celeb gossip and jobs. Meanwhile you'd hope your good friends would put up with your witterings in the same way you put up with their endless boyf troubles and 'search for the perfect pair of jeans' saga. Suffice to say, broadsheet bints who blather on about the latest glossy members-only bar or their obsession with 80s clothing would probably become the worst baby-bores of all, endlessly comparing this season's Bugaboo fabrics and whether to update their latest armcandy, sorry, baby with the latest eco-trend.

10 Pretty changing bags

Changing bags are just bags. With a changing mat inside. You could just as easily take any old bag, stick a nappy, some baby wipes and a rectangle of wipe-down plastic inside it and call it a changing bag. But having a changing bag makes us feel more organised, happier, more like 'proper' mummies.

We like the temperature-controlled foil-lined pouch we can put the bottle in (but never do). We like the fact that there is a separate mat that zips into place. We also like the fact that you can buy girlie floral versions now of something that is basically really all about helping you get rid of wee and poo.

We are girls and even if we don't have time to brush our hair any more, we still want to accessorize.

9 Cafes with pull-down changing stations

When you have a baby, some fundamental changes occur to your social life (understatement of the year, but you know what I mean).

You no longer worry about going to hip bars or cool clubs. You no longer spend Sunday mornings lazing around reading the papers, then ambling down to a sunny pavement café where you can take your time over a croissant and coffee before perhaps moving on to a double bill of old movies at the local arts cinema. (OK you may never have actually done this anyway, but at least the potential was there.)

You have two, perhaps three, criteria for places you can go out to now:
* Can I fit my buggy in through the door, and between the tables?
* Will the other people there give me dagger-like looks and mutter ill-concealed baby-hating comments under their breath the whole time, especially if my baby cries, or heaven forbid, actually breastfeed in public?
* Is there a toilet with a pull-down changing station? If it doesn’t have one – and let’s face it most don’t, you’re in Britain – is there a space on the floor large enough to lay down your baby on a changing mat that isn’t already covered in a pool of someone else’s wee?

If the answer to these questions is yes, congratulations, you have discovered the location for your new social life.

6 Cold tea

Ok, you maybe not actually like it, but you've probably got used to the taste of it.

A typical morning might run something like this. Make a cup of tea at 8am. Get distracted by baby wanting to be fed, have his nappy changed or crying. Get around to sipping tea at around 8.45am when it is lukewarm and a thin layer of scum has settled on the surface. At 9am, when it is stony cold and completely undrinkable, throw it away, boil the kettle and start again. Process repeats itself until day ends.

At various points you may find yourself microwaving three-quarters full cups of tea. This never works as it will either a) be so hot it will take a thin layer of skin off the top of your lip b) make the whole thing taste even more like leftover dishwater c) heat up the film of scum on top so it looks, as well as tastes, revolting.

Like a long soak in the bath, straightening your hair or wearing full make-up, having a hot cup of tea is something you may never experience again.

Fact: one tenth of global warming is caused by mothers boiling kettles for cuppas they never actually drink. Maybe.

5 Plastic crap

Did we have all this stuff when were growing up? The answer is ‘no’. When discussing what we used to play with when we were little, one of my friends said her mother told her ‘you just used to play with your hands.’

Not any more. While your baby would probably be just as happy playing with an empty crisp packet and an exposed plug socket, the Baby Industry makes you feel guilty about buying enough ‘educational toys’. In this context ‘educational’ means anything bright that you can touch – or in Plastic Crap Speak, ‘it develops their senses and helps them interact with the world’. Wow, like, really educational.

Once upon you lived in a house where, while it might not have won any style awards, at least you could actually see the living room floor. Now it is just a carpet of day-glo yellow and green, hideous 'play mats' and bizarre, multi-limbed crinkly toys that seem to be multiplying like bacteria. And it's only going to get worse. Our advice? Join a toy library. Then at least you don't have to keep all the plastic crap.