I usually get broody when my baby approaches the age of one. This time last year was no exception. But instead of going for number four, I started a blog. Like most hasty decisions I’ve made – with the massive exception of those made in the hairdresser – it turned out to be a good one. It took about 5 minutes tapping on Google (how I wish I’d gone WordPress!) and at 11.55pm September 10, 2013, Wry Mummy was born. My first post was Cleaning Up Chunks – A Mother’s Glory. My baby had been sick the previous night, and as I sluiced the cot sheets at 3am my only consolation was the thought that upstairs, the sick bug was silently infiltrating my husband’s pores as he cuddled the baby in bed, “because clearing up sick makes me gag”. Funnily enough, as is so often the case, there was no one around to share this amusing thought with, and lest my world-changing insights go unrecorded forever, I felt compelled to put them on the blog.   Blogging is so fast-moving, with new blogs and innovations coming out every month, that a calendar year is actually 12 blog years. Like dog years, but with (slightly) less poop-scooping. And, thanks to you, I’ve enjoyed every one of them. If you’re celebrating your first year around now: