Operating from house, not more commuting, versatile hours, spending more time with the children – it’s what being a Mumpreneur is all about – isn’t it? It used to be a go back and forth to paintings even as heavily pregnant with child number that sparked Mosey’s ‘now or by no means’ decision to get off the nine-five treadmill. Breathing in lungfuls of deliciously ripe BO from a fats bloke’s armpit somewhere among Regent’s Park and Oxford Circus will have been the tipping aspect. After the delivery of Boy , the considered returning to the place of work wasn’t interesting to Mosey, However days stuffed with nappies and Alphabet Spaghetti failed to please both. Why now not appoint herself, Mosey concept. A mum’s concierge trade mixed with coaching to be a doula used to be certain to rake in a benefit. Three hundred and sixty five days maternity leave to make it paintings. How laborious may it’s? However Mosey and her mumpreneur associates soon uncover that sleepless nights, flaky partners, finance crises and marital breakdowns are all par for the course whilst blending small children and a trade. Boy One received’t eat, Boy received’t sleep, trade ventures are strangled at delivery, the loan is rocketing and sole salary-earner husband is at the verge of dropping his task. In her own year of living dangerously, will Mosey make the holiday or reluctantly rejoin the rat race? Mosey’s down-to-earth, wry have a look at existence as a frazzled one-lady trade is laugh-out-loud funny and stuffed with heat. It is a ‘mumoir’ a good way to inspire, motivate and style would-be mumpreneurs all over.