One strangely lush mother

Due date (and the importance of not using unnecessary exclamation marks)

2011-09-01T12:06:00.007+01:00

Today's the day. Or not. Babies don't always arrive on schedule apparently. Except for Peaches. I think she's lulled me into expecting the same this time around. Recaro meanwhile is expecting me to hold on for another week.

This would be fine, but the baby has started to feel like a tough, gnarly rock when I wake at 4 in the morning.

Ah well - at least I'm looking good. (If you were expecting modesty, keep moving along, there's nothing to see here.) Here's a photo of me at a wedding last weekend. With Peaches in front of me, I don't think you can tell I'm in my 39th week.

I have some more posts lined up. Some about sewing - baby shoes, nappy knickers, swaddle wraps, burp cloths, hats, baby trousers and girly swirly skirts! Knitting - baby blankets and warm winter hats (I like to keep ahead of the seasons, don't you know?). Others about losing first teeth, hanging out at the beach - and hopefully, fingers crossed, touch wood, pray to God - a healthy happy baby.

18 weeks

2011-04-05T12:34:00.002+01:00

This second pregnancy is different to my first.

Despite the fact that I'm older and get tired a lot quicker, I'm making far less of a fuss and despite those age-associated risks (I'm 40 - not completely ancient), I'm not as worried about the baby's progress as I was with Peaches.

I'm only checking for on-line pregnancy facts or the latest deals on reusable nappies on a fortnightly basis instead of daily. And boy, am I looking for deals this time. I was far less frugal when I was working five days a week and we were living in those heady pre-subprime fiasco days.

And the big difference - the one that's most exciting to me? After several quiet months, this baby has started kicking. I can see and feel the movement. Peaches hardly ever kicked - she was a breech baby so I wasn't inclined to tell too many people about the 'zingers' as she danced on my cervix.

And as for the tummy photo - yadda yadda, the bump is getting bigger and you don't need a photo to know that. Enough already.

Tick tock

2011-02-25T07:30:00.006Z

Time is the mother of all clichés. It won’t stop moving on. Even when things feel slow and mundane, we keep moving forward. It’s relentless. Before you know it, your blog is looking dusty and unloved. And your child has grown up and looks nothing like her baby photos any more.

Which seems all the more astonishing when you consider how mind boggling slowly a child can be in putting their shoes and coat on in order to leave the house.

That’s when time starts to feel like a melting Salvador Dali clock.

Then there are the milestones and changes to routine. I remember the baby groups I joined as a new mum. I thought some of those friendships would go on forever. One or two did, but not the ones I expected. When I look back, I’m surprised at how casually I let some of these things go, but on each occasion I was driven by what Peaches and I each enjoyed and wanted to do.

The biggest milestone so far is happening today. Peaches is having her last day with her fabulous childminder, Lisa. Let me count the reasons that I love Lisa:

She talks to the children about the ‘garden of good manners’ and puts their picture in the garden when they share, say please and thank you, are helpful and so on.
She takes photos of Peaches throughout the day and writes a short story of Peaches’ day in a day book. These are lovely memory books that give me an insight into what goes on when I’m at work.
She has lovely, engaging older children who play with the little ones.
She takes Peaches to playgroups and playdates. So Peaches can always point out the other childminders’ ‘kiddywinks’ when we see them around town or in the supermarket.
She calls groups of children ‘kiddywinks’.
She’s encouraged and supported Peaches in being outgoing and confident.
She’s helped Peaches understand how children develop from being babes in arms, to walking, talking and running. Peaches probably knows more about babies than I do. Which is handy, because I’m pregnant.

So from next week, Peaches will go to the fabulous nursery for four days a week. She’s been begging for this for some time. She loves Lisa too, but she wants to spend more time with children (and girls) of her own age group. Since she’ll be starting school in September, this gives her six months of a more school like atmosphere.

That pregnancy thang I mentioned? That will hopefully happen in September too. It’s all part of my master plan to be on maternity leave while Peaches starts reception class. They have a very fractured start to schooling here. For the first two or three weeks it’ll be a day here, an afternoon there. All of which seemed to be entirely incompatible with having an employer.

Perhaps I could have planned to take holiday to deal with it. I just thought having another baby would be more fun. And let’s not forget: I love maternity leave.

Super trouper

2011-01-11T10:21:00.005Z

Part of the reason for my lack of blogging is my concern not to over do Peaches' on-line presence. She's not a voting shareholder and it's easy to overshare.

On the other hand, she was cast as Mary in the nursery nativity. Even though we are now into January, I think it's not too late to brag.

Clearly she's a star. She was very sweet, cuddling of the baby Jesus and kissing him on the head. She sang loudly to all the songs and beamed with pride at the end of the show.

After that Christmas went a bit down hill as I got the flu and Recaro and Peaches caught colds. All grandparent visits were cancelled and we stayed home, cosying up to each other around the fire. It was a very strange, muted celebration.

Happily, the new year is looking brighter and healthier - and with more blogging.

Sway, what a swell party

2010-09-20T11:26:00.003+01:00

The party cake tower was very well received by the small girls. All of Recaro's fairy cakes were eaten. My pink iced shop bought cakes weren't quite as popular, but I'm sure things would have turned out differently if only I'd been able to use the flower decorations that I wanted...

And as for the party dress? It swished, it swayed, it rocked.
Admit it, you want one just like it.

Recaro bought it for her. Thank heavens for Recaro. He has far better cup cake and fashion styling skills than I do. At least I know how to give out party bags.

"Who would like a party bag to take home?" I asked at 4pm. All the little hands shot up in the air. Result.

Party planning

2010-09-16T09:12:00.006+01:00

Peaches is having a birthday party this Saturday. For a while, this filled me with dread. There seemed to be so much to do for two hours of shrieking girl-fest. Then reality dawned....

Sainsbury's are delivering our shopping.

I've ordered presents and decorations on line.

I have bought ready made icing to go on ready made fairy cakes. Yeah. Bite me.

A friend is making a gorgeous chocolate fudge cake.

Recaro has ordered helium for balloons.

Recaro has ordered wine for the parents.

Recaro has bought a new swishy party dress for Peaches.

All I'm going to actually cook is a few sausages and sausage rolls. I must remember to prepare party bags and the parcel and prizes for Pass the Parcel and Musical Bumps.

Some people might consider this to be the slack parenting approach to partying. On the other hand, it cuts the prep time and the children are far more likely to eat.

I'm bound to forget something. I can live with that.

Taking the Milwaukee biscuit

2010-09-07T10:18:00.010+01:00

One of the worst thing about the internet is how it aids and abets us in coveting things and buying stuff. Sadly, this knowledge isn't going to stop me supporting the consumerist nature of the interwebs. I give you, drum roll, the extremes of Recaro's shopping habit.

First off, Recaro researches the products, reads the review and purchases a Milwaukee hammer drill on-line. How manly. He waits anxiously for its arrival. It doesn't show.

Meanwhile our Vitsoe shelving is delivered.

So he puts the shelves up anyway using his Dad's old hammer drill. (Remind me again, why did he have to buy a new hammer drill?). His Dad's drill has the shortest cable in the world and I have to spend an afternoon holding an extension lead in the air.

This impatience to get on with things is common (if random) in our house. He bought the drill in order to do the job properly, but then went ahead anyway with an old drill... and did the job properly.

Only four months after moving in, we finally unpack our books even if only to repack a few other boxes with books for the charity shops and eBay. Also, how do you like our wires across the carpet look? (That carpet is going by the way).

On the same day the drill arrives (which it turns out was made in Germany and not, as one might imagine, in Milwaukee), Recaro comes home even more excited with his latest purchase from Marks & Spencer.

What's not to like about a biscuit tin that looks like a biscuit? Indeed, what's not to love about the man who bought it?

Hands up who hasn't got a clue what I mean about the importance of the custard cream to British snack culture?

My mother told me, there'd be days like this

2010-09-05T20:01:00.010+01:00

Well, she didn't really. But I was listening to Van the Man and can't get the tune out of my head.

I have had a strangely lush summer.

We moved house and now live in the woods outside Whitstable. We can hear a neighbour's cockerel crowing throughout the day and see squirrels and all kinds of finches, treehoppers, nuthatches and tits in the garden. It's a lovely quiet spot where the noise is only broken by Peaches as she shouts for help when climbing trees. The neighbours are delighted with us... though perhaps it's just as well we don't have many neighbours.

We cancelled our holiday to Scotland but we did make it to Greece.

We have made a start on decorating. I shall unveil the delights of our 1980's house in future posts. Let me tease you with a few short scary ideas though. Exposed brick. Circular staircase. Dark brown varnished woodwork (lots of). Some things will stay and some will go.

Peaches got chicken pox. She's over it now. Aside from one especially scratchy night she got through it ok. Now I'm teaching her the wisdom of not touching her face so that the scabs can heal. The highlight for Peaches was watching back to back Nanny McPhee, Alice (Johnny Depp) and chipmunk movies while I worked from home. Our study is a gallery overlooking the living room - very handy for each one of us being is sight of the other, but not so close that I can't earn a living (and ignore chipmunks).

I made my first sale on ebay by selling our old wood burner. I achieved my target price and am now going to try and flog some unwanted books too. So if anyone fancies a fancy four-volume, gilt-covered, set of Maupassant stories, please go and visit eBay now.

We also had a great time at Hutstock - a teeny tiny beach hut music festival. The brief vid shows the scene and clearly illustrates how my excellent parenting skills are paying off.

And if you aren't impressed enough by that (and I don't mean my neighbour's butt in the closing shot), here's Recaro's best endeavour at getting Peaches involved in the DIY of putting out bird boxes:

New house: my feet have never felt better

2010-05-19T19:55:00.003+01:00

We are in the new house. Today - five days later - we finally got the telephone and broadband connection sorted out, so I can blog about it.

In short - it's brilliant. The house has stacks of space. There are three rooms that are currently empty - guest beds are on order for two of them. The garage is organised and Recaro is delighted with his workshop. The washing machine is plumbed in. The garden is lovely. The sun is SHINING.

We've taken a week off work to get a few things organised - like order a new wood burner, book a chimney sweep and visit kitchen and bathroom showrooms.

And my feet? Well as part of Peaches' sleepover with her 'aunt and uncle', she observed the chiropodist in action on her uncle's gnarly feet. Since then, she's been giving me foot massages. She's pretty good - mixing up big firm strokes with pulling at each toe. I nearly fell asleep until I remembered I was supposed to be putting HER to bed.

I'm blissed out. Which is why I've not got the chickens yet.

Action stations

2010-05-05T18:01:00.004+01:00

We have a new MacBookPro. What a relief. I'd been relying on an older, slower Mac and my eyeballs were about to fall out from the tedious sight of the spinning beachball of despair...

About our move - we are just a week away from the big day. There's a few more boxes to fill, but we'll be ready to go. More than ready in fact. I'm dreaming of a driveway... guest rooms... utility room... a shed.

In fact, I'm even thinking of getting chickens. There's going to be a few blogs out of that, surely.

I just hope the removal guys can get the furniture out of the house. I wonder if they'll go nuts at me taking photos of our sofas and oven in unusual places?

You macaroni cheese boy

2010-04-09T20:16:00.004+01:00

Here's some more knitting. Isn't that lovely? All my own work.

Peaches looks very sweet, but she can snap. In her frustration she comes up with fantastic insults and swear words.

On various occasions, she's told Recaro that she's 'not his kicking football!' and that 'ugh... you macaroni cheese boy!'

Last night she told him, 'I'm NOT your raspberry'.

When I told her that she couldn't paint her nails, she told me the following story:

'I don't want a mummy. I just want my daddy.

'When I was a little girl - in Africa - my mummy DIED. I just had my daddy. His name is Scrotley. He has big muscles and he paints HIS nails with BOY VARNISH.'

I have no idea what I should learn from this, but at least she's not reading my mind and picking up all the bad words that run around my head when I'm the one feeling frustrated.

Moving story starts here

2010-04-06T10:43:00.004+01:00

It's so long since I've written here, that I barely remember my way back into blogland. Life has been moving fast (even if house moving is sloooww) but at last I've started to think 'I should blog that' again.

Like when Peaches told me about dialling 999 and asking for the hairdresser. I'm sure some people have their stylists on speed dial but I don't. Maybe that's what she was trying to tell me.

While we are on the subject of hair, I should confess that I have been reading a few blogs. Which led to me cutting a fringe into my hair like a particular West Coast blogger. No photos, that's all I'm saying. I've put the scissors away now. It's safer that way.

Somehow I've managed to cut my fringe (that's bangs to some of you) in a way that emphasises how much hair I have on the rest of my head. I look like an out of control Farrah Fawcett according to Recaro.

To bring anyone who's interested up to speed with the house move, the provisional date is 14 May. We've not exchanged contracts yet though we think things are moving forward well enough. (Though our vendor's solicitors have lost the deeds. And breathe. Relax. That's what the Land Registry is for.)

Since Recaro and I are both control freaks (seemingly relaxed but actually with a checklist a mile long) we are packing ourselves. We are beginning to surround ourselves with boxes. I'm already regretting this strategy. I should listen to Working Mum who told me to let the removal company do it. The thing is - I can't bear the thought of leaving it until the last week. I'd be terrified that we'd get to the moving date and the removal company cancelling on us.

Bring me another box now! Must pack more stuff.

Getting the hang of it...

2010-02-16T13:32:00.004Z

... comment moderation that is. Thank you for your comments. It seems that in my redesign, I'd lost the email connection to any comments.

I thought I had none.

I thought all my pals had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Fortunately I eventually crept back in to see what was going on. Thank you for being so much more reliable and 'there' than me.

So I'm back. And this time with news. The house by the sea went on the market a couple of weeks ago and today we have accepted a full asking price offer. We've also had our offer on a five bedroomed place in the countryside accepted.

What we give up in terms of the beach, we'll make up for with space, rooms and a bit more space. Plus it'll still be quiet - no street lights so we'll even see stars at night. Apparently we'll hear nightingales in the woods.

If anyone would like to chip in with their tips for packing and moving, please fire away. Right now, we have plans to pack a few boxes every weekend so that when we move in May/June it won't be too much of a big deal.

Peaches is up to speed with the move. She repeats facts like, 'We've put our house on the market', but will also tell my mother in law that 'We are moving and we are never going to see you again.'

I promise that I have NEVER so much as hinted at that thought. Babes, huh? They get you in trouble all the time.

Notice anything different?

2010-01-22T14:15:00.005Z

Life has been busy lately. The old look of my blog didn't reflect how I was feeling anymore, so I've stripped it down to the basics, while I set about re-discovering my blogging mojo.

I'll blog about what I'm doing and will be focusing on the stuff that makes me happy and proud. Simple things. Like taking Peaches to the bakery, buying a loaf of bread and not buying her doughnut. The challenge of healthy eating is not as easy as I thought it might be...

And I won't be blogging regularly. I'm doing too much working, mothering, knitting and trying to find time to drink a cup of tea for that to happen. Did I mention the knitting? I love that stuff. There's something OCD about the repetitive stitches and the desire for even tension that tells me other things in life (like work) must be out of balance.

After a spate of random anonymous comments, I've put up email verification to keep the nutters and spammers at bay. Sorry about that, but I bet you can understand why. I shouldn't think it will help me attract readers - but this blog was never about being commercial.

The more you watch, the more you learn?

2009-11-18T14:11:00.007Z

When I was a child, there was no such thing as TV in the morning. I still remember the test card. I have vague memories of BBC2 not even broadcasting until the afternoon.

By the time I was teenager, Channel 4 (4, I tell you - how many channels does a person need, I thought) had been invented and breakfast TV had arrived. Not that I ever watched it. My parents didn't believe that anything could be better than the Today programme on Radio 4 (Radio Bore according to Recaro).

Times. How they change.

Now I let Peaches watch Cbeebies and I've even been converted to Channel 5's Milkshake.

I wouldn't have done this except that I read a Zoe William's article in The Guardian where she declared it the market leader in toddler telly. I'm easily led.

So this morning, Peaches was watching the Little Princess. I'm fond of this programme. We read the Little Princess book about potty training to Peaches for a month before getting the potty out. And what do you know, she grasped the basics of potty training by the age of 2. Give or take a few accidents.

This morning's episode didn't seem to have much in it that was educational, except for a plot element where it was explained to Little Princess that it was okay for her to 'change her mind'. 'Everybody does it' apparently.

As I tried to dress Peaches for the day ahead, she objected to her black leggings. Or liquorice legs as I like to call them. Peaches said 'No, I want the pink flower leggings'.

Since such leggings DO NOT EXIST it was easy to no. I put everything else on her and said that's okay she could go to the childminder's in her knickers. I thought I'd at least postpone the battle till I was a little more awake.

By the time I'd finished tidying up the kitchen I returned to the living room (or LOUNGE as Peaches likes to call it - oooooooh posh - the things she learns at the minder's...), Peaches was wearing her liquorice legs.

She smiled up at me. 'I changed my mind.'

The telly is staying.

****************************

In other news, here's some pics of our weekend in Norfolk with Grandad and GrannyD, plus a couple of their mates. We stayed at the Victoria in Holkham.

Holkham beach has mahoosive sand dunes just made for hide and seek.

There was the strangest sense of being on a set, but honestly we were on a real beach.

Of course, despite the sunshine and laughter, things did end in tears. Peaches was far too tired to walk back across this huge beach and I wouldn't carry her. But while she lay on the ground, rolling about in the world of cross, I saw an opportunity to show you how big the sky is.

And then I put her on my shoulders and carried her back to the hotel for tea.

After all, everyone changes their mind sometimes.

Gunpowder, treason and plot

2009-11-06T06:56:00.004Z

'Remember, remember, the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot'

For the uninitiated, non-British readers among you, 5 November is the day when the British light bonfires, burn Guy Fawkes effigies and set off fireworks.

This is all to celebrate the 17th Century capture and burning of a man called Guy Fawkes who was found in the cellars of the Palace of Westminster (Parliament) with barrels of gunpowder. He was scapegoated as the ringleader of a Catholic plot, which is why some towns go a step further and burn effigies of the Pope. I think that's gruesome and nasty and it's a relief not to live among people who feel happy doing that.

Some people take the opportunity to burn political effigies. I believe more than a few Margaret Thatchers and President Bushs have gone up in flames over the years.

But here in Whitstable? We just love a party on the beach.

Friends of the Fountain (not a secret society) get together under the direction of Tony H to light a bonfire and enjoy a huge firework display.

That's me sitting behind Peaches. I had just made it home from London which is why I'm wearing such a fab coat and a pair of boots instead of my usual scruffy stuff.

By the way, I had hoped for a winsome picture of Peaches looking up at the sky, but I couldn't wrestle the camera off of Recaro.

At least I can show you one of his rather strange photos of the fireworks though.

And a couple of lusher ones.

Thanks for stopping by.

The hardest button to button

2009-11-04T07:27:00.003Z

Can you help me?

I've knitted a scarflette (a neck warmer) as a present for a very chic friend. She's a tidy sort of woman - small and neat - and I think she'll like the idea of a neck warmer instead of a long scarf.

Plus it's quick to knit so it's a winning present idea.

I've raided the button box and found some options, but I can't decide which buttons to give up. I don't want to make a mistake in giving away our lushest buttons (the button box actually belongs to Recaro - but what's his is mine, right?).

First up - flat, slightly pearlised dark buttons with two holes.

Pale tortoiseshell four hole buttons.

Or leathery-looking rounded buttons with a cross.
Leave a comment to help me decide. Thanks for the help.

Get up, get out, oh what a beautiful day

2009-10-30T09:13:00.002Z

This was the view from my bathroom window this morning.

What a great start to the day.

I'm taking Peaches to a Halloween crafts party at Wildwood - a forest park with adventure playground, badgers, wild boar and wolves (relax - they are in enclosures).

So clearly the day might end in tears for someone, but a great start nonetheless.

Write a blog and be respected

2009-10-20T13:04:00.007+01:00

Ever felt that shiver of shame at being regarded as a 'mommy blogger'? Well have no fear. There's just one or two rules to follow and you too can be taken seriously as a writer or social commentator.

First up, don't post photos of your children just because they are finally wearing that cute pink hat. Or spotty boots. Using your child as a fashion plate demeans you and the child. Get serious, think of an erudite subject and research it. Form your own opinions.

Hey you! Yes, you there at the back. Stop gazing at the baby photos already.

Create time for yourself to write and be creative. Don't let your child(ren) stay up too late or get up too early. Teach them to tell the time and stop bothering you. When they do finally crash out, do not, repeat do not, whip the camera out to record their dreamy features for posterity.

Go and use that time to do something useful.

I'm looking at you, when I say this. Step away from camera.

Look on your time with children as a learning experience. Don't chuckle at their poor pronunciation, but enunciate clearly so they learn to communicate effectively.

Don't perpetuate their amusing little ways that will end up seeing them being ridiculed in a school yard.

Even if that is how she keeps her fingers crossed for good luck (and chocolate raisins).

Finally, don't use a phoney theme of 'how to be a serious writer' just to show off your child's first written word. Even if it is 'mummy'.

Noone's going to fall for that.

Rule No 2: Stay open to new ideas

2009-10-19T13:35:00.005+01:00

On Sunday morning, we took Sue and Mr Scrappy for a walk along The Street. The Street is a shingle spit going out from Whitstable in to the Thames Estuary/North Sea.

It's also where Recaro proposed to me. I remember being very nervous. Well, you would be too if you were handed a diamond ring on a shingle beach with the tide coming in. I didn't want to lose that bad boy. (I mean the ring. Not the man - though I didn't want to lose him either. Enough! You know what I mean.)

It's a great spot for Sue to remind me how much fun you can have when you try something new.

THIS much fun.

Gah - it looks cold, doesn't it?

In fact, Sue taught Recaro a thing or two during her visit. I can almost hear her now helping Recaro navigate the blogosphere. Sue and Mr Scrappy's train was about to leave Whitstable in 15 minutes time, not that you can tell from how chilled Sue is. Maybe she wanted to stay?

Need I tell you that he doesn't concentrate that hard when I'm talking.

(By the way, I'm sitting on that very stool right now as I type this post. I've just finished a cottage cheese sandwich from Tea & Times.)

Sue also mentioned to Recaro that she has an Easy Yo yoghurt maker. She even went so far as to recommend buying an Easy Yo yoghurt maker.

Did he listen?

What do you think?

You mean you want evidence?

Okidokee.

He would NOT accept any alternative yoghurt maker. Only Easy Yo would do.

(Believe it or not, this is not a sponsored post. Dammit.)

We've since made the raspberry yoghurt and found it very tasty. Peaches wanted more, which I regard as a huge success since she's previously always turned her (pretty, little) nose up at anything that isn't fromage frais.

So. We are now an Easy Yo family. If that's not strangely lush, I don't know what is.

Rule No 1: Keep it real

2009-10-11T15:28:00.006+01:00

Let's cut to the chase, here's Sue and me on the beach near the lifeguard station at Whitstable.

I don't think I've ever been so excited to meet someone at the train station. When Scrappy herself appeared on the platform it was like meeting an old pal. She even brought Mr Scrappy too.

Sue has met a number of bloggers already - but I was a newbie to meeting real lifers. It's a lovely thing to get to know someone through their writing and to discover that she lives as she blogs. She's a straight up and down, funny woman.

After a welcome cup of tea, Peaches found Sue's glittery shiny purse (it was out already - I'm not training up an Artful Dodger, K?).

Ah we thought. Let's go shopping.

We walked up the beach first so that we could got to the harbour market. Of course we had to stop for photos at the diving helmet bench.

Are you wondering where Mr Scrappy is yet?

TA DA! There he is.

Sue did much shopping. Other lesser shopkeepers in London apparently didn't approve of her credit card. In Whitstable they had no trouble taking money off her. Isn't that nice?

Having spied just some of her stash, she's done very well. I'm looking forward to the fashion shoot post that must be coming up sometime soon on this blog.

By now, Sue and Mr Scrappy had been in town a whole two hours. So with a stash of cheeses from the Cheese Box we went off for a drink at our local. For some reason (beer in one hand, cheese and biscuits in the other) I haven't got any photos of this.

Our local - The Fountain - is a back street boozer, but not without it's own graffiti art/hospitable charms. When the landlord realised Sue and Clive were only in town for 24 hours, he went and bought his preferred cheese from the Cheese Box so that they could try that one too.

After a short while, Peaches declared herself tired and went for a nap in her buggy. She slept all the way home, because clearly there was someone in the gang who knew exactly what to do with small girls.

Check out the shopping bags on that buggy. There not mine, that's all I'm saying.

26 and half hours

2009-10-09T09:25:00.002+01:00

... before Sue and Mr Scrappy step off the train at Whitstable station.

Have I cleaned the house? (No - but the cleaning lady has been).

Is the restaurant booked? (You betcha)

Is the babysitter booked? (Yay!)

Are we excited? D'yuh think?

I am one strangely lush mother.

Too quiet for school

2009-10-05T11:38:00.005+01:00

Yesterday Peaches got sick. She had one of those deep, nasty, croupy coughs. She also lost her voice. Fortunately with some day time cough medicine and a bed time dose of baby paracetamol we all had a good night's sleep.

Today, she's staying home with me while I attempt to meet a number of work deadlines. It's all working pretty nicely, because although she's not well enough for nursery school, she can't speak loud enough to interrupt my work calls.

The worst she can do is rock up to me while I'm on the phone to whisper, 'Is that the doctor?'

I've even let her do some handpainting. It didn't start off as handpainting of course. I supplied brushes. Things just didn't work out that way.

Fortunately, we've done enough painting for her to know the rules.

'HANDS ON THE PAPER. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE.'

I got away with it. All is calm and I'm going to take a lunch break now.

On Saturday, Recaro wasn't so lucky. Peaches 'helped' him clean the car. Need I even type the words... he got soaked.

Finally, here's a warning for Sue and Mr Scrappy who will be HERE, this Saturday. When travelling through rail stations, watch out for the tickly barriers. We think she means ticket barriers, but maybe she knows something we don't.

Peaches is three

2009-09-21T13:26:00.002+01:00

We had a party.

Am...

... exhausted.

Strong words

2009-09-18T21:08:00.005+01:00

I'm coming to terms with the fact that Peaches is not a baby any more. Of course, she'll always be 'my baby'. And there are days when she's cuddlier and more demanding.

But right now, each day features another way that she'll test the boundaries and it's my challenge to stay one step ahead.

Shaddup, mummy. Well excuuuuse me, but we don't say shut up in this house. The trick is to never find it amusing, to always remind her we don't say it and to ask for an apology. So far so good.

Poo, poo. Mmm. I don't know anyone else who sings the 'poo poo' song. However, by not freaking out and saying that it's not a nice song, her interest in it is waning. Slowly. Perhaps it hasn't helped that we have applauded the occasional potty experience, culminating in her leading us to the potty and with a flourish of hands, announcing, 'Ta daaaaa'.

She won't eat vegetables. Well until today. When I didn't give her lunch, didn't let her drink too much juice and didn't give any snacks. And said we'd only do painting if she ate all her veg. That seemed to work. So now I know she can...

Maybe I'm a freak, but I am completely loving these challenges. I don't use the 'counting to three' technique very often, but - gah, I LOVE how that works.

You do realise, I'm living in the moment, don't you? I know she'll get ahead of me one day. Just not today, okay?

Local heroes

2009-09-10T09:23:00.006+01:00

I'm getting excited. Sue is coming to visit. She's even bringing her husband. It's going to be great - please excuse the product placement, but Recaro and Mr Scrappy both have iPhones. I have a feeling they will both get along fine.

I gave Sue a call this morning and even spoke to Miss 13 who apparently groaned and thought I was a double glazing saleswoman.

It was a wonderfully exciting thing to speak to a friendly blogger after so much interweb chat. In fact, when I was considering where to go for coffee in the Bay, I nearly called this woman. But I chickened out. More fool me - next time I won't be so shy.

We'll be going out to dinner at The Sportsman. Last week Steve Harris was named 'best chef' by the Good Food Guide. Nothing but the best for Sue, that's what I say.

While we are on the subject of neighbourhood celebrities, I'm also hoping that Sue will catch sight of my window cleaner. This year, he won the title of UK's strongest man. Though she's more likely to see Suggs - he always seems to be out in the same restaurant as us.

On the other hand, maybe that's not quite her thing.

I also had my photo taken last week with Paul Young at the Moare Music Festival. Tell me if you care to see the pic - be warned though, it's cheesy.

Project X

2009-09-06T13:11:00.005+01:00

Not only have I learnt the importance of not missing a Spiderman photo opportunity, but now I realise the power of monkeys (and the responsibilities borne by casting directors everywhere).

Our Saturday night out was briefly placed in jeopardy when Peaches became distraught in front of the babysitter. Despite being in a thoroughly good mood for the whole day, things fell apart when I checked the TV schedules to see what films would be on to keep the babysitter amused until our return.

Since Orlando Bloom is almost a local around these parts, Elizabethtown seemed a good choice. The film would start in ten minutes and I switched channels so that all the sitter would have to do is turn the telly on.

Big mistake.

Peaches caught sight of the final minutes of Project X. In a breathtaking piece of miscasting, Matthew Broderick is a genius scientist who has to deal with a rogue chimpanzee which is flying a plane.

'It's a monkey, it's a monkey!' shrieked Peaches as she danced around the room. With the TV on mute, she was desperate for the volume to be turned up.

I told her we were talking and that she could watch the pictures instead. She shouted again, 'I can't hear it. It's a monkey, it's a monkey.'

By now the monkey had not only landed the plane, but had taken off again. It was kind of compelling and while I had some sympathy with Peaches - I turned it off so that everyone could think.

I know, I know. You are thinking let her watch the final ten minutes and don't be so stuffy. And don't even start on the fact that I missed that teaching opportunity to explain that a chimpanzee is not a monkey.

Needless to say, we couldn't really continue talking and thinking because Peaches shouted even louder, 'I WANT MONKEY FILM'. Tears ran down her face.

After tears, cuddles, milk and a couple of books she calmed down enough for us to leave her with the sitter.

In itself, this wasn't the worst of meltdowns. We got our night out and Peaches did got to sleep (eventually...) But I thought the very least that I could do is warn you that there is a film out there with Matthew Broderick and a plane-flying chimp and if that's not a disaster, then I don't know what is.

Speed blogging: Circus

2009-08-31T09:19:00.003+01:00

These last weekends of summer are so much fun. I'm behind on blogging, but in the spirit of better late than never, here's my memories of last weekend.

Here's Peaches after breaking eggs for omlette. I think some slid down her arm - very funny. Recaro was teaching her to crack eggs while I sat opposite taking photos.

Later that afternoon, we ran away to the circus. It was Santus Circus' last day in Whitstable so a number of the wagons had already moved on to the next site.

It was a first time at the circus for both of us. I don't know who was more excited.

We especially liked the clowns, hula hoop girl and Spiderman. Peaches can now sing the Spiderman theme tune. She loves him.

Not that I realised this during the interval when children were having their photos taken with Spiderman. She was very upset when he left and she hadn't had her photo taken.

I felt like a very stinky piece of cheese after that. Fortunately, I have great powers of distraction and she's not mentioned it since...

All the pretty horses

2009-08-24T20:12:00.004+01:00

Hot on the heels of the Oyster Festival is the Whitstable Regatta. The Regatta mainly involves a funfair on the green slopes behind the promenade in Tankerton.

That's right, the event is called after Whitstable but takes place in Tankerton. I don't get it either.

However - the funfair does include a fabulous carousel. Peaches and I had a go. You can just about see us riding a chicken at the back of this photo. For some reason, even though we went round and round and round and round, Recaro did NOT manage to take a photo with us in the middle of the shot.

That didn't spoil my fun though. I loved it. And Peaches insisted I hold her tight. That was kind of cool, too.

Whatever happened to the Lego?

2009-08-17T16:34:00.003+01:00

You might remember that I recently attempted a Lego giveaway. Well I lost track of time and then tried to get back in touch with the Lego PR man.

Ho hum. Basically he didn't return my emails and I had no Lego to giveaway.

As with all disappointing experiences, I've thought about what I might have done differently. I could have had him deliver all the Lego direct to me so that I could post it out in my own good time. Bearing in mind that I would have liked this to be an international giveaway it could have turned costly...

Then I read this post, which is helping me to crystallise my views on the giveaway/PR debate.

I think I'll be keeping this blog clear of sponsored reviews. Any future giveaways will be of my own devising.

I'm sorry to disappoint any hopeful Lego owners - but look on the bright side, this will be a blog with integrity.

Ultimate London celebrity spot?

2009-08-15T14:29:00.005+01:00

Recaro returned home from work yesterday with tales of who he saw in London yesterday. As he walked through St James on his way to a meeting he saw a bunch of guys running across the road wearing morning suits.

Just as he realised it was a prince, it occurred to him to think 'William or Harry?', he saw Harry too.

A double prince spot. Sorry no pictures. Apparently they looked like they were having a good ol' establishment time of it which is nice. According to this morning's Torygraph, it would seem they were on their way to the wedding of Nicholas van Cutsem and Alice Hadden Paton.

I like to imagine that Nick and Ali will go for a full blown double-double-barrelled name: Mr and Mrs Hadden Paton van Cutsem. Which makes them sound like characters out of a Tom Sharpe novel - terribly posh and psychotic all at the same time.

*******************

In other news, Peaches woke up several times last night with sickness and unhappiness. We moved her into our room (but on her own mattress) so that we could give her reassurance. There wasn't much else we could do.

She cheered up after sharing a bath with me at 5.30am - and now she's having a midday sleep to catch up on her kip.

As did we. A broken night's sleep is a very bad thing. I had forgotten how rubbish it makes me feel. It's enough to make me rethink my broody considerations of a second child...

I still love you, you know that don't you?

2009-08-14T07:14:00.007+01:00

I didn't write. I didn't phone. However, I have been fulfilling my promise to Peaches of playdates and partying.

The gang of potential playdates is growing - she went on three last weekend alone, including a birthday party. One of these was with the child of an old friend of mine. She was coming out of hibernation after throwing herself into family life.

I don't know what your experience is, but I find it's hard to keep every aspect of life moving forward. Recently it's been important for me to show a more committed effort at work and with my family. That meant blogging had to take a back seat. I like to imagine that my endeavours have been noted and that I can put some time back into blogging. Which is a relief, because where else am I going to vent that:

it's ridiculous that sharia law should attempt to prevent women from wearing trousers
the NHS is a lifesaver and gives a free healthcare at the point of delivery to everyone
Amy Winehouse still needs to sort her hair (and head) out
women's sport is still underreported in the news and I'm disappointed that boxing is still an Olympic sport even if it now includes women (didn't see that one coming)

We've also been on holiday to Greece for two weeks. What bliss. Sunshine, windsurfing, excellent childcare arrangements and lots of laughter. Fancy seeing some pictures?

We invested in a Trunki - this ride along suitcase kept Peaches entertained all the way to the gate.

Here's the hotel - d'ya think Recaro will thank me for this photo? Don't be fooled by the cocktail umbrella in that drink. Peaches was on apple juice.

Peaches really took to swimming. She had a couple of five year old boyfriends who encouraged her to jump in and swim (with arm bands). On our return home, her favourite bedtime book is a text book about teaching children to swim - she loves it for the photos of course. I don't imagine she's too interested in technique.

There were a couple of fancy dress parties at the hotel. First up: Upsy Daisy.

Who soon reappeared as a mini-Princess Leia. I knitted that wig. Cool, huh?

We also took Peaches to a rocking party at the hotel next door. She grooved and headbanged for an hour even though we thought she was good and ready for sleeping.

In the evenings, we ate in the town. With restaurants around a square with a fountain in the middle, it was just about possible to eat and keep an eye on her while she ran around making friends.
In short, it's the sort of holiday that floats my boat.

She's a little dear

2009-06-15T20:03:00.004+01:00

Puns. Dontchya luv 'em.

Even though I'm blogging during a thunderstorm and some crazy hail, I have been enjoying some fabulous summer days. Each day I have to weigh up the relative merits of cycle rides, parks, swings, painting, beach and paddling pool.

Painting is very low on my list of desirable activities but extremely high on Peaches'. Despite that sunny expression of innocence on her face, her favourite colour is black with lots of water. Then she pushes and splodges grimy water across the paper until the point when she decides to paint her hand, her feet, her arm... you get the idea.

I'm not a major neat freak, but it's the surest way to finish off my patience. Perhaps I'd be able to deal with it if she used red or green. I try and join in and paint astronauts, princesses, fruit, shapes. But once she's on to the third sheet of grey misery I can't take it any more.

Before you know it, I'll have whipped out a roll of kitchen paper and will be cleaning up and singing in a cheery voice, 'it's time to ride your bike, let's go the beach way and will get to the swings'.

*****************
one morning...
Peaches: Where's my sister?
Recaro: She's not invented yet.

walking with fabulous childminder, when out of the blue...
Peaches: My sister's not invented yet.

chatting on her toy mobile phone...
Peaches: I haven't seen you in ages. [Phoney laugh]. Yes. Yes. Bye.
Sass: Who were you talking to?
Peaches: My sister.
Sass: What's her name?
Peaches: Laura.

drinking milk before bed at the end of a very long, nap-free day...
Peaches: (looking very sad) Mummy, where's my sister?

Is she trying to tell me something? Don't answer that.

************************

I'm not a big believer in insisting Peaches says a bright hello to every person she meets. I think children go through shy phases and I don't see that ridicule or forcing them to say hello helps. My preferred tactic, right or wrong, is to declare that she's having a shy moment and that's she'll be fine in a moment.

And usually she is.

There are other times, when Peaches just wants to make friends. Sometimes that works really well, other times... even at the age of three there are little girls who know how to snub a friendly overture. Other times, it's just that the other child is having their own shy moment.

So now I am on a mission of seeing that Peaches gets a playdate with one of her buddies at least once every weekend. My theory (from the try-it-and-see school of parenting) is to give her plenty of chances to build good friendships from a young age based on frequency and fun.

That way, when someone is rude, thoughtless or shy, she knows they are just, well, rude, thoughtless or shy. She's also going to know that she's got a number of friends who are good fun, lively and sociable and that she's going to see them all again some time soon.

The next challenge might be to listen to her preference about who to play with... but I'll face that battle when I have to.

For SAHM this might seem like a no-brainer. As a working mum, it's been tempting to leave all that socialising, play group activity to the childminder. But I'm stepping up to the plate now. I'm taking telephone numbers off of people in the supermarket so that we can arrange playdates. This is a whole new way of living. It seems that I'm having to put my shy moment behind me too.

Another milestone

2009-06-02T07:16:00.003+01:00

Fhionnport, Isle of Mull

My adventurous little girl spent her first day in pre-school nursery on Monday.

Arguably it's a little early for 'school', but there were a number of reasons for our decision:

1. She's confident and sociable. She can handle the challenge.
2. She's so happy and secure at the childminder's that it would be good to put her through the challenge of pre-school while she still has three fabulous days a week with the heavenly childminder.
3. It's easier to get a child into pre-school of choice over the summer months rather than wait till September.

She'd been sick on Sunday and was still a little bit under the weather on Monday but she went anyway. And she was fine. She made friends, played well, had a big afternoon nap and painted a picture of a gorilla (that's an orange splodge to you and me).

Because I'm a responsible, loving mother I phoned to check she was settling in okay. Everything was good. As I put the phone back on the hook, I start sobbing.

It's the overwhelming feeling of love and loss that does for me. As I prepare Peaches to face new situations, I realise I'm preparing her to go her own way. It's all as it should be. I just have to cry about it now and then.

Recaro: holiday super hero

2009-05-17T09:51:00.003+01:00

We recently took a week off work to go to the Isle of Mull. Recaro did a great job of pre planning what we would eat, preparing a cool box of treats (from steak to cherry chocolates) and finding the last superstore before the ferry.

All this foodie preparation meant that once we arrived at our remote farmyard cottage, we wouldn't have to trek out to any of the island's understocked corner shops. They are good for tins and frozen stuff, but for some reason despite the wealth of sheep and cows on the hillsides, there's precious little local produce in the shops.

Recaro also made sure Peaches had a bag of beach toys (we did get some sunshine) and a Shrek DVD for rainy weather.

My contribution? While - I packed clothes for me and Peaches and made sure I got home from work in time to jump in the car for our overnight drive from Kent to Lancaster and on to the Scottish highlands and islands the next morning.

And I made this splendid robot outfit out of a wine box and an egg carton. Over the course of the week, we added switches, dials and antennae.

Who says I'm not crafty?

Wedding belles

2009-05-15T13:20:00.005+01:00

My experience of Yorkshire has previously been limited to a couple of business trips to Leeds, a school visit to a transport museum in York and being given a speeding ticket on the M1 by Wakefield.

That's not to say I hadn't heard about what a fine county it's supposed to be. Every typically bluff Yorkshire man I've ever met is only too willing to share their views on how it's God's own county. Yorkshire women don't seem to be under the same compulsion (if anyone knows why that is, please tell).

Recently, I had the opportunity to see for myself how lovely Yorkshire is. The patchwork of fields and dry stone walls are chocolate-box cute. Just as I got used to this pretty scenery, we found ourselves driving across broad, windswept moors before plunging down into a leafy green valley into the town of Hebden Bridge. Where I'm sad to say there was no time to shop, but if I'd had the time I suspect I could have spent a small fortune.

Yorkshire hadn't been on our list of places to visit, but we were there for a wedding. Call us Vince Vaughan and Owen Wilson - but we are a couple that love a good wedding. We'll travel anywhere for a three course dinner, champagne and a cheesy disco.

Plus it would give us a chance to dress Peaches up and pressurise complete strangers into admiring our supa-cute daughter. Yes, we are THAT couple.

Ce, a colleague of Recaro's was getting married in her home town of Hebden Bridge and after a long campaign by Recaro to make sure she knew just how easy it would be for us to break our journey home from a week in Scotland... she invited us. It had been a tense few weeks in the strangely lush household, but at last we could relax and pack our wedding outfits.

If she found Peaches' unwavering attention bewildering, Ce didn't let it show...

There were a few problems - our bed and breakfast was depressing and we arrived in church several minutes after the bride - but Peaches was good in church, made friends with the other children, spent most of her time at dinner sitting at another table (does this mean she's already embarrassed to be seen with us), didn't fall in the nearby river and did take some good (in focus) candid photos.In case you wonder, the church had a spare, derelict church in the grounds. I wouldn't want anyone to go away with the impression that people in Yorkshire don't believe in roofs.

I was pleased Peaches took a photo of the cake. The flowers on our wedding cake were RUBBISH. So much so that we skipped the cake cutting photos at our wedding. I always feel an incredible feeling of relief when I see other people get it right.

Another surprise for me, was seeing that this wasn't just a three course dinner. Between the starter and main course we had Yorkshire pudding and red onion gravy. I am a naive southerner. I had no idea that's what they do up north. It makes so much sense - I've always thought a roast beef dinner looks ridiculous with a Yorkshire pudding sat on top. This could be a tradition we'll be introducing to Whitstable.

The wanderer returns

2009-05-15T12:59:00.004+01:00

Woah - life just tipped out of balance. My job is mostly about business development, writing bids, preparing presentations, that sort of thing. Since everyone's chasing all the work they can right now. Despite my success in hanging on to a four-day week, I have found myself working on the laptop on the train to and from work. It's not a good look - I'd far rather read or sleep. I'm also spending more time in London - but without finding the time to go window shopping. Where's the fun in that?

I don't mean this to sound 'woe is me'. The challenge of it all is interesting - I just needed to cut myself some slack and blogging was what had to go. (For some reason, Recaro thought I should keep some spare time for chatting to him - he's demanding like that...)

But today is different. After a fun Friday morning of taking Peaches cycling and to a drama class, she's now sleeping (yay for the early afternoon nap!) and I have time to blog.

It's like catching up with an old friend. I've been wondering what you've all been up to. Does one particular mummy blogger out there still have 'bathroom ceramics' in her back garden? Is another working mum managing to stay healthy while working, blogging, singing and creating avators? Has a certain Kiwi managed to take a photo of her family without at least one of her daughters mugging at the camera? How are sales going for Canadian crochet?

Excuse me for a moment while I remind myself how long it takes to upload photos to Blogger.

Blissed out

2009-04-16T20:26:00.003+01:00

My working week is over. Peaches is happily asleep. Recaro is working late. Excuse me while I chill in front of the TV with a glass of wine.

I do love a night in all by myself.

If you are looking for something to do while I do nothing, please help yourself to entering the Lego giveaway with a surprise gift for one lucky non-UK entrant.

Chicks! Lambs! Eggs!

2009-04-12T12:23:00.003+01:00

It's all fluffy chicks, baby lambs, Easter dresses and chocolate egg hunts here. (Don't forget - you can enter the Duplo giveaway here.)

Happy Easter.

A giveaway as easy as ABC

2009-03-30T18:02:00.006+01:00

It was a mistake. I shouldn't stay away from Blogger for so long. Now I'm not sure when or if I'll ever get around to telling you about how Peaches is learning to ride her bike. I missed my chance to tell you the minutiae of her virus and how she is now getting better.

At least you didn't get the post about how work was busy. Yadda yadda. What's new?

It is worth telling you that I went to see ABC play this week at the Royal Albert Hall with the BBC concert orchestra. I don't generally like revisiting the 80's - it gives me a disturbing feeling of tension in my chest whenever I consider all that big hair, ra ra skirts, boots with socks and fishnet tights. Eek.

Fortunately Martin Fry wasn't wearing that particular outfit - he saved the gold suit for the encore. What a round of a applause that suit got.

The music was lush, extravagant and thrilling. I was surprised at how good each track made me feel. It had been Recaro's idea to go. I had no idea I liked ABC tracks so much.

But so much for that. You want to know about the giveaway. Well the good people at Lego sent me a Polar pack of duplo lego:

Peaches loves duplo. Don't be fooled by cheap imitations - they don't rock as hard as lego.

As you can tell, I am a lego-enthusiast. I always remember wanting to have played more lego as a kid. Somehow I recollect that my brother comandeered it - and that we never had enough of it anyway. So I'm pleased that I'm getting my second chance through Peaches.

We don't keep many toys in our living room, but we do have a tub of duplo. This extra set has been a great booster set. She's been getting into more imaginative play as a result.

The chunky toddler friendly bricks are very satisfying. Nice and easy to use - as near as dammit impossible to swallow. I tried taking some photos of Peaches at play, but it turns out that it was 'her turn' to use the camera.

But look - see how happy I was with all those bricks and polar bears.
If she doesn't develop a career as a structural engineer, maybe I can hope that she's be a world-class photographer instead. A mother can dream, can't she?

I have nine of these duplo sets to giveaway. Sadly this is going to be a UK only giveaway (please stop throwing the rotten fruit. Ouch!), but there will be a consolation, secret I'm not going to tell you what is prize for one luck overseas person.

To win - tell me one of your embarrassing memories of the 80's (I believe we will all have more than one unless you were under 10 at the time) and let me know whether you'd prefer the police or the polar set.

I'll announce winners.... at the end of the month.

Time travel

2009-03-20T22:13:00.002Z

Our wireless broadband connection fell over. The result was that I couldn't blog in those spare moments of pootering around the kitchen.

I feel like I'd travelled back in time to the 20th Century and had to rely on regular TV and newspapers for my information and weather forecasts.

I was close to digging over the garden and growing my own vegetables. I nearly started listening to the Pet Shop Boys. I considered renting DVDs of Moonlighting.

Thank God I'm back. I have so much to tell you.

And a giveaway. I have a lush giveaway lined up.

Susan Tsvangarai has died

2009-03-06T22:03:00.003Z

This is really sad. Morgan Tsvangarai's wife Susan has been killed in a car accident.

Tsvangarai recently embarked on a power sharing role with President Mugabe of Zimbabwe.

The accident, and Susan's death, sounds suspicious to me.

My condolences and sympathy go to her husband and family.

In breaking news from the BBC Tsvangarai has said it was an accident. He was there so, despite my suspicions, I'll let up on the cynicism.

This week I've been mostly

2009-03-02T13:21:00.004Z

Moved... by the sad news of Ivan Cameron. I don't want to sound like I'd judge any parent for the love of their child or the dignity of their mourning, but I was relieved and pleased that Primeminister's Question Time was cancelled this week as a mark of respect.

Irritated... by the lousy parking on double white lines. Even where this is permissible by disabled parking permits I don't see why this has to be so close to junctions. Grrr.

Underwhelmed... by my fitness. I ran, walked, ran walked but couldn't get into the rhythm of a run. At least I got out.

Heartened... by the sunshine and the lengthening days. There was still daylight when I got off the train at 5.30pm last week. Summer's on the way.

Proud... of Peaches. She behaved excellently in church this Sunday. No running around, sitting with us to eat her toast (with Nutella. I'd sit still for that.) and then playing with playdough to the end of the service. Angelic.

Tired... but thankful that I get to work at home. It was a great weekend and a bit of time at home is giving me the chance to continue getting the house in shape for my Dad's visit next weekend.

Carried away by the bubbles

2009-02-27T14:45:00.008Z

I learned something new this morning.

I can't drink several glasses of champagne and two or three of wine without still feeling it at 3pm the next day. Ouch.

Apparently, when I'm at a black tie awards dinner, wearing high heels and a party frock, I can delude myself into thinking that I can still drink like I did in my twenties.

At least I didn't have to get up and look after a small girl and take her to a play park with her boisterous toddler boyfriends. Oh wait, yes I did. Double ouch.

Despite my stunned disbelief at my own daftness, I managed to find the energy to climb to the top of a very tall slide about four times so that Peaches could join in with the other children. If anyone ever wants proof that I love my daughter, they should take a moment to watch me playing with her while nursing a hangover.

My favourite part was when I got to lie down in the ball park. I make it look as if I'm lolling about in a jacuzzi. It's not a good look: it doesn't work for Chad Kroeger and it sure as hell doesn't work for me in a technicolour ball pit.

It was comfy though - and here's a credit crunch tip, if you can persuade small children to keep jostling the balls about while not actually jumping on to you, it's cheaper than a massage. Now there's a tip I should pass on to the New York Times.

All about the cute stuff

2009-02-23T19:41:00.003Z

I'm feeling a bit put upon with the surfeit of anti-motherhood articles in the press at the moment. It doesn't bother me that other people don't want children. I just get hacked off if they think I'm going to hide my family away. Yah boo sucks to the miserabilists.

To lift my spirits, I'm going to declare all the things I love about being a mum:

I love that I had a deja vue moment after Peaches was born. I remembered dreaming about her and I know she was the baby I was waiting for.
I love getting Peaches involved in the kitchen. She can help make tea - put the kettle on, get the cups out the cupboard, put the tea bags in the cups, wait for me to pour the water and milk, and then take the teabags out. She can mix up the bolognaise ingredients and likes mixing eggs and grating cheese for omelettes.
I love that Recaro, Peaches and I shared a big meal of spaghetti bolognaise and watched movies this weekend. With our work schedules we rarely eat evening meals together as a family so this was completely lush.
I love that Peaches is fantastic at going to bed and using her potty. I love how she looks when she's sleeping.
I love that she likes to 'help' at the supermarket and as long as I keep talking to her she stays close and puts things 'back' whenever I ask. I love that I don't care if anyone things I'm talking to loud or too much to her.
I love the way she hugs me so desparately after she's been naughty. I love that she responds to what I say, how I say it and I don't have to shout and be mean.
I love that she's the prettiest, smartest little two and half year old. I love that she's tall and strong. I love her button nose and blue eyes. I love her laugh.
I love it that Recaro tells me she can count to four even if she only ever says '1, 2, 8, 9, 10' to me.
I love it that she tells her grandmothers she loves them, without any coaching or prompting from me.
I love it that she knows the name of the town where she lives and what her full name is.
I love that I can enjoy being a mum and don't get bogged down by the routines.
I love that I get help with cleaning and ironing because otherwise I think that would get in the way of some of the best of the little moments.
I love that she has a confident personality. She loves being around other children, but knows what she wants to do and doesn't wait for others to invite her in to a group.
I love that I can take her into a restaurant and she won't run about. I love that I can send her to the waiter to ask for the bill. We don't have to hang around patiently anymore.
I love that Recaro and take her to the pub on weekend afternoons. She meets our friends (and even their children too). Sometimes it's quiet... sometimes there's a band. It's fun, we dance and eat chocolate raisins. I think it could be a family tradition.
I love that I taught her how to use a straw - all so that she can drink banana milkshake.
I love that I don't know how she's going to turn out in the end. She's her own person. I don't have to live through her, but I do get to live with her. It's like playing volleyball - it's up to me to set her up with the best opportunities and watch what she does with them.

I've never felt the need to write a post like that before. I imagine myself to be a grounded, sensible, a not too sensitive kind of woman. It just goes to show nast stuff can spread and make us all feel bad. I wasn't expecting to write a post about Nadya Suleman, mother of 14. But it turns out I have.

I'll say this for Nadya: I hope she's loving being a mother too.

The Valentine's Post: Somerset

2009-02-17T19:43:00.011Z

We drove off to Somerset (south west England) last weekend to stay at Andrews on the Weir - child and dog friendly restaurant with rooms. Sometimes I sense a bit of neediness in parents who are desparate to relax in a good hotel... but they've got nothing on dog owners. Those guys were so grateful to have been able to take their hairy hounds away with them that they didn't look aghast at Peaches in the breakfast room.

By the way, the dogs weren't running around the public spaces of the hotel, so it wasn't as if there was much potential for parental angst at child/dog encounters.

From the outset, Peaches embraced the idea of holidays without much difficulty. Here she is rushing to the car.

As long as she has playdough, duck, dolly and is in charge of the map, she's a happy gal. She also had a pair of scissors and a Charlie and Lola magazine. By the end of the holiday, Lola was confetti. I think it's a sign of love, but who knows what goes on behind that peaches and cream complexion.I've been told that cake is regarded in some quarters as the fourth member of our family. I won't keep you guessing, we did eat plenty of cake. And scones. With clotted cream.

We saw also saw some wild Exmoor ponies. At least I like to imagine they are wild even though they are in fact short, fat, hairy and not at all scary.

We found some rinkydink little bridges for Peaches to dash across. Weirdly, I can't bring myself to tell her the story of the little billy goats gruff. I anticipate it would both freak her out and bring on the repetitive word syndrome. She already has this with 'giants'. It's okay, but I knew we had a five hour car journey ahead of us and didn't want her to obsess over trolls the whole way.

TV reception is notoriously bad in parts of the south west. This meant we had no CBeebies.

I know. What a disaster.

In those fractious, pre-bath minutes we had to resort to Bjork and Lazytown videos on the iPhone. What you won't see here is how Recaro and Peaches fought to be in charge of exactly where the iPhone would be positioned on the bed. Sometimes I think Recaro winds Peaches up on purpose just to see how loudly she can shout.
As for our romantic Valentine dinners, this small hotel has a very successful restaurant. Our room was within monitor distance, and Peaches settled for the night without any trouble.

Every bedside table tells a story... while she didn't raid our cava, if you look carefully you can see she broke into our box of handmade chocs. At least she didn't eat the white chocolate ones. She just spat them out. Nice.

The freakiest part of our weekend was that we were in bed and sleeping by 10pm. It's been said that having children doesn't mean having to change your life. It's just incredibly likely.

Not the Valentine's post

2009-02-16T20:06:00.004Z

This is supposed to be my family blog, and my other blog is all about women's sport. I should be posting about our weekend away in Exmoor.

But check this out. If you've never watched women's rugby, here are the highlights of England losing to Wales. It would be good if it had been the other way round, but at least this way you get to hear the commentary with a lovely Welsh accent.

Watch it, please.

First contact

2009-02-09T13:35:00.004Z

Next time, he'll know better. When he says he'll show up at 10am, he'll be there. He'll understand the importance of 'office hours'.

Recaro made an appointment with the TV guy to fix up the TV aerial for our bedroom TV. The guy was eventually found wandering up and down our street by Recaro after he had collected Peaches from the childminder at 5.30pm.

TV man is in his late twenties and it was all too apparent that he thought children were an alien species. He would have preferred the Ministry of Defence to have sent out a squad of extra-terrestrial experts to apprehend this miniature, would-be human. Anything, basically, that could have prevented him from making first contact.

His regard for Peaches was reciprocated. However, instead of wanting to run and hide, she was ready to embrace this alien creature and find out more about him. And what better way to build a relationship, than to target the object of interest with plenty of attention?

She followed him around like a bad smell. She stood and whined on the doorstep when he went to collect different bits of aerial kit. She gazed in awe at his feet dangling from the loft hatch. Was there anything this new two-legged creation couldn't do?

To test out his sensory abilities, she paraded about with her rabbit on her head, demanding all the while, 'Look. Look. Rabbit!'

It took a little while, but eventually there was a glimmer of understanding. Despite all appearances of being socially inept and struggling with basic language skills, TV guy took a wild guess (he went for the 50:50 - perhaps he didn't have a friend) and acknowledged that it was indeed a rabbit on her head.

When he ~~escaped~~ left, Recaro asked Peaches to say goodbye.

No chance, her work was done, she'd broken TV guy's spirit. She'd made him ask the name of her dolly. D'huh! It's baby, dummy. She knew there was nothing more to gain from this shallow dalliance.

But how would she get out of this situation? Would she have to speak to the lesser being again?

She thought for a moment. 'I'm shy', she declared and hid her head.

But of course. Wasn't it obvious all along?

Still having fun

2009-02-08T17:42:00.003Z

Despite my serious and earnest posts, Recaro and I are continuing to have fun.

This weekend is full of cold (sorry, Recaro, I mean flu. Man flu) and cancellations (Granny wouldn't see us because of cold - she IS in her 80's and susceptible to bronchitis - and Grandma cancelled because it's icy out there).

So we did all the normal stuff of Tea & Times, farm shops, some new stuff - dance classes for the small girl - plus some siestas - THAT'S why we have a TV in the bedroom. Cbeebies gives us all some downtime.

Then after Peaches' nap this afternoon, we half-cooked up our dinner and went for a walk along the beach to the Old Neptune pub. We met our lovely neighbours and their baby for a drink. It's quite the beachside boozer - we made it family friendly whether it liked it or not.

We are now home, finishing off cooking poor man's stroganoff.

It's all going to go horribly wrong though, Recaro just looked over my shoulder and read 'Man flu'. He's distraught. Or maybe slightly stroppy. At least dinner's done.

Hope you all had a great weekend.

Rachel Cooke and Polly Vernon: bitter and bored

2009-02-08T11:03:00.007Z

This week's Observer includes a couple of vitriolic articles against mothers. Rachel Cooke and Polly Vernon write about their own feelings as child-free women. This is interesting enough - you can read plenty of good stuff on that via this blog, but Rachel and Polly's articles go on the offensive against women who are essentially happy with the choices they've made.

How pointless is that? It's like shouting 'I'm happy with my life, honest. Don't come near me with your stories of how you are happy with your life too'.

Rachel Cooke is furious that she sometimes has to suffer conversations with women who want to talk about their life and their experience of having children. She seems to be filled with dismay that some of her friends have had children and da, da, daaa... talk about it.

At least her friends are forewarned. They have no excuse for not keeping Rachel completely entertained in future.

She should just accept that some of her friends are boring. It's just that in the world before children, Rachel's friends only wanted to talk about handbags and manicures (which would bore me to pieces), now they have family (hey look - Rachel's friends are now MY friends).

I've got friends who enjoy talking about themselves and their own interests. They aren't bad people, just a little self-centred. I've endured deadly monologues when a friend has gossiped about people I don't know. I stick around because she's infinitely kind and tells great stories about work - a reflection on my own interests and not because work is innately worthy.

And don't forget, men can be boring too. Whether it's about babies, cars, wine, gadgets... Only this week I suffered a colleague's in-depth description of how his 17 month old was learning to walk. Did I shut him up? No, of course not. It would have been rude of me to begrudge him a minute or two of paternal pride. I don't think being a snob about what people choose to talk about is the best way to 'win friends and influence people'.

Most of her articles are more balanced, though her tone is frequently bitter. You can read here how she managed to knife Peaches Geldof in the back, even if she didn't manage to puncture PG's inflated ego during the interview itself.

Rachel refers to the way 'websites' (I'm not sure if she means blogs or chatrooms) condemned Rachida Dati. I dispute her take on this. I have blogged about Dati - here and here- but I don't think I was unreasonably critical and I posted about it because I wasn't finding any sensible coverage of the story in the press. The nastier stuff was found in newspapers like The Daily Mail where apparently Dati 'and her kind' are responsible for shattering "the bedrock of a stable and contented society". Mothers are an impressive group of people, but I don't think we can do all that on our ownsome.

I'm increasingly finding that print and broadcast coverage of parenting is subject to a filter of banal stereotypes;

earnest breastfeeding earth mothers (selfish)
superwomen career mothers with nannies (selfish)
ambitious mothers living vicariously through their children (selfish)
skinny minnies - surgically or otherwise - with ultra-fashionable kiddies (selfish)

The exception that appears, to me, to prove the rule is Zoe Williams. Her columns about early years parenting are convincingly written. The use of her personal experience makes it like.... reading a blog.

Rachel's piece was followed by a defensive, why I'll never have children piece by Polly Vernon. I like it more when Polly demonstrates the upside of a childfree life. Usually Polly writes about cocktail bars, international travel and her ability to wear skinny fit jeans. Previous to this article, I've imagined that if life had gone in a different direction, I might have lived a slightly less glam version of her life. Swap the skinny fit for straight leg and the NY cocktail bars for Canterbury and you might not have been able to tell us apart.

Amusingly, Polly dismisses some parents as mumsnet-botherers. Over the past couple of months, mumsnet has been The Guardian's first port of call for every voxpop on motherhood. I suspect this is another dig at the blogosphere. It's not a direct hit though, since mumsnet is more about chatrooms instead of creative blogging.

I wonder if she really even wanted to write the article in the first place. Her life should be hunkdory enough for her to shrug off the occassional comment about children.

I'm starting to wonder why I read the paper after all. Which is annoying, because I've just subscribed to its voucher system...

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IN OTHER NEWS: my other blog has 1 follower. Which is so encouraging.

Sass and Saz go shopping

2009-02-02T18:55:00.015Z

A short while ago, Saz was interviewed. Then she offered to interview someone else. Well who could pass up a post opportunity like that?

A straightforward on-line interview gives me visions of tumbleweed drifting across my blog, so to liven things up, I insisted that we combine our interview with a shopping trip. Not just any old shopping trip though. We went to Bond Street because that's how we roll.

This was a surprise outing for Saz, but as you might imagine she was more than willing to do her bit to kick start the British economy with a spending spree.

Saz: Why do you blog?

Sass: Oh you've upset me now, and we've only just begun. Haven't you read my carefully crafted Write On! post - dedicated to Don Mills Diva?

Blushing, I realise she's teasing me. Of course Saz has read my every word. What other reason could there be to sign up to Google Reader? I paraphrase my reasons for blogging below;

"I blog because it gives me something I don't get from the print and broadcast media. Personal connection with other people interested in the same thing as me - parenting, work/life balance, having fun.

"In terms of my other blog about sport, it gives me a forum to talk about women's sport. The press barely cover that at all."

Saz: If you could live anywhere in the world for one month where would that be? Why?

(At this point, I lost Saz's attention. She drifted off to gaze at a pair of sandals and a handbag in Jimmy Choo's. I thought they were both ghastly, but Saz's dreamy expression made me realise how little I know about the moments when high fashion and basic essentials collide. Needless to say, she didn't listen to a word of my answer, but I provide a transcript below because I know that at least you are interested.)

Sass: A month would be a lovely, long holiday. I'd want to travel light - so it would have to be somewhere I could shop. I'd want to stay in my own place and enjoy breakfasts at different cafes, or on my own verandah or balcony. It would also have to be near the sea. I'd go back to Syracuse, Sicily. The old town is on a tiny peninsula, there's loads of greek and roman ruins, some very good shopping - lovely pizza. It's child friendly - the old town streets are so narrow there aren't many cars about. Recaro could come too and we could reminisce about our honeymoon.

Finally, Saz finishes paying for her shoes and bags. I think she must know the shop assistant. They are never that friendly to me. Maybe they can sense Saz is a leading light in Cumbrian fashion? Anyway, it's clear that she is quite at home in the world of spike heels, oversized handbags and big, dark sunglasses worn at night.

Saz: If you were invited to a birthday party and asked to give the birthday girl/guy one book you love, which would it be? Why?

Sass: What a tricky question. The next birthday coming up is my neighbour's. Pete is quite the renaissance man. Knows about cars, wine, food, travel, business. I don't think there's much he doesn't know - which is odd, because I can't imagine him reading a book. That would be far too much sitting down.

I would like to know that he had read, The Great Gatsby. It's a bit of an 'O' level set text, but I love the descriptions of one track dusty towns, horrible Tom and his blousy mistress, the whacky/unreliable Jordan. And the 'green light' of hope. He loves going to America, but keeps visiting California. Maybe this would inspire an East Coast holiday.

Ooh look, Ralph Lauren for children. That's posh.

But no Saz, we aren't going in there. This is a shopping trip for you and me. We must find more grown up places to splash the cash.

Saz: Phew. That's okay then. I really didn't want to waste today's shopping time on the little people. Tell me two interesting things about yourself that may surprise me.

Sass: How do I surprise a well-travelled, cosmopolitan, cultured woman like you, Saz? You do know this is a family friendly blog, don't you? Here goes;

I once went on a date with a sheikh
I was club captain of my university's women's rugby team.

Maybe it's my broken nose and my burkha but I don't think Saz seems terribly surprised by either revelation. But I tried to impress you Saz! At least I tried!

Saz: (sighing a pitying sigh) Describe to me your DREAM meal , company, setting and reasons.

Saz: Hold on a moment - I'm just nipping in here to look for an everyday, basic sort of white blouse. I need this for when I next enjoy a roast dinner with the rellies. Luckily, I'm the sort of woman who never spills her gravy...

Okay. All done. Where would I go for dinner? It would have to be the Sportsman. They serve the tastiest food in the most convivial and relaxed surroundings. I have posted about this place but I'm not sure I've convinced everyone. I'd fix this by inviting you, Amanda, Reluctant, ScrappySue and Working Mum. On the next table, you'd find Mellipop, Madame Queen, Jeri and Don Mills Diva.

We'd have a blast. I'd make sure they had some Cloudy Bay in the house just to be sure.

Hey Saz - look. That model's wearing your trousers!

Saz sniffs. The D&G model might look good in those colourful patterned trousers, but even Saz knows she looks a damned sight better.

Saz: Enough of this interview rubbish. My stylist is waiting to meet me at Prada and has a number of interesting items lined up for my viewing pleasure at Asprey, Nicole's (Fahri) and Alexander's (McQueen). Lead on Sass and take me to where the shopping bags are capacious.

If you'd like to be interviewed, let me know and I'll fire off five questions to you.

No madness like snow madness

2009-02-02T11:28:00.002Z

Whitstable was hit by an astonishing 2cm of snow over night. This meagre snow flurry has built up to 20cm or so elsewhere in Kent and London.

Not surprisingly, transport is bearing up to 'extreme weather' conditions in typically British fashion. In preparation for a few more days of snow, we have seen just one gritting lorry on the A299 yesterday, the M25 is closed, Network South East cancelled all train services and buses are not running.

In case you want more information, do not, I repeat, do not attempt to visit Network South East website. Due to adverse weather conditions they have closed their website. Those guys are smart - they weren't going to be accused of giving misleading or inaccurate information. Giving no information is much safer.

Because this is a mummy blog, no post is complete without a child update: Peaches was very happy to see all the snow. She spent the morning playing with a carrot (we spoil that kid) and talking about 'the snowman's nose'.

My amateur, narcisstic, opinionated blogs

2009-01-31T08:20:00.007Z

Celebrity bloggers are sooo annoying. Their intimate, over-sharing is embarrassing and unnecessary. Don't they have all the opportunities of TV, press and radio interviews. Not to mention the coverage they get in Heat, Look, Closer and so on.

But oh look, just like Don Mills Diva they get misquoted. Journalists get lazy about sourcing information and take quotes out of context. Even a respected publication like The Times and Times Online gets lazy.

Maybe blogging and tweeting give them an opportunity to speak direct to their audience without being misinterpreted by a journalist. Funny though, the press just regard them as exercises in navel-gazing.

What if it happened to me? Would I be so cross if it was me who was misquoted. Well, duh. Yes I would be. I write an internal communications magazine for my company and I check every quote. Even the stuff that I think doesn't matter. I do this because I appreciate that people don't like surprises particularly when their professional reputation is on the line.

I'm surprised the Times doesn't have higher standards about attribution. In articles such as the one where Kelly was quoted, readers certainly think that everyone who has been quoted has been interviewed. The article has a very different tone from one that is lifted, say, from a company's press release.

I do run the risk of someone not liking my blog (I know - how unlikely is that?). I might be trolled. I might be trolled by a print journalist! I blog because it gives me something I don't get from the print and broadcast media. Personal connection with other people interested in the same thing as me - parenting, work/life balance, having fun.

In terms of my other blog about sport, it gives me a forum to talk about women's sport. The press barely cover that at all. I'm not talking about exercising. We all know there are blogs about diet and fitness (even though I did write my own strangely lush fitness plan). I mean coverage of women in competitive sport at local, national and international levels. The UK press stink at that. I have written to The Guardian about this... I don't think it's too bothered by my opinion.

So whether I'm incorrectly attributed - or ignored altogether - blogging gives me the last word. I like that.

A political football

2009-01-30T11:33:00.008Z

You might have noticed that I've started monitoring the level of coverage the Guardian gives to women's sport. It's online coverage is better than in the print version of the paper.

At the top left of my blog, I'm providing links to all the articles that have appeared in its 12-page sports supplement so far this year. It's not particularly impressive. If it wasn't for Dokic and the Williams sisters, there'd only be two articles. One focuses on the UK's best hope for success in the Melbourne tennis tournament and the final one - on women's football (soccer) - actually reports on the career progress of a male coach. Not a word on the actual success or not of any women in football.

This bothers me for a number of reasons - in no particular order...

why does male football have to account for such a large proportion of print sports coverage - guys tell me they would like to read more about golf, boxing, kayaking, windsurfing, squash and so on. There's a lot of diversity in sport and that's not reflected in the mainstream daily press.
why do women in sport barely get a look in? The Olympics showed evidence of women's success in sport and many women bloggers confirmed in a number of different posts and comments how inspiring this was to see.
if so much money can be generated by male sport - in particular UK soccer - why isn't this commercial success being exploited in female sport?

The lack of good print coverage of women's sport - beyond the sexy photoshoots of sportswomen in Sunday supplements - is especially frustrating when there are so many lifestyle articles denigrating women for their lack of involvement in team sports.

There are plenty of women involved in team sports like hockey, netball, rugby and football - I'm sure there'd be even more of them if this activity wasn't practically invisible to anyone who relied on the sports section of newspapers for coverage of women in sport.

Another dimension to women in sport, is that it can be political. In Iran, football for men and women is extremely popular. A leading team - Esteghlal - is now in trouble because during a training overlap, its male and female teams were on the same pitch for ten minutes. The football academy director may be sacked for this and who knows, maybe even the players themselves may suffer repercussions.

Sport is one of a limited number of ways women in Iran can express themselves through physical movement. These women - and indeed the men who coach, manage and finance the teams put themselves at risk of prosecution and harrassment for falling foul of the state's strict interpretation of Islamic behaviour.

Their determination to play, despite the difficulties, has helped me decide to create a new blog. I'll use it to highlight women's achievements in sports. It's going to take a little while for me to find my sources, but please send me your thoughts, any useful links and even content - I think this could be a good blog for additional contributors. While I might focus on UK sport, I'm interested in including international stories too.

How he sees us

2009-01-30T08:22:00.002Z

At least here's evidence that Recaro knows I'm not completely ignoring my child while blogging.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Soft furnishings go... odd

2009-01-29T11:01:00.001Z

I've been meaning to post about this for a week or two. I'd seen some cushions and they got me thinking. Now this isn't a post about decorating - sorry, I know there are people out there who would find that compelling blog material.

This is about icons and scatter cushions. I suppose you can imagine a cushion with fabulous embroidery and applique around an image of Elvis. You could even imagine iconic images of Princess Diana and Marilyn Monroe on a (maudlin) teenage girl's collection of cushions.

If you are of a more radical frame of mind, you might want to consider planting your butt in a disrespectful fashion on the faces of dictators past and present. 'Take that Mugabe/Stalin/Hitler!' you'd mutter as you settled down to watch the latest episode of Grand Designs.

But would you ever, really, choose to put Anne Frank's image on a throw cushion?

Because that's what I saw this month in the window of a fabric shop on Wigmore Street in central London.

If you find photos of Anne Frank compelling - for reasons such as the pointlessness of her death and the vivid personality expressed in her diary - would you ever consider making yourself comfy on her image?

On the flip side, are anti-semitic, holocaust-deniers likely to adorn their sofas with her image?

The question is (in the style of Carrie Bradshaw) ... is there a time and place when an Anne Frank cushion is not just acceptable but the very best choice of all?

Yep - still talking about Dati

2009-01-26T14:15:00.003Z

Rachida Dati resigned her job as France's Justice Minister. She's going to pursue a place in the European Parliament as an MEP.

Her departure is all too reminiscent of the times I've seen one colleague and one boss lose their jobs shortly after returning from maternity leave.

Coincidence? Maybe they didn't lose their jobs because of being mothers, but it probably hadn't helped to be so ... noticeable.... feminine... or in Dati's case, to have an 'abrasive management style'. What a loaded expression that is.

However, I raise the topic of Dati again because I read a Hadley Freeman article today in the Guardian where she suggested that women should stop 'looking at other women in a purely narcissistic, deeply emotional manner'.

Apparently, 'only women' publicly express the view that 'women have to work harder in all areas of life and that so it's only natural that what other women do impacts on the expectations of other women'. I can't believe 'only women' have this view. Even if men aren't talking about it, this doesn't mean women are mistaken in holding this belief.

Before I go on - I need to let off steam in the manner of a pre-menstrual woman who just found an empty milk bottle in the fridge. It irks me to be told that any criticism of Dati's maternity leave decisions are inevitably expressed in a deeply emotional manner. Does anyone else think that phrase carries a lot of baggage?

It is incredibly interesting (to me at least) when a women in a senior public position has a baby and decides to return to work after five days. Just as it was interesting to many men when Steve Jobs decided, after some hesitation, to take time off work for health reasons. No one was hysterical - I was interested because it allowed me to reflect on the decisions I make in my own life.

Leaving aside the issue of celeb magazines where Hadley rightly points out the frustration of seeing women simultaneously lauded for losing baby weight while encouraging readers to hate them for their willpower and access to personal trainers, women should talk about other women in public life.

Why? Well there's not that many of them. There's something holding women back - whether it's in ourselves or in the workplace... or even in the media's perception of us.

We need to exhaust the discussion about work, success (whatever that means to each of us), careers, glass ceilings, women on the board and motherhood. Because until we are so familiar with the issues and the solutions there will always be petty prejudices and obstacles to equitable work/life opportunities.

As I read her article, I'm not entirely sure who she's berating. Is it me and others like me who have blogged and talked about Dati or is she furious with the press and women's magazines?

At least with a blog, I know I can get the last word.

Burning dolly

2009-01-23T18:45:00.005Z

That speedy bedtime? Well, it's not been completely plain sailing. Last night she crept up the stairs 15 mins after I thought she'd gone to sleep. She by-passed me (because I'm a stinky-you-shall-go-to-bed-mutha) and rushed up to Recaro for a loving hug. As you'd expect with such a soft touch of a daddy, Peaches ended up watching TV with us while we ate dinner. Eventually I got her to sleep by pretending to sleep with her. With a sinking heart I hoped we hadn't set a dangerous precedent.

While I was mulling over how to improve the bedtime routine, we had a mostly good day, but with two memorable incidents. Peaches was bitten by one boy and had her doll thrown on a fire by another. She doesn't know what happened to the doll. We cleared out of the room (staff at Ask pizza restaurant in Canterbury were so calm even if they weren't too impressed by us...) before she realised where the acrid fumes were coming from. The doll has a twin, so I think she'll get by without it.

Incidentally, I'm pretty sure I know which boy did which horrible thing - Firestarter's mum isn't completely convinced her boy is to blame, but I think she's going to change her mind when he says 'Burn dolly burn' during bath time tonight. Meanwhile Gnasher's mum is already signed up to a parenting class and is tackling her son's wilder moments. We are all still speaking to each other.

It might come as a surprise to hear... but I was kind of glad to get us both home in one piece. To celebrate I decided Peaches would have an early night and aimed to get her in bed by 7pm.

Sometimes I make such GOOD decisions. We had a hot bath, a mellow ten minutes of In the night garden, just three stories* and she was asleep by 6.45.

I am now so chilled.

But I think that might just be my blood running cold at the thought of the biting, hair pulling and dolly-burning that we've endured today.

*The essential bedtime stories are:

Happy Hector is a brilliant story about a stuffed pig who just wants to be the centre of Tilly's world. The Princess story is very repetitive and dull to read - I can't work out why she loves it so much but it has the merit of being very short.

Even as a regular church goer, I'm surprised that the bible is in the list. I'd been reading the story of Christmas to her in December and she doesn't want to give it up. At least with this edition, if ever someone challenges me about if I've ever read the WHOLE bible, I can say 'yup. done that'.

Rude? Crude? Or is it just...

2009-01-21T20:18:00.004Z

the right ad, in the right place at the right time.

It made me laugh.

The journey from a cot to a bed

2009-01-20T18:06:00.006Z

When we took the side off Peaches' cot, I wrote about my hopes of her going to the potty at night and sending herself back to bed. It turns out my fears were misplaced.

Instead it's been a problem getting her into bed at all. Fortunately, I've been suitably philosophical about this and it appears that my solution is working out.

The first night, she went to bed at 7.20pm. I read her stories and she snuggled up. After turning out the light and singing nursery rhymes she complained loudly and jumped out of bed. After a bit of argy bargy refusals to get into bed, Recaro offered to take over.

Okidokee I thought. I'd prefer to have let her simmer down and try again, but if he wants to give it a shot, I won't say no to some shared parenting endeavour.

I sat down and read the paper. The next thing I know, Recaro brings Peaches into the living room and tells me she's not sleepy. 'Pmph', I thought. Parenting, schmarenting.

Having tidied up the toys, I stop Peaches playing with her toys and tell her I'll read her a story instead and then it's back to bed. I told her there's no playing after bedtime - it's very very dull and the only thing to do is to sleep.

I take her back downstairs and go through the bed time routine again. I put her to bed and she gets out. I hold her while she wails and tell her, 'no playing, it's sleeptime, you can have a cuddle on my lap'. She wailed and wailed. Recaro comes back to the bedroom. I think he was concerned that I was about to lose my rag. I wasn't though and I told him Peaches was not going to go back upstairs (we have an 'upside down' house). Reassured that I'm really very calm - and very determined to crack bed time difficulties - he retreats to a safe distance behind the laptop...

After a sip of water (he he, I've banned milk after toothbrushing because I'm paranoid about wrecking her teeth) she calms down. She tries getting me to read books, but I take them from her and put them on the floor saying, 'no. it's time for sleep'.

She tries the book thing three times. Next time she goes for the door, but I block it with chair, sit down and put her on my lap again. There are tears but she accepts water and calms down again. One last attempt at a book.

And then she goes to sit on her bed. She gives me the bewildered look of a broken spirited toddler who realises that mummy has more patience than she realises. Regretfully she tucks herself up and goes to sleep at 8.45pm till 6.30am the next day. Despite my 'success' I feel rotten for having got my way by adult perseverance. How unfair is that?

The next day, we did a simpler shorter version of the above. From a 7.2o bedtime, she was settled and sleeping by 7.45am. Today, it took 25 minutes again. I'd like it to be quicker, but I can deal with this. She is at least asleep by 8.

I have been checking on her at 10.30. In her bedtime dismay she goes to sleep on her tummy. Having read of toddler cot deaths, I have to check that she's rolled over before I go to bed. So far I've not been tested with the need to turn her over - and risk waking her.

I've had to go for this slow patient route to bedtime, because I fear the picking her and returning her to bed just gets us both cross. I hate the thought of being tempted to lose control when dealing with Peaches in a tantrum. My preference is to encourage a calm attitude in us both. I'm sure there are people who can manhandle their children into bed without getting cross - it's just that I'm not one of them.

IN OTHER NEWS... I was on a train during Barack Obama's inauguration. Just after picking up the parking ticket left on my car (I forgot to put the parking ticket on display...) I listened to the last three sentences of his speech. At least I'll remember where I was - damn those efficient car park attendants.

My telly confession

2009-01-17T16:45:00.007Z

Peaches' TV time has been gradually increasing. Since I'm sure the habits we make now, will shape our future lifestyle, I knew the time had come to rein in TV time.

As a consequence, we've had dressing up play, cutting, sticking and drawing, a walk up to the high street and finally cake making

We made a fat free swiss roll.It looks pretty doesn't it - sadly it doesn't taste that special. Damn those fat-free recipes.

I hope all this activity is going to pay off because today... da da daaaaa... we took a side off the cot and created a bed. She has slept in a bed on holiday once before, but today we've been explaining how she'll be able to go to the potty when she needs to.

The signs are good. She played on her bed for a while, then took herself off to the potty. Fingers crossed. I'll let you know how she gets on - because I overshare like that.

In other breaking news, for the first time we were asked 'nearly there?' Only she didn't ask once... She had a good go at sulking, pouting and folding her arms.

She couldn't keep it up though. Just like her mother, she decided to smile for the camera.

Good news - plane crashes

2009-01-16T09:33:00.002Z

I took Peaches for breakfast at Tea and Times. It's always a happy time. This time it was even better and there was a buzz about the place. This cafe also sells newspapers and all the papers were running front page stories on an amazing thing.

A plane has two engines fail and it has to crash land. Somehow Captain Chelsey B Sullenberger keeps the plane afloat and everyone gets out alive and safe.

I just hope more than a few passengers were on a shopping trip to NY and only packed empty suitcases.

Though right now, I bet they don't care a stuff about their lost belongings.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Does anyone cringe at being called mum?

2009-01-14T11:32:00.005Z

According to my latest site statistics report, I received no visitors in the past week. Zilch. Nada. Zip.

Recent commentators - some expressing themselves with more vigour than others - have escaped the detection powers of Sitemeter. Just as soon as I complete my tax return (31 January deadline) and notified my friends of an imminent change of personal email address - I might turn my attention to getting accurate statistics.

In the meantime, I'm being distracted from these urgent tasks by discovering a new reason for blogging.

Most days, I read the Guardian. I used to read the Daily Telegraph because I disagreed with it and I liked to test my principles and beliefs against its right wing stance. After I while I realised that I wasn't studying politics any more and it was okay to read what I liked.

And there's a lot that I like. But every now and then they write stuff that irritates. Today it was an article about whether it's okay to be called 'Mum'. Well durr... after asking lots of journalist mothers (who usually get to write far better articles on other subjects) and someone from mumsnet.com* the outcome seemed to be that it's a privilege to be a parent and to be a mum (however you got there) is to have a special relationship with another person.

At least it filled some pages (the headline was REALLY big).

The article reinforced my love of blogging. We don't indulge in weirdo, why bother debates about 'mum', 'mummy' or 'mom'. Okay, we might not like it said in a whiny voice. We might not appreciate a two-year old shouting it out at 4am. But we aren't dwelling on something so necessary as a familiar noun for being what we are.

The only credible reason for not liking being called mum was given by Zoe Williams - when its used by an adult who isn't your child. She's probably the closest to the experience of dealing with health visitors who can't be bothered to remember or use the names of adult women.

I'd prefer to see articles about research into how some mothers can abuse their children - isn't there research on this? Certainly there are mothers in prison they could interview. There have been articles about how abusive mothers/women are particularly demonised, although even that often descends into the media talking about itself again. Or what about how single parents (not just teenagers) cope with working and looking after a child: what has that done to their personal autonomy - has it made them live closer to grandparents, not accept certain jobs etc. Or how about something about the quality of data behind the frequently used height and weight charts?

That's another great thing about blogging. I can say what I like and not offend anyone. After all, according to Sitemeter, there's no one out there.

*The Guardian and most UK papers do this. It's as if the rest of blogland - or dare I say it - real live mothers, doesn't exist. 'Hey guys, I've got the non-celeb/journo motherhood vox pop covered, one person from mumsnet.com should do it'.

*******************************************

It occurs to me that I might be giving the Guardian a hard time over this. Perhaps they had to pull a better article out for some reason and created this as an emergency filler.

Over the past year, I've written twice to the paper about its pitiful coverage of women in sport. The number of articles seems to be increasing to two or three a week (in its 8 page supplement). It's a bit dispiriting to discover that some of these focus more on the successes or not of the male coach or manager... but it could be the beginning of the Guardian making moves to give regular coverage of women's athletics, team sports and so on.

Chilly cold

2009-01-11T13:37:00.004Z

What do Kylie Minogue, Mariella Frostrup and Jennifer Aniston have in common?

They have all been mistaken for me. Of course.

Just in case I didn't have enough reasons to love Peaches, she likes to point at photos of slim, attractive and sometimes diminutive women and declare 'Mummy'. Happily she does this in public places.

Sigh. Such a people (that is, me) pleaser.

Of course when she's a teenager she might well tell me that she'd prefer to have grown up with Jen, because at least Jen's house is in Malibu where the beach is sandy and the weather is hot and sunny.

Meanwhile, in Whitstable even when it is sunny, the beach is shingle and it can be so cold the sea freezes over. Just like it did yesterday. I hope you can detect similarities to slush puppy in the photos below. There was no wind though, so it didn't feel too cold to go for a walk. We took these photos at 11am - imagine how much icier the sea would have been just a couple of hours earlier.

After taking a few frosty seaside photos, Recaro took Peaches off to her granny's house, while I got my haircut (that's a tick against one of my new year resolutions) and ate stew and dumplings at Tea & Time. Despite the cold weather, the stew made me feel toasty warm from the inside out for the next two hours. I'll be going back for more next weekend I think.

Maternity leave: use it or lose it.

2009-01-11T13:06:00.004Z

When there's so much to do and not enough time to do it all in, I find it a bit dispiriting to see a woman in a senior government post NOT take her fair share of maternity leave.

Rachida Dati, France's justice minister, returned to work (and spike heels) just five days after giving birth by C-section. She's right to say being pregnant isn't a sickness - but it rankles with me that despite her seniority she's not prepared to take her employment rights. She could have taken annual leave for longer so I don't see that her career need have suffered by a few days more at home.

She didn't seem to be grimacing from any stinging pangs of healing scar tissue. So maybe she was on massive doses of pain killers. I can't help but wonder what sort of policy decisions she might make while she was half out of it with drugs and the new mum blues.

It would be wrong to judge everyone by my own experience, but I loved staying in my PJs for the first five days (perhaps only achievable for first babies - not so practical maybe for seconds, thirds etc), sobbed uncontrollably in the shower on day four and subsequently watered up whenever anyone offered to babysit. I imagined they were telling me that couldn't cope*.

Reassuringly, even Nicola Horlick (the UK's own apparent superwoman) took six months maternity leave for each of her children and insists paid work is best done with the support of a mixture or all of family, partner and nanny.

Despite the pressure that Dati puts on us all to pretend that motherhood doesn't have to change a thing, I'm embracing flexible working, treasuring each tantrum (yes, really!) and avoiding any opportunities for promotion that get between me and my Friday/Mum day.

*I got over this and now wrestle for control of their diaries.

Take a look through these rose-tinted specs of mine

2009-01-05T12:04:00.005Z

Pull up a chair and have a cup of tea. It's time to think about the type of year we want to have.

I've been inspired by Reluctant, who was inspired by Under the Mad Hat. They have each posted a list of first line of first posts from each month of 2008. Being a looking where I'm going sort of woman, I thought I'd write up my preferred list of first lines for the next 12 months...

February; I've managed a month of doing ALL my new year resolutions - of course, it's easy if you just stay focused.

March; What a drag - I've dropped a dress size and just HAVE to go shopping for clothes just when all the stores have announced massive sales...

April; Sh! Is he really gone? Has Mugabe really stepped down?

May; Peaches has this uncanny knack for picking lottery numbers so it looks like we'll get that holiday in Greece after all.

June; It took an humanitarian crisis in Gaza, but it seems those guys are actually talking to each other about power sharing, international aid and relaxing border controls.

July; Just a quick post from our windsurfing holiday in Greece to share the news that today I learnt to water start.

August: I really like what Amy Winehouse has done with her hair.

September; Peaches started pre-school today and I have to say I was a little embarrassed, and okaaay - a little bit proud - when the staff noticed straight-away how well-balanced, gifted and popular she is.

October; Recaro is so irresponsible. He's insisting that we are ready to put this house on the market and make use of his payrise by insisting that we move to a lovely family house (with period features throughout and yet strangely modern kitchen..).

November; I've been researching holidays in Cuba, but it seems everything's been booked up by Americans who can't wait to make the most of their refound friendship.

December; What with all this world peace breaking out everywhere, I thought that this Christmas, I might pray for Madonna to deal with all that excess weight she put on this year - after all I'm in such good shape I can afford to be charitable towards her difficulties with willpower and food.

January; It occured to me over Christmas that among all the incredible things that happened in 2009, I didn't cut myself once with the chopping knife - could it be that I finally grew out of my clumsy phase?

What sentence would you most like to write in 2009?

Strangely lush kitchens and peachy skin for 2009

2009-01-02T13:21:00.008Z

Hot on the heels of a wonderful Christmas break, Recaro and I are making inroads into our STUFF. We try not to accumulate STUFF. We have very few ornaments or knick knacks. Every now and then someone will buy us strange shot glasses, candlesticks or novelty tea towels. This year, we are reducing the courtesy time these 'objets de uselessness' spend in the house to the mere 12 days of Christmas. What ingrates we are!

We have several bags of candlesticks, 'fun' shot glasses, hardly used baby bibs and other gew-gaws to go straight to the charity shops. We are ruthless - ever since we built in wardrobes and cupboards we've been determined to get organised.

Actually, I have a confession. This year, there's not much 'we' about these jobs. Recaro has spring cleaned the kitchen, reorganised the cupboards and tidied miscellanous stuff into clean plastic tubs. He's being... a little.... well, anal about it.
Maybe he was frustrated at the state of our pre-Christmas fridge. That's FIVE pots of Greek yoghurt on the top shelf, plus Peaches' fromage frais. TWO leftover chicken carcasses, plus a third chicken ready to go at the bottom. At least we had plenty to drink, apple juice, Ribena, milk and a teeny weeny can of beer. Recaro reorganised the fridge to accommodate that beer keg. It made him so happy but may well have kick-started his inner Monica. (For more fridge-related advice be sure to call in on suburban correspondent)

Since we both live, eat and sleep in this house together, I'm not wasting anytime feeling guilty about this. Some of you might think that the kitchen is 'my' territory, but really these jobs have to fall to those who care most about them. Which is why it's me who wipes the skirting boards, did the ironing (just when is our ironing and cleaning lady returning from her holiday in Egypt??) and cleaned the bathroom. These things are invisible to Recaro.

While I have been ironing and sweeping floors, my main interest this holiday, has been in playing with Peaches, checking that she's eating enough of the good stuff and getting enough sleep. (This also explains why it was Recaro who cooked Christmas dinner and fed all our guests at a recent dinner party...)

I can't help but justify myself a little, over the past week, Peaches has spent time on the beach, on the swings, painting with her friend Rosa, decorated gingerbread men, done lots of drawing, made spaghetti pictures, clambered about the children's play gym with Oscar and this afternoon she'll have a party with her cousins - when we will eat the party cakes that I've iced with pink icing.

Last year, I ranted about the evils of the pink consipiracy, but despite my best efforts Peaches will insist that her favourite food is 'pink'. It's possible she didn't understand the question, but if you saw her with a pink fairy cake you might realise that she did.

Organising the house, garage and attic will take time. Meanwhile, I made a 1st Janary start with my resolution to do at least five minutes of yoga and sit ups before I go to bed each night. In itself, I don't anticipate this will do much to my waistline, but having completely dropped off the Strangely Lush Fitness Plan, I have to start somewhere.

At least I have this.
I'm just getting used to the gloopy vaseline feel of this stuff, but I think the early signs are encouraging. It was quite a treat to discover this in my Christmas stash this year. I just hope Recaro was so thrilled with the Dalek toothbrush holder I gave him...

As a fan of new year resolutions, I'll post my list here. Going public is a good thing for me. Also, I'm less likely to throw the list away and might actually check up on myself. In no particular order:

No 'school night' drinking.
At least five minutes of yoga and sit ups every night.
Knit clothes for Peaches and gifts for others.
Stay motivated at work - especially when working from home and continue to not work Fridays. That's MY day.
Stay in touch with my far flung family, remember their birthdays and remember to post their presents on time.
Clean out my handbags once a month. (Ha, I've caught myself feeling strangely guilty as if I've given you too much information about myself. Surely there's no shame in 'fessing up to the accumulation of trivia and trash? They are handbags, okay. Not a euphimism for my life.)
Buy fruit and veg from a farm shop
Take more care of myself. Without spending a fortune, it really is okay to have regular hair cuts, not bite my nails, wax my legs and throw out clothes that I shouldn't be wearing any more.
Keep on blogging - it'll be more news (of the strangely lush kind) and views (I will be so much more opinionated in 2009).

All achievable sensible stuff. Tell me you didn't expect me to put down stunts like bungee-jumping, skinny-dipping and crowd-surfing. That's soooo last year - this year, I'm keeping it real with the mummies.

The Christmas Tree Gang

2008-12-17T21:50:00.002Z

So there's this little girl...

who after several parties, eats too much of the sweet stuff and is sick in the night. Perhaps it wasn't just the sweet stuff, maybe she picked up a bug along the way.

Anyhoo, I go off to London for a full day's work (that's the 6.44am train BTW) and Recaro wakes up with Ellie at the leisurely time of 7.20am (unheard of in these parts). He discovers she's been sick and realises that she's sufficiently out of sorts to go to the childminder.

He's at home, she's at home. He washes the sicky bedsheets. He cleans up her wee - she's lost all sense of focus for potty-time. He cleans up her poo. Poor dab, he's never had to do that before.

He DOES find time to complain to me on the phone. I utter the sweet words of reassurance that he's in charge and must decide what to do.

They nestle down in the big bed and watch Cbeebies (baby TV - no adverts, lots of crafty stuff and signing). She whispers to him (who is hungover and didn't really mind being in bed) 'I love you, heart'.

'I love you' he says. And realises what a great day it's been.

To date, Peaches has NOT declared her love for her mummy. Hmmph. My time WILL come.

A little bit of giving and receiving this Advent

2008-12-12T16:46:00.004Z

Christmas just came early. I have three parcels waiting at the post office to collect - I'm keeping my fingers crossed that one of them is my calendar from Sue.

There was also a parcel left at our front door today while I was at work. It's not for me of course. It's for Ellie, it's huge and its from Marks & Spencer so I'm optimistic about it being something nice. How sweet that someone's got it delivered direct to the small girl. I'll open it up when Richard gets home - in the hope that it might be gift wrapped inside but at least with a note to say who it's from.

But that's not the only bit of happiness during Advent. No siree. Reluctant has given me an award. Thank you - it's made me very happy.

I love it when the award comes with some clear criteria - and this one sums up the type of blogger I always wanted to be:

These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

I am very pleased to pass this award on to eight of my favourite regular reads - although I must confess that I don't comment as much as I'd like to:

Imbeingheldhostage at In the gutter
Madame Queen
Nicole at Classy and sophisticated
Casdok at Mother of Shrek
Saz at Fat Frumpy & Fifty
Gigi at Afterthoughts Be sure to try her recipes. She makes a mean texan sheet cake.
Laski Gal at From the cheap seats - I still feel a pang of envy from the day she quit work...
Mellipop at BabyBlog - I've just realised I'm on her blog roll. Cool.

If you've not read any of these before, take a look. I'm sure you'll find something you like.

She's not grumpy, she's my baby

2008-12-12T13:18:00.005Z

It's okay, Peaches didn't get sent to jail.

Peaches was having a sleep in the car. After an hour, I thought enough's enough - we are going shopping. Only thing is, she wanted more than an hour's sleep.

She slept her whole way round the supermarket and I stashed the week's shopping around her. She even slept through me pulling the reusable shopping bags out from underneath her when we we got to the checkout.

I thought she was sweet for sleeping, but more than a few old ladies thought I was bonkers for not letting her sleep somewhere more comfortable. What would you have done?
Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Slow blogging

2008-12-09T20:34:00.001Z

Apparently it's the latest thing. I have no apologies though - I'm working (the paid kind) like stink and have little time left for the fun things in life.

Consequently, I'm spending the spare time I have being a lovely mum and trying to be a better wife. I don't think I'll be able to sustain the hard work ethic for too much longer. Apart from anything - it sucks. I'd prefer to be hanging out with you guys.

I like to think that if you are reading this extremely slow blog, it's for news of Peaches. She is, after all adorable. I'd like to confirm that she is going from strength to strength. This week, she tells me that she likes shopping, party shoes and biscuits. She's mastered jigsaw puzzles and is very clear about boys and girls. She insisted on telling me that John Travolta was a boy in Hairspray - though I appreciate that's hardly difficult...

Fortunately, I like New Year resolutions. Regular blogging is top of the list. Take care, y'all.

Anyone else tried emotional blackmail on a two year old?

2008-11-26T21:09:00.007Z

It's as well that good things happened this week. After dropping my purse by the ticket machines at Bond Street tube station - a shopping assistant from Russel & Bromley found it and phoned me to arrange for me to collect it from her.

The purse didn't have any credit cards or cash in it - but it did have a load of other personal and useful stuff in there. It was also a purse that I bought on honeymoon, so it was special.

The funny thing was that at the time I wasn't too bothered about losing it - I had a feeling I'd get it back. It's probably because I'm so busy at work that I didn't have space in my head to get wound up over my carelessness.

By the way, I bought her a box of chocolates for her trouble. It saves a lot of hassle when you get a purse returned.

But here's the reason why I have to remember the good stuff - Peaches is finding it hard to go to sleep and I'm found that incredibly hard to deal with. Recaro is out with friends this evening and I was putting Peaches to bed without any back up. I really didn't want to give in and let her run around until she was exhausted.

I realise now that I'm only talking about taking 1 hour and 10 minutes past her bedtime for her to finally fall asleep. The thing is, I felt so put upon and bossed around by her, that I ended up in tears.

Of course, this is after she's screamed for a while too, but she sounded so cross that I thought she'd be sick. Oh - and I had to take a call from my mother in law mid way through. There was no way I wanted to admit to her what I felt like, all I could say was that Peaches was going through a phase of having trouble settling.

There's so much that's bad about this. I was really struggling with keeping myself in the position of being the parent. I even had to walk out of the room so that I wouldn't start stamping my own feet in a tantrum in front of her.

In the end, I'd run out of all my tried and tested options and wanted to cry and make Peaches feel bad. I wanted to manipulate her into wanting to make me feel better by going to sleep. I'm totally ashamed to say that this worked. I sat on the floor with my head bowed looking really sad and she gave me a cuddle and agreed to get tucked up in bed again. I then read her the same story six times in a quiet dull constant monotone until she slept.

Usually I don't mind reading her story books, but I was having to read them so many times I thought I'd go insane - fortunately my frustrated monotone sent her off to sleep in the end. I feel so mean - she's always gone to bed so happy. I feel that I've let her down by losing control and exploiting her sweet - though wakeful - nature.

These boots are made for walking

2008-11-21T07:45:00.004Z

I've been knitting. So far I've made two presents. As an experiment in following a pattern, I also attempted to make a third present of baby booties. Peaches discovered the pre-felted booties and decided they made excellent slippers. I'm going to have to put a sole on these so that she doesn't fall over.

I've since put them in the machine and they've fulled, but not fully felted. I just put them in our regular 30 degree wash, so this is what I expected. After all, I've ruined enough jumpers to know that water doesn't have to be 80 degrees to wreck a jumper.

Aren't they cute? Lindiloo is holding a Christmas knitting event this weekend at Tardis House, 122 Island Wall, Whitstable, 11am to 3pm on Saturday and Sunday. I have a sneaky feeling I'll be buying some stone coloured aran to make gift booties.

The pattern is from Essential Baby by Debbie Bliss.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

The sleeping game

2008-11-19T20:29:00.002Z

How comes Peaches never plays the sleeping game with me? She's taken Recaro by the hand several times now, led him to be and told him to sleep. As he snuggles under the covers, she pads his eyes closed and says, 'Sleep now'.

Okay, so she dashes in and out of the room, jiggling the door handle in a very scary fashion. But there he is - tucked up in bed, having a cosy lie down.

What I get, is Peaches dragging the duvet off me at 6.30am and commanding that I 'Get up now'.

Mind you, the latest sleep games have involved Recaro being put to sleep under a tea towel. This afternoon, his comfort shrank to the size of duster. Yeah. See how you like that.

Feeling frothy yet?

2008-11-13T10:50:00.010Z

Unlike any previous year, we have a plan for Christmas;

write a list of friends and relatives who will be getting a present this year.
go to one shop, browse, choose and buy as many presents as possible in one go.
complete the list with target presents from other shops over the next month.
buy Christmas cards (we are so not crafty in this house)
Recaro to write all post cards for mailing during the first week of December (I have terrible handwriting).
post overseas presents by end of November.

The idea is, that by effective planning, we shall remove a lot of the stress from Christmas. It helps that we have already nailed a number of critical relative questions. My mum is going to visit friends in Spain - so zilch levels of expectation there, her sights are set on seeing Peaches beforehand. Since we've fixed the date there's not much more to do.

On Boxing Day we'll have a lot of Recaro's relatives over for cold meats, mashed potatoes, pickles and mince pies. The tastiest, most enjoyable meal of the festive season I think. Christmas Day itself can be fraught with expectation - for us it will just be Recaro, Peaches and me. This can only mean fun, lolling about on sofas, eating chocolate and doing only what we want to.

At some point during all this - I'll see my Dad. He's no trouble - any time will be a good time.

All that remains is to put the plan in action. Incredibly, we got started last week. We took Peaches up to Heals on Tottenham Court Road, London to help us select presents from the toy department. After breaking a glass bauble on a Christmas tree, we thought it wouldn't be a good idea to let her roam the china and glass departments... (what responsible parents we are).

The toy department allows access into the window display of gorgeous, expensive furniture...

Once Peaches had picked herself out a monkey, she was extremely happy to try out this £1,801 chair. Gulp. Fortunately Peaches didn't wet herself with excitement. Don't let the price of this chair give you any ideas about us being anything other than squeaky tight at present giving.

I include this photo just to give you all the heebie-jeebies about toddlers and white sofas.

Also, if you've not been to London, this photo gives a tantalising peek on to rainy days and black cabs... I get to see this every week and I still find it exciting.

It's been so long since I've taken you Christmas shopping, I thought I'd give you an early Christmas present. THIS is the red dress I think we should all be wearing on the day. Alexander McQueen has the corner window at Selfridges, which means I can show you the front of this pretty, frothy parteeee dress....

and also show you the back of it.Handily for a dancing dress, it comes with it's own cushiony-bustle for when you just HAVE to sit down. Yet another gift that keeps on giving.

No smoke in my eyes

2008-11-07T21:34:00.007Z

This is boldest attempt at wearing LOTS of make up for Halloween.

I really thought I'd put lots on as I was aiming at a really heavy, witchy look while avoiding looking like a panda.

At least I didn't look like a panda. But how comes I left home thinking I had loads of intense Mac black eyeshadow and loads of mascara on - and the moment I take a self photo at the party, it becomes apparent that I might as well have done this for regular day in the office.

Having seen everyone else's halloween posts, I'm quite embarrassed about this. Maybe I just need a make-up lesson. Anyone got any tips for creating powerful smokey eyes?

The rest of my WILD outfit involved wearing a black dress and hooped black and white tights.

Other people had a far more successful time at making an impact - don't they look great?

PSF something I did because it was fun for me

2008-11-07T16:52:00.004Z

One of the reasons I've not been blogging regularly is that I've been going out to have fun. I took a day off work recently to go and play golf with Recaro and some friends.

Peaches didn't get to take the day off. She had to go and work hard on the play dough, the glitter and the dancing about with ribbons in her hands. It was tough day for her, but she pulled through just fine.

Meanwhile, I played a round in 118. Bearing in mind my target was to play under 120, I was very happy, even if everyone else did beat me.

The sun shone and the links course at Littlestone was fantastic.

I did feel mean for having fun with Peaches. But on the other hand, I did feel a great sense of release afterwards. It was so good to have concentrate and focus on something else without wondering whether Peaches was going to pour water on the floor, run into the road or fall down some stairs.

Recaro had originally wanted to do this on a Friday - a day when we DON'T have childcare lined up. He felt a bit pushed around when I said that wasn't a great idea. We'd have to make alternative plans and I'd only worry that it wasn't working out as well as with the childminder.

So I learnt two lessons from this experience:

Taking time off now and then to do something grown up and fun is good for my head
Mother knows best about childcare plans or in other words, I'm always right and that's the truth.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Tagged

2008-11-03T20:05:00.004Z

I've been tagged by Working mum on the verge and because I have a shoddy record for responding to tags and to blogging in general, I thought I should deal as soon as possible.

(A) Four places I go over and over: Tea & Times for breakfast! cake! coffee! banana milkshake! Sainsbury's - every weekend is a challenge to not go to a supermarket. The Fountain - either because I'm looking for Recaro (think of it as Moe's Bar...) or it's the only place we can think to go for a treat. The fabulous childminder's - drop off and collect Peaches. I love the little chats at the start and end of the day about what Peaches has done, learnt or is about to do next.

(B) Four people who e-mail me regularly: You are talking to someone who uses a Blackberry for work. My regular emails are from the Information Manager who tells me what work is coming up. Then there's the Marketing Co-ordinator who always finds tricky little questions about grammar, syntax and spelling for me to give the 'definitive' answer. Yes - between us, we are writing the book on correct use of business English. The partner who's very important and is always asking me to just do something else. Finally - last but not least - there's my mother. She has a weird knack for emailing me really bizarre emails with lots and lots of people's names in the 'To' list. I have to confess, I don't always open them - it involves too much scrolling through all the forwarded e-mails. But at least I know how my email address gets into junk mail lists...

(C) Four of my favourite places to eat: The Sportsman, The Goods Shed, Jo Jo's and Tea & Times. If ever you visit Canterbury, Whitstable or anywhere in Kent - you MUST go to all these places.

(D) Four places you'd rather be: The Dingle peninsula in Ireland - it has one of the most fun and beautiful golf courses at Castlegregory and lots of fun pubs. Aeolian Islands in Sicily, Italy - completely romantic, pretty destination. California - never been there... but keep thinking about it. Samling Hotel in the Lake District - it's the most justifiably expensive, comfortable place I've ever stayed.

(E) Four TV shows I could watch over and over: Doctor Who, Buffy, Boston Legal,

(F) Four people I think will respond: Aaaaargh. Tagging! Here goes, Amanda, Gigi, Madame Queen and Imbeingheldhostage. Just like Working Mum, I'm not going to mail people - let's just see if they call in.

Tagged for a cut and dry

2008-10-27T20:49:00.006Z

Amanda tagged me - and given my recent lax attitude to tagging I'm going to deal with this one straight away.

1.) Go to your Pictures folder on your computer
2.) Go to your 4th folder
3.) Get your 4th picture
4.) Tag four people

This photo was taken by my sister in law. Our nephew was cutting my hair in the garden. He also cut my sister in law's and a niece's hair. He EVEN cut Tudor's hair (my Bob Dylan-loving, brother in law). We were very surprised about that.

The photo was taken in 2003. I must have been feeling especially skinny - I can't wear those shorts anymore, but I won't throw them away - just in case...

And as for tagging four people - I'm really not good at doing this. How about the first four people to comment should consider themselves tagged? Pretty please.

A smorgasbord of a post

2008-10-26T15:10:00.005Z

I've just waved goodbye to my mother-in-law. Recaro cooked up a Sunday lunch of ... lasagne. Not especially traditional as far as Sunday lunches go but very tasty.

Best of all, she waited until we'd finished lunch before telling us about a programme she saw on telly where the holy men of India hung very heavy weights off their penises. If you are just about to eat or letting a small child read this blog over your shoulder - I apologise. I just wanted to share the joy...

Quite what Peaches will one day make of her granny - well, I have no idea. But at least she'll know which supermarket chain is offering the best deals on gin, vodka and sherry. In case this is of interest to you - the best deals are on offer in Tesco this week, but Rosemount Shiraz is best value at Aldi.

See what happens when you give pensioners free bus passes. They price check EVERYTHING.

Now that she's on the train home (88 years old and we still drop her off at the station - this would make us sound mean except that I think she likes seeing how terribly badly teenagers can behave in public and there are few better places to do this than on Network South East) and (yes this sentence is going to be a biggy) Recaro and Peaches are both having a siesta, I can blog.

I need to catch up because I've been given three awards. Two of them happened to be this one....

It's from the Reluctant Housewife and Adrian. It's lovely to hear that Reluctant loves my blog because she is one of my oldest and fondest blog-friend. I KNOW there are others who also think she's one of THEIR oldest and fondest blog-friend - but hey, I just went and said it first.

Adrian is a newer buddy. She (yes, she's definitely a she even if she's not Adrienne) thinks I post photos of unidentifiable food.

I quote: "She posts some really yummy looking dishes, but I'm not always sure exactly what they are."

Hmph. Has she been talking to Recaro? Hasn't she seen my astonishing icing skillz? I think I should be told.
I'm kidding, Adrian. Thank you so much - and sorry it's taken me more than a month to respond.

In the darkest recesses of my memory, there's another very lovely person out there who gave me a third. But I was being busy and pretending to be oh so cool about it. Now I've forgotten who it was, when it was, what it was for.

I'm eaten up with shame at being so ungrateful. I've searched through my google mail account and when I find it I'm going to shout about it.

Now, please excuse me while I go and wake Peaches up from a short afternoon nap. She might be exhausted from Granny's visit but this weekend the clocks went back an hour* and I'm keeping the little girl's routine on track.

*The UK still changes the clocks in winter and spring so that farmers get the benefit of lighter mornings - even if it means that children have to walk home from school in the dark. Unfortunately, I won't be able to handle any questions about this - I'm very likely to become incoherent in expressing my desire not to have Peaches wake up at 5am and ready to play.

What's the capital of Iceland?

2008-10-25T11:09:00.006+01:00

**** all.

I couldn't help myself. I love that joke. Even if I can't bring myself to swear on line.

This post travels back in time to February 2006. I was two months pregnant and on holiday in Iceland with Recaro. We had a great time staying in a funky Reykavik hotel and then driving north to Hotel Budir.

We took a 4X4 on to a glacier and had fun driving in deep snow.

I had mild morning sickness during this holiday which meant I couldn't finish any of my meals. Recaro came home as big as a house. On the plus side, it also meant that I didn't experience the expense of drinking alcohol in Iceland. Even then, those boys knew how to charge. I was on the wagon and keeping things a little cheaper.

Neither of us had realised that Iceland is a major stopping off point for Americans and Canadians on their flights to the UK. It made the place feel weirdly international - a mixture of European attitude in a western frontier town. Put it this way, there's a lot of corrugated iron roofing in Iceland.

There were a number of things that endeared Iceland to me. Iceland Air was a pleasure to fly. Their cabin staff weren't just about safety and security. They also managed good hospitality and professionalism.

The queue to get on the bus from the airport to Reykavik seemed a bit random as everyone tried to get out of the freezing wind as quickly as possible. But once we were 'decanted' at the city's bus terminal onto smaller minibuses, we realised they were taking everyone to their door. It was an incredibly personal service even though it was publicly funded.

But best of all, the hire car service brought our hire car to the door of our city centre hotel. We didn't have to battle maps and bureaucracy - instead it was all just as you wanted it to be... easy.

All the volcanic, geothermal and glacial stuff was brilliant of course. But then, I like my O' level geography holidays...

I'd like to go back. After all, they haven't lost any of my savings. (savings, schmavings).

Recaro stole the laptop

2008-10-24T20:48:00.006+01:00

I was having a lovely SAHM day. Fun with friends, laughing Peaches, Recaro home early. I was so chilled I said to Recaro that I didn't mind at all that he wanted to go to the pub. And I didn't, honestly.

Until I put Peaches to bed... sobbing as soon as her door was shut dammit but quiet now...ish.

THEN I discovered that my no-good, pub-going husband had taken the laptop to the pub with him. They've recently been given passwords to the broadband wireless network in the house next door to the pub which means the guys sit at the bar doing facebook and other geeky stuff.

He didn't mention that he had the laptop with him when he phoned a moment ago to tell me there had been a massive fight at the pub.

[suddenly my blogging seems so much more sophisticated. At least I'm paying for my own broadband]

He wasn't involved in the fight. It was between a stunt bike rider and a couple of local chavs (that's a charmless hoodlum to anyone not up to date with UK slang). Oddly, I have in fact played a game of golf with this local chav. This goes to show what an mixed up social life I have. I understand that most of the pub (apart from Recaro - he's a lover, not a fighter) set on the chavs and sent them packing.

Small town life in the UK. It's red in tooth and claw.

Now my main concern is that the chavs will return to the pub, put a brick through the window and damage our lovely apple laptop, but I'm sure everything will be fine.

However, to make up for Recaro's misdemeanours I'm going to share a photo of his latest purchase - one that has made him EXCESSIVELY happy. Wait for it...

That's right. A Star Trek Enterprise bottle opener. It's in small ways like this that Recaro is helping the UK to spend its way out of recession.

I am so not the geek in the house.

Grosgrain: Marie-Thérèse Gown GIVEAWAY!!!!

2008-10-24T10:13:00.000+01:00

Grosgrain: Marie-Thérèse Gown GIVEAWAY!!!!

How could I NOT try to win this? It's incredible. I imagine 99% of little girls would love this dress.

The jelly soundtrack

2008-10-24T07:45:00.005+01:00

I didn't take this photo. This was taken by Peache's glorious childminder. They were playing with green jelly. I hope you can imagine hearing her say 'ooooh, fingers'.

After a week of knowing Peaches' has been having a lot of fun at playgroups and with her 'minded-family', today is my day for being a SAHM. So obviously it's raining.

We've just walked home from a coffee shop breakfast with Recaro. He's gone off to work now and Peaches and I are home after having walked along the beach in a fine, hazy mist of rain. It would have been a miserable walk... but I think it's wrong to complain about any walk on a beach, don't you?

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Getting by blogging groove back

2008-10-23T19:58:00.004+01:00

I've discovered that when work gets interesting, I don't find much time to blog during the day. Lots of fun stuff has been going on. We've been seeing friends, going to parties, playing golf, fulfilling the family duties, working, cooking and shopping. All the usual stuff. We've even booked our weekend away for Valentine's weekend. How nice is that?

I've also been keeping Peaches to her routine.

Which is why she's sobbing herself to sleep right now. It's difficult to find the right combination of toys for her to take to bed. It would be simpler if she only wanted everything.

My tactic is to be a hard nosed mother. After stories, a trip to the bathroom and prayers, I gave her a duck, a dolly and a teddy. I think that sums up enough of a post milk, bathtime and toothbrushing routine for anyone.

All has gone quiet now. It only took five minutes. Things could all go horribly wrong if Recaro walks through the door before she's asleep though...

I guess that's the new routine - getting through it all in a relaxed way, yet making sure she's asleep before Daddy brings his fun-germs back into the house.

In case you are wondering about all my planned posts and photos - well they are going to happen. I have to gather my strength to deal with the blogger download. Right now I just want to get something posted. It's been tooooo long and I've missed you guys.

Bah! Blame it on the blogger.

2008-10-13T20:26:00.003+01:00

Blogger won't let me upload photos. It's so frustrating. So far, you've missed out on the frabjous news of a couple of awards, my wedding anniversary and a weekend of sunshine and two (count'em TWO) rounds of golf while Recaro looked after Peaches.

So much news to share.

Work is going bonkers and I have no spare work time for blogging.

It gets worse. On the last few occasions of travelling to the London office, I've had to rush for meetings - so you've also MISSED OUT on the latest shop windows on Bond Street. The handbags are looking very fine, by the way. And Diane Von Furstenburg (I'd check the spelling if I wasn't rushing to finish this post) is looking very sassy and slinky.

No change at Matthew Williamson though. He's still cluttering his window up with too many mannequins, too many layers and too many posh totty/student ideas.

Surprisingly, Dolce & Gabbana is having a grown up sophisticated month. Quite a relief after all that tartan. But let's not kid ourselves, without the photos windowshopping is not nearly so much fun.

Oh, didn't I mention that? Blogger won't let me upload photos. Not even the cheesy ones of Recaro and me on our wedding day. Sorry guys. Just wait till I get this problem fixed. It's going to be photostory mondaytuesdaywednesdaythursday AND friday.

This is one strangely happy blog

2008-10-03T20:21:00.007+01:00

Last weekend we kept the happy vibes going by enjoying the last sunshine of September.

We went for breakfast at Minnis Bay - possibly the nearest sandy beach to Whitstable. There's a cafe on the beach selling breakfast baguettes. But we had to be quick. A small girl was eager to play in the sand.

She played and played and played. (If you look closely you'll see her toes are still pudgy-baby toes.)

Recaro and I played frisbee. It was great to get moving and leap about.

Peaches fell asleep on the way home. Later that afternoon, I took Peaches to the golf club to meet up with Recaro. She practiced her putting and this time she didn't wee on the putting green. But she did insist that that was were she was going to eat her fromage frais. We are so lucky that it's a quiet club. This could cause a ruckus in some places.

However, in breaking news, my slightly slack parenting was met with some success this afternoon. I let Peaches take her tacky pink dolly buggy to the supermarket. I was going to let her walk around the supermarket and would try to keep her engaged and out of trouble while I would attempt to do a 3 or 4 day shop (I knew a full week's shopping would be too ambitious).

And guess what - the constant 'voice of encouragement' or 'motherease' as some people put it, worked. She stayed close, looked where she was going (with some reminders) and 'helped' me by throwing items into the trolley. She did pick up one toy, I didn't tell her off - I expected to get rid of it at the checkout - but then she put it back herself.

We had to queue at the checkout and though she was distracted by the chocolate display, she did put everything back when I asked her. If I'd capitulated, we'd have come home with a kingsize bar of Cadbury's fruit and nut, a box of toffee poppets, kingsize white chocolate kitkat, milky way stars, polos and a yorkie bar.

By the time I was packing up the shopping, she decided to sit down and wait for me on one of those kerb high 'bumpers'.

The only time she really stalled was at the exit. For the first time ever, she showed interest in Barney, the purple dinosaur ride. In the spirit of being a very mean mum and not wanting to set a precedent, I talked her off it. She did deserve a treat... but I wasn't going to give her one.

Instead she had the joy of a happy (or do I mean triumphant? relieved? smug?) me. Now that can't be bad, can it?

Party like you are TWO

2008-10-03T07:42:00.007+01:00

A couple of weeks ago Peaches turned two and I knitted (yes, ME, knitted) her a hat and scarf. Needless to say she's refusing to wear it. She's not even going to entertain that idea for a second.

Fortunately, teddy is more obliging and I think he looks very lovely. This was supposed to a be a round, simple baby hat with a stalk at the top. The occasional accidental row of knitting turned it into something more Taliban like... but at least I still managed the stalk.
I'm not very crafty, but at least this attempt does look like a hat (despite a few dropped stitches and a very random take on the instructions).

We started the day with opening cards in kitchen while Recaro made breakfast.
We love a party and invited our good friends and their own small children. There's plenty of time ahead for Peaches to dictate the invitation list. Until, we are loving having friends and their kids over to see us. It's great to be able to chat and not feel awkward about the mayhem going on under our feet.
This was the first time I'd seen Peaches stacking bricks. I was very impressed, but I've got a feeling she might have been doing this for sometime at her childminder's. And what about that dress - isn't that a perfect party dress? Recaro found it at Kent & Carey. He loves shopping for her.

And the wings - a present from Grandma. She didn't take them off all day, until she was given a second pair and had to try them out too.
Recaro also made the cake - it was a bit crispy at the edges because he ignored my advice about the our oven being hotter than average... but no-one minded, it was extremely good. It was a very traditional victoria sponge. We'd had a bit of a bake off and I made an adult pear and almond tart. I'm making that again this weekend it was so good.

We'd also invited an old school friend of mine and our cleaning lady to the party. They were proper guests - but still did all the washing up and cleaned the kitchen at the end. Which is why Recaro and I still look very relaxed at the end of the party.
That might also have had something to do with this.
At least we recycle. How environmentally-friendly.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Crackers about the Daring Bakers

2008-10-02T20:32:00.003+01:00

September's challenge was supposed to be posted on the 30 September. I was a bit busy though, so I missed the posting deadline. D'yuh think they'll forgive me?

Because, you see, I'm not sure they will. It was a bread challenge. Involving yeast.

Always problematic and rarely tasty.

I tried to keep things simple and follow the vegan vibe. With gluten free flour I didn't even get to rolling the dough. It looked worse than Peaches' playdoh.

So I tried again with regular flour. At least it rose.

I optimistically made some hummous from scratch to go with it. I even found some extra light tahini. My intention was that at least my hummous wouldn't be too dry.

Ho hum. Eating this was like chewing cardboard. With a side order of putty. Believe me, I'm being kind to myself here. My lack of enthusiasm shows in the fact that the only photo I took was with my Blackberry and not with a real camera.

If any of the baking gurus from Daring Bakers read this - please forgive me for being late posting and please let's have a mad old party cake in October. I'd prefer a ganache and butter cream challenge to fighting my yeast demons any time.

It's enough to drive me to drink

2008-10-01T14:36:00.003+01:00

Should you ever stop by the strangely lush family residence, be assured you'll be offered liquid refreshment.

Tea, coffee, decaffinated coffee, apple juice, elderflower cordial, milk (semi skimmed and full fat), red wine, white wine, vodka (tonic), gin (tonic) and beer.

Please note, however, that beer choices will be much reduced in future. Recaro conducted a highly scientific taste-test challenge to identify our future choice of beer.

In a darkened kitchen, we sipped a variety of beverages and decided that Stella is the way forward. Kronenburg didn't make the cut. We did not test Peroni, Sol or Corona, but I have a feeling more taste-tests will be conducted in the not-so-distant future.

The challenge Recaro and I have set ourselves for NOT drinking during the week gets correspondingly tougher as the week continues. It's only Wednesday, I have already failed in this mission. Another colleague has resigned from the team and I encouraged us all to go to the pub at lunchtime. There will also be work drinks this evening to celebrate some corporate changes at the firm.

I call it team bonding. Even if I was the only person in the pub on a permanent contract.

Scotland again: slack blogging

2008-09-23T06:55:00.006+01:00

I think I need a holiday again.

My blogging time is getting very compressed. What with all sorts of changes at work, I'm very busy, so when I get home, I'm really loving chilling out with Peaches.

Her speech is coming on fast now. 60 words plus last week and rising to 80+ now. For the first time today she chased to the childminder's door shouting, 'Mummy, Mummy'. I think this means she's loving spending time with me too. Occasionally I graduate to 'Mymummy'. Recaro is invariably, 'Mydaddy'. Which he loves.

Although I can't have another holiday, I can at least enjoy the photos again.

Moments later, Peaches weed on this green. It might be easier to tell you which greens Peaches hasn't weed on...
While she was asleep, we had a tasty pub lunch and listened to some really annoying harp music. Even the dogs didn't like it.
There was a sequoia tree in the hotel garden with a very squishy trunk. I wanted to show the scale of the tree, but Peaches had other ideas.
And bedtimes were mostly very straightforward. Moomin books are lovely. Not too boring for an adult to read again and again and interesting, atmospheric pictures to look at.
Most days, we refreshed our memory of geography O' levels. Here's the finest picture of basket of eggs topography you'll see this year.

I'm going to have to rethink my blogging time if I'm to get back on track. Peaches bedtime is now going to bed at 8pm as a strategy to stop her waking before 6pm, so I can't blog before Recaro gets home. The new bedtime is a lot of fun... but the mornings are still too bright and early...

Happy birthday Brother

2008-09-21T21:50:00.004+01:00

Between holidays and preparations for Peaches' birthday party, things have been busy here. To add to any lurking sense of anxiety, my boss is no longer my boss. She's gone. Resigned and left the building. I blame it on a personality clash with senior management and feel bereft by her departure.

Not many people can be creative, energetic, compassionate, inspiring, demanding and on the ball whilst retaining a genuine and easy sense of humour.

Despite home/work life commitments, I still have no excuse for failing to recognise by brother's 40th birthday. He lives in Melbourne having emigrated about three years ago with his wife and twin sons.

I WILL eventually put the card and present (sitting on the shelf in the office downstairs) in the post to him. He might even like the present and I hope he'll forgive me for being a slack-sister. I have a pretty poor track record of birthdays. Recaro keeps track of them and has to remind me to send cards to my parents...

Since he's a sometime reader of this blog (my mum and dad aren't. Somethings can just stay between me and everyone else in the world. Alright.) I'm going to tell a story that I think he'll enjoy and may not have heard before.

In the midst of a discussion about how beautiful Peaches is, my Dad (my brother's Dad too, we're a bit dull like that) he agreed that parents are biologically programmed to see their first born children as gorgeous.

Quite what this meant about me as second child, I didn't choose to dwell on. It's at moments like that, that I realise there are some answers I don't want to risk hearing, particularly since it would have involved what an odd nose I had at birth and for nine days after. Pesky birth canal didn't treat me too kindly apparently.

As I joked to my Dad about some crazy people not complementing me on how lovely Peaches is, he told me that when my brother was a babe-in-arms he and Mum entered his photo into a local newspaper's Beautiful Baby competition.

It came as some surprise to them both a few week's later, that Bro had not been named as the winner.

Needless to say, they were astonished by this fact.

Just as I was about to chip in with my usual sisterly-jibes about how that really wasn't so surprising, I had blinding flash of understanding.

Dad still couldn't understand why Bro hadn't won. He HAD been the most beautiful baby in my Dad's eyes and time had never dulled his belief.

Happy birthday, Brother. So glad to see you had an excellent surprise party thrown in your honour.

Colonsay and Torridon: part 1

2008-09-17T19:49:00.000+01:00

I'm behind on blogging. There's not enough time to comment like I want to. Recaro is away at a conference for two nights though, so I stand a good chance of catching up, watching some romcom movies and eating really badly.

It's a good job Peaches sleeps well. I could enjoy this.

As promised, here are photos from our holiday to the Island of Colonsay and Torridon in Scotland. I'll skip the photos of the aircraft. If it was a seaplane I'd consider it interesting, but an Airbus 3something doesn't do it for me like it does for Recaro (who takes a photo of the plane EVERY time we go on holiday).

Instead I give you the important photos.

...of Peaches sleeping in a big bed for the first time. We visited friends living near Inverness on our first night and Peaches had to sleep in their 16 year old daughter's bed. She was so tired that she only got out of bed three times before giving in and going to sleep. After a bounce about on the trampoline she put herself back to bed for a morning nap at 10.30am.

Of course, it wasn't all good news. She did wet the bed. Oops. Accidents will happen.

Then Peaches had a massive bump on the head in a shop at Aviemore. She wailed and the bump came up like an egg. Even after the first half an hour her astonishing baby powers of recovery were kicking in. By the time we were on the ferry, it was mostly hidden under her fringe. So long as I didn't take her magic packet of English mustard off her (see, that's not a condom she's holding, k) everything was rosy.

We got to play a bit of golf on a mad golf course. No sheep were harmed during our game. If you are wondering why Peaches doesn't have any trousers on, that's because she wet herself a moment ago. If you'd seen the amount of sheep poo on this course, you'd understand why I was not perturbed by this mishap. Despite a couple of accidents during the week, I still thought she did really well.
Recaro got plenty of time to look up at the birds. Which meant that I decided to take up a new hobby. Identifying mushrooms. Sad isn't it? I had to keep an eye on Peaches so much, I didn't get to look up at the sky too much. So I really did go and buy a book about mushrooms.

Oh yes. One day I will treat you to the delights of my mushroom photo collection. You'll thank me, won't you?
And here's ME. With my eyes shut, because that's usually how Recaro photographs me these days. This is at a picnic site on the road to Diabaig. Sunny Scotland. Don't let anyone tell you it rains all the time.

That's enough for the moment. I get photo-fatigue when uploading to Blogger. More soon, but I've got a romcom to watch and a sneaky beer to drink. Look on it as my bad-girl break from my wifey lifey.

Loony Tuesday - a strangely lush DIY tip

2008-09-16T13:27:00.004+01:00

Recaro is concerned that I use him as punchline (or is it punchbag) on this blog. I'm not sure that's true. Hopefully you have identified his strengths as a considerate husband, a fun dad and a very great guy to spend time with.

He's mostly concerned these days that when I blog I don't talk to him. And then when I do talk to him, it's to explain that I've blogged about something daft that he's said or done.

To reinforce your view of him (and here's the clever bit, this is going to work whether you think he's a bit loony or brilliantly helpful) here's a handy tip that he did want to pass on to anyone who struggles with DIY. It's a little ditty to help you recall which way screwdrivers work and he assures me that this is very helpful when upside down and dealing with awkward screws and taps.

'Lefty Lucy, righty tighty'.

This could be handy with small children who haven't worked out when to stop unscrewing taps... though they would have to know their left from right. What do you think, is this a rhyme that would work for you?

It only remains to give you an update on the lost camera situation. My bonkers email to the good people of Daibaig for my (not lost after all) camera was very well received. Before I could send an email telling them the hunt was off, they'd been on the phone to tell me they'd had a good look around and couldn't spot it anywhere.

What mighty fine and friendly folk they are. In case anyone wants to check out their house and maybe even go stay, here's the link to Tigh Brachen at Diabaig.

Panic over!

2008-09-15T22:29:00.004+01:00

Recaro found the camera. Do you see how I'm blaming him? Well it was in one of his bags which he had emptied so enthusiastically across the office that I thought he really had searched it thoroughly.

Isn't that always the way. Just as the cavalry arrives, the battles over.

Alex from Gairloch is a fabulous person for offering the telephone box number. I'll have to tuck that number away for future reference. You never know when it might come in handy.

To celebrate, here's a couple of photos I hadn't wanted to lose.

Such a pretty gal, in a pretty dress, wearing a bolero knitted for her by the talented Lindiloo.
All dressed up for high tea (sausages, beans and mash) at The Loch Torridon Hotel. Just an informal kiddie tea...

More glorious Scottish photos will follow soon.

I don't want to learn something new EVERY day

2008-09-15T15:16:00.003+01:00

If I could just roll on through life knowing enough, I think that would be fine. For a start, it would mean not having to learn not to let Recaro use my camera. Then he wouldn't have lost somewhere in Diabaig, Wester Ross, Scotland, a very long way from home down south in Whitstable, Kent.

Some of those photos were so lovely - and were such great blogging fodder - that I think I'm going to worry over the loss for some time to come. Since I'm not shy (on email, at least), I've emailed a random holiday home owner in Diabaig to see if they can look in the phone box or on the harbour wall outside their house and spot the camera.

Do you think they will? I think I would if someone emailed me, but then again, my email might strike them as bonkers.

In the meantime, I have just six photos of the holiday taken with a different camera - a better one, but so big that it's inconvenient. It's just not 'snappy' enough. However, at least one of these is of Recaro wearing a silly hat, so you can look forward to seeing that on Photostory Friday one day VERY soon.

Ho hum. Better get on with that pesky thing called paid work, some of the mountainous post-holiday washing, shopping to fill our very bare cupboards and collecting the cat from the cattery.

Madame Queen asked a post or two ago if she could swop her life for mine - just for a week. Recaro's condition is that she can, so long as she is fit (since I am not fit, it 's a bit mean of him to insist on this qualification...). I'll be happy to swop too - but no, not for holiday week. I'm talking about the week AFTER holiday. That'd be good.

Last day of the holiday

2008-09-13T09:54:00.006+01:00

We left Colonsay amidst all kinds of doubts about whether the ferry would make it in - and out - of the harbour. While we would have been happy to stay, a number of day trippers had been stranded by the bad weather and were wigging out at the unplanned stopover. Frankly, there are worse places to be stranded.

The ferry route had been rejigged to accommodate the various stranded travellers so our two hour trip back to Oban turned into a four hour epic journey.

Lucky for us the seas weren't too rocky and Peaches travels well. We got a two hour sleep out of her, but in the two hours she was awake... Basically, I lost count of the number of times she wanted to go to the toilet. First she's fascinated by the paper, then by the water, then by the flush, then by the soap, the water again and the dryer. Sit down for five minutes and she wants to go all over again.

I did slip into insanity several times during the journey. I couldn't have handled it if the ferry had been at all busy.

Now we are at The Torridon. It's grander than the Colonsay and quite a bit more formal. It's a common theme of our holidays - but, as ever, the food is great. Thought you'd like to be reassured on that point. My main food discovery of the holiday, by the way, is crowdie cheese. Mild soft cheese to have in place of feta or mozzarella in a salad and is also good in cheese cake.

I think if we come back, we might stay on the Applecross peninsula. The coastal road is lovely - better to be a passenger so that you can look at the scenery. The village is teeny tiny, very pretty, big beach, great pub and houses to fantasise about owning.

We go home tomorrow, so today is all about having as much fun as possible.

Oh. We do like to be beside the seaside.

2008-09-09T19:47:00.003+01:00

This post comes to you from the bar at the Colonsay Hotel. I've had a lovely meal of salad with crowdie cheese (mild soft cheese with salad leaves and roasted cherry tomatoes), chump of lamb and sticky toffee pudding (a proper homemade one, not a Brakes frozen pudding).

Peaches is asleep upstairs, exhausted by sandcastles and fresh air. Recaro is outside having a smoke - despite his insistence that he loves the sweet smelling clean air, he's determined to stink it up with one licorice flavoured Rizla roll-up. Stinky.

I could have written this post from the lounge or the library, but I chose the bar because I love sitting in pubs. The lights of the beer pumps. The banter of the people. The height of the bar stools. They are decadent, breezy places. All sorts of people, prepared to mix things up.

Over in the library, I know a few of the other residents are enjoying post-prandial coffees. They are busy adding an Agatha Christie air to the proceedings, by being slightly older and slightly bonkers. A couple alternate between giving Peaches very intense stares, and then chortling, 'Good morning, Peaches'. All credit to Peaches for giving some people a wide berth.

Children have an uncanny knack for spotting open hearts and genuine affection - who knows why we lose or mistrust this ability as adults. It would certainly come in handy when dealing with boyfriends...

Today, we played a little more golf, had a traditional British picnic (sat in the car, while it poured with rain outside) and then had a THREE hour siesta, all three of us.

Tomorrow, we are planning to play MORE golf, build MORE sandcastles, eat MORE gorgeous food, visit MORE standing stones and, in general, have MORE fun.

Who has MORE fun than us, in our Colonsay tree house?

Adventures and misadventures

2008-09-08T16:25:00.002+01:00

I'm blogging from a beautiful Scottish garden at the Colonsay Hotel.

You'd love it here. The food is fabulous, the people friendly, the bed.... sooooo comfy.

We've played golf at the maddest, most sheep infested course - Peaches joining in, of course. It really is great. Even if Peaches does have a bump the size of half an egg on her head. We stopped to shop at Ellis Brigham in Avimore and she tripped and hit her head on the base of a sunglasses display unit.

Woompf. Up came a great big bump. We were terrified and took her straight off to a doctor. Fortunately in this out of season ski resort, they know a thing or two about bumps on the head. She's fine. And I'm very glad she has a fringe ( in the circumstances, a far better term than 'bangs').

At some point there'll be photos. In the meantime, check out Pigs Paradise at the Colonsay Hotel - and that's where we are right now.

And yet...

2008-09-04T21:45:00.006+01:00

There are so many things wrong with this photo. It's not straight, it's blurry, it's over-exposed, it's poorly composed, it was supposed to be a self portrait (at least some of my hair gets into the edge of the shot) and I only just held on to the camera.

And yet you know it's a happy moment, don't you?

Doesn't that make it a great photo?

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