I have the answer

Holly started it and then Jo Beaufoix joined in an extremely funny post on Thursday, I hope they don't mind but it really has been on my mind.

The more I think about it, the more I know that erradicating snot would solve the problems of the world.

I mean if we didn't have green gunky stuff flowing from our noses I wouldn't have made the sleeves on my brown convent coat silver, and it would needed washing less often which would have been better for the environment. Also I wouldn't have been made to look at the contents of the tissue after my nose had been blown and who knows what personality flaws I could have avoided then, and, and I wouldn't have had to suffer the humiliation of being teased when I confess my deep dark secret to any beau - I have never picked my nose. Is there a name for bogey phobia?

And, AND, I wouldn't have to inflict the indignity of picking thick crust of my daughter's nose in the morning.

Not to say how many trees would be saved if we didn't have to make so many tissues.

See it's not a selfish desire to rid the world of this, I really am thinking of everyone, when I say lets eradicate snot.

Cruisin' for a bruisin'

Isobel has been 'cruising' for about a month now. I have no idea why it is called cruising; to me cruising implies floating on calm Mediterranean seas on the QE2 or Britannia, dining with the captain, sipping cocktails, basically travelling in first class style. (Yes, I know ships are called the Aurora etc nowadays (yes I am old) but they don't quite have the grace that I associate with cruise ships.)

None of this bears any resemblance to the heart-stopping (mine) lurching (hers) from piece of furniture to piece of furniture that Isobel does.

Ok, so she has got steadier and more confident as time has gone on, the confidence often coming before the steadiness, but I guess that's how we learn. She can now clap her hands ands re-grab what ever inappropriate thing (toilet seat, fireguard...) it was she was using to keep herself standing, she doesn't ALWAYS land on her bottom. And after 2 bit lips in two days she seems to have worked that one out too.

It's just me that struggles to know when to catch and when top let her take an educational tumble, and no I don't mean from a great height, like the bed or anything - I did that already and it still makes me sick to think about it.

Maybe she is more like the modern day cruise ship the Freedom of the Seas.

All I can say is thank heavens for Arnica cream - the bruise on her head from the bed tumble is well and truly gone already, even if my guilt hasn't.



This is Isobel's favourite cruising corner, she can go from fireguard (inappropriate but it is attached to the wall), to mirror cube (yep, inappropriately sharp cornered with tv on top - can't think of mitigation for that), to her truck, to her chair, to her bead-table, the step to wheely-bug cow often proves too much and then we both have to sit down.

Marvelous green medicine please.

I would give anything for a Night Nurse sleep.

To sleep soundly, with my throat soothed, my cough comforted, and my
cold calmed by that lovely wonderful green elixr.

But I can't, because what if I sleep soo soundly and don't hear my
little girl.

Oh the joys of parenthood.

Sent from my iPhone

Hooray for the NCT girls new meeting place

The 16:50 from Waterloo!

Sorry to anyone who doesn't like people chatting on the train.

Sent from my iPhone

Work related randomness

I'd forgotten how difficult it is to walk up escaltors in high heels
and a tight skirt.

I no longer know the best place to get on the train to maximize the
chance of getting a seat, last time I did this I was sporting a rather
large bump that pretty much guaranteed me one. That said I did get a
seat today.

I am working right by the steps of St Pauls, a glorious London
location but as god doesn't get many text messages the mobile
reception is rubbish.

This is the client at which I met PD so it's all a little nostalgic;
without those sunny lunches on the steps and in the yard of the
cathedral we wouldn't have Isobel.

I was once hit on by a senior member of staff here and am now
surrounded by good looking, well dressed French men who smell of
cologne and ashtrays. And very thin French women who have never eaten
a skinny muffin let alone a chocolate gateux.

All day it has been odd to think i have a daughter, but now I am on my
way home and I have a knot of excitement in my tummy.

Sent from my iPhone

Today was my first day as a working Mum. In fact it was pretty much my first working day for a year!

And I can’t believe had to face every working Mums worst dilemma on my first day – my child was not well and I STILL took her to nursery.

She has a nasty cold and although had no temperature (obviously she had a temperature, but you know what I mean) this morning, it had been the afternoons when she had been sickest. And, this morning was the first morning ever she hadn’t wanted to stay at nursery. Heavy hearted I commuted, but was slightly, only slightly, appeased by the knowledge that PD was working from home.

I checked at 10:30 and she was snotty but fine. (Stacking bricks, my little genius - possibly using the snot to cement them together, who knows.)

By 3pm she had a fever and was being given Calpol, PD was dispatched to pick her up. After he wrestled with the pushchair (he’s never had to put it up before!) he took her home.

At this point I had no pc and was being of no discernable use in the office , so I just couldn’t stay.

My first day and I left even early than the early I had agreed!

Not a great start it has to be said. I guess this is why I have taken a 40% pay cut.

It has to be said

Isobel isn't having a good day. She's got a cold and an infected eye,
she's been sick AND fallen off the bed.

As mornings go by eight o'clock this one pretty much was PANTS.

So, I took little girl to Alberto's cafe to see if croissant would
tempt her to eat.

As you can see she was soon cheered, and I got a good cup of coffee.

Negligence

My little girl has just fallen off the bed, and it's all my fault.

My 'go down backwards' training obviously hasn't worked yet, instead I
turned my back and...

*THUD*

*silence*

*WAIL*

God, I was glad to hear the wail. Not so glad to see a bruise the size
of a small country on her forehead.

Sh*t I'm a cr*p mum. Overwhelmed by guilt, but trying to tell myself
these things happen. It's not time to call social services yet.

Sent from my iPhone

A brief hiatus

For the last couple weeks I have been living the life of Riley. Well, that is if you ignore a few things, such as the fact that my mortgage payment bounced; as did my payment to the tax man; bouncing payments have cost me £100 in bank fees; at one point I only had the pound in my purse to my name and my card was refused in Waitrose; I had a panic attack that meant I missed a 'speedawareness' course so now have to pay £60 and have 3 more points on my licence; my daughter spent the day I was due to have an interview being sick so I missed it.

If you ignore these things I've had a great time.

My mornings have consisted of playing with Isobel, dropping her at nursery, going to Waitrose, posting the items I have sold on eBay that day (I am slowly selling off my worldly possessions) and making it in time for the 10 am yoga class. In fact I have been to yoga 6 times in the last seven days.

My afternoons have been spent playing with Isobel, occasionally drinking champagne, more often tea and brownies with friends.

My Sundays are lovely, for the last two weeks PD has looked after Isobel so I can go to yoga, they go shopping and then PD has cooked an early 4pm dinner so we can all eat together. Nice. Very, VERY, nice.

So, how is the yoga going? Well, two sessions of Bikram Yoga did more for my head than a month of anti-depressants. In the 16 days since I started I have been 11 times - I love it. Am I more bendy? Maybe a little but I think I might just be more brave! My tummy is still doughy, but I can see evidence of muscles there somewhere. We have to 'lock' out our joints, I must say the only thing of mine I can guarantee is 'locked out' is my nipples, they spend the whole class, rather embarrassingly, pointing towards the mirror; hey, it pays to advertise. Have I mastered anything? Yes, I have mastered rolling up my yoga mat really really tight.

Why is this post called 'A brief hiatus'? Because I am going to work on Monday, yep I will soon be a working Mum, albeit part-time. An old client, an old colleague is employing me three days a week with flexible hours, it's a contract so we'll see how long it lasts, but it's what I said I wanted.

Best get my suits out the loft and practice wearing heels.

Last time I was in a carnival...

I was dressed as a petrol pump and kept falling behind because the box that formed my costume was so long I could only shuffle.

(Another note to self: one cannot seek revenge for the embarrassment inflicted by own parents by embarrassing own child, can I?)

This time I'm in The Times alphamummy carnival along with some fantastic blogs. Check it out they really are incredibly good and some are pant-wettingly funny.

(Yet another note to self: Must do more pelvic floor exercises.)

Feeling hot, hot, hot or My drug of choice

(Pick which ever title you prefer, this post has been waiting two weeks to be written and may now be past it's prime, so I can't decide.)

I think I'm replacing sex with yoga. The Wednesday before last (nearly two weeks ago if you like) I discovered yoga, Bikram yoga to be precise, Hot yoga. Yep, in a room heated to 100 degrees you get sweaty and bendy - see it's a lot like sex really.

The first time I went, I spent more time being hot and sweaty than doing yoga, but apparently that's what you are meant to do. So, a bit like first time sex really, lying there not exactly sure what goes where but getting warm in the process.

But, I loved it. And I have been nine back nine times so it must be doing something right. It's done my head far more good than any pills I've popped.

Loving the yoga, loving the people* and loving the fact that I have time to do it. I'm aiming for six times this week - at last I'm getting some action!

Mind you I'll be glad when my pilsbury dough tummy begins to disappear, you see for heats sake I let it all hang out, but having to spend and hour and a half (unlike sex there is no such thing as a quickie) looking at it is tough, especially when at a size 12 I am often the biggest in the class!

* I used to do Pilates, and yes I loved that too, but the classes were always a bit cliquey, it was only my teacher I really got to know. At yoga everyone, well most people, are so chilled friendly and nurturing, it's a completely different vibe - see I'm a hippy at heart.)

Seaside in a cup

(and a particularly unflattering picture of me. Just focus on the
cutie in the spotty dress!)

Another use for Weetabix

I practically had to sandblast Isobel's face this morning to remove
the evidence of her self feeding.

I have discovered a new form of micro-dermabrasion. Hmm, I wonder how
much I can charge.

There's that box again

Isobel has now discovered she can walk pushing the box, although she does have a little trouble steering.

A pampers box, a great toy and cheap at half the price.

With all this walking, do I have to get her shoes yet?

Inflation

It must be inflation, that's the only way I can account for it.

Last week Erica-May, Jenny-May, Isobel and I, ok so maybe it was Erica and I, but the point still stands: last week we drank one bottle of champagne and this week nearly two.

As I said it must be inflation.

My, I love Thursdays!

(Yes. I know, it's a tough life.)

P.s. I forgot how much three month old babies change from week-to-week. Little (G)Jenny-May is changing so fast it's amazing.

Unidentified frozen objects

This really is a note to self:

I must, MUST, start labelling the pots of food I put in the freezer.

This evening Isobel nearly ended up with rice pudding on her jacket potato instead of cauliflower cheese.

Coffee cup seaside

As you have no doubt noticed, Isobel and I spend ALOT of time in cafes.

(It's been bloomin cold of late so what else can we do - don't answer that, I know there is lots to do.)

To help keep little girl amused I nearly always ask for two empty paper cups. Isobel bangs them together, puts them inside each other, throws them on the floor (whoever decided that was a development stage must have been trying to justify the hours spent picking things up, actually it's seconds before I stop, but hey I'm obviously not that tolerant a mummy),wears them on her head, toot-toots into them, basically is generally amused by them.

But, by far and away, her favourite thing is if you put them over her ears so she can hear the sea; this activity is accompanied by a huge smile and a very rare moment of stillness. And yes it looks quite cute too.

Why am I telling you this? Well, today we bequeathed our cups to the little boy on the table next door and he was so enraptured by it I thought you might like to try it.

Our morning

Stef, you asked about our morning, well here it is:

Isobel wakes up sometime between five and six am - I try and ignore her until six (I never thought I would say six is a reasonable time to get up, but compared to five...)

We then have a snuggle and a bottle in my bed. When the bottle is done and I have had enough of been climbed on and having my hair pulled, I put Isobel back in her cot to play. I then lie in my bed with my eyes shut listening to her and pretending that this counts as a lie-in.

By seven Isobel is normally bored of being in her cot and I give up pretending so we go to the bathroom where Isobel empties all the panty liners, tampons etc out of the drawers while I have my shower.

We brush our teeth, Isobel balancing on my hip looking in the mirror. She gets most annoyed if I attempt to brush my teeth with her.

Then she plays on my bedroom floor while I dress. Then downstairs for breakfast by eight.

While Isobel pulls her toast to pieces I empty the dishwasher and make a cup of tea. Then I help Isobel with her weetabix or rice crispies. Rice crispies can take a while if Isobel is in a buddhist frame of mind and is eating them one-by-one. Once I have sandblasted the weetabix from her face and while she finishes destroying her toast, I hang up the washing.

Nap at eight thirty, often both of us!, up again somewhere between nine thirty and ten and out the door to the coffee shop for my caffeine and breakfast hit.

Isobel's first babycino

I was trying to break the ten am bottle, so I didn't take it to the
cafe. But isobel kept frantically signing for milk - so what could I do?

I guess all girls like a 'coffee' with their croissant.

Randomness

I have been nicknamed the Random Thought Generator by the International Man of Mystery next door, a name I earned for a commuter train discussion on whether or not you can sneeze in your sleep.

Anyway, as I already have this title I may as well share with you two random thoughts I have in my head at this very moment in time.

Why don't they use Weetabix in the building trade? It's super super absorbent, soaks up however much milk you happen to have in the fridge, and it sets like concrete. Isobel's high chair is a testament to that.

Number two: How wonderful is it, when having spent a delightful afternoon chatting about boys and babas over champagne with a friend and her beautiful little girl, that having put your own baby to bed, you find a whole glass of champagne still in the bottle. Thank you Erica and little Genny-May.

Oh, sorry I have one more thought: Has anyone seen the remote control? I suspect it has been 'posted' somewhere by she-who-is-now-peacefully-slumbering.

I'm tired

I'm really, REALLY tired.

Isobel has been sleeping through the night for so long now I can barely remember any different. The problem is I'm not sleeping through the night.

I'm awake for a good few hours everynight, and Isobel has, since she was sick, woken up before sparrow fart every bloomin morning. Yep, she wakes up sometime between 5 and 6am, just as I'm ready to go back to sleep!

Where's the justice in that.

I really need to exercise more

Isobel can be a very harsh critic, she looks at me funny when I have my hair in a towel, but nothing beats the looks and prods I got this evening.

Although Isobel has a bath every evening, I have only actually taken a bath with her three times, this evening being the third.

It was fun, but she proded my tummy, pinched my thighs and looked totally bemused by my wibbly-wobbly flesh.

I may be lighter than I've been for years but I'm obviously not firmer!

After the presents

I have a very vivid memory of sitting at the coffe table in the sitting room writing thank you letters. Yes, my mummy brought me up to know that lots of lovely christmas presents means a nearly equal number of thank you letters, normally written in some notelets or another that had been part of the christmas haul. (Do people still have notelets?)

It may be a little early for Isobel to start writing, but she is a dab hand with the paint brush.

Also, it was an easy way to amuse her and me for five minutes, something that is an increasing problem with a ten month old. Am I a pushy mum for getting the paints out or a neglectful mum for letting her amuse herself with her toys on the floor while I type this post?

(I make no apologies if this sounds like a smug post, I AM proud of my little girl.)

Weebles wobble but they don't fall down

Since Friday I have been having a bit of a wobble. Tears have sprung forth at an alarming rate and I have often vacillated between hiding and running away. Obviously I have done neither of these things.

I have attempted to function normally, including entertaining on Sunday lunchtime, my reapplication of mascara had dried before the guests arrived. I just knew if I cancelled I would feel worse because that would be giving in, so I propped myself up with more champagne and red wine than was probably advisable! I had a lovely time and managed not to cry until everyone had left.

This wobble is all the more disappointing because I had been ok, more than ok. The tablets had kicked in, the side effects diminished.

I have realised that the wobble coincided with Isobel going back to nursery and saying goodbye to her on Friday had been quite tough. But I can't use her as a prop, she cannot be my only joy, that is FAR too much responsibility for her little shoulders to bear, so I'm going to get through this.

Perhaps I'll just go put my coat on...

Joseph has nothing on me

Money being more than a little tight this winter, most of my wardrobe
has come from eBay. Not only has it been purchased from eBay, it has
been funded by sales of my old clothes. You see I was formerly
a shopaholic, now an ebayaholic!

There has been one exception and that is my lovely mustard yellow
coat. On one of my darkest days I wandered into French Connection and
there, on sale, was this toasty warm coat.

It is my favourite purchase of 2008. Even on my worst days, when I
wear it it makes me smile: it makes me look shiny, happy and
confident, and who doesn't want that?!

On my best days it suits my shiny, happy, confident nature.

And it looks good on the coat peg too!

Armbands anyone?

I've just read a great quote on a tarot card (don't ask).

"if you feel you are up the creek without a paddle, get out and swim
for the shore."

Well, there's a thought for today.

Sent from my iPhone

Another 1st, in fact the first 1st of 2009

Yes, little girl it is the first day of the new year and a day that marks your ten month anniversary.

You have now existed independently far longer than you filled my tummy and this last month has been marked by your independence growing in yet more ways. Your games are more sophisticated, your dexterity is amazing: you can now post the letters through the narrow slot in the letter box; not just spring the pegs from their holders but pop them in too and you are beginning to build the towers rather them simply knock them down.

The fascination for boxes continues but now it is putting things in and taking them out rather than just sitting in them.

In the last couple of weeks you have spent more time on your feet and like to play kneeling rather than lying down; you track toys down rather than being handed them.

And I love the way you come looking for me, I've never had a more lovable pursuant or such a beautiful shadow.

With this independence has come opnion: you certainly know what you want (iphone, remote control...) and, more voiciferously, what you DON'T want (plastic toy meant to look like mobile or remote control...) and OMG can you whine!

So 2008 is over and, hopefully, 2009 is going to be OUR year. Giving birth to you was the best thing that could ever have happened to me and for that reason alone 2008 will always be special, even if everything else fell apart, but here's to 2009. x