Pity post

I hate having a cold in summer. It seems OK in winter to want to take to your bed or crash on the settee and feel sorry for yourself, but when the sky is so blue and the temperature perfect for floating around in summer frocks, it's just wrong, very very wrong.

Yes, yesterday Isobel and had fun in the garden but we were meant to be enjoying a barbecue and then a night out in Brixton (well,OK that bit was just me) but nope, Mummy couldn't face the journey. Mummy needed an afternoon nap and, for once, what mummy needed mummy got. And then Mummyc rashed by 9:30. 9:30 on a Saturday night!

I seem to constantly be battling some kind of bug, injury or pain (no I don't mean PD, but now you mention it...) - ether I'm attention seeking or am taking the strain.

(And I can't blame it nursery: Isobel has been snot free for about a week now)

First ever ice lolly - a grower perhaps?

Sqaw is in residence

Garden's ready to play!

(Not really that) Fearless Friday

So last friday at this time I was just coming to end of my last pose, a pose that I had been in for 40 minutes already and still had twenty to go. Did I mention that my partner model had no body hair and I mean NO body hair. Anyway, the point is, that was fearless.

This post may pale in comparison.

I fell off my beautiful new bike but I got back on and rode home.

(Hey, before you mock it hurt; I ripped my jeans and the resulting graze didn't stop bleeding for hours and weeping for considerably longer; my pride - well that was dented beyond belief but my beautiful bike was fine.)

Structure

Loving the idea of Wordless Wednesday, an idea I pinched from OMG We're Pregnant. Hence just pictures yesterday.

Think I'm also, after last friday, going to indulge in a bit of Fearless Friday posting too. (No I haven't read feel the fear and do it anyway' but perhaps I should.)

Feel free to join in.

The apple of my eye

Psycho killer

Indeed it's true.

I was going to tell you that I am too tired to write about the lovely time we had at a great barbecue yesterday.

I was going to tell you that I was sooo tired I would kill for a lie-in. Yes, I said kill. Kill in a psych0-in-the-shower-eigha-eigha-eigha kind of way.

But I begged, and I grovelled, and I begged some more, I had absolutely no grace and certainly ditched all pride. PD turned up at eight this morning and sent me back to bed.

What a star, I could have kissed him. I probably did.

Warning cont.

I posted this comment in reply to one I had:

I wouldn't say I'm going to be on Britains Next Top Model anytime soon. I'm lucky not to have stretch marks but the week of yoga going and healthy eating I planned, went by the wayside.I just had to throw caution, and my dress, to the wind and go for it, tummy, thighs and quite literally all.As a single lass who is preparing to hit the dating scene soon, the thought of getting naked in front of a beau is quite nerve wrecking.

It's not strictly speaking true. I mean it is but this isn't why I did it.

I did it the name of liberation, in the spirit of being free and probably for a little bit of excitement and a tale to tell.

I guess from that point of view I succeeded.

Warning: Contains scenes of nudity

Last night I spent my evening getting naked with a black guy with a pierced tongue.

Nope, not a new beau; not a torrid one-night stand (as I think my mother thought when I told her I'd got naked) and no, he wasn't inflatable (do they do those for girls?).

Guess again. Go on guess.

OK, because you asked so nicely, I'll tell you.

I stripped off in a room full of strangers and allowed them to draw me. Yes,last night I was a life model.

In fact it was an audition so now I should say: I AM a life model.

I didn't review the art work, lets face it when you are standing there, in what you hope is all your glory, you don't want to be disabused of the fact.

It's not that easy a job you know. I mean the stripping off bit was tricky, the not looking at your accompanying male model's willy was also a little tricky, but what was really hard was a) thinking of a pose and b) trying to hold the damn thing when you think your fingers are going to drop off or that you are permanently going to have to walk with a cricked neck because you've held it the same spot for an hour.

I think, actually, the being still bit is probably the bit that surprises most people who know me! It's quite meditive really. If you have to be still for 10, 15 and 60 minute long periods you have no choice but to fix your eyes on a spot (no, not a willy) and be calm.

In fact I found it a far more introspective than extroverted activity. See I am shy really.

TTFF

Last night saw the inaugural gathering of the above group.

As a group of girls who were a year ago thicker than the thickest of thieves but now very rarely manage to meet up, we have set a regular date for the diary.


Hence, Third Thursday Fish and Fizz. (Actually it's fish and chips and fizz but it doesn't look as sporty as TTFF, and last night we we actually had Moules et frites anyway - but you get the idea.)

Only half of us made it, the march-mum-of-girls contingent that is Me, Mine and Emma (in order of baby's birthdays). Funnily enough these two probably are the two I'm closest too these days.


I'm beginning to really appreciate entertaining at home, no babysitter to pay or favour to elicit from PD and as my house is a boy free zone there is no-one to consult. And the service is always great.


As girls do we discussed EVERYTHING; tall tales abounded but we all have a similar not-so-tall-tale about our daughters:


At this age, they love tampons. In the box out of the box and Isobel enjoys them so much she likes to involve them in a little 'Hamlet' cigar action. I mean, we are grateful for them, but perhaps we don't find them quite so entertaining.

And the winners are.....

Drum roll please

I award the this blog is Lovely award to:

(Tough because most blogs I've been reading and enjoying for an age and this said they had to be 'new')

Millenium Housewife for being so frank! (although I think she already has this one!)

Ample Nerd because this really is a new blog, a newbie but a goodie.

Mamapo not just because she blogs from my beloved Island, or just because she pedals kitchen porn...

Tasha - Ok so I've beeen reading this for a while but I am stuck in my ways...

There are two boys I have to give a mention to but I'm not sure they really want a fluffy award for their blogs! Brouhaha and Gray. Bouhaha it makes us feel like you are near by nd you are a fab writer and Gray, I amy not always understand what you write about, but hey I can appreciate the style!

So, here's the award and I mention the rules in a previous post, but here is a recap:

Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link

Pass the award to 10 other blogs that you've newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award. (Ok, so I didn't manage ten, so shoot me already!)

Publish your 5 Pet hates.

It's already started!

Isobel's choice of shoes today ...

Lovely (?!) Stuff

When I started this blog I really did so in isolation, I had no idea what a lovely community there is out there and how having the company of apparent strangers on this journey could make it all the more worth while.

Indeed on my darkest-throw-in-the-towel days someone, be it a blogger or not, has always cheered me on.

OMG We're Pregnant has beautifully presented me with an award today, which reminded me that Tasha had sent me one ages ago but I'd been too ungrateful, ungraceful or down right rude, to accept it .

So thank you Tasha for this award:
Which I dutifully use as a fair and super swap to OMG We're Pregnant in return for this:

Now the rules of this award are:

1. 
   Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link.
   - tick v.g.


2. Pass the award to 10 other blogs that you've newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award. - Pending
   


3. I also have to publish my 5 Pet hates, so off the top of my rather empty head:
   

• Public nose pickers - a chap opposite me on the train this evening was having a right old rummage, and I mean rummage. I think he was about to send in a search party.
• Eating soup with a dessert spoon.
• Cracked Heels - why and how does it happen, thank the chemists for foot cream
• Book trashers. My books I can read fifty times but you wouldn't know it. I read them on the train, bus, tube and even in the bath but they still look new. I LOVE books, I love my books and it shows.
• Two faced people, surely life is too short to put yourself to all the effort of applying mascara to two sets of eye lashes; my life is certiainly too short to try and guess which pair are falsies.

Back in a bit with my blog list for you...

Overprotective - me?!

I don't think you can be over-protective when your daughter goes to, and loves nursery as much as Isobel does.

But, as I just called nursery to check on my little girl who was unusually clingy this morning, and had an unexplained bruise on her face on Monday, I was told she has fallen backwards off her chair and bumped her head.

Apparently she's fine but sleepy, so is now in bed. I'm at work with a knot in my tummy and I just want to don my cape and fly home to scoop her up.

Pearls

Going to the cafe has now become a very intellectual affair.

Yes we still share a croissant ( thank goodness it can be an almond one now) and each have our beverage of choice - babycino and black coffee (I'll let you figure out whose is whose), but now we obviously have chats of such great importance Isobel feels the need to take notes. Well you know how pearly a mummy's words of wisdom can be.

Then she consults a book on the matter

And then,as you can see from the picture below, she cogitates just a little.

I'm quite looking forward to sharing a copy of Grazia.

Live action

Jolly good company

A few weeks ago I muttered the words 'I'm not enjoying Isobel that much'. I'd had a groundhog week (yes, only a week!), the sun had been shining and I was picturing happy young folk sitting by the river with a nice cold glass of Chablis in their hands wandering home when it go too cold to sit outside anymore.

And what was I doing? I was doing the the same thing I do EVERY day I was going home to pick up my little girl. I felt trapped and I was mourning my loss of freedom. (Just typing these words makes me sad all over again.)

But you know what? As soon as I'd said it and gone through all the emotion I'd been trying to deny, things got miraculously better.

I don't know if Isobel was frustrated by not being able to walk, or if we were just feeding off each other's negative emotion, but I have to say my walking and not-really-yet-talking little girl has become the best company ever.

She wanders around the house bringing me presents with a 'Ta', she cuddles, she kisses, she plays and she likes to sit beside me.

You and me girl, we are going to go far.

The fairy at the end of the garden

Most people just rub his belly for luck, but little girl is covering all her bases.

Mwah!

A nice sit down

As Isobel is busy perfecting the art of walking, she is also beginning to appreciate the benefits of a little sit down.

Bless her, let's face it her legs aren't that long and so in baby miles the distance around the sitting room, dining room and kitchen must be of marathon type proportions, it's certainly a longer event than the 800 metres.

Not to mention the effort involved with getting up again every time she falls over.


See it's exhausting... (how grown up does she look in this picture?!)

Stuff

I've kind of got out of the habit of blogging, which is a shame because I love it, I've also got out of the habit of yoga and I love that, I see a pattern here...

I'm here to re-ignite my passion, well it beats trying to iron the floorboard creases off my face, creases gained from spending much of my life poking about under furniture trying to find lost felt-tip pens.

So I may not be able to yoga every day but I'm aiming to blog every day!

What do I have to tell you. Isobel continues to master the iPhone; while my back was turned this morning she not only rang PD, she text(ed) him and even sent him an email.

About a month ago I taught her to drink out of a straw, and now her favourite treat is a strawberry Actimel with a straw in it.

Actually that's a bit of a lie. Isobel's Easter eggs are on the bookshelf , in the hope of a chocolate nibble she stands beneath it, points and says 'Ta, ta, ta'. I think maybe that's her favourite treat.

For now I'll sign of the same way as my daughter does:

'Bye, Bye. Mwah mwah' *blows kisses*

Candy coloured cover - The Wedding Party by Sophie King

Let me start off by saying I really did enjoy The Wedding Party and I am more than happy to write this review.






The thing is chick-lit (I'm sure the Guardian came up with a better name for it but I can't remember what it was) is not my usual choice of books. I tend to pass over the pastel covers on the 3 for 2 table in Waterstones, I do judge a book by it's cover and these just don't intrigue me. Not like, say the cover on The Book of Lost Things.



It's not just that though, you always know what is going to be inside. For me this kind of a book is an illicit pleasure, but ultimately it's read and then forgotten. It's same as me liking dark, dark chocolate but every now and then I fancy a bit of light and fluffy Dairy Milk. So, as this isn't the kind of book I normally buy, I quite enjoyed reading it, even if I was a little embarrassed to be seen reading on the train.


(No I don't want to know what you think this says about me, I can probably guess)

The thing with chick-lit is that, although the characters are often based on similar archetypes, the book always relies on them generating a great deal of feeling towards them and Sophie King does that with a enough kinks (wouldn't go so far as to say 'twists') to keep you guessing. And being a journalist, it's as well written as you would expect, there is definately enough to keep you turning the pages.


At the centre of the story is Becky, a working mum who is afraid of her children, seems to be happy to hide at work and is disturbed by the her father's forthcoming nuptials. Her soon to be stepmother causes more angst than just that of reminding her that her parents are not ever going to reunite and is the catalyst for her having to get to know her children better - surprise, surprise she likes it; well, once she realises she can do it (ring any bells?).

All generations are woven into this story, and even the unlikely best-friend's elderly housemate is touched by the wedding, and not just in her role as planner for 'For Weddings and Funerals'. I could tell you more about the female vicar, a love interest, a dog, a wheelchair and a pond, but that give away too much of the story.


Does it matter when it's such an easy read? I don't know, but just in case...


The thing I learnt from this book is that we are 'living in the age of the panty liner'. (I'm trying not to think of theose Tena lady adds for weak bladdered thirty years olds, WTF?)

It's light, the characters are all relate-able to, it is different enough from the pastel covered book next to it to mean you should buy both. It does touch on topics such as faith and morality, but it didn't lead me nto contemplation, nor change my life, but then I don't think it was intended to. It simply helped me while away a few entertaining hours.

Be careful what you wish for

A long time ago, well it feels lke a like a life time ago, PD (who was then still really RD), bump and I sat in a NCT and answered the question:

What do you hope your child inherits from your partner?

Lots of lovely things were said, and PD wished for my generosity. Me, well out loud I wished for his eyelashes. And she got them.

But really, there are many things I hope she gets from her Daddy.

I hope she has his creativity, his aesthetic eye, his style, his dance moves and most of all his loyalty.

Right now, she's starting with his talent for photography.

Family Weekends

This time I'm not talking about my funny little family.

This time I'm talking about my funny big family.

My lovely little sister has been here for the weekend, just hanging out drinking pear cider and watching Mamam Mia. And it was the loveliest thing just to have her around. I wished my family were a little nearer, it's that small (but expensive) stretch of water that makes it feel so far!

Last weekend I went home and I didn't post the pictures, so here they are:

Happy clean cousins

Uncle Ross

I told you the ice cream was BIG

Sulking

Yep I'm feeling like the incredible sulk.

Feeling decidedly not special after I discovered little girl kissing
nursery nurse the same way as she kisses me.

Hmmph.

Pucker up and give me some love. Please.

Sent from my iPhone

Funny little thing

It's not just walking she can do..

She can unpack...

She can dress herself...

And put her shoes on...

And then put it all away again...

Well kind of.

One week on and she's not a baby anymore

Isobel is now a fully fledged toddler, I'm threading the needle to sew on her walking badge as we speak.

In so many ways it's been a a very busy week. We have been to the Isle of Wight and come back with the following pieces of information:

Isobel can walk and walk and walk. She can even turn 360 degrees without falling down.

Bruises are easily come by but also relatively easy to go if you plaster them with Arnica and have very young skin. Scratches from playing peekaboo with a fence might be slightly more persistent.

Poor little girl suffers from car sickness, something we have discovered the hard way; I have washed the car seat twice in two days.

Isobel's feet have grown from a 3F to a 31/2G, and I had to order her shoes from Internet.

We have five new words: Bubbles - bubboos, again - gain, grandma - gamma, banana - nana, and my aunt is convinced she said Angela. (Yes, I have had a few more mummies too)

We have a book called 'Is this my nose' and I found Isobel sitting on the floor reading it and pointing to all the correct face parts - well if she were a Picasso painting.

Ice cream cones and key lime pie ice cream have been mastered. Yes, we had a 'hut day' at the seaside.

And most importantly of all, Isobel has spent time with her family, including her godmother.

Needless to say we had a lot to tell PD when we got back.

I cannot believe what a difference a week makes, I'm glad I didn't miss a minute of it.

CPR anyone

In my yoga class ( yes I'm whittering on about that again) there is a
balancing in one leg posture that mr bikram says is designed to give
you a mini heartattack so you don't have to have a big one in real life.

At the moment I am having a mini heart attack every five minutes. Yes,
isobel toddling around and the accompanying falling down has my heart
lurching every few moments.

Don't get me wrong I let her fall down, if let is the right word, and
I also try to catch her. But this afternoon our little heroine has
scraped her face on a fence she was playing peekaboo through; fallen
down a concrete step and down the stairs.

Where was I when all this happened? Close enough to see but not to
catch.

Every bump and bruise she gets I feel responsible for and as her
pretty little face is littered with them at the moment you can imagine
how that feels. (Thank goodness for arnica cream.)

But on the bright side, she's getting steadier and I'm never going to
have a heart attack.

Sent from my iPhone