Oh and another fearless feat

I've allowed myself to fall in love at least three times.

And I'm prepared to do so again!

Fearless or foolish?

Sent from my iPhone

I felt the fear and I did it anyway...

Sometimes it's easy to forget who you are and all the things you have done that make you 'more than just a mum'.

So last night, over wine and whisky, I was reminded of all the fearless things I have done:

Lived in Australia for a year at the age of 19;
I have swum with wild dolphins;
Jumped off a bridge only with the aid of big knicker-elastic. Ok it was VERY big knicker elastic but ultimately it was just elastic;
I have held some one's hand as they took their last breath;
I have trekked in the Andes to Macchu Picchu;
I also have stood up in front of 500 people to give a charity speech, now on more than one occasion;
Learnt to rise a bike in my thirties;

And now I am raising a child.

If I can do it anyone can, but that doesn't make it any the less scary.

Sometimes it's worth reminding yourself how far you have come, if only to give you the strength to carry on.

Who can I pass this onto...

Ok, so I've been tagged by the lovely Mamma Po on the glorious Isle of Wight, and although I seem to be wracking my brains to tag someone who hasn't been so already, I will try and answer the questions (somewhat hastily as I am at work):


What are your current obsessions?


(In no particular order) Yoga, learning to ride a bike, teaching little girl to talk, regaining perspective.


Favourite food?


Cauliflower cheese and oven chips

Fish, chips and champagne

Steak Tartare

Cheese

Beetroot


What’s for dinner tonight?

If I go to yoga - nothing

If I don't go to yoga I now have a hankering for steak, salad and sweet potato wedges


Hangover cure?

Berrocca


Moaning a lot, doesn't work but seems to happen anyway.


What’s the last thing you bought?

Egg and tomato breakfast baguette from Pret


What are you currently listening to?

Keyboards tapping, St Pauls chiming and on my iPhone are Fleet Foxes, Ben Iver and The Chemical Brothers.


What are your favourite holiday spots?

Well, the Isle of Wight is where I run to most - my mummy lives there


other than that I can't think about holidays until I can afford one!


What are you reading now?
The Enchantress of Florence - Salman Rushdie

Itsy Bitsy Yoga - Helen Garabidien
Mind Gym: Relationships - Mind Gym

Use 4 words to describe yourself.

Generally: Happy, loving, optimistic and occasionally naughty

Right now I tend to be: Blue, dull, moany and self-absorbed


What is your guilty pleasure?

Fridays: Going to yoga while my baby is at nursery, and spending the afternoon drinking champagne with Erica.


Who or what makes you laugh until you’re weak?

My neighbours and my family


First Spring thing

Retrieving flip-flops from under the sofa - told you I am an optimist


Where are you planning on travelling to next?

I'm running away to the Island on Friday.

Otherwise, I guess the next big trip is to SA to visit PD's family.


What was the best thing you ate or drank recently?

Several bottles of 'Don David' shared with friends on Sunday


When did you last get tipsy?

Sunday - the Don David did it. Or this evening if you read this on Thursday (nothing like forward planning)


What is your favourite film?

Life is Beautiful or It's a Wonderful Life


What’s your favourite song?

Right now it's Prettiest Star by David Bowie, I dedicate it to my little girl.

(Isobel's is Nellie the Elephant by the Toy Dolls)


Share a piece of wisdom.

'This too shall pass'


If you could change anything in your life so far, what would it be?

I would have let PD go before Isobel was born and dealt with it with greater grace. I treasure every second we spend together as a family and love sharing her sprecial moments with him; I will always wish things were different but they aren't and I can't change that.

So ladies, the game is, you answer the questions, changing one question for your own, then forward to ? others - who is left!.

Cool Bananas

Tawny

New Mummy

Confidence Update

Galvanised my post yesterday morning, I ventured into the long wet grass of my garden and peddled.

I didn't fall off, but as my garden is only 30 feet long I pretty much got to practice stopping and starting. But, thanks to PD's presence, in the evening I cycled around the block a few times and even ventured along the main road to the station.

I didn't fall off even when I fearlessly turned right onto a main road, but as I still struggle to look over my shoulder or to signal I wussed-out at the junction and wheeled across the crossing. Hey, it's a start.

Meanwhile, Isobel spent the day toddling around the house, as she had by the end of the day acquired 3 facial bruises I think we are about even.

Today

My day began at 5:50 with my beautiful little girl calling 'Daddy, Daddy, Daddy' at the top of her voice - he has never ever got her up in the morning.

(Ok that's a little harsh, when he was here, way back when, we did race each other to get to our smiling little baby, but that was forever ago.)

A little indignant I delivered madam her breakfast in bed and returned to mine praying she would return to sleep.

She didn't.

We read, we played and we even danced.

I've been over compensating again this morning because in a wee few hours I am gong to have needles stuck in my daughter, potentially give her autism but save the world from a measles epidemic - yep it's MMR time.

Heigh ho, must be done.

(Spelling of 'heigh' is a copy from a Stephen Fry tweet and if anyone knows how to spell it must be him.)

It's just a question of confidence

I've just realised that Isobel and I are both going through the same mini crisis at the moment - and it's all about confidence (albeit in the face of grave physical danger).

As I wobble on my bike, she wobbles on her feet. Just as I can get from A to B on a bike but as yet choose not to go too far, she can easily take 8 steps yet chooses not to take more. Just as I have a DD to help me...

She has me!

Actually it's more true for Isobel, she generally chooses to only walk in my presence, not at nursery and not for her PD. She will do it in front of them and even let her fairy godfather get in on the coaching act at the weekend, but just as long as I was there.

As confidence is one of the things I really want my daughter to have, something I struggle with, I guess I have to get on my bike and ride.

My, that thought makes a mighty fine pair of stabilisers.

Night cap

Yesterday at our brunch with the two Es we were discussing many things. Brunch with two one year olds is a bit like speed dating; you can have many conversations as long as they only last a couple of minutes. In this way we covered MANY topics.

Little E, it has to be said, is not the best sleeper, and grown up E is now trying many tricks to improve this situation.

As Isobel has a tendency to wake up very early - anywhere between 5:30 and 6:30 am - (although she does go back to sleep with a bottle and no bother) I thought I would employ one of these tricks.

Excitedly I skipped off to Waitrose and bought some Hipp Organic Good Night Milk, it's one of those thick milks with cereal in to help babies not be hungry in the night - no they don't do a Crunchy Nut Cornflake one.

As I mixed the bottle I was already thanking this miracle elixir, kicking myself for not having tried it sooner and imagining residing in a delicious slumber in dreamland until the godly hour of seven o'clock.

At 2 am I was awoken by a screaming child, who worked herself into such a tis I expected the neighbours to knock down the door to rescue us from a marauding intruder. Normally a quick cuddle and she's back to sleep - nope it took an hour, and three screaming fits before she fell asleep.

Then she had the audacity to still wake up at 6 o'clock and not go back to sleep.

Overall, I wouldn't say it was a success.

(And I'd meditated so was actually having lovely lucid dream filled sleep at the time, but no I don't know the lottery numbers or what I should do next)

Girlies who brunch

We took our friends, Emma and Eloise to the cafe today.

We had a lurvely time even if Alberto appears to have been abducted
and been replaced by another Italian who tries hard but manages not to
amuse but only to annoy little girl!

I can't believe I said that

Regular readers (yes all three of you) will know that often I go quiet it's because I don't have anything good to say.

It's true, this week I had a major implosion, luckily the intensity was fierce so the longevity was short.

On Wednesday I muttered some words I never thought I would hear myself say. On the train home from work, I was tired, well weary. It felt like Groundhog Day (so american but is there an English alternative?).

The sun was shining, the pubs by the river were serving jugs of Pims and I was going home, as I always do; to put my baby to bed, as I always do.

And I realised: I hadn't been enjoying my little girl that much lately and I said so. I can't believe it but yes I said the words and I meant them.

(In fact I hadn't really been enjoying anything very much - god I can be a miserable cow.)

I said those words and the flood gates opened. It was nasty, PD bore the brunt but now it's over.

I was so pleased to see my little girl the next morning, the sun still shone my neighbours rallied around making me feel loved and I went to yoga.

I'm hoping to be back on track now, so you'll be hearing more from me...

I want to ride my bicycle...

This morning I was to be found in a playing field with a rather fit, and quite nicely tall Danish Dude. And I returned home with a slightly sore bottom.

Ok so the title kind of gives it away, it wasn't the DD I was straddling, I was learning to ride a bike.

Ten years ago I had a lesson but now it's serious; I must learn to ride a bike before Isobel does!

I mean since that lesson ten years ago, I can ride a bike; if by ride you mean propel a bicycle from A to B without falling off. But, if by 'ride' you mean go in a straight line, with minimal wobbling and be confident enough to lift hand and look over shoulder (as is necessary to turn a corner), well that is another matter.

( I wasn't even sure about the ability not to fall off after 4 years of bottom not touching saddle)

I wobble, I weave, I grip the handle bars so tightly I think my knuckles will burst out of my skin.

I have never ridden on a road (lots of lovely cycle paths in the borough of Richmond) and to fulfill the image in my head of me in a summer frock cycling to yoga or taking babe and picnic on the back, well I'm a long way off. Even after that 2 hour lesson kindly paid for by the City of London.

I have to practice, which is cool, but hard to do when you can't take babe, and if can't practice can't get confident enough to take babe...

I have two weeks before the next lesson and the DD wants to be able to take me out on a proper ride!

A month of Sundays

(An excuse to post pictures and say little)

A scary insight into my morning mind

This morning I was having a dilemma. A dilemma of the what-shall-I-wear-to-work kind, I'm sure you all have them, unless you wear a uniform of course or are a boy...

Anyway, I couldn't decide between the pencil skirt and heels look or the tea-dress and Mary Jane's.

After shower I went with the former; doubted whether it suited my mood, so set out to change. In the end I compromised with a less tight pencil skirt, a frill-fronted open neck blouse, red Mary Jane's and, what can only be described as a 'scoop- neck' 'tank-top'.

I then pondered whether scoop-neck was the appropriate term, but more importantly are 'tank-tops' still called 'tank-tops', or is there a far more 'down with the kids word for it - it came from Oasis after all.

By now the word 'Tank-top' was filling my head and all I could think of was Frank Spencer, and I silently 'ooh Betty-ed' all the way to Nursery.

My sanity was saved by a girl carrying a pink watering-can shaped handbag - now I have Radiohead singing in my mind.

A definite improvement.

Place holder

This is just a page mark for a post that was terribly witty in my head at 2 o'clock this morning, but isn't translating to the page.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Isobel's favourite word..

is bloomin' 'Daddy'

We get home and as we reach the front door it's 'Daddy, Daddy, Daddy'.

And he doesn't even live here.

A sorry tale

So, Friday morning I was up bright and breezy, and actually very excited; I was excited because I was going to yoga! (No, that's not sad bit)

I was merrily glugging my way through gallons of water in preparation for all that sweating and hotness; I'd squeezed my self into my favourite yoga outfit, which doesn't suddenly give me the body of a carrot-juicing-lithe-18-year-old-yoga-bunny, but makes me feel the part, as well as being practical.

(A quick aside - you know they say you are what you eat? Well I'd much rather be a chocolate eclair than a brown lentil, mind you a nice crisp juicy apple wouldn't be so bad....)

Back to the story (riveted aren't you?)

So there I am in all my yogary (like finery but yoga instead of fine); PD is on his way to look after Isobel.

And Isobel...

is pulling all the books off the bookshelf.

I bent down to remove her from the area of temptation... (tension mounts)

And...

Yes, you guessed it. My back went again.

See, it is a tragic, tragic tale. Well, I cried.

Short but sweet

Yesterday Isobel said 'Mum' not mama not a mamamama whine; nope a
full blown, beautifully articulated

'Mum', no one else heard it, she's not repeated it.

Not like Daddy, which is the first thing she said when we got home!

Hmph!

Sent from my iPhone

Get your motor running!

Born to be wiiilllld!

She mastered this in minutes, but no she isn't getting one, even if her trike will never be quite the same again.

Smug? Moi? Absabloominlutely

And why wouldn't I be.

I'm driving a great car, I paid for in hard earned cash; to the island
to see family who will be as pleased to see me as I am to see them; there is roast chicken and crumble and a million hugs waiting on the other side of the water;

And when I look over the shoulder this is what I see.

Sent from my iPhone

(Update: This post made Isobel so nauseous, she 'puked' as soon as we arrived!)

Clear as a Bel

Isobel has articulated very clearly her first proper word.

I don't mean mama or even dada, nor any of the other sounds that sound
like words.

Nope, today Isobel very clearly said 'Daddy'! And she said it
approriately. I'm not spitting as many chips as I thought I would be!
I just tell myself it's because I taught it to her. (You just knew I'd
take the credit somehow.)

Oh, she also said 'bye', not the ba ba we've known to be 'bye' for so
long.

Love her, she has been absolutely delightful today.

Sent from my iPhone

Carry on regardless

Litte girl can shake her bum with the best of them.

Nothing more to be said when DJ Bel is in the house, loving the iPod, loving the BOSE.