Mama Musings has officially moved

They say a change is as good as a rest so this blog has a lovely new home here on Posterous.

Come on over and say hi!

Handa's Surprise at the Arts Depot

Living with a scientist

Babymomma (and most of the rest of the world) terminology: "butterfly painting" as in "please can you help Felix do a butterfly painting"

Translation following blank looks from the boyfried: "a Rorschach painting boyfried"

...and harmony and mutual understanding reign once more

Sent from my iPhone

Art n Craft afternoon

Sent from my iPhone

Look who's been to Specsavers

Sent from my iPhone

Pretty fly for a White Guy

Sent from my iPhone

Life is not all rosy in suburbia

Jasmine and Felix have gone bonkers. As in proper bonkers. They will just not shut up. I swear Jasmine spends more time talking about playing some fantasy role-play imaginary game than she does actually playing her fantasy role-play imaginary game. And Felix doesn't do what I tell him at the best of times. And they just talk over each other, at each other, all the time. Most of all, they talk at me. And most of that is demanding I do stuff for them (switch it on/ blow the balloon/ pick me up/ get the toy/ put me down/ make it louder/ do it again/ switch it off/ stand up/ sit down/ yadda/ yadda/ yadda)

I have come upstairs to hide in the office so I can think for 2 seconds.

Told you he could jump

Guilty as charged

I know, I know - the blog has been sorely neglected of late...

In which Babymomma actually finishes a whole book!

A feat so incredible it deserves another exclamation mark! Took me 4 weeks, I read every single word, and what an amazingly good read it was too!

In which Felix turns a corner (we hope)

So last night I did Felix's bedtime downstairs whilst Daddy was upstairs with Jambeans. It seemed to work well as after a long cuddle he told me he wanted to go into his bed then settled down like an angel. Babymomma finally had a scream-free bedtime! Fingers crossed I can put the Supernanny costume back in the cupboard...

Talking Scribble

Since starting Big School Jasmine's tendency to spout made-up words has adopted a somewhat whining, baby tone (as in "ishi soshi oshi nnnye nnnye" all said whilst jutting jaw out, flapping arms up and down or stamping feet somewhat lamely).

Happy feet

Today, on our way back from Highgate Wood I met Ben Wilson, a Barnet artist who turns splats of chewing gum on the pavement into colourful mini masterpieces, and I totally didn't have my phone to prove it!!!

Here's his stuff on t'internet anyway:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rahid1/sets/286517/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dan_hassan/sets/72157602733736862/

http://citynoise.org/article/3372

Super...

is Jasmine's other favourite new word. As in:

"I'm super hungry Mummy"

or

"I'm super-duper-super-duper-tired"

The day I finally crumbled

Jasmine has been settling into big school super well. Today Tanya started too, Jasmine's friend from nursery, so she was more than a little enthusiastic this morning. But as I watched Jasmine clutch Tanya's hand and race into the classroom without so much as turning her head I felt a little pang of loss. All I wanted to do was follow her in, give her a massive mummycud and spend the day watching how she got on, but what I had to do was let her go and blub all the way home instead.

Actually...

...is Jasmine's new favourite word, as in:

"Actually that's my bicycle"

"If we plant the conker actually it will grow into a tree actually"

Bf finds it hilarious but I'm not so sure I can laugh off the precocity

Not quite little angel

Ever since our week in the West Country getting spoiled (and fed) by various grandmas and aunties Felix has turned into a sleep rebel. Only Supernanny-type resilience is working but after 7 nights of screaming, clinging, procrastinating and other remonstrations I'm getting a little fed up. And it's much harder than new baby sleep training because Felix (now 2 and 1/2) has a vocabulary and has used this to fine tune the art of emotional blackmail. He has a way of screaming-wimpering (scrimpering? it kinda works) "Mu-mmy mu-mmy" that gets me every time.

A threshold moment

Jasmine started Big School yesterday! She was very excited, as was I, and for the next 3 weeks I am going to be a happy and willing mama at the school gates.

Things I had forgotten

Bubble-splub of splub-nibes and scrundy spluff nuffs.

(don't ask...)

The notes are not enough

So I have been a mommyblogger for 3.5years now. One of the reasons I started mommyblogging in the first place was to, and I quote:

"...make notes. Because that's what I like to do. But also because we hope there's going to be a second one day and my notes will come in damn handy"

Well babymomma. Your notes are CRAP. Where are all the notes on what Jasmine was like at Felix' age? Huh? Huh?

Iron Lady

Bf did some diagnosis and suspected the cause of Jambeans' recurring illness could be down to iron deficiency. Putting aside the guilt of not succeeding in giving her iron religiously as a premmie we put Jambeans on a 3 month course of Sytron. Ever since she started taking it we have seen her grow more alert, more active and more energetic. She came off about a week ago, and her hair has turned all shiny. She also got a cold 3 days ago, which so far has turned out to be just that and not another descent into pneumonia. Very encouraging so far. Fingers crossed this is the end of it.

Weewix is Dead, Long Live Felix

Felix just said "Felix" as opposed to Weewit, Weewix or Weelix. Choked to tears I was. My little boy is growing up!

Samson in reverse

Ever since Felix' haircut last week we have witnessed persistent displays of good behaviour, fruit'n'veg eating and all round good humour, making him the recipient of this week's Best Little Boy In The World Ever Award.

Breakthrough

This weekend we witnessed Felix eat a whole portion of green beans, broccoli, 4 slices of apple and a few of grapes. This is probably more fruit & veg than he has consumed in his whole life. We tried to be totally cool about it, but all the while I was gratefully thinking: "there-is-a-god-i-am-not-a-bad-mum-after-all"

We heart holidays

We went on holiday a few weeks back, to a sleepy farmhouse somewhere in France just west of Bergerac complete with pool, tennis court, large pieces of old agricultural machinery, a tractor and a large garden for the kids to play in. It had that real middle of nowhere feel about it. It was so secluded there were times I thought we could easily have been in England, if it weren't for that quintessential Frenchness that oozed out of every road, field, vineyard and farmhouse around us. Being France, our holiday story was mainly one of food but this was also the holiday when Jasmine learned to kick with her legs and swim with a float; when Felix' love of tractors grew deeper; when bf reacquainted himself with the stars and when babymomma decided that tennis isn't that awful after all. The days were hot, the nights were long, we simply didn't want to come home. There are lots & lots of photos in the next few posts.

Arriving at dusk

We heart holidays

We heart holidays

Jasmine proved to be quite an elegant equestrian

We heart holidays

You know it's a great holiday when a friendly Berner rocks up to play

(bf must have been very excited about this as he actually took more photos of the BMD than he did of me for the whole holiday!)

We heart holidays

We visited a gorgeous little town, took in the château, strolled through beautiful riverside gardens and soaked in the picturesque views. (All very aaaah until that disastrous lunch we don't talk about!)

We heart holidays

Only an ice cream could save the day. (Specifically, only Daddy's ice cream - as unsurprisingly Felix decided Daddy's Magnum was far superior to the Cola Calippo he had chosen and made him swap - poor Daddy)

We heart holidays

We gave up on restaurants after a while, to witness Felix practise his cake shove technique on a picnic by the canal. Possibly the best picnic I have had in the world ever.

We heart holidays

Only on hols are we allowed to eat chocolate mousse on the sofa

We heart holidays

Enormous fields of sunflowers greeted us at every turn

Bf got obsessed with the tree trunk that was exactly like his camoflage troos

Happy happy Jasmine in a square in Bergerac - our last visit before we flew home

Babymomma's stress dream

After a long absence, my German Finals stress dream came back to haunt me last night, and it went something like this:

My oral exam was to take place at 2pm. At 1pm I had decided to take a catnap in my room (!), then overslept and missed the start. After the initial panic subsided, I went along to the examination centre anyway, relaxed and brimming with confidence that it wouldn't be a problem and that I would be allowed to take the exam the next day - ergo have one extra night for cramming. When I got there the exam co-ordinator (who just happened to be my boss) told me that the examining officer (who just happened to be his wife) had been delayed on the train and had only just arrived - I hadn't missed anything after all. He then ushered me into the room to relive the horror of vocabulary failing me, and of me failing my exam.

NEINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

lovin' this

See more funny videos and Technology Videos at Today's Big Thing.

Life is tough and then some

I've been a full time working mama for nearly a year now, and even though I am definitely mucho happier in myself now, compared to previous jobs/ part-time work/ unemployment/ mat leave/ freelancing it has to be said that life is still bloody difficult. Not being the most physically staminacious woman means I am tired round the clock. Most of all though, I am missing my friends. It's been over a year (maybe two) since I've seen or spoken to any of the girlie gang and that's just so wrong it's not true. After the routine of work and kids there is just NO TIME for anything else.

Gooaaallllll

Felix, it must be said, is extremely good at football.

will everyone please stop having babies?

It's making me all broody, but it also makes me feel old at the same time. But much as I'd love to have another snuggly-wuggly-oochi-coo-cutie-pie-ickle-bundle-of-fluffy-love to cuddle, I seriously do not want another baby. Or another pregnancy for that matter.

So, belatedly, I say congratulations to Ely'n'Si, Jessica'n'Steve, Mat'n'Krista, Ivan'n'Emma, Katie V, Nicki T, Lee W and James from work.

Babies rock!

lovin this

The Sandpit from Sam O'Hare on Vimeo.

Hurrah, loft decorations finished at last

D'you reckon if we tell people we hand painted it ourselves they'd believe us?

Rockin the geek look

A vegetable, at last

Today Felix ate mushy peas. It's the first fruit or vegetable I have seen him eat since I made leftover vegetable soup last Christmas.

More about Golby

This weekend was scorchio! and Nani was up so we went to Kew Gardens to melt. Jasmine told me more about Golby.

Golby's mum is a chicken. Called La-lu (or it might be Lu-la - I can't remember). Golby's dad is also a chicken called Da-na. Golby, however, isn't a chicken. Golby, says Jasmine, is a Golby. I think Golby must be quite small because she slipped down a crack in a rock today and had to be rushed to hospital.

Things I haven't noticed about Felix

Felix has lost his puppy fat and looks like a proper little boy.

Felix is football MAD and does a great one-two with his dad, dribbles it up the field and then scores.

Felix can JUMP. Man can he jump. He jumped off the toy chest yesterday and landed perfectly on two feet. Roll on 2012...

Felix is not sure about his new bed which we put in his room a week ago. He doesn't get the hang of the pillow and I often find him with the duvet kicked off, or rotated 180deg. But he hasn't fallen out yet (which Jambeans has, twice)

Felix loves outdoors. At the first hint of rain Jasmine comes in (she is her mummy's daughter), but Felix is out there, kicking his football, in his socks, having a play.

Felix still doesn't eat fruit. Or vegetables. He does eat Annabel Karmel's apple chips. I hate Annabel Karmel with a passion (smug do-gooding capitalist) so I grudgingly give thanks as this is the closest he will get to 5-a-day for a goodly long while.

Evidence:

More things I haven't noticed about Jasmine

Jasmine can write her own name better than Giovanni can write his name - we could tell from his birthday card to her. But Jasmine can't pedal like Oliver pedals his bike.

Jasmine remembers the words of her favourite books, particularly if they rhyme. Tonight we did a great crap-rap routine at bedtime, where I read out the lines and she said the last word.

Jasmine has an occasional imaginary friend, called Golby. Weekend before last she climbed along the cliffs, splashed into the river and then rescued Golby from the waters a squillion times over.

Jasmine likes to sing, particularly with made up words and made up tunes.

Jasmine runs like Caroline Todd

Jasmine likes to sleep in her new grown up bed with the duvet right over her head. When she gets too hot she just lies there shouting for Mum or Dad to come get her.

Now she is 4, and has a grown up bed, Jasmine has given up mussies. This significance of this should not be underestimated. It is the equivalent of a hardened smoker giving up fags. She has been doing incredibly well except for the other night when she kept into Felix' room, snatched a mussy and chewed it to sleep back in her bed.

It's the things you don't notice

Being a back to work busy sort of mama I haven't blogged about the kids' development for ages. Then one day you turn around and realise how much they've changed. Jasmine for example, quite happily wanders round the house and up and down the stairs to get things all by herself. Felix is quite confident on the stairs too. It doesn't sound like much because we take it for granted now, but it gives us a new sort of freedom, not having to worry about stair gates and watching out for them all the time - something we haven't really been able to do for the last 3 years or so.

An accidental find

After visiting Nana we found ourselves near Richmond Park, and took advantage of the clement weather to have a little wander and walk off our lunch. The park itself is glorious open woodland, dominated by oak trees. It's not hard to imagine Elizabethan hunting parties followed by enormous banquets. We wandered into an area called Isabella Plantation and OMFG did we happen to stumble upon what must be the most beautiful garden in London.

A visit to Nana

There have been a number of births and sadly, deaths, in the last few week. It happens like that sometimes. It left me in reflective mood and I decided a long overdue visit to see my Dad was in order - just to make sure he was OK and to take the children to see him when he's still around. Mainly though I went to make sure he wasn't dead.

There's something deeply wrong, yet deeply funny about a bunch of geriatrics all sat in their wheelchairs 'listening' to Tinie Tempah's Top 50 UK Urban Anthems on Viva. Nevertheless, that is the sight'n'sound that greeted us when we went to see Dad in the nursing home.

Despite the wholly inappropriate soundtrack Jasmine and Felix were wonderful with their Nana. Jasmine played shops with him, and sold him a crappy toy snake for £50. If all his mental faculties were with him I am sure he would approve of her ruthless commercial acumen. But then again, if all his mental faculties were with him I'm sure he would have negotiated her down to 50p and not made any allowance for the fact she's only 4, so it all balances out in the end.

Argh-hhaaaargh

Even if we say so ourselves, Jasmine's 4th birthday party was a rocking success.

I forgot how much fun fancy dress is - and it really made the party quite special. Top marks must go to Richard aka Pirate Dan who kept the children enthralled from the off, and meant the rest of us could have a seat and a natter, Meera @ Vanilla Sponge for the most delicious cake I have ever eaten (note to all: fairy cakes = no need to cut, slice and serve anything, just hand them round) and Party Pieces for delivering an entire party in a box. Top marks also go to bf for inflating all the helium balloons and only inhaling a little bit himself and to Aunties Seema and Seema for doing the food. (Bottom marks go to Grama for losing Felix' enormous pirate balloon, but at least the abortive rescue mission made us all wet ourself with laughter.)

The Olympic medal goes to Jasmine, naturally, for being the most considerate and inviting hostess we could possible have wished for. With no prompting required she greeted all her guests with an enormous smile, said thank you for all her presents and introduced them to all the other pirate playmates. Clearly, she is her mummy's daughter!

There's got to be an easier way to do this

as in, blog from my new iPhone (and i only really managed to get the title done on the phone. still can't work out how to move the cursor down to type the actual blog post grrr)

That Boy

"That Boy" is our nickname for terrible two Felix. As in, he's the one in the supermarket having a massive hissy fit making all the other shoppers whisper "I wish that boy would shut the eff up."

That Boy must have sense that somefink speshul was up for Jambeans, as he was That Boy for the whole of the Pirate Party on Saturday, as well as from the second I picked them up from school today. Today being, of course, Jasmine's 4th birthday.

Jasmine is beautiful. Felix is That Boy. They are both the special-est lovesome-est gorgeous-est kids in the whole wide world EVER.

How tired are we?

Twice now we've put on episode one of The Wire, Series 3, and twice now we've fallen asleep in front of it.

That's how tired we are.

In which Felix rejects cake

I can't remember the last time Felix ate a vegetable. I *think* it was the leftover parsnip soup I made at Christmas. He doesn't eat fruit either, though he will happily taunt us by pretending to eat plastic strawberries and courgettes with much vigour. Of late, his staple diet of meat and carbs (if we're lucky) has given way to unrelenting demands for chocolate and milk, mixed with the occasional bowl of raisins. Given that he's also hit the terrible twos we've decided that if we crack his diet and get him plenty of fresh air and exercise then his behaviour will follow the path of goodness. So bf today made him carrot & courgette muffins. i.e. vegetable disguised as cake. Which Felix wouldn't so much as look at.

FAIL.

New loft

I am a closet minimalist (if only that could be true in practice) so our new loft is making me nice and happy in it's glorious airy whiteness.

"Nipper"

Squealicops' nickname, let's not forget, came from his high pitched shrieking when he was a baby, which then turned into high-pitched laughing as an early toddler, which then turned into a weird dolphin-type squeal in the style of Flipper.

Now, bizarrely, his laugh has morphed into a mix between Flipper and Nan from Catherine Tate.

In which a weekend is full of hope and possibility...

So last Sunday was the bf's birthday, which we celebrated by going to Benihana in Swiss Cottage. Totally hot, totally bonkers. But last weekend was also flu weekend, and the weekend bf worked on a Saturday (groan). He came home mid-afternoon and as if to defy our acheing and ailing bodies we bundled everyone to Brent Cross. Big Mistake. It was heaving. We were sick. Nuff said.

This week though, we have turned a corner. I took Monday off sick to recover, and also to witness the bf do the Most Sensational Spring Clean In The World Ever. (How seriously cool is that? I'm still numb with the knowledge that I am possibly the luckiest woman in the world.) And we've both survived a seriously tough week at work.

So now we have reclaimed our house from the builders - tho' obviously they still haven't finished the snag list yet - we are ready to move the kids in to their new bedrooms this weekend. And we are both well. And it's going to be a lovely spring day. Huzzah!

In which mummy is totally rumbled

This morning as I surveyed the dustbin that is our home, I gathered up every last bit of kiddy artwork I could find and disposed of it without so much as an afterthought.

This afternoon though, as I was in a flu coma on the sofa Jasmine entered the living room clutching a piece of crumpled artwork close to her bosom and said in a very solemn and challenging tone (think Mrs. Harbord from Ladette to Lady):
"Who
Threw
This
In
The
Bin?"

I felt like a naughty schoolgirl. And the fact she didn't accuse me directly made it worse. I grovelled an apology, promised never to throw anything of hers away again without asking, and eventually (reluctantly) she let me give her a kiss to say sorry. Babymomma is off the hook. Until the next time...

More Marrakech

Unstructured hate rant about hospitals and all who work in them...

Well, to begin with, no one treats you like a human being. In fact, if you are the relative of a patient you are less than a human being. Less than a thing. You are goddam invisible. At least the patient, that biohazardous mass of chemical reactions and intrigue represents a thing to be processed through the system (or if the patient is ill enough in a sufficiently rare or unusual way so as to present some kind of medical enigma, then it is a challenge, to be solved.) No one tells you where things are, who they are or How Things Work. Silly things, which the mother of a deeply sick child might want to know. Like, when mealtime is? Where mealtime is? Where to get drinking water? Who to tell if you have to leave your child to have a wee or get some food for yourself? Whether anyone will bother to look out for your child while you are away? Other things no one can tell you are why has a not-quite-4-year-old been put on a bay for older kids. (To the chavvy, slummy, scowling 17 year old in the bed opposite and your coterie of boyfriends with their irritating D'n'B ring tones and constant tirade of F-words, I don't care how ill you are, I really don't like you.) Nurses, at least, do tell you their name. And smile. And try to make the kids laugh.

Which is more than I can say for doctors. Particularly consultants. To you, I say learn to speak English. No-speak-a-dee-latiny-doctory-bullshit. If I ask What were the results of her bloodtest? I do not want you to cite reams of meaningless raw data. I want to you say what is normal, and what is not. And if things are not normal, I want you to say what the implication is, and what the next steps are. In Plain English. And, if you come round to me and my daughter on your ward round, please do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye first, introducing yourself and explaining who the 10 other people are too.

To student doctors, I have given Jambeans' history 12 times already so I say Sod Off. We are not your guinea pigs. You can blame A&E and their crap, repetitive system for my utter reluctance to help train the next generation of emotionless medicos.

To the Accident & Emergency system that times their process perfectly to wake you up every 70 minutes exactly (or, more frequently if you are super special) to do something to Jambeans that leaves her no further forward, but successfully deprives you both of sleep in the most tortuous way, I say FUCK YOU ALL. I brought Jambeans in a t 9pm on Monday night because she was severly dehydrated. Something that was confirmed by every SHO and Registrar who saw her. So why, 7 hours later, had she still not been offered a drink or given any IV fluids? I could have succeeded better at home, and got more sleep for both of us.

To the A&E Reg who tried to put a canular into Jambeans twice, and failed twice, I say - FAIL. Go home love, you're not good enough.

To Kate and Ellie, the paramedics, I say - you are both very lovely and I deeply admire the work you do.

To Jambeans I say you are the bravest, sweetest little girl in the whole wide world. Mummy is so glad you are out of hospital and wants you to rest up and get better soon.

Marrakech

To cut a long story short

So, I should be writing about the drama and adventure that was Marrakech, and posting one or two of our billion photos. But instead, I am writing about the drama that is Jambeans, ill, in hospital, with pneumonia, again. Total shit for everyone involved.

Little big man

2 years ago today, the F-beans landed.

I read somewhere, that after a baby is born your happiness levels peak, sustain, and then, after 2 years, return to what they were pre-baby.

I refuse to believe it. Our kids will be my happy fuel for years to come.

Worn step

About a month ago we taught Jasmine to say "Tiger Woods is on the naughty step" and now she says "and John Terry is sitting next to him"

DIY, DIFM or WBDIITFP?

Sore throat, phlegmy cough, banging headache - I am off sick today. Which is made all the more boring and shit because the builders are in converting our loft. Despite the fact it's all going sort of OK I am beginning to resent having a house full of dust and bits of bathroom stacked in every room. Bf is total stressarama because he's taken the PM lead, whereas I have been waiting to be told what to do. Total role reversal from normal. I know how he feels, but I do love just being told what to do because it's easier. Except when it's "negotiate these down a bit". I'm not particularly fond of that bit. So it's getting to the point where I know I'm not a DIY girl, but am beginning to shift from our usual Do It For Me role to Why Bother Doing It In The First Place?

Box set heaven

Last night I stayed up till midnight so I could get to the end of The Wire, series 1. Utterly addicted.

Sucked in by a Black Hole

Bloody Hell, have I really not posted a word since I got a year older? Well, I think I also forgot to say HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone.

Shortly after my birthday the snow came proper. Nursery shut down for a day (flaky) and any work momentum I had been building up disappeared.

Felix' is copying just about every word. He has "manic half hours" - like a kitten going bonkers. He's going through his toy stage. As in, must-cuddle-them-all-at-the-same-time. It's very cute.

The builders started work on the loft conversion. With one slight wibble, it's going well so far. They're cracking ahead, and it's not as cold or messy as we thought. Bf initiated a search for the perfect children's furniture yesterday evening, and even though he wimped out after 20 minutes (to check the footie scores) it was very exciting.

And I'm trying to launch a new website. And it's totally manic.

I am 36 today

It's true that the best birthdays are the ones you don't plan, so this year's birthday was bloody marvellous.

Bf had booked us lunch at Chez Gerrard in Covent Garden - one of my fave restos in London, mainly because of the bootiful conservatory - and also managed to organise some top class blue sky crystal fresh winter weather - the kinda weather that makes you feel totally alive, though it did make me yearn for the slopes.

This morning we took the kids out for a bike/ scooter ride. Bf has insisted on taking her out at every opportunity and now Jasmine has really got the hang of cycling and steering on the flat. She zooms along and I have to run to keep up with her, making mummy and daddy uber proud.

Speaking of uber proud, we have both gone totally gooey over Felix this holiday, cos he's turned into the cutest, scrumbliest, bestest little boy ever. He's very boisterous and likes to clamber all over Jambeans, who sort of loves it, until he kicks her in the face or something like that.

The terrible twos are still making themselves felt - he's going through a bit of a chewy / bitey phase, potentially linked to the molars theory, and, horror of horrors, has started copying Jambeans in the muzzy-chewing department. She thinks its great, doubtless overjoyed to be in the company of "someone like me" but I'm somewhat reluctant to encourage it. He's also going through a throwing and hitting phase and has been keeping the naughty step quite warm. It sort of works but he doesn't stay on, and his wickedly naughty grin when I put him on makes me mad, and I know is his way of testing me. But he's getting there, and is totally amazing all of the rest of the time.