Who's the Mummy?

Here's one I prepared earlier

So, it's five to midnight.

With any luck, right about now, my best friend has arrived, we're both still conscious and we haven't done anything silly. We've been known to give each other hair cuts under the influence of alcohol before now.

I note lots of my favourite bloggers are doing round-ups of their year and linking to their favourite posts. Frankly, I'm too idle. So here are my very favourite 10 posts written by other people from 2009. Please do read and enjoy:

1. Melissa from More to Life than Laundry went on the Clipper Race this year and I’ve loved following her training, fund-raising, travel and race posts – but this one stuck in my mind because it perfectly explains what’s so brilliant about sailing – it’s like leaving the world and the person you are in regular life behind while you have an adventure. Really inspiring stuff.
2. Sian from MummyTips wrote this amazing blog post about her experience of post-natal depression. I don’t think there’s been a more honest or moving post written on any parent blog this year.
3. From October, not one of Noble Savage’s more serious posts, but it made me laugh because Flea loves the end of Big Yellow Taxi and the moment where Joni laughs is her favourite of all. Flea loves emo, but she knows an awful lot of Van Morrison, Rolling Stones, Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan.
4. If there was an official award for funniest blog writer ever, Emily at Maternal Tales would be a shoo-in. Seriously - you need to read both of these posts about pom poms, but then just read the archives. The massage post is another favourite.
5. Four Down Mum To Go is author a lovely blog, and I really enjoyed this honest description of what we parents do on what we laughingly call ‘a day off’.
6. Sandy’s post on Baby Baby so accurately captures that panic when you realise you can’t see your child. Read it and then give your little one an extra squeeze. I did.
7. Auntie Gwen is newly divorced (like me), incredibly smart (like me, ahem) and fantastically entertaining (not so much like me). Every single item on this list of “10 Things I’ll Never Do Again” struck a chord with me. Oh sister, I’ve been there and bought the t-shirt. Except rather than executives, I seem to attract men with too many degrees and a love of motherboards.
8. Alpha Mummy posted this letter she’d received from a reader. I thought I’d share it because it’s so beautifully written and because the theme of broken friendships is one that really struck a chord with me this year – and I realised that I’m drawn to unstable people. They’re the most interesting people, for sure, but they’re also the ones who end up hurting us most. But ultimately, life’s about taking risks and like the writer of this post, I’d rather be hurt than not take risks.
9. It takes a real man to admit he was a Richard Marx fan. Dan, I salute you. Mostly because now I know someone else who was almost as sad as me.
10. Josie, oh Josie, do you know what you’ve done? You only went and unleashed the bloody Slanket on the Twittersphere, didn’t you?

High Points, I've had a few....

Okay, start the violins playing.

Liz at Living With Kids has tagged me with a meme asking what are my five high points of 2009. And I really struggled. This annoys me because a) I’m rarely short of something to say and b) I’m pretty optimistic, as a rule.

Truth be told, though, 2009 has been the toughest year we've had for a while. Bloody freelancing. Flippin' recession. Tsk. But after a good think, I realised even difficult years have high points if you look for them. I just hope that the high points of 2010 will be a bit easier to spot a year down the line.

Starting Who’s the Mummy: I would never have started WTM unless I’d been thoroughly shafted by someone I thought was a friend but who turned out to be – well, completely bonkers, if truth be told. But the blog has been one of my best achievements this year – I’ve learned so much about blogging and social media; I’ve had some great new business opportunities through the blog and unexpectedly found myself on weekends away in posh hotels, attending launches and lunches, making new friends and testing new toys for the Great Toy Guide. All in all, thanks very much, strange psycho lady. Couldn’t have done it without you.

Flea starting school: I could say that Flea starting school was a high point because I loved seeing her thrive in her new environment, making new friends and learning new skills – she can read! she can draw monkeys! But that’s only half the story. Flea starting school also meant that for the first time in four years I could stop trying to fit a full-time freelance job into 20 hours a week, and actually return to something resembling full-time hours. It’s been a complete revelation, and I can’t tell you how much less stressful life is as a result.

Seeing Take That in concert: I’m including this because it was so unexpected. I’m generally more of a Green Day fan than Take That, but the lovely people at Ricoh offered me a ticket to see Take That this summer, in an executive box with a constant stream of champagne. I loved it, and I loved giving my sister-in-law the opportunity to share the experience, as she'd just had quite a bad accident. It turns out, I knew ALL the words to all the songs, I danced like a fool, sang my heart out and we both just had a great time.

Visiting Devon. You know sometimes you just have one of those perfect moments when you feel lucky to be in your own skin? I had one of those this September when Flea and I were invited to spend the weekend at the Elmfield Hotel in Devon reviewing the hotel's facilities. We swam, we paddled in the sea, we went fishing, we built sandcastles. It was a perfect weekend, and totally carefree. Just lovely, and it inspired me to book a trip down to Devon for next summer.

The return of the friend. I’m forbidden from talking about him on my blog, but this year one of my oldest and best friends returned from overseas, and is now back in the UK. I’m eternally grateful to him for restoring my faith in life, for making me laugh, and inspiring me to take a couple of big gambles that are going to turn my life upside down next year. Could possibly have done without the ‘seal’ joke, mind. 

Magical Moments of Parenting #205

Somewhere around 3am this morning, I was woken by Flea shouting "Muuuumeeeee" at the top of her voice. She rarely wakes in the night so I tend to go to her quite quickly, assuming there's a good reason for her calling me.

Groggily, I pulled myself out of bed, muttering, "OhMyGod, it's so c-c-c-c-c-cold" and went into Flea's room.

"What is it darling?"

"Mummy? If it's the Christmas Holidays, why haven't we been on holiday yet?"

I'm sure there are lots of things I could have said that could have explained this issue to her. None of them occured to me at 3am. Instead, I said: "Go to sleep, or I will put you out with the recycling tomorrow and the bin men will make you into a cardboard box." 

I fear this response may not go down in the annals of positive parenting.

A Merry Little Christmas...

It's almost midnight on Christmas Day, and I thought if there's a day when you're allowed to post something shamelessly sentimental on your blog, this would be that day.

Flea and I have had a great Christmas so far, and as I put her to bed this evening, I thanked my lucky stars (again) that I have the most amazing, funny, good-natured daughter anyone could wish for. It's all down to the parenting, obviously. Cough. 

So here are my top 10 reasons why Flea's been the best kid EVER today:

1. On Christmas Day, she woke up early. For Flea, that means 9.15am.
2. When she saw there wasn’t a stocking on my bed, she said, “Mummy, would you like to share mine?” even though the gesture very nearly killed her.
3. When we came downstairs she was thrilled by the ‘snowy’ footprints on the hearth. And when she later saw bits of ‘snow’ on my boots, she said, “Oh my goodness, Mummy, Santa must have stood on your boots!”
4. As she opened her new Toy Story radio-controlled car she said: “Wow, I have always wanted one of these!” shortly followed by, “What is it?”
5. When she opened a really dodgy Christmas jumper, she said: “Gosh, I bet the elves worked really hard making this, how kind of them.”
6. Despite receiving a Wii console, a huge wooden fire engine, a couple of DVDs and assorted other goodies, her very favourite gift was a £1.99 Horrid Henry figure. 
7. She laid the table for lunch and was so excited to have a plastic wine glass of her own that she insisted on saying, “Cheers! Merry Christmas!” after every single mouthful.
8. When we got back from our walk this afternoon, I said she could do anything she wanted, and she asked me to snuggle on the sofa under a blanket and read a story to her and Horrid Henry.
9. I fell asleep on the sofa at the end of the day (I’m on strong painkillers that make me REALLY drowsy, so I have an excuse that’s not related to drinking too much Prosecco. Well, not entirely) When I woke up, Flea was playing quietly on the floor. She looked up and said, “S’okay Mummy. You didn’t snore.”
10. Did I mention that she woke up at 9.15am?

And so this is Christmas (Eve)

We've frolicked in the snow all day.

The tree has been trimmed. 

The advent calendar has been emptied. 

Stockings have been hung.

The reindeer pyjamas are on.

All that remains is for us to say thanks to everyone who has read, commented and generally been lovely this year and we hope you have a fab holiday season. 

The 12 Days of Christmas: Day five - saying Hi to Jesus.

I read a really interesting post over at Living With Kids this week, where Liz asked for people’s traditions for Christmas Day.

What was interesting – apart from how many people voluntarily watch soap operas -  is that nobody mentioned church. Seriously, if I was Jesus, I’d be a bit pissed off, frankly. It’s his birthday we’re all celebrating, and hardly anyone bothers to pop round and say Hi.

I have to say, church is a  definite part of the tradition for us - I wouldn't feel right celebrating Christmas without it.

For us, the celebrations start on Christmas Eve when we have a day outdoors somewhere (this year we’re off to a wildlife reserve) and head home in time for the crib service, which is always good fun – last year the vicar caused chaos with a live donkey, and a remote controlled phone which kept ringing with urgent messages from Father Christmas.

After church, we trim the tree, hang the stockings and Flea opens one present before a reading of The Night Before Christmas. I’ll put on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and Elf while I do the wrapping, remembering of course to artistically create snowy footprints on the hearth and a thankyou note from Santa on the breakfast table.

Christmas morning is for stockings and presents – then we go to the Christmas service. We have lunch, then we'll tend to go for a walk on the beach or the local woods. It gives Flea a chance to run off some energy, and then after supper, when she's asleep, I love watching proper blockbuster movies – something like Terminator or Star Trek is perfect. 

Boxing Day is our big family day, and someone will host a family lunch where we can catch up and Flea can play with her cousins and endure kisses from elderly relatives she doesn't really remember. There may be Trivial Pursuit, but we try and steer clear of Scrabble on the big day because Mum has a tendency to get a wee bit over-competitive about the whole business.

Obviously, there are other, rather less Norman Rockwell elements to the traditional Whittle family Christmas. Regular readers will be less than astounded to discover that I almost always kill a domestic appliance at Christmas – last year it was the fire, this year the central heating is already making noises that are turning each day into a thrilling will it/won’t it adventure. I'll always forget to serve one element of Christmas dinner, and I'll drink too much on Boxing Day and find myself unable to resist raising the subject of women who shave their intimate regions, just to see my sister-in-law's reaction, which never gets old.

Regardless, though, our Christmas feels like Christmas - and church is as much as part of Christmas as mince pies and Chevy Chase. And there’s always, always Quality Street. What do you think - will your kids be going to Church this week?

Well, Christmas is all about toys, I guess.

Every Christmas, without fail, I have a medical emergency. This year, it’s an infected wisdom tooth, which is sort of my own fault, for not having them removed when I had the chance, but, well, I’m a wimp.

So Flea and I were in Boots today picking up industrial quantities of codeine and antibiotics when Flea asked, “Can I have this?”

There, among the electric razors and vibrating toothbrushes was an altogether different sort of vibrating appliance. The Philips Sensual Massager, which is apparently contoured especially to pleasure both male and female intimate areas, is currently on special offer at Boots. Just £49.99, apparently.

Flea thought it was a video games console.

I told her it was a massager for grown-ups and moved on, thanking my lucky stars she didn’t notice that the Durex vibrating cock rings were on a two for one special offer. (Just as an aside, why do you need two? In case you find yourself having a festive threesome? Or in case one of them is in the wash?)

Maybe it's me, but sex toys seem to be everywhere this year. When I was a kid, we giggled and blushed and dared each other to go into Virgin to buy a packet of Mates. Which we then obviously blew into balloons and filling with bits of mayonnaise and left on other girls’ desks. I suspect by the time Flea’s a teenager, the stakes will be considerably higher.   

I’m a liberal person, really I am. I am fully supportive of an individual’s right to use whatever electronic device they choose in whatever way they choose, so long as they remember to give it a good wash afterwards. And I feel that my feminist principles should, on some level, be pleased by Boots deciding to sell vibrators.

Regardless, I don’t want to hear about it. I almost died this year when I invited a (now former) client to dinner and she proceeded to tell me all about her preferred brand of vibrator. Eewww.

And I may never recover from seeing that middle-aged couple looking at the Philips Intimate Massager in Boots today. I’m telling myself they thought it was a video games console. The alternative is just too horrific to think about. 

What do you think? Should we welcome the widespread availability of sex toys, or should such things still  be purchased on the Internet and shipped in brown paper?

The 12 Days of Christmas: Day four - buying presents

So Christmas is all about giving, not receiving. And the real meaning of Christmas is about spending time with loved ones, sharing meals together and reminding ourselves why families no longer live in big, shared houses and instead buy lots of small houses a long way from each other.

It’s a special time and the whole ‘present’ thing has nothing to do with the true meaning of Christmas.

But I admit it. I’m shallow. I still want presents.

I love opening little boxes with ribbons to find Tiffany & Co jewellery or pink Converse baseball boots. I remember Christmas gifts from years ago with a real thrill – my first guitar, a limited edition Audrey Hepburn print, some fantastic Pied a Terre boots that I can’t wear any more because my feet grew when I was pregnant. Oh, I remember how excited I was when I got tickets to see Green Day. Yes, I love presents.

As it happens, this year, I know what I’m getting. And to say I’m excited, well, it doesn’t even come close. 

“Mummy, do I have to buy you a gift?” Flea asked me a few days ago.

“You don’t have to buy anyone a gift, but it might be nice to buy presents for people you like.”

“I think I will buy you a present.”

“Well, that’s very kind,” I say, congratulating myself on raising a great kid who knows how important it is to buy their Mother a present.

Later that evening, over dinner, Flea says: “I know what I’m going to buy you!”

“Really? Well, make sure it’s a surprise and don’t tell me.”

Of course, Flea, like most four year olds, doesn’t really understand the concept of surprise or secret. She says: “It’s a special sort of sweetie, that only grown-ups can have,” she starts.

Liqueurs? Truffles? Not a favourite, but I could cope with those, I think.

“You have to suck it, that’s why grown-ups have it.”

Hmm. Not truffles, then.

“Shall I give you a clue?” She's bouncing on the chair by this point, she's so pleased with herself.

“Sure.”

She takes a deep breath. Grins like a Cheshire cat. “It’s a MINT.”

Like I said, excited doesn’t even come close.

The 12 Days of Christmas. Day three: Christmas baking

Christmas cookie recipe:

• 140g icing sugar
• 1 egg yolk
• 250g butter, cubed
• 1 tsp vanilla essence
• 375g plain flour, sifted

1. Make spontaneous decision that baking Christmas cookies will be fun, festive activity, promoting mother/daughter bonding and creating magical memories. Find simple recipe on BBC website. Realise have none of the required ingredients. Drive to Morrisons.
2. Purchase ingredients, drive home.
3. Wash and dry hands. Put on aprons.
4. Find Christmas play-list on iPod for optimal seasonal soundtrack to magical cookie baking experience.
5. Pre-heat oven to 170 degrees. Find large mixing bowl, and lay out ingredients.
6. Say, “Oh, ICING sugar? That’s not the same as regular sugar, right?”
7. Put child into car, while saying, “Just keep the apron on, nobody’s going to see you. I don't care which coat you wear, just put a coat on.” Fight with garage door lock, which seems to have frozen shut, muttering, “Holy FUCK, it’s cold” through chattering teeth, while random man walking dog gives you dirty looks.
8. Drive to Co-op. Park on double yellow lines. Run into Co-Op, find icing sugar, pay, run back out to car.
9. Say, “Was it icing sugar or caster sugar? I bet we need caster sugar, too.” 
10. Rush back into Co-Op. Look for caster sugar. Ignore sneering expression of teenage shop assistant. Buy caster sugar. Drive back home. Park in garage too close to wall, requiring highly undignified clambering out of the car door, which will only open 8 inches. 
11. Sift icing sugar (not caster sugar) into mixing bowl, with egg yolk, cubed butter, vanilla essence and flour.
    
12. Read instructions, realise you’re actually supposed to mix together all the ingredients EXCEPT the flour first.
13. Consider starting again. Check, and realise spare butter in the fridge went out of date in June. Decide to work with what you’ve got.
14. Mix together ingredients to resemble a light dough using electric mixer. Remember electric mixer doesn't have a fuse since you borrowed it to try and fix a lamp about six months ago.
15. Pause baking to look for screwdriver to remove fuse from microwave for electric mixer. Switch fuses, and mix ingredients into dough.
16. Realise ingredients resemble dough in the same way a cat resembles a tree. Decide to add milk. It’s not in the recipe, but it makes it turn into dough, so how can it be wrong?
17. Roll out the dough to a thickness of approximately half an inch.
18. Use cutters to cut out festive shapes from the dough.
19. Realise you don’t have any festive shapes. Decide that, actually, elephants and giraffes are an often overlooked element of the Christmas story, and go with those. Also, tell child that in the stable with Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus, everyone knows there was a Christmas crocodile.
20. Bake the cookies for 10-12 minutes. Unless you have made freakishly large Christmas giraffes and gingerbread men, in which case probably 14 minutes. 
21. Don’t pick up the cookies until they’re cool. Cause, like, their heads fall off. This tends not to go down well among any four year olds who might be watching.
22. Allow to cool on a wire rack, then decorate tastefully with icing and sprinkles. Less is more, remember.

 

Wordless Wednesday: A Tale of 10 Minutes

3pm:

3.10pm 

She's a fast worker.