Playgroup

PostingGrand finale

PICT0147_Small.JPG Beanie's playgroup reconvenes later this month in our local church, now that the Polish theatre group performing there has packed up its lorry of props, grease paint and other kit and headed south like swallows.

Come snack time this autumn, when the toddlers are feasting on slices of banana, bread sticks and raisins, it'll be nice to think the church was home for a while in this year's Fringe to a troupe of actors who saw the snack area as their performance space. The buggy park was their box office; playtime their showtime.

Judging by their press board, the group had a good season; they won lots of awards in the local and national press, and played to packed houses. Their being here in the neighbourhood lent a touch of glamour to these all-too familiar streets and made me proud to have them here.

So proud, in fact, I didn't even mind (well, not that  much) when they stood outside on the streets smoking roll-up cigarettes and looking blank when I asked (politely!)  if they could let me get the buggy past. They looked so young, in their uniform black jeans and jumpers. Ah me!

All the other actors, comedians, authors, musicians and film-makers who have made Edinburgh such a fun place to be in August have also packed up for another year. Last night marked the finale to the Edinburgh International Festival, with the Bank of Scotland Fireworks Concert (pictured) that Va-vay and I were lucky enough to be able to watch from our sitting-room window.

There are lots of good things about the end of the Festival. Easier to get a table in cafes. Freedom to walk through town without reluctantly accepting a dozen cards for shows I have no intention of seeing. No feeling bad that performers put their heart into this event, and yet so many Fringe shows attract an audience not much out of single figures. Fewer posters of needy, identikit comedians.

But when I saw workmen dismantling the marquees for the Edinburgh International Book Festival in Charlotte Square I couldn't help but suffer a small pang of loss.

The Book Festival was fantastic; I travelled back to fourteenth century England when Simon Armitage spoke about his translation of Gawain, wished I had half the talent of Kitty Aldridge and Esther Freud, who spoke together about their new novels, felt I learn more in an hour at a wonderful creative writing class by Kate Mosse and Greg Mosse than I've done in a term at other classes and was scared stiff by Ian McEwan in conversation with Ian Rankin (so much so that afterwards I sprinted across the rain-logged lawn to locate Beanie and be sure she was still safe).

I delved into the hidden world of obstetrics at a talk from Janice Galloway and Alan Warner, imagined myself travelling the silk road with Colin Thubron and braved Arctic ice with Benedict Allen. Closer to home, I was entertained by Antonia Swinson's uplifting stories of life on her Edinburgh allotment. It's been inspiring and magical by equal turn. So while it's good to have playgroup back, I'll see it with different eyes after this summer.

Posted 03 September 2007 12:47 | Number of comments: 3 | Comments

Books Edinburgh Festival Out and about Playgroup

PostingJob for life

Apparently if the typical stay-at-home mother were paid for her work, she'd earn the annual equivalent of £70,000, at least according to a set of so-called "compensation experts" based in the US. Unfortunately, the survey doesn't make clear who's going to fork out the moolah for all our hard work. Government? Husband? Children? Will our kids add this to their student loans? But still, it's nice to know we have some earning power left, even if it is mostly theoretical. I first read about this at Manic Mama.

My main objection to this survey, produced by Salary.com, is that I think they've missed quite a few important activities from their list of maternal roles, which falls far short of covering the full job spec. So I've listed a few additional roles they might want to consider next time they're doing the survey.

This is their list of jobs making up the £70,000 salary: 1. Housekeeper 2. Cook 3. Psychologist 4. Day care centre teacher 5. Laundry machine operator 6. Van driver 7. Facilities manager 8. Janitor 9. Computer operator 10. Chief executive officer (though try telling that one to Dad).

And here are the ones I think they missed. Apologies for some of them being so medieval. Please let me know your thoughts on any others that should be on the list.

1. Nightwatchperson   Okay, gone is the lantern or candle of yesteryear, replaced by more up-to-date equivalents, like the Tomy baby monitor. And it's more dressing gown than big caped cloak and boots. But there's still the same lonely, cold pacing around after midnight, to check that all's well, investigating cries in the night. And what about some extra money for unsociable hours, I'd like to know?

2. Dancer/Singer   Before having my daughter I considered myself a fairly shy and inhibited person, except when drunk. Now I never drink but will sing, dance and cavort almost anywhere if I reckon there's a chance it'll make my daughter stop crying. "Old McDonald had a farm, ey-ay-ey-ay-oh!!!"

3. PR Officer   "You'll never guess what our beautiful daughter did at nursery today! She pulled herself up to standing using just a shoebox for balance!" I almost have to stop myself from issuing a press release. And unlike many esteemed PRs, I actually, really, truly believe in how marvellous this all is....

4. Health and Safety Officer   Detaching Mr Bear's pink nightcap, lest my daughter swallow it, nagging long-suffering husband to nail bookshelves to the wall, covering sockets, hiding toilet cleaner, keeping daughter away from dishwasher and oven, begging kind neighbours not to paint their front door while we're around...

5. Journalist   I've filled notebooks with detailed accounts of my daughter's exploits that I plan to keep for posterity.

6. Nutritionist   Poor performance appraisal here. People brandish Annabel Karmel books at me all the time, and I do my best, but follow her recipes in vain. Actually, I spend ages agonising over my daughter's food intake, still currently limited to apple puree, porridge and bread sticks, because I know it can't be that healthy. Her dad persuaded her tonight to add banana, raspberries and raisins to the list, which she did grudgingly. Anything I cook is a big no-no. Last week I had my head in my hands at suppertime, crying, I felt such a failure for cooking up this food she instantly rejects. She throws it at me, or on the floor.

7. Speech therapist   Daughter: "Haahlaahla" Me: "That's brilliant! Let's say it again." Daughter: "Laaaaaaa" Abrupt stop. Me: "Look, the little monkey in the book is saying 'Hug'. Isn't that clever? Let's try and say 'Huuuuuuuug'." I could go on.

8. Stylist   It's not as easy as it looks to achieve that casually thrown together boho-chic look for the under-twos. Especially when the under-two in question is determined to shed socks, shoes and cardi wherever she can, before regurgitating Annabel's rejected gloop onto her top.

9. Entertainments Officer   Playgroup, nursery, "playdates" - urgh, terrible expression, park. It all takes organisation, you know, even if the babies and toddlers mostly ignore one another at these various social events, except to "borrow" each other's toys.

10. Nurse   Bathing gunky eyes in salt water, kissing scratches better, clearing up sick, administering Calpol. Oh, I forgot, nurses are like stay-at-home mothers, another largely disempowered social group, being (mainly) female carers on a low wage.

Posted 20 May 2007 20:11 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Daughter Food Husband Language Nursery Play Playgroup Safety Work

PostingMore benefits to nurseries

More confident around other children

K used to crumple at playgroups if another child tried to take her toys. Strange though this might sound of a one-year-old, she's become more assertive, in a healthy way, and better at standing her ground.

Better at interacting with other children

K's started to enjoy pushing balls around on the floor with some of her friends. She's better aware of other children.

Staff know what they're doing

These women can change a nappy faster than it takes me to think, "Oh, maybe I'd better fill the water jug before we get started."

I forgot to post these earlier. An excellent comment on my earlier posting today Pros and Cons of Nursery Life reminded me of them.

Posted 02 May 2007 19:15 | Number of comments: 0 | Comments

Daughter Nursery Playgroup

PostingAdrift in a sea of gloop

Katy gazes at the sea of cold green pasta stretching out before her and turns to give me a look that seems to say: "You must be joking if you think I'm eating this". She looks worried, unsure she'll be able to prevail, that maternal force majeure will compel her to perform the hideous task of swallowing this nastiness down.

Katy prefers her food orange (sweet potato, carrot, squash all top favourites), or beige (apple puree, "pairritch") - and she's indicated in no uncertain terms that both are more palatable warm. She'll tolerate spaghetti bolognaise in small quantities or a pink Petit Filou. Avocado - both the wrong colour and temperature - is a no-no.

Inside the pasta sea small fluorescent monsters are swimming. One has a long black hair wrapped around a tentacle. My stomach turns. But another little baby grabs at the baby-sized serving spoon adrift in the pasta and pushes at it. The fun begins. Katy holds back a while longer, watches and then finally starts to copy, relief visible on her face that this is just another bit of grown-up silliness she can laugh along with at no cost to herself.

The Mucky Munchkins class works on the basis that they let babies smear themselves in as much pasta, gloop and non-toxic paint as they want, then someone else clears it all up afterwards. When they say mucky, they ain't lying. Next to the pasta is a washing-up bowl filled near the brim with what looks to be vomit - a substance I've had enough experience with already this week, thank you very much - again peopled with monsters. Mess is what we're here for, I have to keep reminding myself.

I've been trying to kid myself we're doing this entirely for Katy, but the truth is that after starting back to work two days a week or so in January I've been lonely and out of sorts on the days I do look after her. However little I have in common with the other mums here, Mucky Munchkins is at least some kind of landmark we can organise the day around, an escape from the long, formless slump of home life, with the promise of some adult conversation.

So here we are, Katy covered in yellow porridge in a room at the local library, me twittering nervously about whether she can eat the gloop in safety. We move on to finger paintings, with me encouraging Katy to daub cut-out shamrock (a nod to St Patrick's Day next week) and rainbow shapes.

Come the end of the class, I want to find the shapes she "painted" and pick up a rainbow that looks like it might have been hers. Another mother clears her throat. It's clear I'm about commit some solecism. It turns out to be the work of her offspring, or so she says. "We're taking that home to show Daddy, aren't we?" I'm no longer sure which painting is ours. Bless them, but the babies haven't yet discovered a distinctive style and one besmeared shamrock looks very much like another.

Briefly, I consider forgetting the paintings and keeping Katy's vest as our memento of the morning - installation art for infants, if you like - since it's got more paint on it than any of the paintings. Nah. Too bizarre. Then I spot a shamrock that looks like it might be ours. Phew.

The woman running the classes wants to take it from me to lay it out to dry with the others but after my run-in with the other mum I'm taking no chances and hug it to me protectively. This might not be top-end office politics, but on the mums-and-babies circuit you do get a few opportunities to stretch yourself. I wrap the shamrock, lopsided from undried lumps of orange paint, in a binliner and pop it in my rucksack.

Posted 09 March 2007 18:18 | Number of comments: 0 | Comments

Daughter Play Playgroup Work