November 2007

PostingFamily Ties

A friend said: "Read this book. It'll make you cry." She handed me a copy of it then wandered off to look at something else. On the cover was a young mother with lots of curly dark hair holding up a surprised-looking baby, dressed in a stripey baby-gro, against the background of a blue, blue sky.  I stood there in the bookshop and started leafing through Someday and sure enough, in seconds I was blubbing, tears were spurting out my eyes at the story of a mother who dreams of what the future might hold for her beloved daughter. "Va-vay, could you lend me your handkerchief?" I asked. "No," he said. The hankie was already dirty, he explained. I didn't care. Insisted he hand it over. He capitulated.

I didn't cry because the little girl had a particularly grim future in store, just because it made me aware of the fragile hopes and dreams we mothers have for our children, that we project far into the future, many of them unspoken or unacknowledged. "I didn't think you'd cry that much," said my friend in astonishment, when she returned from teenage fiction. "I know," I said apologetically. "I'm sorry, it's just, I find this sort of thing very, well, emotional."

After I bought my copy, (well, I felt I had to after my snotty-nosed outburst) and returned home, I read Someday again a couple of times (it's a quick read, which is just as well, given its effect on me). And cried again both times.

The mother in the book dreams of how her daughter might live her life to the full, leaving home for the first time ('Someday you will look at this house and wonder how something that feels so big can look so small'), diving into a lake, running and singing, experiencing joy and sorrow, herself becoming first a mother, ('Someday I will watch you brushing your child's hair') then in time a grandmother. It closes with the mother looking far into the future, imagining her daughter in old age. In this imagined future, the daughter (whom we first saw as a baby) now has silver hair and we come full circle back to the present, when we see, sitting on a table in her home, a picture of her as a baby in the arms of her mother, who is narrating the story. It's how I felt on becoming a mother, as if I'd at last taken my place in the chain that links one generation of women to the next and to the one after that and the one after that, an invisible thread of love connecting all of us to each other, the thread sometimes taut with pressure, at other times slack. No longer a reproductive full stop. But part of a circle. As if I'd handed on the baton by having my own child. The perfect ending.

Posted 26 November 2007 16:49 | Number of comments: 11 | Comments

Books Older mother

PostingSee no weevil

Va-vay has replaced the hallogen bulbs in the kitchen. Following his discovery of an oven-cleaning implement (that looks like a Stanley knife), the last remains of blackened plum jam have disappeared from the new induction hob. Nightly, I get down on my hands and knees to wash and scrub the kitchen's wooden floor. I clean surfaces, sponge away dirt, wipe down the bin, sweep away crumbs, hoover up stray hairs and bin half-eaten and soggy rice cakes. As I do so, I wonder how dirt can regenerate so fast, whether any of the food I prepare ever actually goes in Beanie's stomach, and how it can be that so much hair remains attached to my head, when so much is in front of me on the floor.

On Saturday evening, Va-vay was looking for flour to make the white sauce for a mushroom and courgette pasta bake. He prised open the larder door, whose handle fell off some months ago, releasing an aroma of stale curry spices into the kitchen, fished around for a bag of flour, extracted it, opened it, looked inside, looked again and jumped back in horror. Weevils. Weevils have invaded our larder cupboard. They were eating their way through lentils, porridge oats, bread-making flour, plain flour, self-raising flour, rice, split peas, sunflower seeds, cardamon pods, turmeric, mild curry powder, nutmeg, polenta, rosemary, icing sugar, yeast and assorted Italian Herbs.

By the time Va-vay bagged up the weevil-infested comestibles, took them round to his favourite refuse bins ('I wanted to give them a decent send-off'), swabbed down the decks and got to the corner shop for more flour, we ate late on Saturday night.

The larder no longer smells of stale curry spices. Its corner of the kitchen has the antiseptic, fear-inducing smell of a hospital corridor. Its shelves are empty, save for a couple of jars of jam I bought on honeymoon more than two years ago, the instructions to the microwave and a tube of tomato puree. All of which we judged impregnable by weevil.

For any of you interested, I'm on BBC Radio Scotland's Book Cafe this lunchtime at about 1.15 - 1.30pm, taking part in a discussion about blogs-to-books. Other slated participants include Simon Trewin, the literary agent of Petite Anglaise, one of my favourite blogs. Technical know-how permitting, (and provided I don't come away sounding a complete fool) Va-vay is planning to download the discussion onto this site in the next couple of days. So keep an eye or ear out for that if you're interested in turning blogs into books.

Posted 19 November 2007 12:09 | Number of comments: 31 | Comments

Daughter Domestic chaos Husband

PostingGo on, blame it on us older mums

Depressing to read that mature mothers are allegedly responsible for putting pressure on maternity units. I've heard some lame excuses for the lack of NHS funding and its creaking infrastructure, but really, isn't blaming new mothers who happen to be a few years older than average scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel? The story claims the increasing number of women giving birth in later life is putting pressure on maternity units that do not have enough specialists to deal with complications associated with older mothers. Curiously, the article omits to mention that the overall birth rate has been climbing in recent years, which might have something to do with the pressure on maternity units. Nor does it dwell on the amount of funding going into maternity care. The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists estimates that to provide safe care for all women in labour, the number of consultants needs to rise from 1,600 to 2,500 immediately, and more will be needed if the trend for women to give birth later continues. We older mums are costing the NHS because we are more likely to need a Caesarean or run into serious difficulties during delivery and so require consultants to be available. How inconsiderate of us. 

Posted 13 November 2007 22:20 | Number of comments: 19 | Comments

Childbirth News Older mother

PostingMotherhood: a marathon for us all

pradcliffeMS0505468x453_Small.jpgWonderful to read of Paula Radcliffe's victory in the New York Marathon, just nine months after giving birth to her daughter Isla in January. Brilliant news, especially after her terrible time in the Athens Olympics. Radcliffe, who's thirty three, is talking about competing in the 2012 London Olympics and having another child before then. Which could conceivably make her an older mum. Go, Paula. It's not just the British flag you're flying. You're an inspiration to us all.

Posted 12 November 2007 15:31 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Childbirth Older mother Out and about

PostingHappy Birthday, Mother at Large

BirthdayBalloons.gif Posted by Va-vay (husband of Mother at Large)

Regular readers of this blog will know that Mother at Large has hinted that she is nearing her fortieth birthday. Personally, I have no reason to believe that this is true - I think she has just been trying to reinforce her credentials as an older mum. However, she is now claiming that the day has actually arrived! Just in case it really is her fortieth, you are invited to a virtual party to celebrate. As you'll have noticed, I have provided balloons! Please feel free to add congratulations, encouragement or words of wisdom in the comments section.

Mother at Large's own reflections (posted on the eve of her birthday) follow...

Tomorrow I officially enter Vintage Chick territory with my 40th birthday. Am I bovvered? Well, strangely, no. I follow an inverse logic for milestone birthdays, the older I get, the more I enjoy them. Do other people feel this way? You'd think it would be the other way round, but no, life has got better for me as I've got older. Ten years ago, when I turned thirty, I was on the shelf, childless and without even a boyfriend. I had to work my guts out in a job I didn't much like, doing unpaid overtime till all hours, and commuting two hours daily from one of London's scarier outer boroughs, walking to and from Kensal Green Tube past drug dealers and their victims.

Somehow I've managed to turn a corner over the last ten years - I'm lucky in that I do interesting work, live in a beautiful city, am married to the man I love and we have our beautiful daughter Beanie. I don't always like seeing the bags under my eyes, or fatter belly, but they're a badge of honour - show that I'm a mother now.

I'm realistic. Soon, I'll need reading glasses and will go on Saga cruises. I'll embarrass my family by buying their presents out of catalogues selling gadgets for trimming ear hair, orthopaedic slippers and jam jar openers. I'll splash out on complicated trolley-and-hot-plate arrangements for ferrying food from kitchen to table, and invest in a tartan shopping bag with wheels I push into people's legs, unapologetically, while at home I hoard cupboards of biscuits that would allow me to survive a siege. I'll develop crushes on children's TV presenters and  give Granny a run for her money in Sudoko and crosswords. I might even take up golf - you can't fight these things, they come to us all in the end. But I couldn't be happier. I might even chance my arm and say, yes, I'm actually looking forwards to tomorrow.

Posted 08 November 2007 22:41 | Number of comments: 22 | Comments

Edinburgh Granny Older mother Paradoxes

PostingFill your boots at Fidra Books

FidraBooks.gifA quick reminder that Edinburgh's new, independent children's bookshop opens its doors for the first time this Saturday (10 November). You can find Fidra Books at 219 Bruntsfield Place, Edinburgh, just along the road from Holy Corner. Vanessa Robertson, the firm's director, is a staunch ally of this site and fellow blogger who deserves every success with the new shop. I'm chuffed to bits for her and telling everybody I know about the launch. Please go along and support the shop by buying some of her books. She's stocking more than a thousand titles, including the fifteen Fidra has published. Aside from Vanessa being a personal friend (I think she'd agree with that) we need shops like this to stop our high streets melting into a parade of identikit chains.

More personally, I can hardly wait until Beanie's old enough to enjoy browsing in Vanessa's shop. Some of my happiest childhood memories are visiting bookshops with my mother, and I want to do the same thing for my daughter. I come from a fairly modest background (despite what certain readers of the Edinburgh Evening News think) but my mother believed books were the best investment you could make and used to produce her James Thin account card for all sorts of children's books like Ballet Shoes, Tom's Midnight Garden and The Secret Garden. They opened the door into a new and enchanted world I never wanted to leave.

As Vanessa's written on her blog, many people have an emotional attachment to book shops possibly because they remember buying books there  that have shaped their lives, ideas, aspirations, dreams, perceptions and imaginations. Buying on-line is never going to be the same for a small child as wandering around in a cornucopia of real books.  Go on, if you get the chance, pay a trip to the new shop. Just don't expect to find any Katy Price pony books, though. Vanessa won't be stocking any. As she told The Scotsman, "We won't stock rubbish." Quite right too.

Posted 07 November 2007 21:59 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Books Edinburgh Friends Out and about

PostingRead all about it

en06blob_Small.jpgGreat piece in the Edinburgh Evening News on my book, Fashionably Late, about being an older mum - Motherhood blog gives birth to book deal for city woman.

It was embarrassing when the paper's photographer arrived and Beanie led her into the back bedroom, the only room I hadn't managed to tidy when I heard the 'snapper' was coming, and where I'd dumped all the clean laundry, two racks of still-damp clothes, Va-vay's computer books and stuff for my tax return. But she didn't seem to mind. Seemed almost reluctant to follow me back into the hall, if you ask me.

As you can see, Beanie got to have her picture taken by the photographer. She was very patient while this happened, though I could see an inner battle going on. On the one hand, she wanted to stay put and enjoy the special attention and rare privilege of getting to play with the laptop, (of which, more later). On the other, she wanted to continue her rampage across the flat.

The clever photographer clinched it by waving Miffy the Rabbit (not featured) over her shoulder. As a result, you can see Beanie in the shot, dressed in the special jersey we bought her in France, clinging onto a piece of cottonwool. We're both pretending to gaze with interest at the aforementioned laptop. Can't be sure, but think they might have kindly airbrushed out the bags under my eyes. And some laughter lines. Normally my credentials as an older mother are more, err, in evidence. Beanie didn't need airbrushing, being beautiful as she is.

Va-vay said he was proud of us all when he saw the piece: me, Beanie and the laptop. Yes, the laptop. That's because he chose it for me. Va-vay views it with almost proprietary interest. Plus he treats computers like well-loved household pets. And vice versa. When I took a long time today to answer a question, he said: "You should have a little hourglass thing going round, that way I'd know you were thinking. Or had crashed." God forbid I ever need re-booting.

But I digress. Being a journalist myself, it was odd but not unpleasant not being the one asking questions. And it was lovely to see the piece. They even quoted parts of the blog next to the article. I was a bit bemused by some of the rather ill-informed comments people left on the on-line version but I had some kind emails from people. One woman got in touch to tell me she found the blog 'lovely and heartwarming'. Awww, shucks. Makes it all worthwhile. Now, as Beta Mum has said, I've got to hope the delivery of the book isn't as painful as actual childbirth.

Posted 06 November 2007 22:15 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

Blogging Books Fashionably Late - the book Older mother

PostingKick in the head

Beanie's teething problems continue unabated, causing her to wake in the night and refuse to settle.

About 5.50am she signalled to her father in no uncertain terms that her morning had started.

"I was woken up this morning with a kick in the head," said Va-vay later, rather plaintively.

If I hadn't suspected he was playing for effect, I might have been more sympathetic.

Posted 06 November 2007 11:01 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Daughter Domestic chaos Health Husband Sleep

PostingHer boyfriend is a twat

51AwEY1z0kLAA240_Small.jpg Blogger Zoe McCarthy has just published the highly entertaining book, My Boyfriend is a Twat, loosely based on her blog of the same name. I would recommend it to all who have ever been puzzled by the inexplicable behaviour of the men in their lives - in other words, all of us. Zoe has taken some time out from her life in Belgium with the Twat to answer a few questions I put to her about her new book, published by The Friday Project, who will be publishing my own book if I ever get my act together and start writing it.

Helen: First of all, many congratulations on the book.

Zoe: Thank you. You obviously haven't read it.

H: Could you tell us what inspired you to write MBIAT – the book?

Z: It was an idea from Clare Christian at The Friday Project.  Initially, she approached me about writing a book based on my blog.  B O R I N G.  So I said that I wasn't interested.  Then Clare twisted my arm and held it tight with other suggestions, such as making the book into a manual and giving hints to other women how to deal with partners who are a twat.  She even offered me an egg coddler so I said 'yes'.  My arm still hurts though.

H: Will regular readers of your blog find lots of new material in the book?

Z: Definitely.  Well, it's old material that happened before Quarsan (the twat in my life) and I met and therefore has never appeared on my blog.  He's been a bit of a plonker all his life, if you ask me.

H: What was it like going from writing a blog to a book?

Z: Very, very difficult.  As the book is about  Quarsan, I had to sieve through almost four years' worth of posts, discarding those that weren't relevant and then re-writing those that were.  I think I only cut and pasted two small parts of my blog - the rest has been entirely rewritten so as to be able to be read in book-form.  I'm not all that sure that I succeeded - but then, I haven't read the book.

H: What do you like best about blogging?

Z: Being able to share with my regular readers the daft things that go on in my life.  For some reason, people do come back to see what's going on - and many people have exceedingly good memories about the last time something happened.  Such as the last time I got a black eye ....

I also love reading back as I have a memory like a sieve, so it's fun to see the things that have happened, my children's development over the past (almost) five years, and the antics that Quarsan gets up to.

H: Any thoughts about the Twat and parenting (the subject of M@L)? What's his worst crime been in the step-dad department?

The Twat and parenting should never, ever be in the same sentence.  Having said that, I think that had he been given the chance, he would have made a great dad but he obviously forgot about getting on and having a family in favour of climbing mountains and travelling.

His worst crime in the step-dad department must be the fact that he takes sides with my children.  That is a Bad Thing.

H: Are all female bloggers married to/living with men in IT who do behind-the-scenes tech stuff? Or does it just feel that way?

Z: I know quite a few single female bloggers, if that helps.

H: Like you, I too have a partner who detests mobile phones. 'An inferior technology' he says. Any tips on dealing with that one?

Z: Don't let him have one.  Everybody comes round eventually, trust me.

H: Any suggestions for how to get a man to clear up in the kitchen after he's made a meal? The answer would be the Holy Grail of modern womanhood.....

Z: Oh, this is such a grey area.  I have been battling this one for the six years we have been together.  Standing over my partner and telling him to wipe all the surfaces doesn't work.  The kitchen table is always covered in molasses from where Quarsan has been preparing his shisha pipe, the area next  to the sink is covered in coffee stains and breadcrumbs - I think I'm trying to say that I really am at a loss.

H: How does Quarsan put up with all the abuse? Does he ever complain?

Z: Abuse?  If you think my blog or my book is abusive then you should hear what I have to put up with, hence the 'Twattisms' - Quarsan's snide replies to me.  But no, he never complains - I would never blog something about him that he wouldn't blog himself.  There are  things that Quarsan doesn't like to tell the world and they can be worked out from reading the book.

He loves the attention though, believe me.

H: Come on, admit it, you love him really, don't you? All this piss-taking is an English way of showing your affection for him, isn't it?

Z: Of course I love him - do you really think that I'd write a blog and then a book about somebody I didn't love?

I need to lie down. 

H: On that note, I'd like to conclude by wishing you every success with the book. It's a great read – sharp, entertaining and pacey.

Z: Thank you, and thank you for taking the time to write up these questions.  Good luck with your book!

Posted 05 November 2007 16:05 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Blogging Books Dads Domestic chaos

PostingComing over all McCall Smith

l48_Small.jpgAn incident last week involving the Noble Beast - our car - has proved what I've long suspected: my life is turning into something out of one of Alexander McCall Smith's books about Edinburgh. It was past midnight, my husband Va-vay was snoring lightly by my side, Beanie was asleep next door in her room - the 'Beanerarium’. I couldn’t sleep for worrying if I remembered to tether the Noble Beast properly.

In my defence, just after I stabled the Beast earlier that evening I got a bit flustered because as I was putting Beanie into her buggy - the 'Travelling Beanerarium’ - a large silver Mercedes drew up very, very close to us.

“Could you be careful! There’s a little girl here,” I shouted, pushing the buggy away as fast as I could. Unfortunately progress was slow on the uneven cobbles of the Edinburgh New Town.

images_Small.jpgThe man wound down his window and drawled in a hateful, posh accent, as if he couldn’t be bothered if he mowed over an entire kindergarten: “I am fully aware of that.”

Still a bit upset about that, and busy thinking up pithy rejoinders it was too late to deliver, I couldn't sleep. So instead I lay there for another half hour, keeping myself entertained by running through the possibilities of what might happen to the poor Beast:

a) Drunken pub-goers break into car, urinate everywhere, trash her.

b) Car thieves steal the Beast and take her to Glasgow, where Lard McConnell, well-known Glaswegian crime lord and good friend of Bertie Pollock is waiting to take delivery of her

c) Insurers refuse to pay up because it was my mistake. S**t!!!!

"Va-vay," I say, quite loudly, in the darkness. "Va-vay, I think I forgot to lock the car."

The poor man gets dressed, stumbles out of the house looking half-asleep and heads back to the scene of the crime.

He returns twenty minutes later, gets undressed again, and climbs back into bed. All without saying a word.

"So, err... was it okay?" I say apologetically.

"Yes, all locked up." Within seconds he's snoring gently again.

Oh dear. A classic Irene Pollock moment.

Posted 03 November 2007 16:47 | Number of comments: 9 | Comments

Angst Car Edinburgh Out and about

PostingSkirting the issue

iStock000003046144XSmall_Small.jpgThose scientists have been at it again. This time they're debunking a few myths about late pregnancy. Turns out we can forget about cleaning skirting boards to get baby into position. According to The New York Times, all that cleaning makes no difference.

Shame, because I thought getting down on our hands and knees in readiness for labour was nature's way of getting the baby into position - and the nest ready. A nice two-for-one, if you like. Clean flat, ready for new baby.

However, researchers did find that women who went onto their hands and knees during the actual delivery succeeded in reducing their pain. My midwife asked me to do this, but what with the epidural, exhaustion, morphine and joint pain, it didn't go too well.

Va-vay didn't look like the gentle, bearded Scandinavian dads they showed us in the ante-natal videos, either. For starters, he was a lot more anxious - perhaps that his wife and unborn daughter might topple off the bed.  

Posted 01 November 2007 21:41 | Number of comments: 16 | Comments

Childbirth Husband Pregnancy