Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

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May 2009

Sometimes

Elder daughter Beanie is in the kitchen, toying with the pink plastic plate containing her supper. It's bananas, broken rice cakes and raisins tonight. Her choice. She glances down to where I am knelt on the kitchen floor, scooping up old rice cakes, encrusted porridge and moulted hairs.

"I love you, Mummy."

I wipe sweat from my face, push the hair out of my eyes and smile at her.

"I love you, Beanie."

She looks thoughtful for a second.

"Actually," (a favourite new word of the moment, signalling she is about to say something she knows I will not like) "Actually, sometimes I love you." She frowns. "And sometimes I don't." My heart sinks, part of it plummeting downwards towards my stomach.

Beanie now looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to provide an explanation of these difficult emotions. I'm not sure what to say. I put down the cleaning cloth and rifle through my memory for inspiration.

"You see, Beanie, when two people love each other and are close to each other, like we are, it's normal to have disagreements. Times when you argue or don't get on so well. That's part of loving someone. It's normal to get annoyed with each other, it's real, it doesn't mean you don't love them. The love is always there. You know like in your book?"

She looks thoughtful, clambers down from her turquoise booster seat and walks over to the other side of the kitchen, to her sticker board. It is festooned with 'trophies' - stickers from home and nursery given for good behaviour. She inspects the board, selects a sticker and unpeels it from the paper with painstaking care, worried in case she tears it.

She walks back to where I am sitting, having given up on floor cleaning, takes the sticker and presses it to the middle of my chest.

"There you go, Mummy."

I peer down at my chest.

Upside down, I can see the sticker has writing on it.

I look more closely. I can make out two words.

It reads: "Well done."

Posted 25 May 2009 09:44 | Number of comments: 11 | Comments

Beanie

Powering down

Friday evening. The four of us have washed up on the shore of the weekend. We have survived the storms of the week and are relieved to have reached dry land. But husband Va-vay's weekend gets off to a bad start. He returns home bearing a broken laptop, silently carrying it up the stairs to our flat, held out in front of him like a bird with a broken wing that he intends to nurse back to health. His look is doleful. It's understandable. This calamity hurts Va-vay more than it would most people. Computers are not just computers to him. They are friends. With distinct personalities, feelings, hopes and dreams. Unlike most of us, Va-vay neither takes computers for granted nor loses his temper when one of them fails to co-operate. Instead, he is saddened. Equally, he tends to describe people - notably himself - in the language and terms of computers. Later that evening, almost too tired to talk after a relentless week of work and childcare, he explains to me that he cannot discuss the DVD we have just watched. He is going to sleep: "I think I might be powering down. It's like when the computer battery has gone. It just has to shut down. There's no option." Within seconds, he is snoring. Next to him the computer bag emits a companionable beep. I hear no more from either of them for some hours.

Posted 23 May 2009 14:00 | Number of comments: 14 | Comments

Husband

Days of your life

We had a blessing at our local church, St George's West in Edinburgh, on Sunday for Beanie and Button. The church pulled out all the stops for us - printing the order of service sheets in pink, in honour of the girls, placing pink carnations around the hall, presenting both girls with candles and small wooden camels as a reminder of their special day. We took the special christening cake along to the church for a little party afterwards. And sparkling wine too. Everyone there has made us feel so welcome over the last months. The lovely, kind people from the church helped me cut the cake and passed it out to the family and friends who had come to help celebrate, some of them making the journey from the south. It was a wonderful day. Tears came to my eyes when the wonderful minister said the bit: "May God bless you and keep you safe all the days of your life" and I haven't been able to get the phrase "days of your life" out of my head ever since. Younger daughter Button wore my old christening gown, which her Granny had kept safe for so many years. It fitted her perfectly, and I still get a thrill of happiness just thinking about us both wearing the same dress while going through that same rite of passage.

And although it was - officially - the girls who were being blessed on Sunday, as I stood at the altar, holding one daughter in my arms, the other by the hand, I felt blessed too.

Posted 19 May 2009 09:48 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Daughters Edinburgh Granny

Dawn raid

A small person materialised in our bedroom this morning. Out of nowhere. Like she'd come via Transporter. Friends had warned this might happen, and I have been half-expecting a matudinal visit for weeks. Elder daughter Beanie has spent many hours rattling the large, round door handle to her room in hope of early-morning release. It was still a shock when a voice broke into my dreams: "I need to go to the toilet, mummy. I really do need to go to the toilet. I really do!"

Posted 15 May 2009 12:29 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Beanie

Count your blessings

I enjoy ordering cakes - so many enjoyable micro-decisions, such as choosing the colour of icing, agreeing the exact wording that will spiral across the cake's snowy surface, weighing up something called an "optional shimmer effect", deciding type and width of border, debating the merits of square cakes versus round, Victoria sponge or Madeira. It makes me feel in control making decisions like those, (as opposed to the biggies like where to live, how to get back to work, where our children will go to school). The last cake I ordered was for my wedding, a fantastical three-tiered arrangement iced with hearts and flowers that came from a cake-maker in Oxfordshire. Oh, I loved that cake. One of the tiers came to live with us afterwards and remained on top of a kitchen unit for several years, until, eventually, we had to give up on our plan of dusting it down and reviving it with brandy for Beanie's Christening and relinquished it, amid a cloud of dust, to the dustbin. Life at the time was so chaotic I'm not even sure the poor cake had the dignity of shuffling off its mortal coil by going to one of Vavay's favourite refuse bins. However, last week I ordered another special cake (lest you are wondering, a square Victoria sponge, filled with butter cream and jam, complete with optional shimmer effect) as we're about to have a blessing ceremony for our girls. Our great friend Vanessa from Fidra Books and my sister Auntie 'Ona are to be godmothers to Beanie. On Saturday The Godmothers (as Vavay calls Vanessa and 'Ona) and I piled round to Auntie 'Ona's for an evening of wine and fun at a girls-only dinner (our excuse being that we are doing the Moon Walk together) that felt like the feminine equivalent of wetting the baby's head. Childhood friend Zornhau and his lovely wife Kirsty are doing the same for Button. The cake is ordered. Let the festivities begin.

Posted 11 May 2009 15:54 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Daughters

Third Man

The advent of cheap DVDs means I am filling in gaps in my film knowledge. On Friday evening husband Vavay and I watched the incomparable film noir The Third Man for the first time. Set in the murky world of post-war Vienna, the film tells of a naive American writer named Holly Martins who discovers his old friend Harry Lime has disappeared in mysterious circumstances and determines to find out what has happened to him. I should have watched the film years ago. At last I understand the meaning of references to zither music and hands reaching up out of the foul-smelling sewer.

Posted 10 May 2009 16:06 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Toddlers: The Mumsnet Guide

The moment I knew for sure this book wasn't for me? Stumbling on a piece of advice in the section on potty training that counselled, in all seriousness: "Do not empty your potty in your host's kitchen sink." In "Mumsnetiquette", a piece of writing which reads like it was inspired in the darkest hinterland of social oblivion, the authors advise: "It is most definitely not acceptable to empty potties down friends' kitchen sinks when on playdates." Well, no, how true. But do I want to pay £12.99 to be told that? Readers are advised, earnestly, that they should instead locate a bathroom or visitors' loo, then "empty potty, rinse and dry (not on the guests' handtowel). Employ a handy antibacterial wipe ... (but don't flush wipes down the loo, they cause blockages). Wash your hands." The authors have plainly spent too long on the internet and not enough time getting out and mixing with other people. Especially other adults. I also suspect they might have forgotten they were meant to be writing about toddlers and lapsed into writing for toddlers.

Toddlers: The Mumsnet Guide, Bloomsbury, £12.99

Posted 09 May 2009 18:16 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Books

Goodbye Mr Chips

Since having younger daughter Button last July, nigh on ten months ago, I have lost 17lbs in weight. The equivalent of thirty four packets of butter. I am back in my old jeans, have more energy, feel more attractive and am suffering less joint pain. Unlike popular myth, I lost no weight while breastfeeding. In lactation, my body craved milk shakes and fillet steak. It showed. The weight has only started to come off since the end of feeding. Portion control and healthy eating, swapping my full-fat lattes for Americanos, avoiding mindless biscuit eating and switching to low-fat sauces have helped shed the pounds. Jogging around the local park with Button in her buggy is getting me in shape. Thanks to a creche at the local council gym, where I sometimes leave Button, I pound the treadmill too. But strangers, chiefly shop assistants, still smile in a benevolent way and ask: "And when are you due, dear?" I no longer burst into tears at these words as I did a few months ago. But I intend to lose another 14lbs in weight by the time Button turns one this coming July. To get back to my old weight from a couple of years ago. Post-pregnancy weight is one thing; when it turns into middle-aged spread that's something else. Then again, maybe slow baby weight loss is nothing to do with age. As I sit here, half my mind on lunch, my thoughts have turned to chips. Warm, salted, calorific, diet-busting chips.

Posted 09 May 2009 12:39 | Number of comments: 1 | Comments

Health Pelvic girdle pain/SPD Pregnancy

Herbs of the Highlands

A weekly evening class at our local botanical gardens has become my equivalent of Tom's Midnight Garden. Herbs of the Highlands is a chance to visit the place after official closing time, and experience an alternative reality to the diurnal grind. When the lawns, paths and glasshouses have emptied of buggies and their noisy occupants, we get the place to ourselves to wander through the wilder sections of the garden, where we can discover Scotland's bio-medicinal heritage. We've already made antiseptic bath milk by grinding up pine needles in a pestle and mortar with powdered milk, drunk hawthorn tea to celebrate Beltane and donned gloves to gather nettles for a health-giving herbal infusion. This week we were making alcoholic tinctures, one with heather, the other with blueberries. We decanted handfuls of heather flowers and dried blueberries into jam jars filled with.... a leading Swedish brand of vodka. Bet no-one realised that was part of Scottish Highland heritage.

Posted 08 May 2009 18:28 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Activities Edinburgh

"Eglantine, Eglantine...."

After promising to post at least once a week, I've been most remiss in failing to hit my stated target. Apologies. I'm not yet back at (paid) work but, as many of you would know, life spent looking after two small children is busy (I've written this before, haven't I?) - and also, let's be honest here, more fun than messing about in the blogosphere. Am stealing a few moments to write this as both girls watch Bedknobs and Broomsticks - only the eighteenth such viewing in two weeks. This is a quick round-up post. Beanie has started ballet lessons and I am extremely proud. Va-vay is singing again - mostly snatches from Beanie's DVDs, a sample being "Eglantine, Eglantine, my how you shine!" We have joined Edinburgh Zoo - a year's family membership costs a stiff £110, but since we've already been there three times in just one week, and an individual visit costs close to £30, it's not looking like bad value. Button finds her elder sister vastly entertaining and does everything in her ability to copy Beanie's escapades. Just as soon as Button can get that second arm out she'll be crawling. We have embraced soft play. The dreaded Nipper 360 Out and About buggy - I went for the side-by-side model in the end, not the stacking Phil and Ted version, which might, hard to be sure, but might have been a mistake - is finally proving more biddable. I've overcome my faulty spatial dynamics chip (the same one that gives me problems with parking, though on the plus side this means I have met several nice neighbours who park the car for me) to judge door width and manoeuvre the buggy's vast girth. We trundle over with the beast of burden to the Botanics most days. We still help fuel the brisk trade in babycinos and dinosaur boxes in local cafes. The washing basket has magically acquired the ability to reproduce on its own. Hourly. I am doing a few botanical courses that I'm enjoying. All ordinary stuff - but I'm loving it. Well, okay, maybe not the washing, but the rest of it. I'm going to be helping the Pelvic Partnership, a charity that helps women with pregnancy-related pelvic girdle pain, with generating press coverage. On a less positive note, training for June's Moon Walk has faltered, since most evenings I'm good for nothing but supper and bed. All normal, I know. But since I've started collecting sponsorship money for the walk, I have no excuse for this kind of loafing about and plan to start pounding the Edinburgh pavements again at the end of this week. Some kind readers have already generously given money for the cause - many thanks again to you all. The event aims to raise money to support women with breast cancer and fund research into treatment. I know money is tight for lots of people right now, but if anyone can spare a few pounds for this worthy cause it'd be much appreciated. You can donate on-line here.

Two readers each won a copy of Instructions Not Included, Charlotte Moerman's book about bringing up her three small boys. They are Kate Stewart Roper and Avril Davidson.

Okay, and on that note I can hear from the TV that Eglantine, Mr Brown and the children have despatched the Nazis back to Germany with the help of family solidarity, Walt Disney and a few magic spells. My signal to close here.