Tuesday, 27 October 2009

What Not to Wear

I remember when my Auntie was out shopping for clothes years ago with her toddler daughter.  In one of Topshop's changing rooms (you know them, where everyone can hear everything), she squeezed into a rather tasty, sexy number, thinking this was The Outfit She Must Have, when her little girl protested extremely loudly:

"No, Mummy. Too tight, too short."  Brilliant, though Mum was mortified.

Fast forward sixteen years and I could well be saying the same thing to my daughter, not the other way around (I think).

I told you about this clothes obsession of hers very recently, didn't I?  It doesn't matter what she wears, as long as it defies me and what I think she should be sporting this season.  I'm not a fussy mum, honest I'm not, but I would at least like the pretty little thing to wear something that is a) warm b) her size c) on its way to being passably clean.  She, of course, has other ideas.

Today she managed a Big Fat Fail on all three counts and demanded to put on a T-shirt (it's the end of October), age 18 months - 2 years (she's 3 and a half) that she pulled out of the laundry basket a heap of clothes stuffed into the cupboard next to the washing machine.

If I had longer hair, I swear I'd pull it out!

Tuesday, 20 October 2009


Most think I have a problem but I defy you all, please just have a listen. This man is brilliant:

Monday, 19 October 2009

Eternal Summer

In my second ever Weston Mercury blog post, back in March, I grumbled about the number of times that My Girl changes her clothes every day and, seven months on, if I have managed to better direct this obsession, I haven’t eliminated it.

Yesterday, for example, I coaxed her into a dress of all things and a very pretty one, with brand new woolly cream tights. Success.

“I don’t WANT to wear a jumper!!”

“OK then, that’s fine, no jumper. And no cinema.” Tough Love.

She put the jumper on. Fabulous: cute, clean and warm – miracle of miracles. The concession? Of course, there was a concession; in the form of way too small, paint-and hot chocolate-stained white shorts underneath the dress. Shorts are le mode du jour (or should that be de la saison?) in our house – shorts, naturally, because the temperature has taken quite a dip during the past few days and who wouldn’t want to have their flesh exposed in mid-autumn?

I bought her a gorgeous, colourful matching and warm hat n gloves set the other day and so, maybe, she’s demanding to wear what she considers the direct opposite of winter woollies just to wind me up/assert herself. I say coat, you say sunglasses. I say winter hat, you say bandana. I say “put your bloody socks on,” you say “I want my Fifi sandals.”

But she did get dressed in the warmish gear and made no mention of this hardship whilst watching Madagascar – Escape 2 Africa (how’s this? I sussed out that Ben Stiller and David Schwimmer voice two of the main characters in Madagascar! I’ve always been crap at determining voices – seen Zoolander and Friends too many times, obviously). No whinge about her outfit in the park either. But when we got home, the first thing she said, and I mean as soon as we walked in the door, was “I put something else on now.”

Had she really been thinking about that for 3 hours?? If so, may I call my 3 year old daughter a great big loser? Just this once?

Monday, 12 October 2009

Shop Local?

During the mornings, when My Girl is at pre-school, I’ve taken to popping into town to buy the provisions. It’s only a ten minute walk from here and once I’ve counted with her the acorns/conkers/pine cones we’ve collected on the way to Funny Bunnies, I’m half-way there.

A grocer’s has recently opened up next to the butcher’s, which is next to the baker’s, by the Silica-Carrot-Turnip-Phallus Structure in Weston Centre, turning that little area into a food shoppers’, if not Paradise, then convenient Shop Local outing.

This morning I whizzed into Tesco Express for the necessities (milk and a big bar of Mint Aero) en route to seeking out other items from the mini-parade of shops. I quizzed the butcher over the price of sausages because I thought he’d undercharged me and I congratulated myself on buying a decent amount of grapes for 50p in the adjacent shop. Shopping local has its advantages – offering mostly less expensive produce than I’ve become used to at the Supermarket. And the people are friendly. Well, they have to be, don’t they?

I head home with two large and strong carrier bags: don’t frown, I recycle them as rubbish bags. Damn, I’ve forgotten the butter but at least I have chocolate. Not to worry, there’s a corner shop on the way home (where, yes, you have to buy Anchor. And yes, it costs 51p more than the Asda Smart Price stuff), so I’ll just stand here behind this woman topping up her electric and gas and mobile phone and wait with an air of “Oh, it’s fine, I’m not in a rush”. Taking my own mobile out of my back pocket, I realise that this little excursion has swallowed up nearly an hour of my child-free time and I’m not even home yet! I could have stocked up on everything we need for a couple of weeks at said Asda or Tesco in a bloody hour.

I pace up the huge hill back to nuestra casa, even breathed, wondering whether I should be economising more wisely on time? But, look, we’ve lots of (mostly) healthy grub and my arse is definitely getting firmer. Plus, it’s a great divisionary tactic for actually getting things done!

Tuesday, 6 October 2009

I'm Spartacus!!

Her 4-year old boyfriend, L1, came round to play yesterday afternoon.  They behaved well enough (My Girl was only sent to the yellow Chill-out Chair once for throwing play-dough all over the carpet after being asked not to). They made a general mess as kids do but nothing that couldn't be picked up and jammed into a cupboard, drawer, wardrobe or trunk once they'd finished.  Lunch was a competition, as was most everything else, and the little lady gobbled hers in record time with the jubilant annoucement "I the Winner!"

And then they fought over who would take the lead role in their own version of Lazy Town.

"I'm Sportacus," he cried.

"No, I'm Sportacus," she replied.

"No, I'm Sportacus,"

"I'm Sportacus!"

Over and over and over again until I felt as though I were in a very odd re-make of a Stanley Kubrick film!! (Click here to view)

Sunday, 4 October 2009

Do You Really Need to Know More About Me?

This award was passed onto me by Babyrambles a couple of weeks ago and so apologies to her for not honouring it any earlier - I just don't know, since My Girl started pre-school five mornings a week, I have achieved less than at any other point since she was about 8 months old...?  My blogs have become much less frequent, our treks of outings are shorter, the house is messier, my writing is dry and my tweets are almost inaudible!  Finger out tomorrow, the start of a new week.  Off to the library to do some more research on Worlebury Hill but for now ....

Each question must be answered in only one word, like this:

1. Where is your mobile phone? Handy

2. Your hair? Bedlike

3. Your mother? Working

4. Your father? Babysitting

5. Your favourite food? Spicy

6. Your dream last night? Fading

7. Your favourite drink? Tea

8. Your dream/goal? This

9. What room are you in? Living

10. Your hobby? Sleeping

11. Your fear? Pointless

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Content

13. Where were you last night? Here

14. Something that you aren’t? Energised

15. Muffins? Indifferent

16. Wish list item? Property

17. Where did you grow up? London

18. Last thing you did? Re-focussed

19. What are you wearing? Little

20. Your TV? Off

21. Your pets? NO!

22. Friends? Changing

23. Your life? Smooth

24. Your mood? Relaxed

25. Missing someone? Nope

26. Vehicle? Bicycle (sorry, I know that this is more than one word but it's a bike PINK with high handlebars. I bought it 2nd hand from the Old Town Quarry a couple of days ago and I love it.  My car is still dead in the drive and we're still not missing it, although as the winter approaches ....)

27. Something you’re not wearing? Underwear

28. Your favourite store? Food

29. Your favourite colour? Red

30. When was the last time you laughed? Yesterday

31. Last time you cried? Friday

32. Your best friend? Analytical

33. One place that you go to over and over? Woods

34. One person who emails you regularly? Twitter

35. Favourite place to eat? SOMs

Can you tell that I haven't been out of bed for very long?  It 1pm (hehe, I love it when that happens).

I pass this award on to Rachael Blogs, To give her something to think about, besides tanned men and blue skies, when she gets back from her holiday in Sicily :-)


Thursday, 1 October 2009

Save One Mammy

As we run through the Woods chasing fairies, escaping witches, there is a part of me that is happy to have this little delight of a daughter all to myself, not to have to share her with anyone. It’s selfish, I know. But it’s also self-preservation.

Her father doesn’t take an active a role in My Girl’s life as I would like. In fact, he plays no role at all and I lay little blame at his door: it was my decision to have a child, he has had very little input and I knew that I would be ‘going it alone’ from the outset. But we do have a daughter who is strong, healthy, beautiful, lively and as independent as I’ll allow.  She’s in my life now and thank God! It’s her and me.

And just look what he’s missing out on!!

I’ve contacted him, of course I have – she started asking about him before she was 3 years old: most of her friends have a Daddy, even Peppa Pig. Just simple questions like, “How old is the doggy? How old is my Daddy?” but ones I thought I might be ready for. In a few years time!!  Naive ...

I continue in vain to contact him – for her sake and for mine. I’d like her to know more about herself, to not feel a sense of rejection or a mistrust of men (something I will do my utmost not to foster) and I want to protect my relationship with her, to let her know that I did, at least, try.

So I persevere. He no longer responds.

But what about those fathers who, when love no longer lingers between Mum and Dad, just refuse to let go, attempting to keep the mothers of their children captive in a foreign land, using their offspring as pawns to hurt and silence the ex-partner? How damaging could that be to a young child? And how confusing? Unfortunately, this type of scenario is the reality for some children and their mothers, unable to live the lives they choose, kept away their loved ones by the courts. This is what has been a living nightmare for Save One Mammy. What is she to do: leave the land of her ex-husband, Ireland, to return home, over the water in England, also leaving Small Child with him, thus losing custody? Or stay prisoner there but remain with her Baby?

It a choice that I, thankfully, will never have to make.

Please follow the Save One Mammy Campaign by clicking here

Thanks xxx