5
Jun
2011
Newborn baby fug review – iBaby feed
Not me
No, I’m not actually writing a review of my new baby. Although if I was, it would be quite glowing at this point. Apart from her propensity to cause scream-out-loud-pain to my left nipple. (Sorry, that noise you heard? That was the sound of our twenty male readers rushing out the door – yes, you may run, but you can’t hide from the screams you can probably hear from West London).
So I’m pretty much head over nappy in the 10 day old new-born fug. Forgive me please if I cannot wax lyrical this week on the situation in Syria as I might usually do on these hallowed pink pages. And I fear my cutting edge wit has deserted me a little in a haze of washing little white bodysuits, sleeping bolt upright with iPhone in hand, lying on the couch eating reverse double choc chip cookies (how I loathe you so, your sweet sweet reverse white choc chip evilness) oh, and managing aforementioned nipple pain (keep on walkin’ guys).
24
Apr
2011
Mentalness – and why you should choose the old woman not the normal looking person
I have one important question I keep coming back to this week – does having a new-born baby mean you automatically go mental?
Would not have surprised
The standard cliché suggests that all mothers go a bit doolally. Which could be true. Apart from me obviously. And readers of this blog. But personally I think it’s just those who are inherently loopy to start with – I mean, I am sure I have my mad moments as a parent – but I SWEAR for some people, the meeting of sperm and egg totally rouses their inner craziness until it bursts out loud and proud at about the same time as their placenta.
I sat in an antenatal clinic this week for an hour. When sizing up the waiting room prior to taking my seat (something I like to do at length from a secret vantage point, such is my fear of a stranger smiling at me, or god forbid, striking up a conversation), I decided against the slightly ferocious looking grey-haired 50 year old woman (I’m not sure what she was doing in an antenatal clinic either) and chose the very normal looking woman in her gym clothes with a McLaren buggy at her side.
28
Nov
2010
In which I give you a warning and make an announcement
Sometimes I blame my husband – he said his next wife would do it if I wouldn’t – but mostly I blame my daughter.
There is a point at about nine months when your child, if lucky, is sleeping, eating, crawling, happy and content. Easy to get around, they sit happily in a pram for ages at a time, allowing you to shop, have coffees, shop… so you decide this parenting thing is a lark, may as well have another one.
And so you get pregnant.
And then she wakes up and you discover it was all part of an evil plan to lull you into a false sense of security and propagate the human race.
See, angelic daughter has decided she hates the pram. And the car. Not a huge fan of her cot either while we’re at it. And as for crawling round gently prodding her toys – she’d rather rip wine bottles out of the wine rack, pull appliances off the bench using the 1cm of cord you left dangling, launch herself out of her high chair, scale the stairs at 60kms an hour whenever your back is turned, and my personal favourite of which I never tire – empty out every drawer and cupboard she can lay her hands on. Especially neatly organised Christmas wrapping drawer, ensuring every single roll of ribbon is festively strewn around the living room and red tissue paper is poking suspiciously out of her mouth.
24
Oct
2010
My fab new job
See, if I was more talented with one of these, I wouldn't be in this situation
I got a great new job this week. Three days a week, 10am-4pm, well paid, in a brand new and exciting area. It’s only a few tube stops away, which is handy, and you get as much sick leave as you need in the first few months when your child is bound to come down with every illness in the book after starting at nursery. I’ve got a team of four so it’s good to be managing people again, and there is lots of opportunity for career progression into embarrassingly well paid senior roles. Oh, and because my extended family lives overseas, I will be able to take a month long break next year and all school holidays can be taken as additional unpaid leave.
Oh no, wait.
Are you KIDDING me?
21
Oct
2010
Unsolicited Advice and how to stop yourself. A Petit Suisse Case Study.
I didn’t really know what to write about today so I thought I’d just cover what I realise is some old ground but allows me to take the opportunity to get things off my chest.
Unsolicited advice – something I get A LOT of. Let me just point out to those who like to give unsolicited advice, that it is different to solicited advice, which is where someone actually requests that you make a recommendation based on your specific experience, knowledge or qualification to give it. An important part to notice here is the qualification part. For example, if you’re not a doctor, people probably won’t ask you for medical advice. If you think about it, you may note that this is not a limitation you’ve imposed upon yourself with unsolicited advice. That’s where a large part of the problem often lies for the recipient.
Here’s something else you may not have realised, advice givers; Just because there is a problem, doesn’t mean the person is looking for suggested solutions. I know. It’s a challenging concept. And I feel for you. I do. You want to help. There is a problem, you think you have a solution, ‘why not offer it?’ you ask.
27
Sep
2010
What to expect when you’re expecting. Or rather – what to do when you’re expecting. Except that doesn’t sound nearly as catchy.
Which may well be why the authors of What to Expect are undoubtedly gazillionaires and I am writing a pink blog.
I have a couple of friends recently who have announced their first pregnancies. Naturally they have turned to someone as wise and insightful as me to advise
them as they take their first tentative steps into the world of bulging stomachs and weeing incessentaly. Or rather, one of them said ‘you must have a nerdy spreadsheet for this sort of thing.’ Au contraire my tubby little friend – I don’t have a single spreadsheet, I have several. And lots of posts. But I guess I have never summarised it all into a neat little package of a posty thing – so here it is, my guide to WHAT THE HELL DO I DO NOW? Apart from all the medical/hospitaly/birthy stuff of course…
- Panic. You are bringing a new person into the world. Much can go wrong and you’re probably already well on the way to f*cking up your kid’s life already. Nice one. Oh, ok, disregard that one – here’s the real list….
6
Sep
2010
Feel the fear (of rain) and do it anyway.
Children. Rain. Holidays. Could three words inspire more fear?
my alternative rain lifestyle
I love my children. Most of the time. Well, except when they are being really really really annoying. Or when it is raining and they are inside with me. ALL DAY. Despite the fact that it is September and supposedly not yet winter, we need to remember that this is England and there is a lot of rain. And cold. Even in summer. So they are inside with me. And when I say with me – I mean crawling over me, tugging my legs, putting their sticky little fingers all over my cream couches (I know, but it was before kids ok) and kicking their grubby little feet into my computer screen. I may well be going mental. Just mildly and quite quietly (depending on who you ask) but mental all the same.
30
Aug
2010
Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions #2
I know people were awestruck at the brilliance of last week’s invention, but this week you are TOTALLY going to want to invest in my Genius Child-Rearing Inventions Company. Ltd. So here we go…
DRESSING RACK
Not much like this.
You know when you have a wriggly child? A horrible-painful-won’t-stay-still-for-thirty-seconds small person aged anywhere between 9 months and 4 years? Yes yes, so cute to look at and adorable lisp, but SO annoying to dress. So here is your answer – a wooden rack. Yes, I know what you’re all thinking – child abuse rah rah rah. Two words for you – what. ever. You are going to be SO jealous when you see my little wooden thing where you simply slot the child in the top and they are held immobile with limbs flapping out the sides, ready to slip on shoes, socks, hats and jumpers. For a Genius Inventor I know I am not massively good at explaining how things might work, but if you think about it more like a giant Connect 4 game rather than a torture rack you might get the idea. Except the children won’t have to be flat. Or painted orange and blue. Just normal children, only held in a wooden rack ready to be dressed.
You know you want one.
22
Aug
2010
Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions #1
I have often been described as a genius. By often, I mean I think I heard a teacher say it once. Possibly she said pest. No, definitely genius. Anyway, I present to you the first in my eagerly anticipated series – Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions. These are things that I have never seen in a shop – possibly as they may cause injury – but DEFINITELY should be in a shop. People would buy these things.
Pop-up remote controlled electric fence.
A little less violent
You know when you’re in a park. Or a coffee shop or a circus. And you have a small child running in the wrong direction. Or crawling away as fast as their little legs can move? And you really want to finish the end of JUST ONE sentence before interrupting your conversation to drag them back to the designated zone? This is where you whip out your remote control, press the buzzer and a child proof forcefield is erected. Nothing too violent – it wouldn’t give them an electric shock (that’s part of my invention #21) – would just keep them in a defined area, unable to disappear behind a faraway hedge, smear ice-cream on any one’s leather sofa or empty salt out of every salt shaker behind the waiter’s station.
10
Aug
2010
World’s Worst Mother Award – or how to counter your smugness in a couple of easy steps
So you know when you are feeling really smug about something that things can take a turn for the worse?
This could well be me accepting the award
Like when you move out of your first house in London that you hate into one that you absolutely adore, and then regularly drive down your old street just to lean out the window and say ‘’aaaarrrrgggh, suffer’ to the old house? And then get a call from your landlady at awesome new house saying she wants awesome house back for herself and you have one month to vacate? And you end up living with your parents-in-law?
Or like when you feel really clever about getting up to date with all your personal admin and then realise you have forgotten to renew your visa meaning a last minute dash to Wales on the day it is due to expire, and costing an additional £830 for a priority in-person appointment? And 24 hours before said priority appointment, manage to lose your passport while organising papers for said visa? Meaning an emergency emergency appointment at Australian High Commission to replace said passport, only to discover (day before emergency trip to Wales) that some amazing soul has handed it in at the High Commission but in the process of preparing documents, photos plus emergency drive-as-fast-as-you-can taxi rides, adding another 100 quid to the cost of said visa process?
