A Modern Mother

When children grow up #sob

We spent the weekend at hotel in Cornwall that is very popular with families and goes to great lengths to help entertain the kids. The weekend culminated in a Saturday night fancy dress disco. My girls, aged 6, 7 and 9, even talked me into buying some pointy damsel hats from the NHS shop we visited that day, so they would look the part.

I let them put on some of my makeup for the night; pink lipstick, shiny lavender eye shadow and just a trace of brown eyeliner and pulled back their long hair, still sticky after spending the afternoon in the pool, and fastened their princess hats. They looked gorgeous.

We arrived at the disco and soon discovered they were the oldest children there! A load of toddlers were scattered around the hall in worn blue Cinderella dresses and fairy wings. The girls knew many of them, they had made all kinds of two-year-old friends at the playpark, pool and jungle gym that day.

I changed my mind mummy

Last Friday morning my youngest, aged 6, didn't want to part with a pound coin in order to wear home clothes to school. In case you've landed on this blog from across the pond, Friday was Red Nose Day/Comic Relief, a fund raising appeal where basically all of the UK comes together to raise money for charity. The evening culminates in a live telethon, and many celebs donate their time in some way. Gordon Brown, JLS, Justin Bieber, Paul McCartny, Davina McCall, and Keira Knightley all made an appearance this year. It's really an amazing event, raising more than £74 million on this campaign.

The world stops when you find a lump

Staring down at the radiology request, a few handwritten words seemed to jump upwards off the page to the sky: Gritty. 8 mm. URGENT. Surely this wasn't about me.

A month earlier I found a lump. My GP couldn't feel it, but she sent me to get it checked out. I wasn't that worried at the time; if my GP couldn't feel it, it wasn't there.

The dry spell

I suffered a dry spell after our second child. A major one. One I imagine the Sahara Desert to be like. Long. Flat. Never ending.

I just didn't feel like it anymore. I was too tired. It didn't hold my attention. I would crawl into bed after a day of wiping drippy noses and picking cheerios off the floor and I would just stare at them. I finally put them away in a box. I didn't want to be reminded.

Apparently this is common to mothers of young children.

Now I can't get enough. I have all kinds at my bedside - historical, period, chic lit, classics. I read whatever I can get my hands on. Though I'm still not much of a fan of suspense.

Have you ever had a dry spell? ;-)

*This post was originally published in 2009 -- but it's still one of my favourites!

Photo credit: Hamed

Seize the day! (and the Mayflies)

There's something about a nice day that makes you want to take it by the hand and roll around in the grass. We spent Sunday evening picnicking in our secret spot on the Thames: a farmer's field perfect for frolicking. It was an impromptu meal made of what I could find  --  sticky sausages with honey and whole-grain mustard, a crusty loaf, Stilton and salad. I filled a pitcher with Pimms and lemonade, and panicked slightly when I couldn't find any cucumber (we made due with some cut apples and oranges.) Added a sprig of mint from the pot in the garden. Perfect.

Can you see the two sides?

Early on in my career in the UK I worked with an icon in the IT industry. EVERYONE knew my boss. He was tall with salt and pepper hair and always wore a pinstriped suit with a red hankerchief in the pocket. It was fun to take him on press lunches; we'd go to Langans and he'd point out semi-famous people that I of course, fresh off the Silicon Valley boat, could not identify. He was full of industry stories, and I'd hear of staying at Larry's house and what a jerk Tom was.

One of the things I learnt from my boss is there is two sides to every story.

On one of our trips into London in a cab that smelt of stale cigarettes, I told him about an issue I was having with one of my peers. For months I had been at logger heads with this idiot. He sent me rude emails. He didn't like any of my ideas, and had actually red-lined a brochure I had spent months producing. Most of us would take a few minutes in the coffee area to chat and catch up -- but this colleague would rarely make an appearance. When he did, he'd make his coffee and leave, only muttering a quick hello.

Interrupted travel plans

When my grandmother was eight, she went on a trip to visit her grandparents in Switzerland. It must have been quite an adventure for the little girl who lived in the tiny California city of Santa Maria; a train ride across the United States to New York and then a week long sea voyage to France. The journey ended with an overnight train to Locarno, in the Ticino region of Switzerland.

Like so many other Europeans in the late 1800s, my great grandfather Frederico left his homeland to make a new life in America. Most immigrants couldn’t afford to go back to see family, but Frederico had made the journey once before; returning to marry his childhood love, Pia, “the most beautiful girl in the village.” Fourteen years later he returned again, this time with Pia and their four children. He wanted to show off his new family.

Can you please watch the baby, I just need to pop out and collect my pension

Jessie Versluys has been in touch. You might be familiar with her work: she was behind Katie: My Beautiful Face which aired on Channel 4 last year. She is researching a documentary about motherhood which will follow two women; a young teenage mum and an older woman, through the latter stages of pregnancy and life with their new baby. The programme will explore the life changing experience that unites both women at different stages in their lives.

She asked me what it was like becoming a mother at an older age and if it mattered. The short answer is yes and no. The long answer, well, read my story to find out...

We've come a long way baby

As I was drifting off to sleep last night, still warm from the bath and smelling of Body Shop dewberry, I turned to my night stand and looked at my collection of books. I always have a high stack of half read novels, magazines and bits from the papers. I wanted something light. Not too heavy. Hmmm, this will do nicely. I picked up "What Every Woman Ought to Know". The author, Constance Mortimer, sent it to me a while back to check out.

After checking out the table of contents, I opened it up to about the middle of the book and landed in a minefield. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Well, actually, I could.

You read it, and let me know what you think.

I'm warning you now, put on your fighting gloves.

. . . . .

"Women Not Equal to Men -- Scientist Says That Civilisation Makes the Gap Wider" by Dr. Charles Heydemann, PhD. Daily Mirror, 4 October 1909.

Women is not man's equal, never has been and never will. She is the complement of man, but the lesser one, as expressed in the term "minus". No one denies her great qualities, but if she is entitled to the sympathy of humanity, as such, she is not and never will be capable of understanding the duties of a citizen. (WTF?)

Want to be treated like a top blogger? Act like one.

I've observed popular bloggers for a while now. You know the ones I mean, the ones you constantly go back and read, over and over. They all have certain traits -- a special quality that makes them that little bit different. It's hard to put your finger on exactly what it is. You just LIKE THEM. ADMIRE THEM. Would consider leaving your husband for them.

Why? Who knows. But this stuff will help:

1. Write really good posts. I'll let you define what "good" means.

2. Be polite. Manners count online too. 

3. Be an active part of a community. Comment. Be involved. Know when to stay OUT of a conversation.

4. Think before you press publish. Sometimes words can be taken the wrong way.

5. Don't think before you press publish. Sometimes your best posts come straight from the heart.

Will you sit by me?

I did my time yesterday. Lunch duty. I was in the hall with about 150 kids and trays and trays of fish and chips.

After pouring 100 glasses of water (half-full, so the little ones don't spill) I looked out upon the sea of children. The floor was slightly damp from the rain and the greasy smell of chips permeated the air. Groups of friends were talking. The buzz loud, but comforting. I saw my youngest (nearly 5!) with rosy cheeks, laughing with her "boy" friend. She was surrounded by a table of other 4 and 5 year-olds. She looked happy.

Is your child's best friend moving away? Top tips for coping

My eight-year-old daughters best friend is moving to another country. Though the move is still a few months away, she is devastated. I can tell she is trying to make sense of the impending loss and is working things out in her mind.

"When Emilie goes, who will be with me at play time?"

"What about Josie?"

"She doesn't like to do the things I do. She always wants to play tag and talk about Go-Gos. Emilie like to make up plays, just like me."

My daughter has a point. At any age, it's hard when special friends move on. Though you can keep in touch, it changes the day-to-day routine. Something is missing. In a best friend's case -- a big chunk.

I've had a read of the Internet, and here's a summary of the best suggestions:

Mummy bloggers: We have an opportunity, let's take it

I have to admit to being a little flustered recently. All this talk around mumosphere about the British mummy blogging community getting  too competitive and too commercial. How the heck did this happen?

Money, or the misconception that money can be made from blogging, seems to be one of the drivers.  Can I just clarify one thing: THERE IS NO REAL MONEY IN BLOGGING. Did you hear me? Unless you are Dooce, your blogging intake will not get near any tax threshold. I've been in the top 10 the past year and I've made barely enough to fuel my Cafe Nero coffee habit. I make 100x more as a marketing consultant (and it takes less time). There are occasional freebies, but really how useful is a coffee mug, a wall clock, or another naff plastic toy? Some are nice, but do you really want all that extra stuff in your house?

This is what makes it all worth it!

Dear mummy and daddy,

Your the best people I ever met. I know sometimes I say your the worst but I don't really mean it.

Daddy thank you for playing chess with me and making money.

Mummy thank you for yummy dinners and planing things.

I love you.

Emily (7)

Photo credit

Bedtime conversations

"Mummy, Miss Sharon went on holiday to heaven."

My four-year-old, HM, was sitting on my lap, her just washed hair smelt of lavender. Miss Sharon is her pre-school teacher and as far as I knew, she did not go to heaven.

"Do you mean Devon sweetie?" I asked patting her soft head.

"Yes. Miss Sharon went to Devon and she said there were loads of yummy things to eat there."

I have to say I was relieved that I did not have to tackle a more complex conversation so late in the evening. And besides, there are worse things than the prospect of spending an eternity with scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream!

Photo credit: heatheronhertravels

Listen to my advice

Back into our routine after three days off, I was walking back from coffee this morning with HM, my four-year-old. She was in the push chair and I was contemplative in a post Bank Holiday sort of way.

"When I'm a mummy I'm going to walk like this," and she got behind the stroller and started to push -- her tiny head just able to peer past my Orla Kieley bag. She pushed on, and the stroller kept veering to the right -- and running into the brick pillars of the Edwardian homes that line this popular road near town. I could tell this was going to take a while, but I didn't hurry her. We had time. The two older girls were in school. It wasn't raining. It was just me and HM. And her imagination.

The fleeting moment ... or just mummy rot?

This morning an idea popped into my head. It was a fabulous, marvelous, ingenious idea.

I thought about it all the way home from school drop off. I started to get excited. Really excited. This idea would change my life.

It rolled round and round in my head. Then it started bouncing of the pavement, the houses, the trees, the lamposts and then went back into my head, crystallising, getting clearer, bigger, grander.

Yes, this was it. It would change my life, this idea. Why hadn't I thought of it before? My pace quickened. I couldn't wait to put my idea into action.

Lost and found

Sometimes you don't know you have given something up until you have found it again.

Perhaps lost is a better word. Left behind. Somewhere between the marketing lunches and toys on the carpet.

If I squint I can just make out bits of it -- A baby born. Patting backs and encouraging burps at 2 am. Husband sleeping soundly in another room. A sister born before the first can talk. Is that another?

A long hospital stay. Cotton between my brain. I just want to take a nap. A long one.

Oh look. Here it is. A family with three beautiful children. And they still want to hold my hand. Hooray!

Photo credit: Robert Crum

Friendships come from the least expected places

There's an apple orchard not far from here. I found it a couple years ago, I was driving down a country lane, the kind where if you are not paying attention you find yourself head-to-head with another car, and need to back up into a passing place. I saw a hand-written sign that said "Apples" and pulled over. There weren't many apple orchards in San Diego, and I thought the girls would enjoy seeing the origin of one of their favourite fruits.

We pulled into the farm and made our way to the old barn, a barrel of rainwater gleaming in the waning September sun and a whisper of Autumn in the warm breeze. As we timidly walked in through the open door, the heavy sweet smell of ageing fruit engulfed us.

Ten signs that you might not have the motherhood and life balance thing exactly right

Alisa at Project Happily Ever After set the mommy blogger community a challenge: How do you deal with balancing the all-consuming job of being mummy with the rest of your life?

Good question. This should be easy. The first thing you should do is, er, ummm, oh forget it, all I can think of is examples of how I DON'T get the balance right.

So, I have my list below. But I'm not sure it's exactly what Alisa had in mind...

By the way, if you haven't seen her blog yet, check it out. It's full of all kinds of practical advice on how to live "happily ever after". I'm an avid reader, one can always live in hope.

The phone call

I never really thought much about my body, I mean what went on inside my body, until I got the phone call.

I’ve learned since to appreciate the intricate patchwork of organs and hormones and neurons all connected in a delicate balance and tucked away nicely under your skin, so you don’t see it. Believe me, you don’t want to see it. I accidentally had a glance at a monitor in an operating room, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I didn’t really even think much about my body when I was pregnant. Sure, I read every text book I could get my hands on, as if that would ensure a passing grade, and most things played out chapter by chapter (except of course when I got severe preenclampsia—another story entirely). I was busy with work then, and now I was busy with the children.

The baby blanket -- flashbacks from the NICU

It was not supposed to be like this, I thought to myself as I entered the three story cement underground car park. This pregnancy was supposed to be OK. Emily had been slightly early, but Alexandra had come into this world without a hitch. I had even given away my preemie clothes.

There were no spaces in the dimly lit car park -- not unusual at this time in the morning when the staff was changing over. I spotted a heavy set dark haired woman in a blue uniform, probably a nurse just getting off her shift. She pointed to a small red Honda ahead and I raised my hand in thanks, though I didn’t feel thankful.

The Last Lecture: Achieving your childhood dreams

I'm known for being a bit behind in current events. I come by this honestly (my parents still don't have cable TV) but I'm sure it is made worse by the fact that my brain can only handle so many bits and bytes and mine is on overload with kid stuff.

So when my friend Charlene asked if I had heard about "The Last Lecture" I gave my usual blank look.

If you haven't heard about this, let me explain. Randy Pausch was a professor at Carnegie Mellon in the US. Diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2007, he gave a moving "last lecture" on achieving your childhood dreams that was videotaped and widely distributed on You Tube. To date, the lecture has been viewed by more than 6 million people.

YOU HAVE TO MAKE THE TIME TO SEE THIS. It is worth all 76 minutes. It is a good reminder of what is important in life.

Note: Randy Pausch died this summer.