A Modern Mother

Paris update: A big thumbs up to daddy!

So, I went to Paris this weekend and had a wonderful time with my friends (see video). When I came back -- with a slight headache -- I found daddy and the girls cuddled on the carpet playing chess, the kitchen fairly clean and the dryer droning away quietly in the background. I quickly went outside and checked the house number. Yup. Right house. To rub it in, they were all smiling contently. Didn't miss me a bit. I have to admit to being slightly annoyed: Why didn't I do this years ago??

I'm going to Paris. Without the kids!

It's taken me seven and a half years to get to this point: I'm going to Paris with my friends.  For three whole days and two nights. Without kids. And I don't feel one ounce of guilt!

I'm leaving our girls (7 and 1/2,5 and 4) with hubby. He's perfectly willing and capable.

However, the girls are a bit concerned.

"Mummy, what are we going to eat? Daddy only knows how to make sandwiches."

"I'm going to miss you. Who's going to do my hair for Emily's disco party?"

"Mummy, please take a picture of the eye-full tower for me."

The last comment was from our middle one, she could care less about food or the way she looks and is aware that being with daddy will mean she'll get to go to bed without washing her hair and lots of trips to Tesco for those horrible magazines with cheap plastic toys.

Meanwhile, we (six mums) have planned fancy dinners in Michelin-stared restaurants, leisurely afternoons watching Parisians from the end of a coffee cup, markets, museums, and lots of things that are hard to do with squirming kids in tow.

We leave Friday on the Eurostar and I'm not leaving any instructions. The girls know where their clothes are kept (even if daddy doesn't) and I don't care if they go McDonalds three times a day.

God only knows what I'll come home to.

Photo credit: sepblog

The ultimate work at home mother!

We are spending the summer holidays in California, I just couldn't look another English one squarely in the eye. It's great being here because in addition to sunshine on tap, we have lots of family to help entertain three small girls AND it gives me loads of time to visit old friends.

Two of my favourites are Ramona and Deepak, who just happen to own the Nicholson Ranch Winery in Sonoma. Ramona (pictured above in her "put-put" all terrain vehicle) grew up on the ranch with a herd of roaming cattle, horses, chickens and a lama. She had the foresight to plant grapes in the early 90s and when she fell pregnant with her first child, she gave up her job at a risk analysis software company to embark on the winery project full-time. When her first son was born 1995, she'd juggle taking care of grapes with taking care of baby.

What time is it?

Turning on my side for what seems like the 10th time, I try to wiggle into a comfortable position. But it's no use, I'm not ready to surrender. In my mind I lift my head, peer past the pile of half-read books, and peek at the green neon digits on the clock. It must be well into the night by now. But my eyes are heavy and the connection between mind and movement doesn't happen.

The cold doesn't help. Forced to breathe through my mouth, my lips feel like sticky flannel and there is an undeniable trace of soreness in my throat when I swallow. What time IS it? My head still doesn't move. It stays still on the pillow. Instead my brain makes a running leap out of my body and starts doing laps around the room, bumping into my cream coloured walls and crashing into the walnut dresser.

Thoughts on long haul flights with children

I used to dread long haul flights with children.

It started when I was single and dating future Scottish hubby. Due to our geographical locations, seeing each other always involved sitting for long periods in an airplane. Though I've never liked flying, the trip did offer 10 hours of reading time, or perhaps an opportunity to catch up on sleep.

On one of these trips, I realised that flying with children was not desirable. After picking up a skinny cappuccino and the latest "Hello" and settling down at the gate, I spotted a family with three small children -- two of the kids were running around unsupervised, and the parents looked like they were trying to covertly change the baby's nappy in the pushchair. I pretended not to notice, looked down at my magazine and hoped, PRAYED I wouldn't be seated next to them.