I woke up this morning to find that the Oedipus Complex had taken over my daughter's development- she suddenly only wanted daddy to pour her shreddies and to get her dressed. This, by the way, as you can tell by the bags under my eyes, has NEVER happened. It's around this age that little girls, according to Freud, go through a phase of wanting only their fathers and tend to then reject the mothers, and if this is a sign of things to come (as much as I will revel in the fact HE has to do more) I'm not a happy bunny mummy. What if I am no longer the apple of her eye?- more the dried prune wilting in the corner, seeped of most of its life and goodness? All the years I've put in giving her my undivided and unconditional doses of love/attention/organic vegetables, and she might turn around and want the man who's spent most of the last five years hidden behind a copy of the Friday Ads. Nah- I'm exaggerating slightly, but it hurt. I shall attempt to wallow in my new found freedom and it is ace that she and Andy are closer.
We went to a brilliant exhibition today called 'Sonic Body' at the Blank gallery in Portslade. The installation basically invited you to stand inside a human body created from felt and foam: a throbbing, intestinous, red tinted vessel, with an orchestral soundtrack, created by how we moved and touched the various body parts inside; whistling veins, squelches, gassiness (is that a word? she says- the would-be copy editor...according to spell check- no) and high pitched squeaks...I felt like Raquel Welch in Fantastic Voyage, only with more accessibility to prodding and poking the bodily bits. And also not as hot, obviously. It's only on for another couple of days so if you are from Brighton GO AND SEE IT; see www.sonicbody.co.uk
I also got a lovely pressie from my mate Luce today- a badge of a sheep called Herdy-very cute. Thanks Luce!
Soundtrack- Britney Spears vs B52s- Toxic Love Shack
Later: Oh my god, Malcolm McDowell, with his strawberry nose, is Mr Linderman in Heroes!
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Lets get ready to ramble....
So last night I spent a very enjoyable evening (except for getting acid reflux- ah the joys of bodily dysfunction after childbirth) with a gang of great mums and kids, watching the fireworks from a window which overlooked Hove cricket ground. We were a mixed bunch; some single mums, some working mums, some stay at home mums- but we all had only children which made a refreshing change, as lately I seem to be surrounded by people having more and more offspring and it makes my head fuzzy.
So there we were, supping our wine and eating our sausages, and we ooohhhed and we aaahhhed at the technicolour explosions before us, from the comfort of her warm living room. As we chatted about what we did outside of being mums, it got me thinking about being a parent and how each one of us has to work around our kids and work out our priorities. I've been lucky in that I haven't had to go back to work in order to make sure we had food on the table. Some extra money would have helped but I had the choice, and I chose to stay at home whilst occasionally taking on the odd part time job. This is all very well and good, and now that Sadie has started school I am so glad I was able to spend so much time bringing her up, but my brain has, quite frankly, turned to houmous. The part time jobs I have had over the years have varied in their ability for me to use my brain (I've been known to go from being a PA to a saleswoman in less than 24 hours), but as an example of my gooey brain I will tell you about my job working in a maternity shop;
A simple occupation you may think, yet my brain could not even deal with this level of a challenge. On numerous occasions I would forget to turn on the burglar alarm (I was the only one working there), close windows, take items to the post office before leaving them inside the shop and posting the key through the door, and, on more than one occasion, would forget to charge someone in pounds rather than pence for a pair of rather exclusive designer maternity jeans. Oh the shame.
I think there should actually be a course specifically designed for us women (or men), who've stayed alone at home for 4 years with a small person (save for the odd playgroup where you are just surrounded by equally mushy minded adults and more small people)to help get our brains retrained into the adult world. Ask me how to draw a skilfully-drawn stick person, or make alphabet brownies, or play 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' and I'm your girl, but ask me to do a simple task like go to a post office before it shuts, and I'm lost. And also probably out of a job and back at home making rockets out of pritt stick and fairy liquid bottles.....
Soundtrack: David Bowie- Oh You Pretty Things
So there we were, supping our wine and eating our sausages, and we ooohhhed and we aaahhhed at the technicolour explosions before us, from the comfort of her warm living room. As we chatted about what we did outside of being mums, it got me thinking about being a parent and how each one of us has to work around our kids and work out our priorities. I've been lucky in that I haven't had to go back to work in order to make sure we had food on the table. Some extra money would have helped but I had the choice, and I chose to stay at home whilst occasionally taking on the odd part time job. This is all very well and good, and now that Sadie has started school I am so glad I was able to spend so much time bringing her up, but my brain has, quite frankly, turned to houmous. The part time jobs I have had over the years have varied in their ability for me to use my brain (I've been known to go from being a PA to a saleswoman in less than 24 hours), but as an example of my gooey brain I will tell you about my job working in a maternity shop;
A simple occupation you may think, yet my brain could not even deal with this level of a challenge. On numerous occasions I would forget to turn on the burglar alarm (I was the only one working there), close windows, take items to the post office before leaving them inside the shop and posting the key through the door, and, on more than one occasion, would forget to charge someone in pounds rather than pence for a pair of rather exclusive designer maternity jeans. Oh the shame.
I think there should actually be a course specifically designed for us women (or men), who've stayed alone at home for 4 years with a small person (save for the odd playgroup where you are just surrounded by equally mushy minded adults and more small people)to help get our brains retrained into the adult world. Ask me how to draw a skilfully-drawn stick person, or make alphabet brownies, or play 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' and I'm your girl, but ask me to do a simple task like go to a post office before it shuts, and I'm lost. And also probably out of a job and back at home making rockets out of pritt stick and fairy liquid bottles.....
Soundtrack: David Bowie- Oh You Pretty Things
Monday, November 5, 2007
Mommies Who Drink
Yesterday's Observer Woman magazine (well I always manage to read the colour supplements, the tv guide...) had extracts from Brett Paesel's new book 'Mommies Who Drink'- it sounds fantastic and I'll certainly be getting a copy. Brett's honest account of bringing up kids (the boringness of it, the need for wine involvement, her experience of post partum depression just seeming a sensible reaction to having to look after a person 24/7 who screams all the time) is right up my street. I shall also be buying it for all my "mommy" friends this Christmas!
see article: http://observer.guardian.co.uk/woman/story/0,,2202294,00.html
see article: http://observer.guardian.co.uk/woman/story/0,,2202294,00.html
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Ban the Bratz!!
Just been on the phone to Joni at Planet Boo HQ and we've been ranting about the hideousness that is the Bratz. Joni has two daughters, aged 8 and 6, and has never allowed the mini-skirted tart toys through her front door. That was until a relative bought her youngest one a doll and now she feels they are invading her household without her control. These whore figurines have only recently entered my parental stratosphere in the last few months and I am horrified. Sadie actually got bought a baby bratz doll last christmas but I didn't even know what it was and it's so small I never worried about it. But now, after witnessing their DVD recently, with its emphasis on vanity, boys and shopping, they are officially banned from our humble abode. Sadie will probably hate me for this, but I will just explain my reasons and hope she gets into the Care Bears instead. Hopefully, by the time she is 8 the f*****g money grabbing men who design these stupid toys will be out of a job.
This subject sprung to mind after I went out last night and saw the worst dressed young girls I have ever seen. There they were, queueing up for a bar in the centre of Brighton wearing nothing more (yes I know I am starting to disturb myself by my motherly ways) than suspenders, thongs and a waistcoat!! We walked down the road behind them as their little (what looked like) pre-pubescent buttocks were just THERE for all to see- and there were plenty of people looking. Judging by their faces these girls were no older than 16!! I nearly cried. I wanted to wrap them up in my big fluffy cardigan and take them home and tell them a few home truths about men and what they want when they see that much flesh, and how little they would get respect, and how they are beautiful and probably lovely girls who should be giggling with their friends, not walking around like prostitutes. But I didn't. I just left them to the lions.
I wondered if they were Bratz fans when they were little, or whether they regularly watched MTV music videos. They had obviously been brainwashed into thinking that walking around at night in your underwear was a normal and sensible idea.
Christ, when I was 16 (in my day) I used to think Chrissie Hynde was an icon, and the skimpiest thing I would be seen wearing was a tight Elastica tshirt.
Soundtrack: Spice Girls- Say You'll Be There
This subject sprung to mind after I went out last night and saw the worst dressed young girls I have ever seen. There they were, queueing up for a bar in the centre of Brighton wearing nothing more (yes I know I am starting to disturb myself by my motherly ways) than suspenders, thongs and a waistcoat!! We walked down the road behind them as their little (what looked like) pre-pubescent buttocks were just THERE for all to see- and there were plenty of people looking. Judging by their faces these girls were no older than 16!! I nearly cried. I wanted to wrap them up in my big fluffy cardigan and take them home and tell them a few home truths about men and what they want when they see that much flesh, and how little they would get respect, and how they are beautiful and probably lovely girls who should be giggling with their friends, not walking around like prostitutes. But I didn't. I just left them to the lions.
I wondered if they were Bratz fans when they were little, or whether they regularly watched MTV music videos. They had obviously been brainwashed into thinking that walking around at night in your underwear was a normal and sensible idea.
Christ, when I was 16 (in my day) I used to think Chrissie Hynde was an icon, and the skimpiest thing I would be seen wearing was a tight Elastica tshirt.
Soundtrack: Spice Girls- Say You'll Be There
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Quietness and Rubble and Bollocks
Day to myself today- it's very unusual for me to be on my own for 24 hours and it's rather nice, although I wouldn't want to do it too often- I am a social creature...
So after enjoying a lie-in and then being able to read and bake and dance about to loud music, I was craving some human life.
Had to visit Taj stores to buy tamari sauce for my dinner, which wasn't really necessary for tonight's cooking- the soy sauce in the cupboard would have done the trick- but I needed PEOPLE. I thankfully bumped into a girl I'd met when I used to go to the Buddhist centre in the days when I was trying to find a meaning (I never did- I just relaxed into the nonsense) and chatted away to her about bollocks (not literally of course;that wouldn't be very zen of me) for about five minutes while her boyfriend looked fed up. That got some of waffle out of my system.
I've also had the neighbour's builder over to inspect the damage they are doing to our ceiling by converting the flat upstairs. He looks like a younger Peter Cook so I went a bit faint and invited him in for a chat (or rather I talked bollocks again) and to inspect my ceilings.. Well- I needed the company. He's given me his number in case it gets worse...I do hope I don't end up under a pile of rubble. He might have to rescue me. (God poor Andy- he's only been away since yesterday and already I'm flirting with gawky looking handy men- I must be hormonal again).
Probably meeting Nat this evening for cocktails and catch up for some more human interaction. She's been on the pier today releasing balloons to advertise Brighton Visitor.Com. Would have gone to have a look had I had my bike...the BASTARDS!!!!
Did some studying but kept getting gravel falling on my notes so only did a couple of hours.
Off to giggle at Peep Show and have a cheeky beer...
Soundtrack: Kooks- Naive
So after enjoying a lie-in and then being able to read and bake and dance about to loud music, I was craving some human life.
Had to visit Taj stores to buy tamari sauce for my dinner, which wasn't really necessary for tonight's cooking- the soy sauce in the cupboard would have done the trick- but I needed PEOPLE. I thankfully bumped into a girl I'd met when I used to go to the Buddhist centre in the days when I was trying to find a meaning (I never did- I just relaxed into the nonsense) and chatted away to her about bollocks (not literally of course;that wouldn't be very zen of me) for about five minutes while her boyfriend looked fed up. That got some of waffle out of my system.
I've also had the neighbour's builder over to inspect the damage they are doing to our ceiling by converting the flat upstairs. He looks like a younger Peter Cook so I went a bit faint and invited him in for a chat (or rather I talked bollocks again) and to inspect my ceilings.. Well- I needed the company. He's given me his number in case it gets worse...I do hope I don't end up under a pile of rubble. He might have to rescue me. (God poor Andy- he's only been away since yesterday and already I'm flirting with gawky looking handy men- I must be hormonal again).
Probably meeting Nat this evening for cocktails and catch up for some more human interaction. She's been on the pier today releasing balloons to advertise Brighton Visitor.Com. Would have gone to have a look had I had my bike...the BASTARDS!!!!
Did some studying but kept getting gravel falling on my notes so only did a couple of hours.
Off to giggle at Peep Show and have a cheeky beer...
Soundtrack: Kooks- Naive
Friday, November 2, 2007
Andy is 17 years older than me- which you wouldn't know to look at us- me ageing rapidly from motherhood and alcoholism, and him having some crafty gene that keeps him looking 35 forever. The age gap has its advantages and, of course, like any relationship, its crap sides. I have always been partial to the older man; I always found it refreshing to hang around with males who've lived a little and have their years of wisdom to share with me.
Older men are also a lot more likely to hang around longer as they've probably done the one night stand fling thing and are looking to settle down a bit. So lucky me got what I wanted and bagged myself an older man 7 years ago, with his interesting stories and his want for a serious relationship (he sure got it- I was pregnant a year later), but unfortunately I also got someone who seriously verges on the patronising when I don't know every ounce of information he has stored away in his 17 extra years of brain matter. I know I'm not the brightest master mind in the building, and there are plenty of gaps in my knowledge of the world, but, as Sophie Ellis Bexter once sang when she was singer with The Audience 'I know enough'. And I really can't stand being patronised. That's my dig at my other half over.....
The lovely Nathalie Gomez de Vera and her son Joe (great lad) joined us last night for another twist of pumpkin delights (we had a Celia Brooks Brown recipe of butternut squash roasted with garlic cloves and sage, and then baked with cubes of gruyere cheese- see her fab website for yummy vegetarian stuff at celiabrooksbrown.com/real.php)and chit chat. Nat has just moved to Woodingdean, near Brighton, and is one of Andy's old clubbing crowd. She's a great lady and I hope to be joining her for a few drinks this weekend at the Koba. She also works for new Brighton mag 'brighton visitor.com'- it's a guide to this wondrous city - have a look at www.brightonvisitor.com or pick a copy up when you get off the train at Brighton on your way to visit me!
Off to do some coursework and try not to fall asleep this time.
Rachael- I know you are reading this... spotted any grammatical errors yet? Thanks for the night time jog btw x
Older men are also a lot more likely to hang around longer as they've probably done the one night stand fling thing and are looking to settle down a bit. So lucky me got what I wanted and bagged myself an older man 7 years ago, with his interesting stories and his want for a serious relationship (he sure got it- I was pregnant a year later), but unfortunately I also got someone who seriously verges on the patronising when I don't know every ounce of information he has stored away in his 17 extra years of brain matter. I know I'm not the brightest master mind in the building, and there are plenty of gaps in my knowledge of the world, but, as Sophie Ellis Bexter once sang when she was singer with The Audience 'I know enough'. And I really can't stand being patronised. That's my dig at my other half over.....
The lovely Nathalie Gomez de Vera and her son Joe (great lad) joined us last night for another twist of pumpkin delights (we had a Celia Brooks Brown recipe of butternut squash roasted with garlic cloves and sage, and then baked with cubes of gruyere cheese- see her fab website for yummy vegetarian stuff at celiabrooksbrown.com/real.php)and chit chat. Nat has just moved to Woodingdean, near Brighton, and is one of Andy's old clubbing crowd. She's a great lady and I hope to be joining her for a few drinks this weekend at the Koba. She also works for new Brighton mag 'brighton visitor.com'- it's a guide to this wondrous city - have a look at www.brightonvisitor.com or pick a copy up when you get off the train at Brighton on your way to visit me!
Off to do some coursework and try not to fall asleep this time.
Rachael- I know you are reading this... spotted any grammatical errors yet? Thanks for the night time jog btw x
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Titleless prattle
Hurrah- Sadie has befriended a lovely little girl at school called Lottie who has invited her over for tea with me on fireworks night to watch the cricket ground display from their lounge window (best and warmest seats in the house!). What is extra great about this is that her mum is ace and we seem to get on like old mates, which is such a relief, after all the awkward moments at the school making small talk with blank faces. It's funny how as much as you want your kiddie to make lots of friends you have to think of your own friendships too, and some of the parents you are forced to smile and be polite with, you'd rather never have to see again. I will be turning up on the 5th with a bottle, as Lottie's mum Fiona seems like my kinda gal.
Soundtrack: The Cribs- Men's Needs
Soundtrack: The Cribs- Men's Needs
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