Wednesday 23 August 2006

and no one got hit by lightning


I'm at home today; my cold has moved down into my chest. There's a lot of room down there, so why not. Anyhoo, here are some pictures from Sunday's christening, and I'm pleased to say that a plague of locusts did not descend upon me. Some pictures of note: cream tea in a graveyard (no, really) and Tom Baker's headstone (no, really). In all seriousness, it was a fantastic day and I'm honoured to be godmummy to this lovely little boy.

I must take this opportunity to apologise to my dog. Not only did I remove his blog from this site, I no longer update his picture page and he has to put up with stuff like this on a daily basis:


Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing


I'm so sorry, Jaspey. I promise to make it up to you.

Tuesday 22 August 2006

eighteen


I looked after my friend's little girl Lauren yesterday afternoon. She has big blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, with a toothy little grin (in fact, she reminded me so much of Heather's daughter Becca that it made me a bit teary, but I digress.) She pointed at things and said what they were, very gently stroked Jasper's fur and gave him several kisses (which were returned via a large slobbery tongue), and sat and played happily with whatever was in front of her. Jack followed Lauren closely for the first little while, imitating whatever move or sound she made. And then Babyzilla came out to play.

Jack threw himself on the furniture, frantically climbing on any surface he could. He stood on the dog to get up on the sofa more easily and at one point, sat directly on his head. He threw every ball out of his ball pit with an enormous "RAAAAHHH!" with each throw, discovered that crayons make interesting sounds when they snap in pieces, and every time Lauren reached for one of Jack's toys a chubby little hand went forth accompanied by a "na na na na na na!" and much head shaking. He climbed on top of me and sunk his teeth into me a few times.

Lauren sat on my knee, cuddled her stuffed dog and quietly listened to me read her a story. Jack ran laps around the living and dining rooms, pausing briefly to whack his hands against the closest available glass surface. Lauren pointed out parts of her body when asked, with a big grin each time I praised her for getting it right. Jack lifted up his shirt and showed Lauren his belly, then tried to kiss her several times. Lauren said "night night", "book", "doggy", "daddy", "mama", "biscuit", "milk", "baby", "bye bye", "more", and "up" that afternoon. Jack's vocabulary is generally limited to "uh oh", "hiya", "mama", "daddy", "dog", and "car", and a lot of other things that will come to mean something to grown ups one day.

Lauren left us with a wave and a little kiss (Jack finally got one too) and I started clearing up the Trail of Destruction left by my son. Are all little boys like Jack, I wondered? Why doesn't he say more words and know where his ears are yet? Are little girls calmer and do they talk earlier than boys? When it comes down to it though, none of this really matters. Although it's so difficult not to compare Jack to other children his age (reason #578 why I avoid mother/baby groups), this rambunctious little boy is the light of our lives. I wouldn't change one thing about him - and the constant picking up of toys keeps me in shape.

My Babyzilla is 18 months old today. Happy half birthday, my little dinosaur.

Sunday 20 August 2006

see you in the funny papers


We made today's edition of the Sunday Express magazine, albeit with the wrong URL. If anyone reading this is wondering why this blog doesn't mention babies, stretchmarks, toddler temper tantrums, and the astonishing variety of nappy sizes, please click here to go to my baby blog.

To see a bigger pic of the Express interview, click here.

Friday 18 August 2006

fairy godmother


I'm at home today with a miserable, stinking, streaming, crappy ass cold. My throat, eyes, and face hurt. That's right, my face hurts. (Which reminds me of that old schoolground joke: "Does your face hurt? 'Cos it's KILLING me!" har har har) The only one home with me right now is the dog, and he's ignoring me in favour of a nap on his beanbag. Man's best friend, indeed.

I'm trying to get lots of rest today so that I'm in reasonable shape on Sunday, when Paul and I become godparents to our little cousin Marcus. I've never been a godmother before, and I'm sincerely hoping that the vicar won't ask me if I actually attend church or subscribe to any particular religion. Maybe I could mention that I have indeed been baptised and confirmed, and then say something like "Pardon? Coming!" and dash out the door. I envision the following:

Vicar: "Do you promise to help raise Marcus following the beliefs of the Church of England?"
Me: "Um. Yes?"
[All the lights go out, a loud clap of thunder is heard.]
Loud echoey disembodied male voice: "Pfffft!! As if!"
[A plague of locusts descends, completely ruining the afternoon's cream tea and annoying several relatives.]

In all seriousness, I am over the moon to be a godmother to this lovely little boy. His mum Gail is Jack's "guide mother" (we are heathens, remember?) and she purposely booked her son's christening to fall exactly a year after Jack's naming ceremony. Made me all weepy when she told me, it did. So here's hoping that the cold goes away, the locusts descend elsewhere, and the cream tea is enjoyed by all.

Thursday 17 August 2006

an interview with ayun halliday: virtual book tour stop #17


So I get an email in my inbox from a lady called Ayun Halliday, asking if I'd like to participate in her virtual book tour for her new book Mama Lama Ding Dong. Suuuuuuure, I thought as my fingers flew to look her up on Amazon. Oh good lord, she's a real author who's published stuff and everything! Rightyo, sign me up then.

It's touted as a "mothering memoir", although that doesn't really do it justice. It's a fun, witty, razor-sharp collection of observations from a mother who can write. We here at blog from : a baby headquarters had the pleasure of interviewing Ms. Halliday for today's stop on her virtual book tour. Please, no shoving and no flash photography.
1. Welcome to blog from : a baby! Are there any demands* you would like to make for this particular stop on your tour? *(I worked in bookstores for many years in Montreal and witnessed peculiar author requests during book signings. For example, Anne Rice demanded Puffs tissues and Tab cola, neither of which was actually available for purchase in Canada. Indeed.)

Oh my god, I can make demands? Shoot, I wish I'd known about this clause for the 16 virtual venues preceding yours on this tour!

As for Puffs, I don't need no stinkin' designer Kleenex! Toilet paper's fine for the likes of me.

2. How about this weather, eh? Pffft! (Lisa's note to Ayun: in Britain, it is mandatory to begin all conversations by complaining about the weather.)

I can't get too complain-y with it today, mate! It was a sunny 82 in NYC today - The kids & I took the subway to the beach at Coney Island! They went on the Free Fall and the Tilt-A-Whirl. We took in the freak show. The East German guy who pulls a surgical glove over his head and inflates it by exhaling in short bursts was there. I bought a $3 Corona from an enterprising, unlicensed vendor patrolling the filthy sand. So, I don't feel inclined to complain about the weather. Not today.

3. Why do an online tour of mummy blogs to promote Mama Lama Ding Dong? How did you come up with the idea?

I had to delay the bricks-and-mortar tour for my most recent book, Dirty Sugar Cookies, because my husband's new play was slated to begin previews the same week that the book was published, and one of us needed to be emotionally and physically available for the children. Afraid that, deprived of the usual shuck and jive, the book might sink like a stone, I went on a virtual tour in support of it, and while that was a lot of work, it was also a lot of fun, not to mention good for sales. Dirty Sugar Cookies is a culinary memoir, so most of the stops on that tour were food blogs, with the occasional lit blog thrown in to spice things up a bit. For Mama Lama Ding Dong, there was never any question that mummy bloggers would provide the most appropriate and enthusiastic venues. While it's thrilling to see one's name in the newspaper, it's important to remember that yesterday's newspaper lines today's bird cages. Web content, for better or worse, hangs around much longer.

I have to admit that I cribbed the blog tour idea (with permission) from my fellow author (and mummy blogger), Andi Buchanan. I'm not sure where she got the idea, but apparently there are a bunch of inspirational business-shelf authors who've been making the virtual rounds for years!

4. Online writing is becoming more prevalent and "regular people" are becoming as well known as published authors through mediums such as blogs. Do you think that people are buying less books on topics like motherhood because they can read boatloads of advice for free on web sites? How do you "compete" with this as a published author?

I think the two compliment each other. People who like to read like to read, period. I enjoy the information superhighway aspect of the web, the fun of clicking through dozens of links, unsure of what I'm going to find, but I also enjoy the sensual aspects of the printed page, the weight of a book in my purse, the idea that I can sneak in a couple of paragraphs while waiting in line at the post office.

Also, my sense of most blogs is that the posts come pretty much off the top of the author's head, which is what gives them their sense of immediacy, however inflammatory it may be. Books go through numerous edits, so presumably, the author has given some thought to what she's saying; it's not so much of a postcard from the id.

Look at it this way: homemade chocolate chip cookies taste great. So does half a tube of Pillsbury Ready-to-Bake, nuked for 30 seconds in the microwave. Must one cancel out the other? I think not.

5. How do you think your book will be received by a British audience? Is the subject matter universal?

The Secretary of Defense assures me the citizens will rush into the streets throwing rose petals. If your intelligence contradicts this, please advise ASAP.

I think the subject matter is fairly universal, at least throughout the Western World. Mothers who can't relate at all are probably inhabit the extreme ends of social class - to a desperately strapped single mother who can barely scrape together her child's daycare with the minimum wage she receives at Walmart, I must seem like a pampered matron who doesn't have anything to complain about. And to the wealthiest of the wealthy, whose employees handle the laundry and meals, I'm some sort of boho kook, rolling around in a hovel. And that's just the Western world! I'm sure your average mom in Darfur has completely different parameters for what constitutes stress.

As far as loving our children, and hoping for their continued health and happiness, and comprehending that life as we knew it before children has been irrevocably altered, yes, that I think is universal.

6. What's surprised you most about being a mother?

The physically grueling aspect. The carrying, the juggling, the deferment of one's own comfort to accommodate the human being squirming on one's lap at meal time, the alarum that bids one to wake in the middle of the night, trying to use a public toilet without putting the baby on the floor, the constant dressing and undressing, the impossibility of anything but the most military of showers.

7. What is the most annoying myth about motherhood you've come across, either in everyday life or in the media?

That motherhood confers frumpiness rather than respect. Though Saturday Night Live's "Mom Jeans" commercial is pretty funny.

8. And finally, will you promise to tell all of your American friends that it doesn't always rain in England, the food is actually quite tasty, and surprisingly, some people have rather nice sets of teeth?

Oh, we've heard all about your heat wave and Nigella Lawson and your dazzling choppers! But I'll endeavor to keep spreading the word.

an interview with ayun halliday: virtual book tour stop #17


[Copy of today's post on the baby blog.]

So I get an email in my inbox from a lady called Ayun Halliday, asking if I'd like to participate in her virtual book tour for her new book Mama Lama Ding Dong. Suuuuuuure, I thought as my fingers flew to look her up on Amazon. Oh good lord, she's a real author who's published stuff and everything! Rightyo, sign me up then.

It's touted as a "mothering memoir", although that doesn't really do it justice. It's a fun, witty, razor-sharp collection of observations from a mother who can write. We here at blog from : a baby headquarters had the pleasure of interviewing Ms. Halliday for today's stop on her virtual book tour. Please, no shoving and no flash photography.
1. Welcome to blog from : a baby! Are there any demands* you would like to make for this particular stop on your tour? *(I worked in bookstores for many years in Montreal and witnessed peculiar author requests during book signings. For example, Anne Rice demanded Puffs tissues and Tab cola, neither of which was actually available for purchase in Canada. Indeed.)

Oh my god, I can make demands? Shoot, I wish I'd known about this clause for the 16 virtual venues preceding yours on this tour!

As for Puffs, I don't need no stinkin' designer Kleenex! Toilet paper's fine for the likes of me.

2. How about this weather, eh? Pffft! (Lisa's note to Ayun: in Britain, it is mandatory to begin all conversations by complaining about the weather.)

I can't get too complain-y with it today, mate! It was a sunny 82 in NYC today - The kids & I took the subway to the beach at Coney Island! They went on the Free Fall and the Tilt-A-Whirl. We took in the freak show. The East German guy who pulls a surgical glove over his head and inflates it by exhaling in short bursts was there. I bought a $3 Corona from an enterprising, unlicensed vendor patrolling the filthy sand. So, I don't feel inclined to complain about the weather. Not today.

3. Why do an online tour of mummy blogs to promote Mama Lama Ding Dong? How did you come up with the idea?

I had to delay the bricks-and-mortar tour for my most recent book, Dirty Sugar Cookies, because my husband's new play was slated to begin previews the same week that the book was published, and one of us needed to be emotionally and physically available for the children. Afraid that, deprived of the usual shuck and jive, the book might sink like a stone, I went on a virtual tour in support of it, and while that was a lot of work, it was also a lot of fun, not to mention good for sales. Dirty Sugar Cookies is a culinary memoir, so most of the stops on that tour were food blogs, with the occasional lit blog thrown in to spice things up a bit. For Mama Lama Ding Dong, there was never any question that mummy bloggers would provide the most appropriate and enthusiastic venues. While it's thrilling to see one's name in the newspaper, it's important to remember that yesterday's newspaper lines today's bird cages. Web content, for better or worse, hangs around much longer.

I have to admit that I cribbed the blog tour idea (with permission) from my fellow author (and mummy blogger), Andi Buchanan. I'm not sure where she got the idea, but apparently there are a bunch of inspirational business-shelf authors who've been making the virtual rounds for years!

4. Online writing is becoming more prevalent and "regular people" are becoming as well known as published authors through mediums such as blogs. Do you think that people are buying less books on topics like motherhood because they can read boatloads of advice for free on web sites? How do you "compete" with this as a published author?

I think the two compliment each other. People who like to read like to read, period. I enjoy the information superhighway aspect of the web, the fun of clicking through dozens of links, unsure of what I'm going to find, but I also enjoy the sensual aspects of the printed page, the weight of a book in my purse, the idea that I can sneak in a couple of paragraphs while waiting in line at the post office.

Also, my sense of most blogs is that the posts come pretty much off the top of the author's head, which is what gives them their sense of immediacy, however inflammatory it may be. Books go through numerous edits, so presumably, the author has given some thought to what she's saying; it's not so much of a postcard from the id.

Look at it this way: homemade chocolate chip cookies taste great. So does half a tube of Pillsbury Ready-to-Bake, nuked for 30 seconds in the microwave. Must one cancel out the other? I think not.

5. How do you think your book will be received by a British audience? Is the subject matter universal?

The Secretary of Defense assures me the citizens will rush into the streets throwing rose petals. If your intelligence contradicts this, please advise ASAP.

I think the subject matter is fairly universal, at least throughout the Western World. Mothers who can't relate at all are probably inhabit the extreme ends of social class - to a desperately strapped single mother who can barely scrape together her child's daycare with the minimum wage she receives at Walmart, I must seem like a pampered matron who doesn't have anything to complain about. And to the wealthiest of the wealthy, whose employees handle the laundry and meals, I'm some sort of boho kook, rolling around in a hovel. And that's just the Western world! I'm sure your average mom in Darfur has completely different parameters for what constitutes stress.

As far as loving our children, and hoping for their continued health and happiness, and comprehending that life as we knew it before children has been irrevocably altered, yes, that I think is universal.

6. What's surprised you most about being a mother?

The physically grueling aspect. The carrying, the juggling, the deferment of one's own comfort to accommodate the human being squirming on one's lap at meal time, the alarum that bids one to wake in the middle of the night, trying to use a public toilet without putting the baby on the floor, the constant dressing and undressing, the impossibility of anything but the most military of showers.

7. What is the most annoying myth about motherhood you've come across, either in everyday life or in the media?

That motherhood confers frumpiness rather than respect. Though Saturday Night Live's "Mom Jeans" commercial is pretty funny.

8. And finally, will you promise to tell all of your American friends that it doesn't always rain in England, the food is actually quite tasty, and surprisingly, some people have rather nice sets of teeth?

Oh, we've heard all about your heat wave and Nigella Lawson and your dazzling choppers! But I'll endeavor to keep spreading the word.

Tuesday 15 August 2006

krispy krack


I'm fairly certain that Krispy Kreme coats their doughnuts in some sort of highly addictive drug. I went in to said establishment on Sunday to purchase one doughnut and while I was in the queue, a spotty young lad leaned over to me and said "Are you interested?" "Erm...in what?" I asked. "A hot, fresh doughnut - a free taster." He handed me a sticky warm doughnut that went down in three bites, and as I took the last bite, the girl behind the counter asked how many doughnuts I'd like. "Two. No, three! THREE!" I paid for my goods and left feeling a little bit dirty and ashamed.

Now the odd part is, around ten minutes after eating the free doughnut, I was hungry again. Coincidence? I think not.

Sunday 13 August 2006

or not


We do apologise - apparently Jack and I are not in today's Sunday Express magazine. We shall scan the article in and post it here whenever it does go public.

If any of you did run out and buy a copy (that would be all one of you: Paul), I hope you enjoyed the free Paul Weller CD. Jack found it very tasty.

Friday 11 August 2006

waiting for richard and judy to call


For those of you in the UK, Jack and I will be appearing in the Sunday Express' magazine this weekend. A nice journalist lady got in touch with me about baby blogging and interviewed me (and two others, I think), and then a nice photographer man came over and took our picture. I actually don't have twelve chins in the picture; I'm all agog.

Yeah it ain't the Guardian, but it'll be a nice souvenir for Jack.

Thursday 10 August 2006

the discontented little baby book author


Gina Ford, author of several childcare books (although not a mother herself), has taken legal action against the mumsnet site. This site is run by mothers, containing parenting information, product reviews, and chat forums. According to mumsnet:
Today we are taking the extreme step of asking Mumsnet members not to discuss Gina Ford, her parenting methods or her books on our talk boards. We are doing this because Gina Ford's lawyers are demanding that our ISP shut Mumsnet down with immediate effect because they claim Mumsnet is "publishing defamatory statements about our client on an ongoing basis."

Her attorneys made the following demands:
1. Mumsnet publish a statement disassociating itself from attacks on Ms Ford by some members and making it clear that such postings would not be tolerated.
2. Mumsnet implement a special procedure to monitor all posts relating to Ms Ford on a daily basis and delete any which are derogatory.
3. Mumsnet delete a specified list of 21 threads.
4. Mumsnet take technical steps to ensure that any potentially defamatory postings already deleted from the site should not be accessible through search engines.
5. Mumsnet pay Ms Ford damages and meet her legal costs.

As mumsnet puts it, Ford is "one of Britain's most wealthy and successful childcare experts demanding the closure of a community website run by mothers to enable parents to swap support, advice and the odd joke." Does someone need some time on the naughty step, Miss Ford?

I could understand her distress if someone was deliberately attempting to promote malicious and slanderous information about her, or if someone set up the site www.GinaFordsucks.com. But taking legal action against posts on an Internet chat board from mums who don't buy into her "contented little baby" philosophy? When you consider doing stuff like that, I think it's time to take a deep breath and treat yourself to a relaxing facial or have a nice glass of sauvignon blanc. Perhaps take a short holiday break and get a prescription for a mild relaxant.

I do not subscribe to Ford's regimented baby routines, although some friends found it a godsend. Personally, I think any book that instructs mothers of newborns to schedule their day right down to the hour they should have a cup of tea and a piece of toast (no, seriously) simply causes more stress. I totally understand the attraction of a plan that promises to get your 6 week old sleeping through the night, but not at the cost of my own sanity. In my opinion, Ford's books perpetuate the myth that there's something wrong with you if your baby isn't on a strict routine within a month of its birth, and somehow forcing an eating and sleeping schedule on a being who can't even see beyond a 10cm distance is going to work. Whatever happened to letting babies feed on demand? Isn't it more distressing for a newborn to be forced to wait until the clock strikes 11:15am for the next feed? Is it wrong of me to voice my thoughts on the matter?

So sue me.

Wednesday 9 August 2006

pump it up


I really love water pressure. Seriously, I love the kind of showers that rinse your hair in under ten seconds, blast off the first four layers of your skin, and pummel you into consciousness every morning. We have the water pressure of a vigorous watering can, so you can imagine my glee when Paul decided to tear the en suite bathroom apart last weekend and confirmed that we will get a new shower pump.

I don't care how pathetic this makes me sound; I believe that one of life's pleasures is a good shower. There is nothing worse than standing under a trickle of water, flapping my hair about in an attempt to get the shampoo out, but it only keeps getting soapier. When you've got a small child, time is of the essence. You don't have the luxury of taking a long steamy shower, you've got to get in and out in three minutes before your child starts screaming or figures out how to work the oven.

Water pressure makes me happy. This has absolutely nothing to do with my fireman fixation, I'll have you know.

Tuesday 8 August 2006

moo


I had a sore throat all day on Friday and on Saturday, I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Every single muscle ached and all I could do was writhe on the sofa in tears while my dog licked my face and my son threw plastic balls at my head and tried to use the dog as a stepladder. Yesterday, I had a strange "pins and needles" sensation in my fingertips that turned into hundreds of little red dots on the palms on my hands. Time to get to the doctor's, I thought.

Someone (possibly not Jack, but some other small being who has touched/coughed on/slobbered on me lately) has given me the gift of hand, foot, and mouth disease. This is not to be confused with foot and mouth disease, most commonly seen in cattle and sheep. It's caused by a virus that makes you feel like shit and then gives you painful spots on the palms, soles of the feet, and mouth (luckily I've avoided the latter so far). I can't run my hands under warm water or pick up anything comfortably, and standing is no picnic either. I'm still contagious so I'm quarantined at home with the dog today, who is still licking my face in an attempt to heal me. Bless him.

Baaaaaaaah.

Thursday 3 August 2006

it could have been much, much worse


Paul: (Looking in the hood of my cardigan) EUGH! What's that?
Me: (Craning head, temporarily forgetting that I do not have the neck bones of an owl) What? What?!
Paul: I think your son has deposited something in your hoodie.
Me: (Pulls hood towards face, notices brown smeary dried substance) Oh, it's just one of his granola bars from breakfast. (Nonchalantly picks dried food out of clothing and pitches it into the bin)
Paul: Ewww it looks like poo! And you're still wearing the hoodie! Ewwww!

Once again I say to you, "yummy mummy" my arse.

do you know the muffin woman?


I learn some great colloquialisms from Heat magazine, the latest of which is "muffin tops". This is the condition in which your jeans are slightly too tight and all of your fat squishes up and spills over the top of the waistband, giving you the appearance of a muffin. I laughed heartily when I read this phrase until one day, I saw the muffin staring back at me in the mirror. It's like someone left me too long to rise and my doughy middle has exploded in protest. If you poke my tummy, I make a "hee hee!" noise.

Perhaps I should forego cake Friday from now on. And maybe not eat the giant box of chocolates sitting on my desk. Or go to America for two weeks in October.

I'm doomed.

Tuesday 1 August 2006

getting better with age


I was never really one for enjoying other people's toddlers. They seemed to demand every ounce of energy and attention from their exhausted parents, they kind of smelled a bit funny, and had a perpetual trail of drool hanging from their chins. A typical conversation with a toddler parent went something like this:
Me: "So anyway, there was this really interesting show on TV last night and..."
Parent: "JIMMY! GET THAT REMOTE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND STOP TRYING TO SHAVE THE CAT!"
Me: "Um...so, I was watching this show..." [toddler wedges himself into the 6 inches of space between myself and his mother and starts making high-pitched dolphin noises.]
Me: "...and..." [toddler announces that he has done a poo] "...it was really interesting..." [toddler plunges hands into nappy and produces evidence of said poo; mother whisks toddler away]
Me: "Oh. Maybe I'll tell you later."

So really, the whole toddler thing never really appealed to me that much. When couples want to get pregnant, no one says "We really want to have a toddler"; they visualise little bundles of newborn cuteness. I was certain that once Jack became a toddler, everything would get incredibly difficult and I'd spend my days stopping him from showing everyone his willy when we went grocery shopping. When toddlerdom arrived, I barely even noticed. A friend of mine referred to Jack as a toddler when he was around 1, and I was surprised. "Well, he toddles now, doesn't he?", and sure enough, it was true. In fact, Jack gets more fun and hilarious by the day and in a lot of ways, life has become easier. He's happy to entertain himself and also provides hours of entertainment for Paul and I. Seriously, I could sit and watch him all day long with a big bowl of popcorn.

And the funny thing is, I now quite like other people's toddlers. I am the only mother at our nursery who speaks to the other children and I genuinely think some of them are very cute (the kid with the giant head still freaks me out a bit, I do admit). I love my friends' toddlers and it makes me smile to no end when they play with Jack. Toddlers are a-okay in my book now.

So now I'm having similar concerns about older children. I know 7-year-old kids who asked for mobile phones for Christmas and say things like "Am I bovvered?" Oh, I dread to think of what's to come a few years from now. I imagine though, that no matter how old your kid gets, you will always think they are at a great age.

I'm living in denial about the teenage years, so please don't burst my bubble.