i want to put little slices of cucumber on my eyes

I was reading a pamphlet from a spa at my in-laws' house the other day. It almost made me drool as I read (and re-read) the descriptions of the luxurious treatments on offer. Exotic face masks, manicures complete with arm and hand massages, pedicures preceded by bubbly foot baths and things involving loofahs, and all sorts of therapies that meant absolutely nothing to me but sounded deliciously indulgent. Their day spa includes a couple of treatments, the use of the pool and jacuzzi, a two course lunch, and a fluffy bathrobe and slippers to wear during your stay. I imagine people following you around with white towels, periodically misting you with some sort of herbal aromatic spray, and offering you drinks with fruit on a stick poking out of them. I want a spa day.

I'm not sure where this yearning comes from; I've only had one manicure in my life (I didn't even get one before our wedding) and never had splodgy goo smeared on my face before. Perhaps it's the tired mother in me wanting to spend a day doing something completely frivolous and self indulgent. Maybe I've suddenly become a girly girl? Nah, my shoes don't match my handbag and I have no urge to wax any part of my body.

I want a spa day. Who's with me?

cluck

The chicken pox are doing the rounds at Jack's nursery again, and it's made its way up to the baby room this time around. One of the workers informed me of this when I dropped Jack off and I jokingly responded "Yay! Maybe he'll finally get it this time!" at which point they all looked at me like I was clinically insane. What I meant was that I would prefer him to get chicken pox now rather than later when it's particularly nasty, not that I wished ill health upon my child. Another mother who was dropping her baby off understood what I meant and said "Maybe we could rub them all together." I refrained from making a joke about seeing if they stick to the wall afterwards.

Perhaps I should start selling "Ask Me How To Be a Bad Mother!" t-shirts on this site.

shove over, roger ebert

On Saturday, Paul and I finally got to see "The Da Vinci Code". It's based on a novel by some chap called Dan Brown; some of you may have heard of it. The plot of the novel involves a conspiracy by the Catholic Church to cover up the "true" story of Jesus. In the book, the Vatican knows it is living a lie but continues to do so to keep itself in power. The novel has helped generate popular interest in speculation concerning the Holy Grail legend and the role of Mary Magdalene in the history of Christianity. Fans have lauded the book as creative, action-packed and thought-provoking. Critics have attacked it as poorly written, inaccurate and creating confusion between speculation and fact. From a religious point of view, some critics consider it sacrilegious, and decry the many negative implications about the Catholic Church and Opus Dei.

It wasn't as rubbish as I thought it would be. That Audrey Tautou sure is pretty.

everyone sing

Here are all the verses to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" for all you Bad Mothers out there:

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

Then the traveller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

As your bright and tiny spark,
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

Seriously, who knew? (Apart from the friend of mine who informed me of this, of course.)

can i interest you in some of our literature?

It's official - I'm addicted to knitting. I've moved on from rectangles and squares, and I've learned how to increase and decrease. I know three stitches and am working on an irregularly-shaped project that involves buttons (but not button holes because that's just a bit too wacky for me right now). I have a "don't forget" list of things I need to bring to my in-laws' this weekend and on it is my bag of knitting paraphernalia. I have considered keeping it in front with me so I can knit on the drive down (please note that I'm not actually doing the driving), and I plan on going through my irregularly-shaped project with my mum-in-law to make sure I don't make a pig's ear of it, although I'm sure knitted pig's ears are in demand somewhere in the world. As indicated yesterday, I'm a little bit too excited about my personalised stitch markers. I'm also quite thrilled about my new bamboo knitting needles. I find myself searching for knitting patterns online and buying way too much yarn. I'm hooked.

It's a bit strange because I'm not really the crafty type and I don't usually have the patience for fiddly things. I can't sew/hate sewing, would never find the energy to do needlepoint, I haven't had the urge to make my own Christmas wreaths, and I can't quite come to grips with the concept of pottery. But for some reason, knitting has engulfed me. It's like someone's brainwashed me into enjoying it - expect to find me peddling furry scarves at the airport soon.

Seriously, if you find me knitting stuff like this and presenting it to people as gifts, feel free to stage an intervention.

why you won't find me on the cover of prima baby magazine

Please forgive me, for I have been a Bad Mother. I have done the following Bad Mother things lately:
-I spotted Jack drinking out of the dog's water bowl. He likes playing with spoons while I unload the dishwasher, but I didn't notice that on this occasion he was using the spoon to daintily sip water out of Jasper's bowl.
-I watched a particularly sweary episode of "Big Brother" in Jack's presence this morning. If his first sentence is "I am f*cking dying of starvation!", we'll all know who to blame.
-I fed him half a chip on Monday.
-I don't bathe him every day. In fact, most days he just gets a wipe or a sponging. I'm not sure if this is a bad thing because surely items like oatmeal and eggs are good for the skin and hair, right?
-I had no idea that "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" had more than one verse.
-I often make up stories to go with the pictures in his books, particularly if I find the original story a bit boring. Once he learns how to read, he's going to be very annoyed about this.
-Ditto song lyrics.

In totally unrelated news, three cheers for Brewer's Fayre pubs! We went to the Highwayman in St Neots on Monday, and were impressed by the extensive children's menu (with much healthier options than most pubs offer) and the big soft play area. Children under 3 feet (that's feet, not years - don't ask me why) are free, and taller children are charged £2 to get in to the play area. Although you can't eat in the play area, you can let the kids run loose while you're waiting for your food and come back when you're finished eating. Service was friendly and the food was pretty good - similar to any large chain pub. We'll definitely return.

happy days

People don't often do nice things for each other these days, so getting these in the post today:



made me a very happy lady. My fabulously creative friend Melanie (her shop can be found here) made these stitch markers for me, and I think they're the cutest shiny dangly things (not involving diamonds) I've ever seen. Stitch markers are used in knitting to indicate things like changes in pattern or colour, so you can keep track of what you're doing on each row. Or at least I imagine that's what they're for - I'm not actually talented enough to knit anything that complicated (yet). So there you go: pretty beads aren't just for jewellery.

A few people have asked me what's happened to Jasper's blog and if I'll still write about him here. The dog blog has been retired, but his picture pages are still linked to the main photo album page - and yes, I will still write about him here. It was his third birthday last week; he got a new chewy toy, a giant tennis ball, lots of edible/chewable doggy treats, and a brand new collar. Here he is looking elated to be another year older:



Happy belated birthday, Jaspey!

And finally, another thing that made me smile today was this quote from last night's Big Brother: "She's always talking about places I've never been...like Harrod's." (Glynn, the very young Welsh boy who doesn't get out a lot)