Skip to main content

The End of Week Two

Again, apologies for my neglect of this blog all week. But the way things are going, I suspect that I'm going to have to turn into a weekend blogger. It's so full-on now during the week that I'm kind of surprised that I have time to sleep and eat, let alone spend much time with my poor girls.

Oh, big surge of Mommy shame.

I spent around ten minutes with the Small(er) One yesterday, and Firstborn's communication with me was limited to a couple of phone calls and what we've come to call tele-hugs. But they don't seem to be that distressed (unless of course they're busy repressing the emotional weight of the maternal abandonment - I'm almost certain that one day it will be fed back to me in the form of hefty shrink bills). In fact, part of me is almost offended by how accepting they are of my new-found absence for the duration of their daylight hours. And I must say that I did experience more than a small twinge of pain tonight when the Small(er) One called the nanny "Mama"... God, that cut like a knife.

So, the weekend stretches ahead of me. Alpha Male is back in the classroom this weekend (he studies one weekend per month) so it's just the girls and I, out on the razz and free to get into whatever mounds of trouble there is to be had in suburbia; local unrest at the price of free-range eggs at the local farmer's market, intrigue at the bouncy castle playgroup, queue rage at Waitrose... I can hardly wait.

However, apart from the usual suburban social whirl, this weekend should pose more of a challenge than it normally does when I'm in sole charge. Since the flat purchase (finally) went through last week we now have two builders in residence pulling the place to pieces and itching to make it less of a shrine to landlord taste; the place has been a rental for years, and omg it really, really shows. Yep, the grey 'marble' bathroom with 'interesting' design accents, the green shagpile carpet, the rag-rolled wall mounted half-egg light fittings, the plastic 'wood' floor in the kitchen, in fact the whole kitchen... it's all got to go. The heat is on in terms of choosing fittings and all those other decorative neccessities - a whole heap of fun when you don't have two small children in tow on a mission to reduce whatever showroom we're in to rubble.

So don't be surprised if we end up with bright pink carpet on the floors and Barbie tiles in the bathroom - Firstborn has a firm grasp on the concept of pester-power.

Whatever. I'm just delighted to be able to spend a whole weekend with my girls. I find that I get so caught up with work during the week - to the point that my brain becomes pure PR - that I don't quite realise how much I miss them until I consign my work heels to the closet, drop out of Roadrunner mode and r-e-l-a-x...

And right now, it's time to crack open a nice bottle of red wine and enjoy a night of deliciously terrible telly. I'll start with C.S.I.... yum...What more could a girl possibly want?

Except maybe a kick-ass pair of Manolos, a complete set of Myla lingerie (including those fabulous ribbon-tie knickers), a big tub of Green & Blacks (any flavour, I'm not fussy), MAC eyeliner, anything Jo Malone combined with a hot up-to-the-chin bath lit by Diptyque, Wolford hosiery, an Argos catalogue (aka The Big Book of Dreams), a Thai massage ... oh and throw a toy boy or two in for good measure...

Why hold back? It is the start of the weekend...


Mary said…
Hi just found your blog. You guys are so cool. But I don't get some of it what's Myla, Argos and Jo Malone? Is it British stuff?
Hi Mary, welcome to my and MMs microcosm and thanks! Myla - sexy stuff (not just knickers, ahem, reassuringly and ridiculously expensive), Argos - everything you could ever want within one catalogue / online store (personally, I'm hankering after karaoke Santa, he dances too, fabulous), Jo Malone - high-end smelly stuff, bath oils, perfume etc utterly divine. I can't think of the US equivalents - maybe Manhattan Mama can come to the rescue on that one?
Manhattan Mama said…
OK, Myla? Think Agent Provacateur or EXTREMELY naughty Victoria Secret. For Argos? Maybe Neiman Marcus or Target -- it's really a combo of both. And Jo Malone....hmmm....How about Annick Goutal...clean scents, a bit pricey, but very pampering!
thanks mama! Spot on.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …