mothers on the verge

This has been a CRAZY week. The kids and I whisked Alpha off last weekend for a mini-holiday to Dubai. Initially I wasn't all that impressed - too new, shiny and majorly WAGtastic (especially when I bumped into super-WAG Alex Curran dressed to kill in Starbucks) - but as we explored the place started to grow on me, mainly because of the fascinating mix of different cultures all shoved into one place. I'll elaborate at a later stage because right now I feel as if I'm about to pop with exhaustion. The new company is going incredibly well and I have a mix of very lovely clients, but with a press trip to Oman coming up next week and lots of deadlines all coming in at once, sleep has been a luxury over the past few days. So I'm off to bed right now, with the promise of less blog truancy on my part over the next couple of weeks. Zzzzzzz

So I think I'm developing a Wii Fit injury. (Yes, I am quite aware of how pathetic this sounds.) Backup a bit and I'll explain that the device was a birthday present from The Prince's parents. Backup more and you'll know that he told them to buy it for me. Because guess who really wanted it...right. However, it is fun. Definitely fun. But since I've been sitting here at my desk writing for 6 years and watching my nether regions start to fall like some over-risen pizza dough, I've been launching into the actual exercises the device offers. They're hard. Okay, see? I admitted it. I'm so out of shape that the Wii fit is knocking me back. The worst though? The games, like downhill skiing and snowboarding, keep you forward on your feet. And those cranky joints, used to laying around chilling under my desk, have woken up and bitten me back. That's not keeping me off the board. Too much fun for now. And even the thought that I might be tightening something ...

First, thank you everyone for indulging my Gettysburg Address fetish. Because it is. I covet that speech. And have actually spent the last 3 months trying to memorize it. Okay, one or two times I've sat for 5 minutes and tried to memorize it. But anyway. Yes, I'm completely aware this makes me a geek. But my main point tonight is to say that it's turning cold in New York which of course means it's time for me to go insane with planning parties, making cookies, cards, and other such nonsense that I actually adore. But here's the deal. This year I actually decided to make some limits. "What!" I hear all of you mouthing. "Manhattan Mama saying No?!?!?" That would be a big uh huh. Because I realized that saying to yes to everything does not make everyone like you. I'm just going to write that again so it even sinks in to me: SAYING YES DOES NOT MAKE EVERYONE LIKE YOU. What it actually does is make your husband stay out late to avoid you, makes yo...

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fou...

While The Rabbit is not the worst foot-dragger in terms of attacking homework, it's still not pleasant. And why should it be? After 6 hours at school, she comes home for a quick snack and another hour at the desk making change on paper, and writing book reports. She's 5. There's an interesting story today on MSNBC about how lack of playtime can hurt our kid s . I get it that it's a different world today. I understand that between No Child Left Behind and the competition that's overtaken the city schools she and I have almost no choice but to engage in some of this rote work. But I can't help but remember my 1st and 2nd and even 3rd grade years: We made dinosaurs out of clay. Held a garter snake. Built a city from milk cartons. Made tacos for Cinco de Mayo. And painted flowers. A lot of flowers. I don't remember writing words 4 times a day to learn them. Don't remember 3 sheets of math homework a night. And certainly don't remember screaming at my mot...

MM, thanks for the vote of confidence. I am simply too tired to throw anything at you so you're quite safe. This is another Champix side effect resulting from my now chronic insomnia. It was quite fun at first, staying up into the early hours with everyone else snoring in bed - not to mention useful as I've been ploughing through work like a thing possessed. But the fun is over and I'm now going through an odd shattered-but-still-wide-awake phase which gives me the zest and vigour of a zombie. A very strange sensation. Other symptoms? Sporadic rage and flatulence. Not necessarily in that order.

Here's the deal. I've never smoked. (Don't bite my head off YLM!) But, my parents were chimneys from the day I was born until well into college. As such I consider my lungs not my greatest asset. And I know this because I've never really been able to run more than 3 minutes without wheezing and feeling like I was going to pass out. Even The Prince finds it repulsive to hear my hacking behind him. So when my father had quadruple bypass at the age of 52 (yep.) the two of them stopped cold turkey. And life was not pleasant in their suburban home for a bit. Two people on nicotine withdrawal is apparently an atomic explosion. It was horrible, and my mother still has an unopened pack of Kent's in the back of a kitchen cupboard. Just in case. And so, while I know YLM is going to hit me full strength, I needed to add a post to say I am so pulling for you. And I know right now you want to whack me in the head with everything in the flat. But I'm so psyched. So heap all t...

Extreme grumpiness and belching have both made an unwelcome appearance. Sample quote from Alpha: "Why did I marry you?" (sigh)

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,...

My life has become a walking petri dish. Between the exposure to lice and pink eye (just this week), The Rabbit knocked this one out last night. "I have a secret." (Really not good words to hear from your child after finding out her class is infested again with lice.) "Okay. Tell me." "You can't get mad." (Too late.) "Okay. I won't" "Promise." (Sigh) "I promise." "You don't break your promises. Remember?" "Rabbit. Just tell me." "Remember when you told me not to jump in those leaves? When we were walking home? Because there was poop?" (eyes rolling into back of head now.) "Remember?" "Yeeeeesssss." "Because I was wearing my new boots. Remember?" "Where are the boots." "You said you wouldn't get mad!" (running to room) "Where are they!" "That's not fair! I'm not telling!" (stopping) "Okay. I'm not...

The day has finally come. The writing is on the wall. Yup, that's right; I'm trying to ditch my utterly revolting, terribly unfashionable and social pariah-inducing love of cigarettes. People who don't smoke don't really get it. "Just give up," they say. ( Just give up?? That's a bit like telling a small child never to eat sweets again. Or for Posh Spice to go easy on the pouting.) Then, even though they've never inhaled a smidgen of nicotine in their smug little lives, they feel it appropriate to lecture me at length on the many different and apparently miraculous ways by which their Uncle Ted gave up his 60-a-day B&H habit, like eating mung beans harvested by virgins during a full moon or some other utter tosh. So annoying it actually makes me want to smoke.

I went to a hen night last night, which was really good fun (despite me having bronchitis, more on that later). At one point the conversation turned to men we think are hot, which of course prompted much lively discussion. As one of the girls regaled us with how badly her husband teases her because of her passion for a certain rugby player, I realised Alpha and I never exchange such banter. You see, poor Alpha is a jealous soul. The very thought that I might harbour a crush on another male, even if the closest I'm ever going to get to said hottie is sitting in the front row at the Odeon staring up at the big screen, brings on a narrowing of the eyes and a jut of the jaw. I once waxed lyrical about the many skills of Louis Theroux , letting slip that as well as admiring his intellect and sense of humour I thought he was quite easy on the eye. Poor Alpha took it quite personally, barking that in his opinion Louis "is probably a moody bastard at home who never cracks a joke...

Why are kid's birthday parties so damn expensive in New York? Every way I slice it, it comes up beaucoup bucks. Is this because I live in a concrete box where I have to bring the entertainment INSIDE (no jungle gym to let them run around on for moi!) and also a winter birthday rabbit (hence no scavenger hunt in the neighborhood, lest the 92-year woman across the hall beats them with her walker...)? Sigh. Don't get me wrong. I'm a birthday party queen. Love them. Love them madly. Don't love having to explain the costs to The Prince when all I really dream of is a party for The Rabbit with a pinata tied to a tree in a backyard filled with streamers, balloons, some room for a three-legged race, and those Baskin Robbins ice cream clowns instead of cake. No matter. Clever mama will come up with a clever solution I am sure. And The Rabbit is bound to love her party no matter what we craft. That's the beauty of The Rabbit: She's disappointment-proof.

I didn't plan to make a huge technology investment this year. But last night, after my 15th phone call regarding school plans today, my Motorola Razr decided to pop a screw, and shut down. (Not that others weren't loosening from my own brain.) It was the side piece - the one that lets the clamshell feature work. You know, that really difficult part of the phone that lets it open and close. Open and close. Yeah. That broke. And then, well, everything went silent. Couldn't hear anyone. Couldn't hear the phone ring. So I called T-Mobile, the carrier I have been loyal to for 7 years. Seven years. I figured, I signed up for a two-year contract with them, in exchange for a phone that would work for said two years. Sounds like a fair agreement right? I don't leave, I pay my bill on time, and you make sure my phone can do all those fancy things. Like open and close. So, T-Mobile felt otherwise. They felt that even though I had just 5 months left on my contract, I should ren...

Nearly everyone I know is sitting tonight on edges wondering about tomorrow - no matter which candidate they're supporting. I have no interest in taking sides here -- I think anyone who votes tomorrow is a winner, no matter which lever they pull. And it's times like these when I am very very grateful to be raising my daughter somewhere she'll have a choice, and a right, to cast a vote for someone she wants for president. She's already taken sides for tomorrow's big day -- and has plans to vote with both me and The Prince. In Gotham, they use the schools as polling places, so children have a day off. And so The Rabbit and I will get our vote on and also spend the day wandering the streets in search of adventure. And part of this adventure will include collecting some very nice freebies from retailers who are feeling the electoral love. Hope you'll all enjoy the tips below....and that you'll all VOTE!!!!!! 1. Starbucks is going to offering a free 12-ounce drip...