mothers on the verge

I know that there are much more important things to worry about, such as war and global warming, but since my recent birthday I have found myself fretting somewhat about my age, and more specifically, the negative effect time is having on my appearance. Yes, I am aware that vanity is not an appealing characteristic, but that’s for me to live with and you to judge me on. The sad fact is that I am now most definitely a ‘thirty-something’, and no amount of pretence and artifice is going to change that. So I have decided to become a high maintenance woman. Now, I must make it clear that high-maintenance is not something that I have had more than a passing acquaintance with. For me, going to a salon is a twice yearly event and one of those trips usually involves no more than a request for a trim (inevitably followed by tears on the way home. Why is it that a simple request for “two inches off the ends please” is interpreted as “give me a buzz cut and why not throw in a few ginger highlights

Here's what I think: Cliques start at age 3. Sorry that would be 4 -- because that is the age of the girls who told the rabbit that she couldn't play with them on the playground at school today because she was 3. How do I know? Because she came home and told me how excited she was that she would be 4 soon and could play with her friends again. That's the pause for me trying to remember to breathe. Then another little girl told her mom that the rabbit pushed her during class. (The mom thoughtfully delivered this info to me by e-mail.) The rabbit handles aggression by whining. Still. At age 3. When she gets mad she either bursts into tears, or sits in a corner alone. And maybe happily waits until she is 4. I suppose it's possible the rabbit has started to use physical violence when I, the Prince, our friends, her three babysitters and aunt are not around. Anything is possible. I could wake up tomorrow morning the Publisher's Clearing House winner. Anything can happen.

It’s been a really hard week, both emotionally and physically. Firstborn started school on Tuesday, a big milestone by any measure. I hadn’t quite prepared myself for quite how much of an upheaval it would be. Firstborn and the Small(er) One have been at a full-time nursery since January which has worked out brilliantly; the staff are great, the location is convenient and the facilities are good. It’s not ideal – they have a long day and I always seem to be rushing from one place to another – but on the whole it’s worked out really well. But this week, things changed…big time. I arranged to work from home for the week on flexitime to fit in with Firstborn’s new school hours, which involved a major juggle for Alpha Male and I, dropping children off in two different places (at opposite ends of the Borough) then me picking them up at different times and starting to work again once they went to bad. Tricky and tiring, but not impossible. The first fly in the ointment came when Alpha Male c

Here's what I want to know: Do these work for anyone? I am such a state of anxiousness I grabbed some book off my shelf and have started chanting these things out loud to myself like something from a Saturday Night Live skit. (This was after downing 4 scoops of ice cream in 11 minutes which did not help -- sorry Ben and Jerry's.) I know they say if you visualize positive things, they can happen. But if you repeat them out loud like some caffeinated parrot does that work too? Something tells me that's a big fat no.

That's the number of children they estimate who lost a parent on this day five years ago. Whether it's entirely accurate it doesn't matter. It's still an unfathomable loss. This morning my family listened as President Bush's motercade sped through our streets on the lower east side to have breakfast with a fire house three blocks from our apartment. This morning it was another skyscraper, this time the Empire State Building, that I watched from my window. Mercifully, the orange glow it cast was from the morning sun. Five years ago it was the Twin Towers, first smoking, then burning and finally falling that I watched from our place in Manhattan's fish market. The rabbit, I am thankful to say, will never know about this day except as a piece of history -- much like D-Day or the anniversary of Pearl Harbor meant to me growing up. But all I have to do is look up on mornings like today with the unearthly perfect blue September sky, and cotton balls of clouds gliding

Due to the Tiscali disaster, I am now on dial-up. A bit like being forced to quaff Cava and pretend I like it after years of Krug. 28 days and counting, and they still haven't been able to fix my line. How hard can it be? Not any harder than trying to get through to a real live human being on the Tiscali help line, I'll bet. The few times I have managed to speak to Tiscali employees I've been lied to and been given excuses for why my line is down, all along the lines of that it's 'a temporary fault'. Temporary? 28 days? Who are you trying to kid? Finally, I came close to losing it (yeah I know, I suffer from Internet dependency) and concocted a plan. An hour later, having called every number I could find for Tiscali (their website isn't exactly encouraging person-to-person contact), had the automated line hang up on me (four times!!!), threw the phone across the room in a red-hazed rage (twice) and finally having figured out that if you call the main custome

10. She looks JUST like your husband! I don't even see you in her. Huh. Nope. 9. So...have you talked about having another? How old are you now? 8. I came home from the hospital in my regular jeans. Just one of those lucky ones. 7. Want ta trade? 6. Children do better when their mothers relax a little. 5. I've always thought pink on girls was a cliche. 4. Really? She can't write her name/read/ride a bike yet? 3. Boy, she looks nothing like you. Guess you'll have to have a second one for you! 2. Did you ever think about holding her back a year? 1. Don't worry.

Still no Tiscali, which means quick 20-second posts from work. Naughty. It was my birthday yesterday which is merely adding to my woes. Another year older and still not wiser but certainly more crinkly. Plus I'm suffering from the dreaded menstrual bloat. And I have a zit. And bikini line shaving rash (waxing being a luxury of people with time and no children/ full-time nanny). What else could possibly go wrong? Must I suffer any more? Life can be so cruel. Alpha Male, however, came up trumps and booked me in for a surprise facial and pedicure. Possibly the best birthday gift ever, although I must admit a lot of the thrill was having two hours of forced lethargy on a Sunday afternoon with no imperious demands for "jooce!" or "biccies!" to contend with. Pure Heaven. More from the dark side soon.

I'm not shunning you all. Tiscali, the total muppets, have done something nasty to our broadband and don't seem to have any answers beyond "it will be fixed sometime next week." Uh, thanks. The good news is that I don't have to be anything more than mildly irritated about the situation as Alpha Male is angry enough for both of us. Noisy emails littered with terms like "breach of contract", "I demand a refund" and "compensation" are being fired at the doubtless cowering Tiscali crew practically on the hour, every hour. I do love a man with a mission. So the posts I had lined up will have to wait until I can get back online from the comfort of my own home. Work is pretty busy right now and I doubt it will go down very well if I ignore my clients in favour of the blog, so I guess I'm in enforced time-out until next week. Have a great weekend y'all, whatever you're planning and wherever you are.