mothers on the verge

Thank the Lordy 2008 is over, what a rubbish year. I always resolve to not make any New Year's resolutions but yet again the temptation is too strong. Here goes.... I will learn to say "no". My days as a total sap are over - instead I resolve to be outwardly selfish like everyone else rather than agree to do things I don't want to do, which invariably results in my spending the next week inwardly fuming and hating everyone involved I will have a facial/ pedicure/ other essential grooming thing at least once per month. Then there's no excuse for looking like a hag I will be nicer to Alpha and let him have a lie-in at least once a month (rather than once in a blue moon) I will get myself in training for next Christmas' Trivial Pursuit challenge from January onwards to avoid feeling like an ill-educated fool next year I will do the laundry on a regular basis rather than when the pile of fetid garments piled up in the corner gets so high I can't see the kitche

Huge apologies to all those of a sensitive disposition... we just couldn't resist this monument to bad taste. Glorious. Merry Christmas !

So, after having forced Firstborn and the Small(er) One to write out Christmas cards to every kid in their class (mean I know but I'm seeing it as great handwriting practice), wrapped up and distributed teacher gifts, stayed sober during the office party (having to do the school run straight afterwards was a fairly persuasive incentive), purchased gifts for one and all (after much dithering, see previous post), turned the house upside down looking for all the crap the kids insist they need over the Christmas break, put the house back together again, turned the house upside down looking for Alpha's driving license, put the house together again, had a mini-breakdown when laptop contracted evil virus, tried to fix laptop, gave up, went to PC World to buy a new laptop (a whole other story, aggghhh never again), had another mini-breakdown trying to configure email, turned air blue in search for passports and packed all our bags, I'm finally ready for Christmas. We're off th

So I finally broke down and threw myself on to Facebook. With my usual follow-through this means I have a smattering of friends. I mean really, it's almost impossible to keep up with every digital demand in the world - right? How do we write a blog, do work that pays the bills, be a semi-fluent mama and then twitter around as well? We don't. But more to the point, I do not understand how you manage your online life, especially for the people who seem to have 359 Facebook friends. Do they invite them all to their house for the annual holiday party? What about some who are work friends and some who are friends through the mama-world? Does your editor want to know that your Rabbit has 104 degree fever? Does your friend want to know about the latest tech gizmo you may be writing about? Guessing transparency means no more privacy, no more mystery, no more solitude. I'm wondering when the backlash will begin.

With getting just one rabbit out of the house every morning, I can't even imagine the assembly line that goes on to get more. It's gotten to the point where I can't even gulp down my first cup of coffee in order to get breakfast made, lunch into a backpack, clothes on the rabbit and her hair shellacked for the anti-lice defense. How bad is it? The Rabbit wrote a book for the class publishing party last week called, "The Yell." The story? How Mama can be when she doesn't have enough coffee in the morning. In the story, The Rabbit ducks into the bathroom to hide while Mama races around "yelling." And then The Rabbit comes out asking if I've had coffee yet?!?! Everyone laughs. Until Mama yells again. I'm getting an IV caffeine drip.

Christmas really stresses me out. This is despite the fact that I have so far managed to avoid ever actually hosting a holiday celebration, so my duties on the actual day are limited to peeling the odd potato and scraping my overly-excited children off the ceiling. No, the stress of Christmas is experienced in the weeks running up to it - it's the gift buying that's the problem. I'm one of those pathetic people you see standing stock still in front of a heap of gifts in the store, picking one thing up, then another, then another, then another... frozen in a frenzy of indecision . The problem, you see, is that I care too much . Being able to carelessly grab stuff is alien to my nature - no, I have to agonise over each choice. I have to consider whether Aunt Mabel would really appreciate the lavender-scented talc gift set or would she prefer the cute fluffy bedsocks? Aggghhhh, the decisions! Ultimately Aunt Mabel probably couldn't care less and they'd go into her bot

Cell phone fees are the bane of our existence, yes? Sure, that may be putting a little too much emphasis on them. But I do actually believe they are a terrible way to run a business, and an assurance that the person paying them will never forget, and may likely never use that company again. As I write this $200 check to a cell phone company I will never work with again, I am thinking of all the outrageously bad customer service, and bad business practices, I have suffered through this year and wonder if the current recessionary climate might change some of that. When consumers have less to spend, like moi, consumers are going to go for bargains — but also where they're appreciated. Case in point. I recently ordered a book for an interview I needed to do. One online service promised me the book, because I live in Manhattan, the next day. It was cheaper than the bigger named online store I normally use. But I am searching for some bargains right now. I ordered the book. I got an emai

The night before the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Pretty cool.

Not going to be able to really post much right now. (And I will refrain from tsking YLM..!) Just too much chaos. How much? 1. Hosted 75 people at our home last weekend 2. Baked 850 cookies for said event (truly) 3. Hosting 36 children this Saturday for The Rabbit's birthday 4. Hosting parents who are sleeping on the air mattress in my livingroom/office right now. 5. Baking 48 cupcakes for birthday event at school. Today. 6. Taking Rabbit from school event to Rockettes this evening. (Yes, bringing aspirin for moi.) 7. Making candy for gifts to be mailed for holidays (if my head doesn't pop off) 8. Oh yes. And working. And so my dear friends, I shall remain silent again until probably Monday when the house is empty, The Rabbit is at school, The Prince is at work and I am solo with my computer and 1 apot of dear dear coffee all to myself. Then, I will download and reflect on how I managed to eliminate the word "No" from my vocabulary yet again.

So, there I was burbling on about how I planned to give up smoking with a little help from Champix and possibly some willpower. But it's over, I'm back on the ciggies, off the Champix and feeling alarmingly not guilty about my spectacular fall off the wagon. Nontheless, I managed to smoke much less than usual for at least three weeks so that's something to be thankful for, right ? OK, maybe I'm just trying to see the upside where there isn't any. Maybe I'm a terrible failure worthy of your derision. Maybe I really will go green and explode if I don't stop lighting up (as is the common belief amongst 6 years olds these days, or so claims Firstborn). Whatever. I am now committed to giving up on giving up. For today, anyway. But one quandary remains - how on earth am I going to 'fess up about my failure to the charming Dr T? After all, kind authority figure + my bad behaviour = deep-rooted shame (akin to being dragged in front of the headmistress, aged 10,

So, there I was confidently predicting that I would be back on the blog last week, thinking once the press trip was underway I would be able to sneak five minutes or so to expound on the beauty and charm of the Sultanate of Oman, and feel smug about my good fortune. Erm, WRONG. Since my nose was kept firmly to the grindstone from from around 7am until way past midnight I'm surprised I managed to find time to even go to the bathroom. Grabbing any other kind of time to myself would have been an outrageous luxury. Anyway, Oman is beautiful and charming. I feel fortunate to be able to have experienced Muscat (albeit on a limited scale) and am already planning a holiday there for myself, Alpha and the rugrats. Sadly, the client was less charming. I could go on but it would probably end with me being sued for libel, which would be unfortunate, so I'll button my lip (whilst working out how to exact the most humiliating and painful revenge). Anyway, I'm back in London, suffering f

Yes, it's that time of year again. Time when I break out the sugar, flour, eggs and butter and decide that I should provide cookies for every single person I have ever met in my life, and a few I don't even know. Holding our annual holiday party this Saturday night and if you haven't received an invitation yet, it means you don't live near us, we don't know you, or perhaps I like you so much I want to protect you from the 23 screaming children who are bound to invade my 1,000 square-foot apartment and hopped up on sugar attempt to pulverize its bones. Actually, this year we sort of banned kids after the situation last year where we found our single friends hovered for protection in the kitchen around the gin and ginger cookies trying to numb themselves from the horror. This year The Rabbit knows she is actually going to her great aunt's for a sleepover at bedtime. Yes, she's aware that really it means she's banned and as retaliation has dissed every batc