mothers on the verge

I don't know about you, but I've never felt much of a woman. That's not to say that I'm hankering after a willy transplant, just that in my head I haven't really gone past the age of 18. Obviously I'm not 18. When I look in the mirror I am most certainly NOT 18, or even 20-something. I am most definitely 30-something. So why won't my mind grow up in line with the everspreading sag and crinkle that age brings with it? It may well be that I'm just a typical Generation X -er, you know, that 'ignored' generation sandwiched in between the self-congratulatory antics of the 60-something Baby Boomers and the narcissism of the baby Millenials. I don't want to feel older than the new retirees, sucking up adventure holidays with their '60 is the new 40' attempt to reclaim glamour rather than enjoying a well earned snooze in their La-Z-Boy in front of the telly. Nor do I want to join the ranks of the me-me-me Millenials suffering from RSI of the

While I've been revelling in the sociable aspects of expat life and hanging out with my new girl posse, Alpha just isn't that bothered. He claims that he's made friends at work and doesn't want to go hang out in bars with a bunch of guys. He says he's at his happiest vegging out in front of the telly with me. The perfect husband, right? Yeah, except then I watched the latest Paul Rudd movie I Love You Man and started to worry... I'm sure most wives would give their eyeteeth for a homebody husband rather than some good-time guy who has to be forcibly dragged home from their favorite bar/ strip-joint/ pool hall - but I also worry that Alpha needs some man-friends over here in Dubai. Doesn't everyone need friends? There has to be a balance. If I'm to be entirely honest, there is also the fact that I need to regain authority over the telly remote control so I can watch my Ugly Betty series box set without a backdrop of manly bitching. Plus there's the

So we're back in Dubai. And it's been non-stop drama ever since we got here. Firstborn seems hell-bent on a course of self-destruction. Her usual mode of ignoring all commands to stop running on the side of the pool resulted in two broken front teeth and a huge bruise on her chin. Cue emergency dental session, two crowns, a dental bill the size of the UK's national debt and much grumbling about being put on a soup diet for a week until her teeth recover from the trauma of hitting tiled flooring. Yesterday, having recovered some of her equilibrium, Firstborn decided to ignore all commands to stop jumping on top of a plastic table while at the pool. Sure enough the table broke in two, Firstborn fell off it and is now boasting a cut toe, a shin that looks as if its been attacked by a cheese grater and numerous bruises. Add all this to frequent tantrums, constant baiting of her younger sister, endless demands for PS2's/ mobile phones/ make-up plus a non-stop volley of teen-

Maybe I'm an uneducated mama on this front, but this is the first summer The Rabbit has homework. Which of course means I have homework. Forgive me, but didn't summer used to mean orange yogurt pop-ups dripping down your arm, sun burns, and riding your bicycle with your friends and trying not to hear mom call you in for dinner? Didn't it mean hours at the beach ferreting sand crabs, itching mosquito bites and sleepovers with chocolate pop-overs for breakfast? The Rabbit's assignment this summer is a "fun activity" to run a scavenger hunt through the city, collect 13 "artifacts" (a subway map, local newspaper, etc...) and then write 5 stories about them. She's 6. This is absolutely meant without the slightest disrespect for any of her teachers (who, to date, I have adored)....but this is truly inane, some administrative Grinch-move that comes from focusing excessively on test results. To me, summer is meant as a time to unwind. To not ha

How many episodes can you watch if iCarly before your brains leak? Hurry, please. Brain cells will thank you.

Packing. Going nuts. Back to Dubai tomorrow. Goodbye France.

Here in France the rule at the local pool is for men to bind up their man-bits in skimpy nylon and strut around with their chests puffed out. I kid you not, you're not allowed in the pool if you're wearing board shorts - it's Speedo-type trunks (fondly known as 'moule-boule' by ze Frenchies) or go away. And all on the grounds of hygiene or something equally ridiculous. It's a different story on the other side of the Channel. Anyone mad enough to don skimpy trunks and go amongst the public in the style of Rod Stewart is routinely sniggered at and made to feel rightly ashamed of their foolishness. Now Alton Towers, the fun-filled theme park famed across the Isles for its lengthy queues and insanely high prices, has made national Speedo-hatred official by banning them on the grounds of human decency, thus sparing decent daytripping families the sight of lycra clad willies zooming down water slides at high speed (not to mention trunk wedgies, painful for all presen

I took The Rabbit and headed out to California for some fresh air this summer. Just a couple of weeks in Los Angeles (and yes, I can hear your all snickering that Los Angeles is hardly the bastion for fresh air. Save it.) For a Californian trapped in New York, anything on the West screams fresh to me. And after nearly a year sitting in my particular concrete jungle, I am often ready willing and gnaw at something to get off the island. That's one reason I think the Fresh Air Fund is pretty cool. Yes, I'm about to hawk about the group. But I think it's a worthwhile organization -- and I love that they basically get kids out of the city and give them that space and time to sit under a tree and stare off at clouds, without a police copter hanging over their building until 3 am. (That's another post for another day..) Even though it's August, the Fresh Air Fund is STILL looking for some host families to offer more children a summer break. And parents can still sign up

If there's one thing I abhor it's the mothering gaggle instinct. You know it. You've seen it multiple times. You've probably been at the sharp end of it. It's that herd mentality exhibited in playgrounds all over the Western world, where the different mothering tribes crowd together to rain down disapproval of those who don't share in their ethics/ religion/ postal or zip code/ salary bracket. I guess they also get together to have fun, chat about their offspring and gossip about the teaching faculty, possibly even to share cookie recipes, but in my experience the majority of gaggles thrive on some form of bitchiness and a self-affirming sense of manufactured superiority. I avoid gaggles like the plague. They're a breeding ground for collective hysteria and a petri dish of small-mindedness which fosters the sort of behaviour dramatised by Arthur Miller in The Crucible. Perfectly normal, sane and intelligent women go to pieces when they fall under the power

Had a joyful reunion in Paris yesterday with Alpha, who has been in Dubai for almost three weeks while we've been larding it up in France with the M-in-Law. Alpha came in on a late flight, too late to catch the train out to our French backwater so we decided to spend the night in Gay Paree - the closest we're going to get to a dirty weekend, after all, so the opportunity was there to be seized. I now believe that the secret of a happy relationship is spending great swathes of time apart. Obviously Alpha is a fine specimen of a husband but he has been known to verge on the cantankerous and exhibit all sorts of grumpy-old-man traits. At times he can be quite difficult and has to be sent away to the golf course to calm down. He has also been known to throw quite impressive tantrums if I spend too long at the shops or rack up large sums on the credit card. It can be quite trying, as I'm sure you can imagine. It's all changed. Three weeks is obviously just the right amount o

Hey a new post on TwitterMoms on this -- which I've posted below as well. ....................... President Obama's mandate to provide health insurance for nearly all Americans is going to come with a hefty price tag — and many of us are going to be paying for it. Right now, health insurance is not a right for all Americans. In fact, it’s a pricey privilege. The average American family of four pays $3,354 a year for coverage — double what they paid nine years ago. And the reason it's even that low? Because most American now take out high deductible plans. Add in deductibles, and doctors that sometimes just won’t take your insurance — and health care is a slow leak from our bottom lines. For those who earn just minimum wage, now $7.25 an hour , even that amount can seem impossible. So many are hoping to see some kind of reigning in of the health insurance industry so that we can continue to have coverage — and maybe keep a little bit more in our pocketbooks. Or, frankly, s