mothers on the verge

The Small(er) One has now lost her two front baby teeth in the space of three days, gleefully placing her hard-earned Tooth Fairy cash into her piggy bank and flashing an alarmingly gappy smile at all and sundry while forcing them to take a close look at her red-raw newly-exposed gum. It's funny how such a basic thing has the power to make otherwise hearty adults go quite green around the gills. The kids have been off school since Thursday so my usual swathes of free time have been reduced to practically zilch, sigh. I do think it's incredibly selfish of the authorities to allow children time off for holidays - the poor dears need all the education days they can get, not the opportunity to molder at home whining for a Wii/ a hot pink iPod/ more Littlest Pet Shop plastic tat while their mothers go insane. Anyway, we're off to France tomorrow. Thankfully not on good ol' British Airways with their kind, thoughtful staff who are working so hard to ensure everyone has

The Small(er) One is close to losing her two front teeth and is terrifically excited at the prospect of crossing this latest Big Girl threshold. Firstborn, delighted she can parade her prior expertise in the tooth losing arena, has been dispensing knowledge at every available opportunity with the occasional scare story thrown in for good measure ("It only bleeds really badly for a little while, don't worry"). Yesterday Firstborn drew me to one side with a very serious expression on her face. "Mummy," she said. "I am in two minds about something." I raised my eyebrows: "Two minds? Really? About what?" "Well," she sighed dramatically. "I think I should be telling the truth about the tooth fairy." "The truth? Er, what do you mean?" I stuttered. "Well, Mummy, I know." She paused, "I know that the tooth fairy isn't real." "Rubbish!" I exclaimed, "Who told you such a ter

In the back of the car on the way to school this morning. Firstborn: "Lily's big brother says things like 'wow that girl is really hot'. He thinks he's a teenager or something but he's actually only nine." The Small(er) One: "What does 'hot' mean?" Firstborn: "That he thinks the girl is really pretty or nice." The Small(er) One, after a long pause: "Am I hot?" Firstborn: "Yes, you're really hot." The Small(er) One, smiling broadly: "You're really hot too." Firstborn, nochalantly: "Yeah, I know."

Why is it that the Christmas play brings out the very worst in people? This is especially true of Alpha Mum who seems to transform into an even more vile and annoying being at this time of year. There I was, innocently thinking that if I dropped the kids off to their classrooms quickly and went straight to the hall where the play was being held then I'd be in plenty of time to bag a decent seat. How wrong was I? The front rows were strewn with artfully arranged possessions yet devoid of human backsides... bar one Rottweiler-type guard Mom showing her sharpened teeth at anyone sniffing around her patch. Thinking that the Alpha gang couldn't possibly be bold enough to have 'reserved' the entire two front rows, I shifted the one inch of cardigan stretching into the end seat on the front row and plonked myself down. Foolish me. Before I could draw a ragged breath Rottie Mom was upon me. Displaying an impressive fortune in corrective orthodontry and a fair bit of Botox

1. Why does the average Dubai driver keep the plastic wrap on their car upholstery? Is it to preserve that fresh-from-the-car-showroom excitement factor for as long as possible? Or do they simply not know how to take it off? It can't be that they're worried about getting the leather seats all mucky as most residents could certainly spring for a valet if they get a bit fumbly with their morning latte (despite the tales of financial woe the Porsche garage is stuffed full of eager beaver shoppers, a sign that there's life in the old showgirl still). It's a mystery - surely they don't like the feeling of crinkly plastic sweating up their thighs? 2.  Why is it that the following cars are invariably driven by selfish, careless and show-offy individuals who display scant regard for other road users - the Dodge Durango, the Chevy Suburban (as if the name of this car isn't humiliation enough), the Audi Q7 and the Porsche Cayenne. Oh and the Hummer, but then you'r

1. Contraception would suddenly become 100% effective 2. The attention of all (male) scientists would shift from silly little diseases like H1N1 and HIV to more urgent matters, such as eradicating morning sickness, backache, swollen nipples and even more inconvenient nasties such as childbirth. Babies would be born by painlessly popping out of the male bellybutton within two minutes. Or even better, by being found under a gooseberry bush or delivered by a passing friendly stork 3. Until this happy day of scientific breakthrough arrives, men would retire to a special birthing chamber - upon confirmation of pregnancy until they are ready to give birth - to 'bravely' suffer though their ordeal with only the most basic of comforts: a Playstation, 50in plasma screen, mini-fridge full of alcohol-free lager and pizza delivery on speed-dial 4. Birthing classes such as the NCT and any birthing guru-type who demonstrates childbirth using a macramed pelvis would suddenly cease to e

I've just found my newest internet diversion -  this guy is the dog's doodahs for sure. Laugh? It's the closest I've come to wetting my pants in over three decades. That's got to be worth something. Check it out  (this one's my favorite).

As you know my altered hormones have left me a bit soft in the head so please forgive me if this stunning fact isn't exactly front page news but today I came up with the exciting realisation that here in Dubai.... .... there's no dastardly jingley-jangley Christmas carols playing on a constant annoying and rage-inducing loop in every single shop! Plus the telly schedule isn't packed full of annoying ads trying to get you to buy rubbish plastic sh*te that is guaranteed to break by Boxing Day and stupid perfume ads pretending to be arty-farty 'mini movies' (erm, like Nicole Kidman's rictus face looking misty and lots of prancing around in posh frocks is going to make me race off to the shops and drop Alpha's hard earned cash on something to make me smell like a tart's drawers. Do they take me for a fool ?) Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that we may be forced to listen to the call to prayer umpteen times a day in Dubai but we don't have

It's possible that some of my brain has come back. Well, I'm able to turn the computer on and I can remember how to type, which is a start at least. The reason for this new intelligence low? Well, it appears that I'm pregnant with #3. It's not entirely a surprise as Alpha and I have been trying for the past nine months or so. It's just a surprise that it happened at all, what with having to see a specialist and being given pills and being told that I have low something-or-other hormone with the possibility that my ovaries are close to shutting up shop for ever, despite me still being in my thirties. But we've got two rugrats already and feel fortunate to have them -Firstborn alone took two years to conceive - so it would have been sad but not a disaster. So very lucky us. My last pregnancy was nearly six years ago, a long time in hormone world, and I'd forgotten about what being pregnant is like. Unfortunately I'm not one of those women who wafts thr

Firstborn is off sick from school with a tummy bug. But her super-speedy recovery from being a pale and pathetic waif this morning to bouncy and rosy-cheeked cheerleader this afternoon has made me a little suspicious. Think I might need to speak to Firstborn's teacher when I pick up the Small(er) One from school this afternoon to see if there was a test scheduled today; not sure how she would have faked some of the symptoms but there was possibly an element of ham in her waifishness this morning.... Oh me of little faith. Feeling quite down today due to it being Granny Julia's funeral tomorrow. Firstborn has tried to cheer me up by drawing pictures of Granny J as an angel in Heaven all over the front page of the Gulf News (the very page I was trying to read) and bombarding me with non-stop chatter. Sadly the only thing Firstborn's determined good cheer has achieved is the development of a headache right between my eyes. Am trying to smile anyway to make Firstborn feel tha

Got writers block. Or rather, have writers block because I have a secret which I want to share but for one reason and another am unable to quite yet. Thus can't think of anything else to write about until the secret is out. Very annoying. All will be revealed soon.