mothers on the verge

Off to California in the morning to spend Christmas with my American family, Alpha and the girls in tow. All very excited, but sad too as we were so looking forward to Christmas with my grandmother and now she won't be with us - or not in body anyway. Sorry for not having posted for a while but Granny's death and funeral took some digesting. On top of that I have been reorganising the apartment in the aftermath of the new kitchen build (a kitchen bigger than a cupboard, amazing!), dealing with the fact that Alpha's new job is seriously full-on (I got used to the whole sharing of school responsibilities but that is now sadly a thing of the past), then a whole series of crazy work deadlines and pesky panicking clients. But anyway, who cares - all that is so almost last year as from tomorrow I am free, free, free for a whole ten days and virtually incommunicado as I'm leaving the CrackBerry at home. Thrilled is too downbeat a word to describe my soaring elation. Merry Chri...

On the 6th Day of Christmas My True Love Said To Me: "What the h--l are you doing? It's almost midnight! Stop baking those g--damn cookies. Who do you think is going to eat all of those?!?!? You're insane. And they don't have enough red hots."

Just a question: Does anyone out there appreciate this? Do we not already KNOW THIS ALREADY? In other words, do we need to know that we look like a HAG with circles under our eyes, and our face slopping downward trying to meet our neck? Same for this response: "You LOOK tired." said after you explain to someone why you're spacing out, "Sorry. I'm tired." Here are proper ways to speak of someone who looks a bit sleep-deprived, or has commented as such: 1. "You look fabulous! So calm!" 2. "Hey -- just about to jaunt off to the cafe. Can I grab you a cappuccino on me?" 3. "Baby, go and take a nap. I'll watch the Rabbit(s)." 4. (Only if you're the boss) "Not a problem. I actually forgot to tell you, Friday's a day off this week, and I booked massages at Elizabeth Arden for you. Enjoy!" 5. "Really? You've been so great today. Wish I could be a bright as you on little sleep. Tell me your secret!" 6...

Sorry to have disappeared during the Holiday melee. This week was especially exhausting getting ready for Party 2: The Rabbit's 5th Birthday affectionately known as The Event. We actually navigated The Event fairly well, thanks in no small part to a magician, an amazing magician called Magical Dave, who kept the 20 children focused and glued for 60 minutes. Also,a drop-off party didn't hurt. I love having parties with adults. But I have decided in the future that for The Rabbit's birthday this is the way to go. I think you need to have a birthday for children....or for adults. And I think the two put together are...a Holiday Party, which is why we had that the weekend before. Truthfully, I think parents loved dropping their children off for 2 1/2 hours and having some time solo. I think in a way I performed a good deed -- some alone time during the holidays on the weekend? That spells massage, cappuccino and a nap all to me. The Rabbit had a wonderful time. Her friends are...

I thought I would get to avoid the horror that is known as the Disney Store this year. Please, I love Disneyland as much as the next kid who grew up going twice a year in Los Angeles. And I love taking my Rabbit. Although note to Disney people: what is UP with the lack of characters running around and forcing us to stand in LINES to meet the Princesses, Mickey Mouse and Pooh? The magic used to be that these guys just WANDERED around their land. This was, uh, Disneyland. Where magical characters roamed free. Not dive bombed in like Johnny Depp signing autographs for 5 minutes at Burger King. But I digress. So I thought I was going to avoid the whole Disney Store crud this year. Where you pretend you're at an amusement park but really the only amusement are the store clerks smirking that you're paying $3.50 a bead for a kid to make a bracelet they'll drop on Fifth Avenue about 3 minutes after you leave. But no. The Rabbit's class has a Secret Santa thing this year (which ...

For anyone curious why the post office's holiday stamps this year are so, well, truly beyond hideous, I may have an answer: Lowest Bidder. How do I know? This morning I trekked to our neighborhood post office with boxes in their brown paper, all my forms filled out properly and walked right up to a window. Amazing. (See? This is what a little planning ahead means...No Lines!) Usually my post office is staffed by a vibrantly surly lot. But perhaps because of the lack of lines, and that my forms were filled out, in advance, before I got to the window, my usual rude guy was actually feeling fairly spritely. In other words, he talked. So we chatted for a minute how spectacularly hard it is to actually make a post stamp as supremely ugly as the holiday stamps are this year. And he said that the postal service even asks employees for suggestions. But that stamps are no longer printed by them -- but contracted out to the lowest bidder. Now, before all you needlepoint lovers start to attac...

The great thing about Gotham during the holidays is not the glow of light on the street that makes you feel like you've walked into a Dickens story (sans Scrooge). Or that glorious feeling of coming in from a frigid windy day to a warmly lit apartment and heating up warm apple cider. Or the fact that what dogs leave behind on the street stops smelling as badly (because their Marc Jacobs-clad, $2.1 million apartment dwelling owners can't bend over to pick it up because they'll faint from not eating since the Summer Solstice....) The great thing about Gotham is the true hybrid of culture. Tonight, the Rabbit and I are putting the finishing touches on our tree, and are racing off in a few for a Hanukah party where we'll eat latkes, apple sauce and some chocolates after lighting the menorah. And then tomorrow, we're making Christmas cookies for our holiday shindig. Don't know much about Kwanzaa, beyond the beautiful kinara (kind of like a menorah I believe but with ...

My much loved grandma died on Saturday. It still hasn't quite sunk in. She died quite suddenly. On Friday she was diagnosed with liver cancer and given two months to live (selfishly I was pleased she had that long as it meant we would see her at Christmas and have the chance to say goodbye), then she had a fatal heart attack on Saturday night. The rational side of me thinks of it as a blessing. Now she won't have to suffer the ravages of the final stages of cancer. My grandfather won't have to witness his beautiful, gregarious wife shrink and shrivel before his eyes. We will always have the memory of her as she was for so many years - always laughing, playing the fool to entertain her grandchildren, a plate of some kind of delicious food in her hand ready to press upon guests, fresh lipstick applied even to go to the grocery store. That is how I want to remember her. But I also wanted the chance to hug her and kiss her powdery cheek one more time, and to tell her how much I...

Finally, after two years of saving and scraping, going through planning permission, negotiating with the leaseholder, getting quotes from numerous builders and many trips to Ikea , our kitchen extension is nearly finished. As I type the sitting room is full of boxes - the rest of the flat-packed kitchen units, assorted lighting and a range of strange objects that will no doubt prove essential - with a fine layer of dust on every surface and piles of stuff everywhere. Alpha (who, in my unlearned opinion, is borderline OCD ) is tearing his hair out and even I am getting a little twitchy. The kids love it though; chaos is integral to their state of being. I would very much like to post a 'before' picture of the gloomy, pigeon-poo splattered side return with an 'after' shot of my 85% completed new kitchen with glass roof and electronic windows (the excitement!), soft-close doors (the joy!), pull out larder (I can barely contain myself!) and laundry area (be still my beating...

When The Prince and I were dating we took one of those personality tests. You know. The ones where you're assigned a series of letters that attempt to clarify your uniqueness. Anyway...so when we went back to see our results, this guy had put some numbers on the floor. I was told to stand at one end, and The Prince at the other. This was the gap in our way of handling situations. Basically, I'm close to an atomic stress ball and he's a Zen master. How does that work in our life? Welcome to our holidays: I have 15 lists, in different colors, in a spiral bound notebook. The Prince has a six-pack in the fridge.

This morning I got out the cookie recipes. I collect cookies recipes. I love cookies. And every year I try out at least one new recipe for our party to see if I can add to the mix. Usually it's a dud-a-thon. Like the key limes cookies that never harden and turned into panier-like lace things the size of my head. And the sandwich cookies with filling that never hardened and dripped on everything. On my satin skirt for example. Or my favorite: a Martha Stewart recipe that promised disks of candy-colored crisp. And required so much food coloring I felt I was eating a cleaning product. The Rabbit and I sat as she ate breakfast deciding which 5 batches I should make -- never more than 5 different kinds. I've tried six. And The Prince didn't speak to me for a day after leaving me at 3 am crying into the flour.....He keeps tally now. She hates meringues (so cute though...!) so those were out. Ditto to anything with nuts since we have too many friends now with kids who are allergic...

So I have a new formula: Don't get stressed. It works like this: Morning comes. Pull covers over head. Stay there until it's bed time. No but seriously folks. Actually yesterday went fairly well. I know that many people measure their holidays by parties they attend, cards they receive, time spent baking cookies with their children. I measure it by how many times I start to lose it with The Prince. Just once last night for me, so I feel I'm doing very well. (I am sure he would disagree). It came because, as I mentioned before, we're having 32 thousand people in our house for an open house a week from Saturday. There is booze to buy, snacks to buy, cookies to bake, a house to clean, decorate -- actually all very fun things in my book. When I have help. The Rabbit has actually grown enough to be a help -- she's amazing at napkin placing. Seriously. So last night I started to talk to The Prince about things we might want to nab this weekend to get a jump (since, hey, we...

It's not even December yet and already my family looniness has started in preparation for the event The Prince fondly refers to as "Oh God. Is it THAT time of year again?" Ah yes. The time of year when I start to make my own New Year's cards (100 of them), plan a holiday party, a birthday party (22 kids this time. Yes, I am off my meds), cupcakes for the said birthday at school, (homemade -- nut allergies prevent bakery cupcakes from being picked up), packages to be mailed to DC, packages to be mailed to LA, packages to be packed, and then if I have time an attempt to stand and gaze at the tree at Rockefeller Center with a hot cocoa. Which never fails to turn into a shoving match with tourists wearing cameras the size of their heads (wasn't the digital revolution supposed to make everything SMALLER!!?) and hot cocoa all over my coat. Every time. And did I forget that I do work? The Prince and The Rabbit have come down with a combined cough/laryngitis/runny nose/he...

So this daily act of kindness stuff is way WAY harder than I ever thought. I never factored in all the people who frankly irritate me so much I forget I am supposed to be nice to them. However -- I think I've definitely been smiling a little more. Whether I mean it or not. And I am sincerely aware of how crazily irritating I've been sounding complaining as much as I have been. If I complain to every one I know, what on earth am I going to write in the blog? So let's see....I did very much try to be nice to the woman at the Rite Aid who rang me up, until she snatched the box of toothpaste out of my hand as I was putting it in my OWN BAG which I brought to SAVE the plastic ones telling me, "Not until your card goes through. Not until your CARD. GOES. THROUGH." Right, because I didn't hear you the first time, and you caught me slyly trying to steal that box of Crest ProHealth on sale for $3.99. Oh yeah, and that box of lemon lime Tic-Tacs. (love those.) I think I...

I am aware that only recently I waxed lyrical about the fun and games to be had on the school run. I have now changed my mind. Things that drove me crazy this morning: Chronic exhaustion due to the Small(er) One waking up all night with a series of increasingly ridiculous demands The Small(er) One spilling her breakfast all over her uniform and screaming when I tried to change her, then screaming when she decided that soggy cornflakes on her lap was too much to bear and that she wanted to be changed after all The Small(er) One sitting in the hallway for ten minutes, refusing to go to school because she didn't like the pattern on her socks Firstborn being attacked by the Small(er) One bacause she was wearing 'her' scarf Getting outside the flat, finally, only to discover that it was pouring with rain. My suede coat and shoes are unlikely to look the same ever again The Small(er) One shouting "I hate you mummy, you smell of wee" at the top of her voice and blowing r...

11:23 pm in Gotham. The Prince came home from a late night at work. He's eating some left-overs and invites me to watch TV with him: A Premier League Game from 1996. (Yes, that's soccer. Although this was a game in England and so that would be football.) It's a game from 11 years ago. 11 years ago. And he shushed me so he could hear the score.

Sent to me from a similarly plagued mother. Apparently sent from one class parent at a elementary school to the teachers regarding the organizing of the Thanksgiving Day Feast at their school. (No, not from The Rabbit's school. Actually from a school in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STATE. Honestly.) Names have been changed to protect the innocent. "What I Will Be Thankful For..." ..is when this holiday - or the school version, anyway - is over. First of all - I love you all. And none of this is about you - you are awesome, terrific, wonderful.... you get the point. But I'm seriously hating this Thanksgiving arrangement. Case in point, I see or speak to Jane Doe (the other Kindergarten class parent) multiple times a day. But at this point, even we are sick of each other as we have spent the entire weekend in room parent hell trying to help the main class parent coordinate all the party room moms (some of whom apparently don't get along???) across 4 classes, just to pla...

Tonight I am getting dressed for dinner. It's the 8th anniversary of the day The Prince and I got married. And I know it sounds like a bore, but I can't find anything to wear. I have always had a body image problem. Always. Even when I weighed practically nothing. And I don't anymore. And so I sit here and see the pear shape at the back, and the arms soft, and my stomach not allowing my skirt to sit on my hips where I want it to sit. And I just don't feel like me. And that's not the worst part. The worst part is I am raising a daughter. A beautiful, proportioned daughter who hears her mother get angrier and angrier because she can't find anything to wear. Now, I'm not stupid enough to use the word 'fat' around her. But it doesn't matter. She's bright enough to see what's going on with me. That I hate my body. Because it doesn't look the way I want it to. No. Because it doesn't feel the way I want it to. I miss my toned arms. I mis...

Seems I'm not the only one speculating on how we can toss the glum and find some more cheer as told by Times hack Eduardo Porter.