mothers on the verge

We've been on the road - not the international escapades of my cohort Kate, but a respectable distance from Manhattan. We packed up the Kid and hauled out to Montana and spent days hiking through pine trees, galavanting on rapids, and spying ancient geysers. I know I claimed the tag Manhattan Mama when we started this blog. But truth is I am a Western girl at heart. Do not get me wrong - I love grabbing a perfect steak at 1 am, and a fancy martini just a block from my house, being able to see incredible museums or listen to great live music with just a simple subway ride. And I thrive in the eclectiveness of the city -- and I think the Kid does too. But it's also important for me that I get OUT. And out to me requires a big sky, land choked with trees and nights so quiet I can hear the wind. I don't see myself moving back West at least for now. But I consider it crucial that the Kid sees land like this at least once a year. She needs to pass by people who say Hi and smi...

Currently trying to recover from an operation whilst trying to figure some essential stuff out. Back on the blog when I get body and soul together.

I'm back in Dubai and jet lagged to b*ggery (why else would I be posting at 4am?). Too many time zones in too short a time, it's a killer. After getting in at 2am yesterday morning, the girls were comatose in bed until lunchtime so I made the most of the peace and quiet by getting out of the house to run a few errands. As my car is still in the garage having God knows what done to it, I was in the Daddy Pimpmobile which is great fun. Not only is Alpha's own personal nod to a mid-life crisis super-fast and emits a pleasing growl when you put your foot down, it's the sort of vehicle more often seen driving through South London at high speed with a police car in hot pursuit. Maybe I'm a bit odd (it has been said before) but the image of a mid-life mild-mannered matron such as myself driving such a dodgy-looking beast amuses me. Driving in Dubai during Ramadan is a pleasurable experience because the roads are almost empty, which means that you can spend less time t...

So I did it. I got a tattoo. A few weeks shy of my 38th birthday, I finally took the plunge and submitted to the tattooist's needle. The reaction from people I've told so far has ranged from "DUDE!!!" to "Uh-Uh. Mid-life crisis!" but I don't care. I had good reasons and it's something I've been wanting to do for years anyway. The difference between having a tattoo done at my advanced age, as opposed to when I was younger and more impulsive, is that I did my research first. The tattoo parlor I eventually chose - based in my family's home town of Fresno California - came highly recommended and is about as respectable as it gets... if such a word can ever be applied to this type of establishment. Plus my dad rather sweetly called them up to quiz them about their sterilization methods once I'd reluctantly confessed to him what I was up to that morning (some things never change, whatever age you are). It's not a big tattoo. In fact, hard-c...

Back in France after two marathon sleepless flights (got an upgrade though, yay) and a train journey. BB delighted to be free of her pushchair/ plane seat restraints so spent the afternoon wobbling at high speed around the garden, her adoring older sisters and cousins in hot pursuit. All charmed by BBs new ability to walk backwards, throw herself head first onto anything squishy whilst squealing in wild abandon, and shout "no!" to all and every reasonable adult request before racing off in the opposite direction. It's now nearly 2am. BB and I are totally wired and hiding out in the kitchen to avoid waking everyone else up. Milk for BB, wine for me - hopefully both will have a pleasing sedative effect. Jetlag sucks. Tomorrow (today!) - packing five weeks worth of baby and kiddy crap into three frighteningly small bags and getting ready to fly back to Dubai on Sunday.

No fat men in 80's casuals this time but we have seen lots of soldiers in full camo gear and a party of six nuns. No electrical storms to be seen so far so fingers crossed we'll be on our way within the hour and will make it to Paris unscathed. Next post will be from France.

Reassuringly low-rent... Revisited.

Now that BB has reached the grand old age of 13 months and a bit, she is most definitely no longer a baby. Due to the fact that Firstborn and the Small(er) One are now closer to the pre-teen stage than babyhood, I'd totally forgotten what toddlers do and how they behave. Here's what BB has taught me in the past month: 1. If it's dirty or otherwise repulsive then a toddler will be drawn to it like a magnet. Toddlers enjoy sticking their chubby hands up drainpipes and down the toilet, eating objects found on the floor (flies appear to be especially interesting), licking windows, investigating the cat's dinner and similarly revolting pursuits. 2. Toddlers have scant regard for danger. Attempting to fling themselves into the deep end of the swimming pool, executing a full-force face plant on to any object that looks bouncy (air beds seem to be ideal), sticking their fingers in plug sockets, wildly shaking anything wobbly (standard lamps, side tables etc), chasing the...

Big family gathering today with lots of food, a bit of beer and lots of music. After various family members returned from their obligatory after lunch naps, the old hippies in the family got out their banjos, the young hipster got out his guitar and a few of us lent our lungs to a selection of old tunes; even BB got her groove on with a spot of percussion and some cheeky dance moves. The day has since degenerated with a cousin-dance-off to Salt-N-Pepa (possibly the most sh*t band to have ever got airtime), with even Gramps getting in a bit of (mild) body popping. Wild times afoot in Fresno... Lord knows what the rest of the night will bring... Quality stuff:

I've always been a bit partial to well-executed street art and I love the fact that it's become an accepted art form in it's own right. I'm not talking about the fat-marker scribbles produced by callow youths in hoodies with a snarling hound charmingly named Killer. I'm talking about the sort of art that leaps out at you from the urban landscape and makes you think, smile or weep. Effective art should always provoke a strong reaction. This is one of my favorite bits of street-art. A bit obvious, maybe, but it makes me laugh. I'm still kicking myself that I was fool enough not to snap up a Banksy when I had the chance... There I was at one of the first street-art exhibitions in London supporting an old mate of mine who'd pulled the whole thing together. There it was, hanging on the wall in front of me - the Banksy Monkey. I loved it, I had my cheque-book in my bag... and I bottled out. What a fool. I really should have said b*llocks to the council tax b...

BB and I finally got to Fresno late yesterday afternoon after a happily uneventful four-hour drive. BB was pretty chilled for most of it but even she'd enough by the time we got to my Grandfather's house. She hasn't stopped since we got here, toddling around in circles like a drunken sailor, shouting "no no no" (her word of the moment), and stopping only to sleep and eat. Thankfully her jet-lag isn't quite as bad as mine. A night of fitful sleep and we were ready to head out this morning for supplies in my big-ass rental car, a chunky Ford which looks like it's been abusing steroids. There we were, BB and I, cruising down the main street to a soundtrack of soft rock (I can't figure out how to change the station on the bloody car stereo), experiencing the good ol' US of A at its finest. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, there was a guy on the corner holding up a 'Jesus Loves You' placard, the fruit stand was loaded with locally-gro...