turquoise

2007-01-04T20:02:00.000+00:00

We've moved. Still under construction over there and liable to change (drastically) from one visit to the next but still. A new era begins, and please update your links and bookmarks.

2006-12-31T17:09:00.000+00:00

Monitor went bang: out of action until a new one arrives Tuesday (am briefly online at Suzanne's). Am doomed and cursed and waiting for computer disaster number three, as we all know These Things Come In Threes. Back anon.
Oh, and Happy New Year.

2006-12-27T11:17:00.000+00:00

Just a quicky: after last week's fiasco, if I were to migrate, where would you recommend I go? I actually have a domain registered ready (and have done nothing with it for a year) so this might give me the impetus needed to do something with it. Where should I have it hosted (I am currently with a provider who seem to not allow all the fancy scripty stuff necessary) and what do I use? Word press/movable type/are there others? Opinions and advice please...

2006-12-24T14:17:00.001+00:00

(tap tap) hello? Is this thing on?
Am I back?

2006-12-12T09:50:00.000+00:00

Where did that week go? And can it really be only two until Christmas (breathes rapidly into a brown paper bag at the thought of all there is to do; having November go by in a complete haze of babydom has not helped with my domestic goddesry this year. No cake no pies no shopping ordered nothing wrapped.) Not going to coffee morning today - too bone idle. I may regret that decision this afternoon when we are all climbing the walls.

2006-12-05T16:02:00.000+00:00

C is away this week on an "awayday" (away 3 days) which, to me, sounds like fancy corporate speak for a bit of a jolly. I'm sure they will work hard, talk a lot, network like crazy, but I also suspect that being in one of Cheshire's finest, fanciest hotels won't be such a hardship, and the instructions to pack a swimsuit, walking boots, a waterproof (my goodness but that will be needed this week) and also to write an amusing poem about another team member lead me to believe it won't be all nose to the grindstone. Fortunately for us it is in Cheshire as it is rather bad timing and the poor chap is doing 30-mile round trips through dark, wet, stormy roads in order to be present for the bath-and-bed "arsenic hour", thus allowing me to retain some semblance of sanity.
Having said that, M slept all night in her own bed (until 8, we like these dark mornings) and even though we didn't get up until 8.30 we were at a coffee morning 20 miles away by 10.30. Yay me: I can be superwoman after all. Frozen food for tea though, attempting to cook would just be silly.

2006-12-04T19:52:00.000+00:00

Well, I've been home "alone" for approximately 9 hours since Mum and Dad left, and already the house looks like a bomb has hit. But we are all fed and watered, Maggie is happy as she had a friend round to play so wasn't entirely neglected, there are loads of laundry done and I even knocked up some chicken stock. (Which is congealing on the hob as I may never find the energy to strain and refrigerate it.)
The health visitor came today and confirmed that Tamsin is a growing machine (8 lb 12 oz at 3 weeks, what a whopper). I don't think she entirely knows what to do with me: she tentatively suggested that we might be creating bad habits by letting M go to sleep in our bed when she crawls in during the night, but quickly agreed that if that was what it took for us all to get a good night's sleep, then it probably wasn't the end of the world. I think she is secretly in my gang but not allowed to admit it. How mean would it be to refuse to allow Maggie night-time cuddles when the other three of us are all in together?

2006-11-28T17:32:00.000+00:00

Felt quite nervous this morning as Jenny-from-number-55 was coming for coffee. Not that she is terribly scary but you never know with new people and we hadn't really met before, bar a 2-minute doorstep chat when she came to collect her flowers which the interflora man had left here. As it happened she is very nice (of course! Why wouldn't she be?) and we had a very civilised coffee. Fairly civilised, anyway. Well, as civilised as a coffee can be with a 2 1/2 year old joining in the conversation: Me: yes, Cornwall is lovely
Jenny: we often camp
Maggie: I'VE GOT TIGHTS ON!

2006-11-27T18:00:00.000+00:00

Some brief notes at 2 weeks:
- I love the celebrity-ness of being out and about with a tiny baby: I was mobbed in Chester today. Particularly in Crabtree and Evelyn which is clearly the sort of shop staffed by very soppy women: I had all three staff members gooing and cooing for a good 10 minutes before I was allowed to buy anything and one (pregnant and clearly bonkers) woman even got all teary over how sweet my baby is.
- Tamsin has soft downy hair and bright Mrs-Tiggywinkle button eyes that she is starting to focus: today she started to make eye contact. The health visitor* came today and swore blind she saw her smile (not sure about that). She also remarked on how alert she is, and we discovered she has gained a whole lb since birth. Smugness abounds.
- Maggie used to hold spiky starfish hands up in front of her face; Tamsin prefers a sort of bunny-paws posture.
*Quite in my gang ("we have to advise against having a baby in your bed, but when I was a midwife we used to encourage it"), much to my relief - you hear such horror stories of officious interfering incompetents.

2006-11-26T19:00:00.000+00:00

I'm feeling vaguely proud today: 13 days post-childbirth I have not only squeezed into a pair of pre-pregnancy non-elasticated trousers but have been outside spreading manure around the roses and planting garlic (better late than never). All this despite feeling like the mother of a newborn is supposed to feel, i.e. completely sleep-deprived and rather incoherent. Not the fault in any way of said newborn but rather more to do with her elder sister who came visiting, ice-cold feet kicking and squirming into the bed, at 4 am. Fortunately my mum is still here and could be set to work* roasting lamb and accompaniments, preparing pink soup with the firstborn and knocking up a swift plum crumble**.
*Who am I trying to kid? She's done nothing but work since she arrived: I should make the most of feeling proud and smug at the moment as all hell will let loose - and we will have to open an account with the pizza delivery people - as soon as she leaves.
**I'm leaving the path open to return to elasticated waistbands as necessary.

2006-11-20T17:31:00.000+00:00

A week old already! And we seem to be doing fairly well, with the help of my parents who are cooking and cleaning and entertaining children like troopers - M, surprisingly, got to nursery on time this morning, washed, brushed, breakfasted and dressed in suitable clothing. I was still in my pyjamas when the midwives turned up (but if they will come at such an ungodly early hour - 9.30 am - what do they expect). I left the house for the first time today (twice!), my only previous expedition having been to the shed at the end of the garden. T liked riding in her sling but it felt really weird to be driving and - gasp! - leaving the village. Cabin fever. C is back at work (and has an overnight trip organised for tomorrow); so life goes on.

2006-11-15T17:26:00.002+00:00

My photo-blog connection is playing up and I am insufficiently with-it to fix the problem today, so if anybody would like to see a picture of Maggie looking very pleased with her new sister, I'll just direct them here, and here for a jolly snap of midwives, Maggie, me and about-an-hour-old Tamsin.
We're doing pretty well, I think: M is a little cry-y with us, as expected, but absolutely thrilled with her sister (and her new Fimbles DVD is a close-run second). T has feeding absolutely sussed but so far prefers to sleep during the day and stay awake all night; she has a small touch of jaundice but nothing unusual and they can't be that worried as nobody is coming to see us again until Friday. I'm very well, if tired (no surprises there), and Cameron is doing stirling work keeping us fed and watered.

2006-11-13T18:34:00.000+00:00

OK, so I was all set to sign in today and update you all about being 41-bloody-weeks with the whole monitoring, induction, honspital nightmare lurking over me - had a very frustrating antenatal appointment on Friday. And I was going to tell you about our windy walk on saturday and other nice weekendy stuff that now escapes me. But instead I find myself with an announcement:
Tamsin Sarah, 6 lb 9 oz, five to one this lunchtime. Home waterbirth as planned; *much* shorter labour than last time; photos to follow once we are back on our feet.

2006-11-08T12:03:00.000+00:00

So far today: 2 x "what a big bump", 2 x "what a neat bump", 1 woman completely panic-stricken on my behalf because I was shopping! One my own! And had driven myself there! Poor soul, I didn't have the heart to tell her I had (inadvertantly) left my mobile phone at home too.
Good to see somebody still has some moral fortitude: not quite the exciting anniversary edition I had hoped for (and been led to expect with all those trailers) - I had developed a good theory involving stalker-Kirsty and a gun massacre - but fun all the same. Now, will Sam go psycho or slink quietly away?
The other radio 4 programme I've heard this week was all about war songs (we'll meet again, Lili Marlene et al): when they played an excerpt of some RAF squaddy-type song (bleep bleep bleepity bleep: not sure why they bothered), M piped up ooh I love this song, it's my favourite! Nuts.
And the other thing i am enjoying at the moment is digging deep, on BBC2. Is anyone but me watching it? Completely bonkers garden therapy and highly recommended to do your ironing in front of.

40 weeks

2006-11-06T17:08:00.000+00:00

40 weeks
... but who's counting?
Compare and contrast with last time, here.
In other news, Maggie is getting ever-braver and more athletic: last week she impressed us by jumping into the swimming pool on her own (no hand-holding required) and performing her first proper forward roll! But she hated the fireworks on Saturday - the kiddies' display was nice (no bangs and cbeebies tunes played) but the proper fireworks were just a disaster. If I'd been a Good Mummy we should have left but that didn't occur to me at the time so I just held on tight to a very distressed little girl. They are pretty but very noisy. (Fireworks, I mean, not little girls. Although...)
Otherwise a very (quietly) pleasant weekend of gentle activities: carpeting the allotment, pulling out frost-killed marigolds, making pumpkin soup and reading the paper.

2006-11-01T17:06:00.000+00:00

What a glorious autumn day: clear, crisp, cold and sparkly is so much more pleasant than the warm and wet we've had of late. I was even inspired to rise from my slug-like sofa residency to take some wheel of the year photos (let's hope I do better than last month and actually get them onto Flickr at some point).
No trick-or-treaters last night whatsoever (well OK the doorbell did ring once - but Maggie was in the bath so I ignored it and they seem to have just retreated without a trick). Quite surprised as I had expected a lot in this sort of village (we certainly used to get them at the old house), but relieved as I hadn't remembered in time to buy sweets and had nothing for them but raisins or digestive biscuits. Besides, I disapprove. Bah, humbug - but I love bonfire night and resent, on its behalf, it being elbowed out the way by silly pumpkins and cheap Asda masks on money-grubbing teens. Meh.

2006-10-31T16:01:00.000+00:00

This week I have been nesting by proxy: my mum has been here so the house is clean and sparkly, I have no ironing pile, my freezer is full and M has been well-occupied with rather more books and jigsaws and less beebies than usual. I don't think it is going to fool the baby though, not much chance of it emerging until I have scrubbed the skirting boards with a toothbrush* (*insert other insane act of cleanliness) myself. I feel like it's my turn now, though, my other due-around-now friends having produced their offspring and being fully into the no sleep, nappies and feeding routine.
No other news, today having been occupied by building regs and national insurance. Don't ask.

2006-10-25T13:32:00.000+00:00

It’s nice living in a village. (Although Vicky next door tells me everybody is interrelated and it’s best to check just whose cousin you are speaking to before saying anything controversial!) Arrived home today to find yet another missed parcel delivery but, as I’d spotted the postie’s van parked down the road, I thought I’d go and find him and see if he’d hand it over and save me a trip into town. (The reason I hadn’t been here when he came was that I was queueing at Parcelforce to get yesterday’s missed delivery so I wasn’t very keen to have to go again.) I stalked him around the village a bit then pulled up opposite: no sooner had I hopped out of my car – not on my road or anything – then he waved and told me to wait by his van and he’d get my parcel. I don’t think I’ve ever had a postman know me by sight before, and I like it! Am all warm and fuzzy and belonging-feeling inside.
Am in the midst of my first ever ebay sale: it is very exciting and I find myself obsessively checking the site every hour or so. I have 20 watchers! (Like Buffy, but more so). Is that good?
I’m single-mumming again this week, with Cameron in Budapest (not exactly trivial to get to and from so let’s just hope this baby doesn’t decide to make an appearance). M revealed herself as ringleader on Monday when, she and Mia having been shouted at for jumping into my (empty) birthpool with shoes on we overheard them in the kitchen. “Mia, are you feeling sad? Why don’t you get in the pool? Go on, get in the pool" (fortunately, Mia takes more notice of being told no than Maggie does). And she also tells me in no uncertain terms that this baby is not to be a boy (her friend Gwen has a 2-day-old baby brother) because we need two Maggies*. I don’t think she believes we don’t get to choose. Conversations continue to be slightly on the bizarre side: she just told me she doesn't want a boat and a car and an aeroplane but she does want a snowman. Right.
*Like one isn’t enough. More than enough.

2006-10-20T16:06:00.000+00:00

Two-year-olds are great (well, mostly, when they are not being, you know, two). We have had a lovely day: I am feeling pleasantly emotional and nostalgic-in-advance for these last few weeks of being mum-to-one. On the bus into Chester (library; coffee and muffin/milk and biscuit; bank; new trainers for M), Maggie told me I like great grannies. And the fimbles. But I love you best.

2006-10-18T18:00:00.000+00:00

My pool has arrived! Which is very exciting (except that it's in next-door's hall at the moment, which isn't a lot of use). Otherwise, no real news, just plodding along trying (and mostly failing) to hold back the tide of housework and laundry that threatens to take over as soon as I turn my back. New cleaner is coming on Friday, though: she can only do 2 hours but that will be better than nothing and hopefully enough to allow me to retain some hold on my sanity.
Had my hair cut today while M was at nursery: it took an hour and a half. I like being pampered as much as the next woman (well, unless the next woman is, y'know, Victoria Beckham or somebody) but I was fidgeting and on the verge of leaping from my seat to proclaim "for pity's sake, stop!" when it came to an end. So much for my plans to shop-mooch and have a lovely coffee: I'd only paid to park for 2 hours. I'd blame the fact that my (very nice really) hairdresser was suffering a little, having been out to celebrate one of the juniors turning 17 last night - never try to keep up with a 17-year-old, I advised her wisely - if not for the fact that last time I went she took an hour and three quarters. I need to find a speedier cutter: life is too short (and it is only a chin-length bob).

2006-10-14T14:50:00.000+00:00

Full steam ahead with the shouting again (well, the being irritable). I have Hormones and they are making me mad. And a cold, still. And cbeebies makes me want to throw things (so does the football but that one I really do have to bite my tongue about!).
On the bright side, the midwife came and dropped off my homebirth "kit" on Friday (a cardboard box full of absorbant things, plastic gloves, etc) and agreed that my birth plan wasn't at all outlandish or unreasonable. M was a nightmare while she was here (worst point was when she managed to grab, take the lid off and spill my urine sample on the coffee table!) but I am glad she came. She knows where we live now, too, which is probably a good thing!

2006-10-11T16:32:00.000+00:00

Today has been a good day. I resolved last night to try to get through without shouting (I've been the world's shoutiest mummy lately) and have mostly succeeded. Of course it was a nursery day, which helped - she *loved* nursery today and was quite disgruntled when I turned up just as she was about to draw a picture - and we haven't tackled bedtime yet (but - shock horror - Cameron is in the country and will be home for tea), but I'm feeling quite calm. Had an hour of reflexology while M was at nursery, too. And most excitingly the midwife rang and cancelled tomorrow's antenatal appointment (meaning we can get to M's swimming class without having to break the sound barrier (or the law)) because she is going to come on Friday and drop some things off for my home birth! Eek! Am very excited indeed (suspect it will be plastic sheets and unexciting things of that ilk, but it has driven home how close it is getting). And the morning room, which has been a repository for piles of teeny tiny baby clothes, is starting to look more normal again as I have nearly sorted them all out and at least half the newborn things are washed and folded away ready.
Still knackered though. And have a cold. I just twigged last night (am slow) the reason why I am so exhausted: by this stage in my last pregnancy, not only did I have a husband who came home most evenings and no toddler, I had a cleaner who came twice a week and did all my ironing! Must make some phone calls and get organised with home help again.

2006-10-08T19:04:00.000+00:00

OK, remind me now why we thought a second child might be a good idea? I can't get the first one into bed without serious bodily harm (to me not her) and much screaming (me, not her). At least number two should start out small and sweet. (M is small and sweet but bloody bloody heavy when she falls off the back of your chair where you have told her about a hundred times not to climb and saves herself by grabbing fistfuls of your hair, thus rendering you slightly bald and very sore of neck. And then I had to run out of the bathroom to investigate the HUGE crash - all the stuff off my bedside table including lavender oil which spilt on the pillow - and slipped over bashing my shoulder against the doorframe. Sore and bruised and very cross.)
Hey ho, she's asleep now. I had such lovely plans for tidying the house this evening (C is away again) thus starting tomorrow morning all fresh-slatey and immaculate. But I think I'll camp out on the sofa with the remote control and a large bar of chocolate instead. Plus ca change.

2006-10-03T19:10:00.000+00:00

All last week's cleaning and list-making turned out not to be so sensible after all, as I spent most of Thursday and Friday beached on the sofa trying to decide whether to have flu or just be utterly exhausted. I lost my appetite, too, which perhaps suggests some sort of viral weirdness, but have tried to take it a bit more easy this week (am once again blessed with energy). Cameron is away again (he left at 5 am; the joy) so there is only so much easy available to me, but what there is I am trying to take.
Went to Edinburgh on Saturday. On my own. On the train (well, on a bus then a train, this being Virgin Rail after all). Most uncomfortable, the seats not being at all designed for 8-month-pregnant whales, but it was lovely to be in Edinburgh which is still one of the most glorious cities to visit. Had a lovely lunch with my lovely friend Rachel, then a lovely visit to her lovely flat to meet her lovely cats, and a wander about her lovely neighbourhood. Followed by a trip to our old university mucker Dave's even-more-lovely flat, where I had the view from my bedroom explained (never mind the Pentland Hills, that big house there belongs to JK Rowling!). He lives in an illustrious neighbourhood.
Saturday night was a "reunion" - 10 years since (their) graduation. I was a bit of an intruder, having mosied off south for a year and come back to complete my finals the year after, but they didn't seem to mind. It was a very pleasant evening; nobody seems to have changed a bit (apart from a few more grey hairs, offspring, wedding rings and kilos) and there was really no need to be scared.
And on Sunday I woke at 5, realised there was no toddler demanding food, and had a real, proper lie-in. Lovely. Then I just wanted to be home again (24 hours was long enough for me): when will they invent a teleport? Met Gareth's baby, missed my train (forgot to build in waddle-time), was rescued by Lorna and Dan who very kindly returned from the Savacentre and drove me down the M6 to rendezvous with Cameron and Maggie just half an hour later than my trainbus was due anyway. Phew.

2006-09-27T15:59:00.000+00:00

Starting to get organised, I've made a List, ordered a birth pool, some teeny-tiny nappy wraps, a big bottle of lavender oil and some detergent, found a window cleaner (it was on the List) and thought hard about what to do with M while I am in labour. Not come up with any great solutions but I (if nobody else) am happy to play it by ear. Cameron is in London else he would have been nagged up a ladder to retrieve small vests and babygros, etc; a job for the weekend. I even took the carpet lurking in the hallway to the allotment - some weirdo form of nesting behaviour but surely more useful than scrubbing skirting boards.
Toddlers are nuts, it's official. After we dropped C off at the station Monday night, M and I had the following conversation.
- Has Daddy gone to London?
- Yes.
- To see the Queen?
- Um. Yes.
- With Max?
- (thinking hard)...who's Max?
- He's a man. He's got short hair.
- (assuming she means Cameron's university friend Max, who is indeed a short-haired man and who lives in London though how M knows that I have no idea) Oh yes, that's right.
- They haven't got big spoons.
Must contact Max and ask about the dimensions of his cutlery; otherwise, does anybody know some kiddies' television programme, perhaps, with a small-spooned short-haired character called Max?