For the past 8 years my dear friend Erika has, on average, twice a month kept me "kempt". She is not only the best beutician in town, she is the beauty professional that I entrust with the "cart blanche" approach. Whilst I lie back and try to grab some sleep, she, waxes, tweases, dyes and tidies me someone more glamourous. Tomorrow will be my last visit to her as a beautician, as she is hanging up her everso sharp tweasers and going on maternity leave and also moving to a different part of the UK. I will greatly miss the hours spent on her therapy table being preened, putting the world to rights and having a good old girly gossip.
I know the routine before even setting foot through the door tomorrow. She will tell me off for not moisturising, ask me what I need doing ( but then tell me affectionately what she has planned). I will lie on the table, and whilst my eyes are glued semi shut with an eyelash tint, she will ernestly wax and tidy up my legs, bikini line, eyebrows etc). For the first couple of times i was being "attacked" in this sensory deprived state, I was in near hysterics, but I am now used to it, especially when she got the tweasers out to remove any straggling hairs that had the misfortune to remain.
I will miss the new age whale music she has in the background, most of which was surpressed by our giggling and gossiping, also the aroma of all her lotions and potions.
I am now faced with finding a new beautician, knowing that things wont ever be the same.
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
Thursday, 6 September 2007
Baby No 50
Just when I want to despair that Charlotte is feeding hourly, that the colic still haunts us, that tiredness is causing me to utter only two syllable words, a reminder springs from the past to make me feel incredibly grateful for this experience.
The operation I had three years ago, the embloisation, was an incredibly risky op, given the fact that we did not know if I would be able to have children afterwards. We decided to take the risk, as without it our chances were definitely nil. I would not class myself as a gambler but a possible no is much better than a definite no.
I still remember thinking when Cameron was born that he was such a precious gift and that I probably would never be graced with another. Then Charlotte arrives. I wont say that I don’t get frustrated with the lack of sleep, the never ending cycle of feeding, winding, trying to settle her into her bed, and then repeating the loop when she wakes up, the lack of time to do anything else other than spend time with Charlotte. However, I always remember how precious she is. The same goes for Cameron when he is naughty or trying to test my will power.
Anyways, I digress, Charlotte is now affectionately known by me as “Fifty”. This is because, out of about 700 women who were actively trying for babies following embolisation, there were actually only 50 babies born and she is number 50.
The operation I had three years ago, the embloisation, was an incredibly risky op, given the fact that we did not know if I would be able to have children afterwards. We decided to take the risk, as without it our chances were definitely nil. I would not class myself as a gambler but a possible no is much better than a definite no.
I still remember thinking when Cameron was born that he was such a precious gift and that I probably would never be graced with another. Then Charlotte arrives. I wont say that I don’t get frustrated with the lack of sleep, the never ending cycle of feeding, winding, trying to settle her into her bed, and then repeating the loop when she wakes up, the lack of time to do anything else other than spend time with Charlotte. However, I always remember how precious she is. The same goes for Cameron when he is naughty or trying to test my will power.
Anyways, I digress, Charlotte is now affectionately known by me as “Fifty”. This is because, out of about 700 women who were actively trying for babies following embolisation, there were actually only 50 babies born and she is number 50.
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
Weekend..........
Normally the sight of Stuart striding purposefully about the house would have me reaching for the phone to call the first available builder. However, in my semi comatose state yesterday, I decided to hang back and await the results of his endeavours. I am pleased to say the object of the claw head hammers attention was the garage door (okay, screws are not supposed to be hammered in) but aside from that one indiscretion hubby got top marks for his efforts.
We have had to revise our thinking that Cameron is the greedy guts of the family, having just had Chipmunk weighed. She has managed to put on over a third of her body weight in under a month, (something that Cam only managed to do after 6 weeks, and he had formula to help with that), probably because she is permanently feeding So much so that I call her my little lipo machine. She still is gorgeous ( I am very biased ofcourse), but I imagine her to be inflating with helium, as her face is getting chubbier and chubbier.
Not much else happening, still only averaging 2 hours uninterrupted sleep a night (last night I got 4 hours sleep in total) and I am going into town to console myself with ice cream.
We have had to revise our thinking that Cameron is the greedy guts of the family, having just had Chipmunk weighed. She has managed to put on over a third of her body weight in under a month, (something that Cam only managed to do after 6 weeks, and he had formula to help with that), probably because she is permanently feeding So much so that I call her my little lipo machine. She still is gorgeous ( I am very biased ofcourse), but I imagine her to be inflating with helium, as her face is getting chubbier and chubbier.
Not much else happening, still only averaging 2 hours uninterrupted sleep a night (last night I got 4 hours sleep in total) and I am going into town to console myself with ice cream.
Thursday, 23 August 2007
Art Exhibition and Ice Cream
Took Charlotte to a sacro cranial therapy session today, in the hope that we may all get more sleep as a family, as am struggling on my average nightly allocation of 4 hours. Silly me for wanting more.
After the session, noticed that Pizza Express had opened up next to the library, complete with Italian Ice Cream palour. Had to have a taster of their watermelon flavour, which I can highly recommend. Then, feeling on a roll, I wondered over to the art centre to take a look at the current art exhibition. I was plesantly surprised when they allowed me in with my ice cream. So I got not only a sugar fix, but my kulture (!) fix as well. The pics were extremely thought provoking, the colours vibrant and the subject matter a little perplexing at times (its about a circus, but all abstract). I will stop describing it as my words wont do it justice, here is a link http://www.brighton.ac.uk/gallery-theatre/gallerylistingsfurtherinfo.html#Goto
My next mission is to find a price for a picture (spotty yoof minding the exhibition had no clue!) and work out how to afford one, even if I have to live on green potatoes for the rest of my life!
After the session, noticed that Pizza Express had opened up next to the library, complete with Italian Ice Cream palour. Had to have a taster of their watermelon flavour, which I can highly recommend. Then, feeling on a roll, I wondered over to the art centre to take a look at the current art exhibition. I was plesantly surprised when they allowed me in with my ice cream. So I got not only a sugar fix, but my kulture (!) fix as well. The pics were extremely thought provoking, the colours vibrant and the subject matter a little perplexing at times (its about a circus, but all abstract). I will stop describing it as my words wont do it justice, here is a link http://www.brighton.ac.uk/gallery-theatre/gallerylistingsfurtherinfo.html#Goto
My next mission is to find a price for a picture (spotty yoof minding the exhibition had no clue!) and work out how to afford one, even if I have to live on green potatoes for the rest of my life!
Otthonka
My Granny is a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge, therefore, I generally bow to her superiority and go with any advice she dishes out. Having bemoaned about the fact that all my clothes are covered in some kind of child related bodily fluid, she told me to make or purchase myself an "otthonka". You should know that an "otthonka" is a short sleeved cotton dress, invariably in some garish colour or long out of date pattern, worn around the house by housewives in Hungary.
The dress has a huge array of pockets for storing all sorts of paraphenalia you need as a mother /domestic godess: tissues, random plastic toy, small snack, plant sapling, valium... you get the picture. I seem to recall my granny having several of these otthonkas mostly in purple and they lasted for years. She only ever wore them at home and changed out of it at family meal times. When any inpromptu guests arrived, they were kept waiting at the door until she had changed out of it. Her golden rule was only ever to wear it around the house(hence the rather bizaare sight of her hanging her rugs out to dust and dusting them in her normal clothes, then once back inside she would change back into Otthonka attire and continue cleaning!).
So, imagine my horror, when after a half hour lecture of how I should be wearing one of these, I actually gave consideration to trying to source one. Luckily the moment of madness passed and I came to my senses. I now desperately need an outing to a Zara or Mango, even if it is only to touch or the clothes,the clothes of normal adults, so I dont have thoughts of Otthonka's ever again.
The dress has a huge array of pockets for storing all sorts of paraphenalia you need as a mother /domestic godess: tissues, random plastic toy, small snack, plant sapling, valium... you get the picture. I seem to recall my granny having several of these otthonkas mostly in purple and they lasted for years. She only ever wore them at home and changed out of it at family meal times. When any inpromptu guests arrived, they were kept waiting at the door until she had changed out of it. Her golden rule was only ever to wear it around the house(hence the rather bizaare sight of her hanging her rugs out to dust and dusting them in her normal clothes, then once back inside she would change back into Otthonka attire and continue cleaning!).
So, imagine my horror, when after a half hour lecture of how I should be wearing one of these, I actually gave consideration to trying to source one. Luckily the moment of madness passed and I came to my senses. I now desperately need an outing to a Zara or Mango, even if it is only to touch or the clothes,the clothes of normal adults, so I dont have thoughts of Otthonka's ever again.
Monday, 20 August 2007
Lost - Literally
One of my dear friends was always trying to get me into watching Lost. Given the fact that I had had 2 hours sleep last night, I decided that this would be a square eyes day dedicated to crap tv. So I settled myself down to watch the first series of Lost. It was quite good. Was a little hard to get into it, as I acidentally watched episode 2 instead of episode 1 first, but my jaded brain cells seemed to cope with it. The only thing I found vaguelly irritating was the way the Lost logo was fuzzy, but, I later found out that this was not my eyesight, but the way it was meant to be. Now to find someone who owns series 2......
Christmas Planning - paper, scissors and rock style
I absolutely hate having to plan for Christmas, but, once you have kids, the pressures of where you are spending Christmas become even more of a battle ground. I have therefore decided to leave it in the fate of a game of "paper, scissors and stones" to decide where we will be. Mental note, must only play this decider when I have had more than 2 hours sleep.
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