Brazenmom

No matter how emphatically new moms may deny it, they absolutely can’t wait to dress their babies. However, more often than not, the joy of having a real life doll is soon debunked by those so-and-sos who insist on talking practicalities. They are the types that will tell you that it is pointless wasting money on funky clothes when babies grow so fast; they say that white is best because stains can merely be bleached out; they say that a new mom will be so tired and preoccupied that her baby’s attire won’t actually matter; and my personal favourite: bright colours are a no-no and pink is for girls, blue is for boys. HUH! There’s nothing like a good spoilsport. I am an alternative mom-to-be: I listen to metal, I like bright colours … and black, I go to concerts and I hate being practical. I want to have a funky-punky baby oozing attitude and I have found some online stores to help me do it: Read the rest of this entry »

Gordon Brown’s plan to alter the current childcare scheme has been attacked by nine former ministers in a letter to Downing Street

The prime minister was warned that his decision to cut childcare would not stand well with hard-working parents and is likely to result in an untimely loss of support in the runup to the election. The former ministers, including Patricia Hewitt, Estelle Morris, Hilary Armstrong, Beverley Hughes and Caroline Flint, urged the government to reconsider the decision in light of the impact that removing tax relief will have on parents, employers and the childcare sector. Read the rest of this entry »

Let’s Bitch about prams. I am not a mom yet but will be in five weeks time and I am speaking out on behalf of all the pedestrians in London (and elsewhere) in case I take a different stance after my baby is born. London is a busy place and is rather overpopulated, which has forced city-dwellers to live their lives in as time-economic manner as possible: it is a survival mechanism that prams are slowly but surely unravelling. Prams have become the Brontosaurus of every London sidewalk and event: they slowly lumber in front of pedestrians, roll at the pace of zero, stop abruptly in the middle of flowing people-traffic and insist on absolute pavement domination. As baby paraphernalia spills from every possible pram appendage, these vehicles bulldoze their way onto busses, along Oxford Street on a weekend and around jam-packed city events. When I see a pram I play Ally McBeal and envision smashing those ankle-biting wheels with an axe so that they will never roll again. It would be my pleasure. I won’t even get started on the complete retardation of four- and five-year-old children sitting in prams … um legs? I get that it’s a free country and prams have as much right as any to claim their living and commuting space – all it takes is an ounce of logic and a tad of consideration. And has anyone ever heard of a sling?

Dear Diary

Yesterday was our last scan appointment. The scanographer said it looks like my wonky umbilical cord is not impeding Amelia’s growth so there is no need for any more scans. I am most glad because I do not like being gelled-up and poked with that proboscis-on-a-cord-thing but I will miss seeing our baby girl on live TV. The coolest part of yesterday’s scan was seeing Amelia’s little skull and face, and her hair. Warren and I had a ‘debate’ about the size of her lips later in the day: he says they are small, I say they are lusciously pouty – I guess we will find out in five weeks. Yes Diary! FIVE WEEKS. It’s pure madness. Read the rest of this entry »

You gotta love metalheads! Last night I, along with my 34 week pregnant belly, went to a Paradise Lost gig at Islington Academy in London – as fan and music journalist. So whilst the husband and his photo pass were hanging out with the important peeps up front, I made my way upstairs – wisely thinking that my baby girl, although a fan of Paradise Lost, would not appreciate being crunched against a hoard of sweaty metallers for two hours. Luckily there was a nice comfy couch with my name written all over it, so I sat my ass down to wait for the metal masters of doom and gloom to inflict their brilliance on the night. Read the rest of this entry »

My beautiful Amelia

Dad and I have come up with the coolest nickname for you. And it has stuck for two weeks, which means that it is a keeper. At your 32 week scan, the Scanographer confirmed that even though I have a wonky umbilical cord, you are looking beautiful and are growing very well. As usual, we received a report that shows a number of measurements; each based on a scale that represents the mean values for babies – the report shows where you sit for each of those measurements. According to the report, you have a rather large belly and long arms, which Daddy and I found it hysterically funny because it made us both think of monkeys. So now you have a new nickname: Tangy – short for Orangutan. Your Uncle Alastair looks kind of like an Orangutan and he even has what we like to call the ‘red gene’, so maybe you will look like him. I can’t wait to find out!

Love you lots my Tangy
Mommy

33 Weeks, 4 Days

I am so not a diary person. I tried to keep a diary when I was in high school because it was the cool thing to do at the time and I had probably been watching too many episodes of Dawson’s Creek – yes dear diary, I watched Dawson’s Creek with the unashamed vigour of a thirteen-year-old. Sadly, unlike Joey Potter, I had nothing to say and the whole exercise bored me very quickly. But now, fourteen years later, I’m back. Here’s why: I have this insane idea that the next time I am seven weeks away from pushing a baby out of my vag I will look back on my ‘Dear Diary’ entries for some words of wisdom. Okay … I am now laughing at myself. Wisdom? NEXT TIME? Yup. It’s true. I am certifiable. To my future self: there will be no words of wisdom but I do promise to keep it real – that is something I am good at. Read the rest of this entry »