London Mums Blog

It's Sextucation month at school

Since last term, there’s been quite a build up to the S-E-X Education lessons for Year 4.  I’ve tried to explain a few things to Miniminx, but she’s tended to cover her ears and gawp in horror for most of it.

From the beginning of this term there’s been a change of attitude, Miniminx has been determined to be ‘cool’ about "Sextucation", even though she hasn’t quite been able to separate the words yet as a way of avoiding saying the S word. In fact, cool has become emboldened into curiosity and she’s got a bit too bolshy for my liking, saying it’s time she started watching Sex and the City so she can learn about ‘it’! (Samantha’s antics are just too graphic - it’s non negotiable, it’s banned).

If Carlsberg invented hire car companies...

Enough is enough.

Two children at school in two different boroughs and a husband who is now working every hour that god sent (thank you god I am not complaining). But after two more hideous days of struggling to get us all on the bus in the peeing rain by 8.20am I have crumbled and hired a car.

But not just any old car.. oh no no no. I have joined.. wait for it.. drum roll...

STREETCAR...

Careers advice

The children and I were chatting idly about life and stuff the other day, when Child Two piped up. 'I want to find a nice boyfriend at university,' she confided.

Fair enough, I thought, and not at all difficult to achieve. University was, I dimly remember, a place uniquely well-stocked with potential boyfriends in my young day, several millennia ago - though, looking back on it, I'm not sure how many were nice.

'Why do you want a boyfriend?' Child One asked her. Child One has already informed me that my example has put her off men for life.

'I want to get married straight after university, so that I'll never have to get a job,' said Child Two blithely.

Eeek!

Snapshot

In an effort to keep myself occupied I’ve decided I’m going to really work this blog world. Personal blogging is hugely different from professional blogging and I am finding it a challenge to keep going. It’s more to do with ego keepy-uppy than anything else - how do you stay a) motivated while unemployed b) able to write dazzling copy c) not sound like a moaner?

The truth is, things are just not hot on the job front. I’m going to have to reinvent myself and learn some pretty new tricks in order to stand out from the crowd. The social media CV just ain’t working. Every recruiter I speak to says it’s hugely competitive out there and there are hundreds of candidates, when only a year ago there were few and far between. When I apply for jobs on corporate web sites, I feel like I’m aiming a pea shooter at the moon. My CV disappears into the ether, I get an acknowledgement and then nothing. Boo hoo.

The quick start guide to creating a fab mummy blog

Mummy, or "mommy" blogging, a huge phenomenon in the US, is just starting to take hold in the UK. A staggering 36 million women worldwide participate in "blogosphere" every week and fifteen million women have their own blogs. A growing number of these women are British.

I've put together this guide to help mums who are interested in creating a blog, but have no idea where to start. I assume a bit of technical savvy (such as you know how to surf the Internet) but in no way do you have to be an IT expert. I'm not, and trust me, if I can do it, so can you.

So what are you waiting for? Sit back, have a read and get blogging!

Shoe management

How many shoes does a child need?!

This is not a trick question. It's a plea for sanity.

A pair for school, a pair for parties. A pair of trainers (that's tennis shoes for you yanks). Slippers. Oh yeah, and wellies. Sandals for the summer. That should just about cover it. Tops six pairs of footware per child.

I have three children.  So why the heck do I have 82 PAIRS of shoes in the children's wardrobe? This doesn't count the 13 pairs of "in use" shoes that clutter our entry way. And I won't even go into how many I have, though this does make me curious and I might go count them.

A little boy's dream: The London Transport Museum

Where do you take a train, plane, bus and car mad three-year-old for his birthday in London?  Why, The London Transport Museum in Covent Garden, of course! This was Boy #2's treat of choice last week.  Admittedly, they don't have airplanes there, but as a place where you can spot practically every other mode of transport in London, it ticked all his boxes.
 
The Transport Museum is tucked away in the South East corner of the Covent Garden Piazza, and is easily reachable by tube.  As a family-friendly destination, they don't come much better than the Piazza, with it's host of shops and stalls on the galleries in the restored old Covent Garden vegetable market, the street entertainment on offer in and around it, the (admittedly pricey) restaurants and bars when you need refuelling, and the simple pleasure of being outdoors in what I personally find an exciting, buzzy and vibrant part of town.  Add the Opera House, the local theatre, and the Transport Museum to the mix and this are becomes one of the top tourist attractions in London.  

A Calpol Christmas

We once went to stay with some friends who rather sheepishly showed us an entire draw stuffed with Calpol spoons. It was an impressive number; clearly their two small children had consumed vast quantities of the pink stuff in their short lifetimes (and these parents were both doctors - go figure).

Anyway, it reminded me of a famous quotation from TS Eliot's Prufrock: 'I have measured out my life in coffee spoons'. Well, this year, we have measured out our Christmas with Calpol spoons. We have got through more bottles in the past week than we have in the past 12 months. Even The Doctor, whose usual opinion about these things is that less is more, was doling it out liberally. Meanwhile we ourselves have been high on Lemsip for the past couple of days.

Mummy, what was I born for?

Yesterday, Ella and I were settled on the sofa sharing a fleece blanket.

She had just finished playing with her virtual Pony on her Dad's Nintendo DS (which she has negotiated part shares in). I was slipping into the salty sea air of Coastliners (you haven't read Joanne Harris? Do).

A soft silence snuggled around us.

After a few minutes, Ella mused "I wonder what I was born for, Mummy".

Duvet Days

Once upon a time, four child-free days would have been a dream come true. Nowadays I dread sending my little dears off - it happens much too often and gives me much, much too much time to think. A friend in a similar leaky boat told me the secret is to keep busy, so I have drawn up the following lists:

Things I would like to do while the children are away

1. Go on a holiday mini-break with True Love. This would involve poking around a scenic medieval capital, browsing the art galleries, having a few delicious dinners under warm, starry skies and generally gazing into each other's eyes in a way guaranteed to sicken any passers-by.

Post Christmas analysis

Well, it's over. Again.

Whew!

Here are my Christmas 2008 highs and lows:

Top Ten Highs:

1. My six year old's glee on Christmas Eve when our friends arrived for a drink. It signified for her the start of the actual festivities.

2. Our Christmas goose. I love goose and there is nothing better for Christmas dinner. Nothing.

3. Making homemade mince pies a la Nigella. It took me three days to actually complete the mission but I did it. Yippee!

He who stuffs the stocking

This is an example of the way that Mr X makes everything difficult. A simple thing like a divorce, you might think, could be run in a civilised way, with everyone making small-talk over the mince pies at Christmas. Nope. We have to have total apartheid of all relatives and friends, no-one is allowed to speak to the enemy (me) and there must be no mention of my name or doings to darken the festive spirit. Huh. Well, as if all that isn't bah-humbug enough, now Mr X has instituted a further layer of division between us. While the treasures' stockings are filled, at my house, by lovely Father Christmas (when the darling is not too busy cancelling my parking tickets at Southwark Council, see previous blog), at Mr X's house, presents are brought by the Little Mouse.

Who?? I hear you gasp. Well, quite.

Fridge Traffic

You may not know this but the contents of a fridge has a profound effect on a person's mood. A fridge stocked with lovely things = happy mood (unless you're trying to lose weight, in which case it has the opposite effect).

A soulless, empty fridge with nothing more than a wrinkling cucumber and a hardening piece of cheese might in fact be a direct cause of depression (note: scientific results pending). At Christmas time, given the volume of fridge traffic, it can result in quite alarming mood swings.

I'm willing to share with you the secret diary I keep with my fridge to provide greater insight into the dynamics of a fridge/owner relationship.