Please love my baby

Source: Babble

I hired a babysitter yesterday. She was the first and only babysitter I interviewed. As soon as I saw G I knew she was right. She's a grad student, very sweet and yet firm, and, the clincher, she's German (Mr M is German and speaks exclusively to Master R in German). I didn't ask for references, just simply for ID, emergency contacts and contact details.

We chatted about Germany, our families, her studies and the hours she can do (two days a week). She played with Master R a little (he was indifferent), and tried to give him some milk from his sippy cup (again, he wasn't interested).

Maybe you think I'm irresponsible, but the approach worked so well for me in New York. We had two incredible nannies there. The first, T, was referred to me by a mother I met in the park one sunny weekend. T worked for their family 3.5 days a week and needed another 1.5 days. I met T and offered her the job on the spot. Eventually the other family needed T fulltime so I was in need of another nanny.

The second nanny, S, was referred to me from HRPMamas discussion board. I decided that I should meet two nannies just to be sure. It just confused me! My gut feeling was for S but the other one was more experienced, spoke much better English but there was something - I felt that she could be to cliquey with the other nannies and I didn't want that. So S got the job and was incredible. She even cooked and cleaned for us. I still really miss her.

So I have high hopes for G. I'm sure that she will work well with us and give me that support that I need so I can run my business. Because at the end of the day the main question you really have for a nanny is will you love my baby?

Don't Brits eat ice cream???

Source: Haagen-Dazs

I can't believe this. I've looked in three different Tescos and 2 Sainsburys, 2 M&Ss ("we don't even have a freezer") and multiple little newsagents/food stores and I CAN'T FIND ICE CREAM!!!

Two years ago when I lived in London I could buy it, although not in the variety of flavours offered in New York. Now I can't buy it for love or money. And it's all that I really crave as I head into my second semester. What is better than sitting on the sofa watching late night TV and eating a pint, yes a whole pint, of ice cream? Hmm I can't think of much.

I do eat healthy 90% of the time but enjoy my little indulgences in moderation. 1 pint really is in moderation. Just don't look at the calories on the back!

A friend in Notting Hill can buy it at her local supermarket so I'll visit her later in the week and buy a few to keep me going for the next month.

I'm raising a piglet

Soure: Telegraph

When it comes to parenting I can handle the sleepless nights. I can handle the moaning. I can also handle the dirty nappies/diapers. But there is one thing I find very difficult. The mess. EVERYWHERE!!!

Master R was a "spewer" as a baby. He threw up after every feed. Our carpet was covered in little white patches. Then we he started on food that's when the real mess started. It starts at breakfast when he eats his yoghurt and berries or porridge. That goes everywhere. Then he needs some toast with either peanut butter or vegemite. Have you seen what vegemite does? The tarry blackness gets rubbed into clothes, faces and under fingernails. Fatty R then proceeds to eat my breakfast if I haven't finished it fast enough.

Lunchtime is normally a soup or leftovers from dinner before. If it is curry I feel like striping him naked or his clothes and bib get bright yellow stains. Dinner is the same. It's just endless! What really gets me is that when he's finished eating he just starts pelting food. That really gets me mad. I generally get it all over me and EVERYWHERE!

I have to admit that sometimes I just leave the mess for a couple of meals and clean in the evening. It's just too much for me to clean knowing it's only getting dirty again in another 3 hours. A couple of times I've had to explain the mess with Mamas have come to visit. I'm sure you mamas understand? Perhaps I'm a sow and that's why I'm raising a piglet?

What we do for love...

I couldn't sleep again last night.  Insomnia has been a common occurrence in my life, starting long before I went to bed with a baby monitor on the night table near my head.  As I flip from my stomach to my back, frustrated by the heat and the sheets and Mister A snoring blissfully beside me, I try to quell the laundry list of to-dos and what ifs populating my mind.  Often, I replay a song in my mind, usually the last one I heard during the day.  The fact that I can "hear" music when I'm not actually listening to it is just another quirk I've had all my life.  I sing constantly as I go about my day.  So, last night, as I lay in restless repose, I shut my eyes and listened to the music in my head.  The problem was that it wasn't a favorite song, or even a catchy Top 40 number.  It was a song about bellybuttons.  And not even a good one.

When I was pregnant with Master X, one of my greatest hopes, in addition to raising a happy and well-mannered child, was to instill a love of fine music in my little person.  Along with darling onesies and miniature collared shirts, I procured lullaby versions of Smashing Pumpkins, U2, Radiohead, and the Cure.  (The same company makes a Metallica CD, but I couldn't reconcile myself to playing 'Enter Sandman' as my newborn nodded off to sleep.)  My music education plan was great in theory, but has thus far flopped in live trials.  Try as I might, and maybe I didn't turn the volume up high enough when he was in utero, Master X doesn't care for any of it.  Sure, he bops his head and waves his arm to 'Seven Nation Army,' but for the most part, everything I want him to like falls on deaf ears (luckily not literally... he hears perfectly).  What he prefers to my carefully chosen playlist, and by that, I mean what he WANTS is a ridiculous and somewhat pervy song about bellybuttons.

Woven into an insidiously catchy melody on his favorite pre-bedtime DVD, the only one he cares to watch right now, are lyrics that make Mister A and I snicker and cringe in equal measure.  As a generally pantless Master X shakes and twists to the sound, strange cow, sheep and dog creatures with pulsating blue navels sing about bellybuttons, saying things like "when you touch it, great things happen" and calling it "my tiny tickle dot."  In the context of a baby video, perhaps the wording is benign, but in the adult world, well, it creeps me out.  (What was this nameless company thinking?)  

But Master X doesn't care what the mutant animals are saying.  He just wants to dance with them, laughing happily as they tickle one another on screen.  He points eagerly at the television, furiously shaking his head "no" until I get to the right part.  And because I cherish him more than anything in the world, and watching him groove around the living room in his diaper without a care is about the most precious thing I've ever seen, I am hereby surrendering what little sanity I have left to endure the bellybutton song, day and night.  

Just don't call child services if you hear me singing it on the street.

The hierarchy of strollers

Source: Celebrity Shopping Blog

There is a hierarchy of strollers. And the Bugaboo reins supreme. I have discovered this over the past few days while pushing Master R around London in his freebie umbrella stroller. The looks other mamas give me! You'd think it was persecuting the poor little fellow. Or that I was in need of a federal bailout.

I agree, my freebie is a terrible stroller, but it's easier for me in my state (12 weeks pregnant) to push him than to ergo it any longer. But I refused to fly BA with my stroller after 3 mamas I know have had theirs broken. So now I'm awaiting it's delivery with the rest of my airfreight which is sitting at Heathrow for customs clearance.

It's the looks of pity that get me the most. Now I'm wondering if I too was the giver of these looks?

In Battery Park just about everyone has a "bug". Or if they have two kiddies it's the Phil and Teds. With my terribly poor vision it's the stroller I see first - bright green bug coming towards me, oh it's either Mama A or Mama V, bright orange is Mama J, beige is Mama G, Mama H however bucks the trend with a Stokke.

A friend is due with number 1 in April and hasn't bought a thing yet. I gave her a list of things she needs including the bug. She baulked at the suggestion saying that everyone in Chiswick has one and she wants something different. Well dir! There's a reason everyone has a £800/$1000 stroller - it's the best!! She's coming around but is insisting on a test drive of mine first.

So if I gave you looks of pity in the past I am really sorry and will attempt to remember this experience with my umbrella stroller.

PS. I agree that if you're getting in and out of cars all day the bug is NOT the stroller for you. Despite the company's claims, it is not easy to fold and doesn't fold flat enough for a boot/trunk. So you are better off with something else such as a Maclaren. (Most mamas in Battery Park had a Mac for subways and cars.)

Goodbye New York, hello London

Close to Wagner Park, Battery Park, New York City. Source: http://www.nyc-architecture.com/

Source: BBC London

On Valentine's Day 2009 I said my teary farewell to Battery Park, NYC, my beautiful river front apartment, the cold, crisp days and boarded a plane for London, UK. While I fell in love with Battery Park and the conveniences of New York living, it was saying goodbye to my mama friends that was the hardest.

Mr N and I arrived in NY in June 2007. I soon discovered that I was pregnant. Giving birth to my son Master R in February 2008 opened my life to a whole new circle of friends. I joined HRPMamas eager to meet other mums but only expecting to make acquaintances.

The whole process was a bit like dating. After trying a few different groups, I found the mamas in the financial district and it just clicked. Like any new relationship it took a while to form, but soon we were truly friends - driven together initially for the need to socialise with someone other than our newborns and overworked husbands/partners.

Together us mums and our babes spent many a summer afternoon spread out on rugs under the tree in Wagner Park. It was one of the best summers of my life. Real bonds of friendship and joint experiences were formed - not to mention lots of chocolate milkshakes and cupcakes!

My transatlantic move and being torn away from these wonderful friends sparked the idea to start a blog. It's a way for us to keep in touch, but also a way to "reach out" (see I did learn some American?) to other mothers and share the many ups and some downs of being a mum/mom.

Mama N mother of Master R

No misstep for Agyness Dean

Agyness Dean is one of those people who always looks amazing - even with an eye patch following an incident with a mascara wand! In the March 2009 issue of British Vogue she looks breathtaking in this vivid silky gown and statement bangle. But I agree with ShinyStyle, what really makes this outfit is the shoes.

When Natalia at Bionda Castana first showed me these shoes I wanted them. They are just stunning and will liven any outfit from a plain dress to jeans. They are available in limited quantities at Brittique, the only place you can buy them in Europe. Pre-purchase yours now and you'll be wearing them in March.