Midweek Musings: Back on the job
Last week marked the official end to my maternity leave, as I started a new part-time position at Houzz UK as staff editor. It's pretty much the dream position for me actually, because I get to work with one of my close friends and also get to work for one of the most exciting digital companies in the interiors field today. Plus it's part time, as I said, so I still get to be a mummy who lunches the rest of the time (not going to give that up in any hurry).
It was a shock though, setting my alarm, putting on something other than pyjama bottoms and battling through the commuters like the old days. I had forgotten just how busy London is at that time, and I'm not going to lie, I felt OLD. It made me genuinely want to run away to the country and open a cattery or something.
Once I got to the office however, things improved. I'd missed the buzz of working with a big team, and a company with the investment to actually make things happen. I'd also missed lunches from EAT. Ha. I'll be writing features as well as managing some of the professional contributors who submit articles for the site and am really looking forward to getting stuck in. It'll be especially nice to be back on the journalism side of the fence after spending the last two and a half years doing commercial work.
Other than that, this week has been quite quiet as both Daph and I have had a cold so we've been in hibernation. Babies with colds are not fun. We did however, take Daph to be weighed finally at the health clinic - first time since November - and were somewhat alarmed to be told she now weighs a whopping 15lb 5. It's official, she's a porker. She's now on the 50th percentile! (I've banged on about this loads but she was on the 2nd when she was born). The health visitor was a bit snooty and said we had to keep an eye on her - at one point she stared past my shoulder and said sadly 'this is what happens with formula babies you see' and I had to resist the urge to bop her on the nose.
I won't be putting Daph on a diet any time soon (everyone says as soon as she starts crawling the weight will drop off) - in fact we're going to start properly weaning her TOMORROW as her high chair and dining table are arriving. More on them in another post - but I'm so excited to finally be getting a big table that we can actually use for the kitchen, and I'm hoping we can do more mature mealtimes with all of us sitting around the table talking about our days together.
As for weaning - we've already given her a taste of baby rice and she loved it - but my god what a mess it makes. Shall have to hide my OCD self in a cupboard or something...
Midweek Musings: New Year, New Everything?
A very happy new year to you all! I know I'm a bit late to the party but I've just got back from Dartmouth in Devon, where I spent my 35th birthday. I'll gloss over the whole 'turning 35' thing because to be honest it REALLY doesn't seem important anymore - just a bit random. Like, I remember every now and then how old I am and think 'huh, that's mad, how did that happen' then carry on doing whatever it is I was doing. Age is just a number blah blah.
Dartmouth was Chip's first official 'holiday' and it went pretty well, all things considering. Four-month-old babies certainly don't travel light - we managed to squeeze her buggy, cot, Sleepyhead, Perfect Prep machine, baby bath and car seat in my old Golf, along with ourselves and our own luggage of course. She coped pretty well with the five-hour journey, bless her, although she did decide to do a poonami both on the way there and on the way back, meaning we had to try to change her at the side of the road twice. Top tip: the parcel shelf makes a very good changing mat.
I've already written about Dartmouth so I won't go into too much detail again. But it was lovely to have Chip there with us in our favourite place, and my parents and sister also came down too so for once I had my whole family around me on my birthday. Oli and I even got to go to the cinema (Star Wars - can't remember a dicky bird about it now) - the first thing we've done together without the baby since she was born!
Best of all, I got to visit my favourite art gallery, Baxters, and bought myself a new piece of art - this serene lithograph by Alan Stones. I'm going to hang it above my pink sofa, instead of the triptych of Vogue ladies (they're framed in cheap Ikea frames and the mounts have gone a not-very-attractive shade of yellow).
Anyway I'm quite glad to see the back of 2015, although all the bad things that happened pale into insignificance when I see my little girl beaming up at me first thing in the morning. But 2016, I have high hopes for you! Namely: we need to find a new home and I need to find a new career. No pressure then...
Midweek Musings: Christmas, Christmas, Christmas!
Just a quick one this week - to wish you all a very happy Christmas!
We're spending Christmas week down at my folks', and have already enjoyed two family Christmas get-togethers and far too much cheese! Daph is being spoilt rotten by my parents and all the visitors we've had. And I've been getting some lie-ins as Granny looks after Daphne for me ;)
We also bought her a projector light show for her cot, which has worked really well at entertaining her for a bit while we groan when she's decided 6am is the time that the day should start.
Oli and I always do rather OTT stockings for each other, so I'm looking forward to that! He also said he's bought Daphne a few bits which will be a nice surprise for me :) And he already surprised me on Saturday by giving me this beautiful handmade decoration as a reminder of Daph's first Christmas! Again, I cried. Ridiculous.
I'm going to have a little break from blogging now as no one wants to read posts over the Christmas holidays. But I'll be back in the New Year (soz). Thanks to everyone who reads my ramblings, and thanks even more to those who leave comments! It's so nice to have an outlet when I'm not working - although I will be starting a new freelance job in January (eeek!) which is very exciting - more on that in the New Year...
Hope you all have an absolutely wonderful Christmas break, filled with friends, family and the aforementioned cheese! See you in 2016!
Afterthought: this post is severely lacking in snark. Must be the Christmas spirit getting to me.
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Midweek Musings: Instagram, Anaemia and Stylish Storage
I'm writing this during one of those sacred forty minutes that happen (if we're lucky) four times a day. Naptimes. Except that for some inexplicable reason my neighbour seems to be drilling in their garden (IN DECEMBER?!) so I'm not sure how long I've got before Daph decides she's had enough of the racket. Fingers crossed.
This has been a funny old week. First off, I noticed about three weeks ago that the corners of my lips were cracked. Not chapped, but actually cracked. It was starting to get really painful, and every time I ate or spoke (let's face it, these are things that happen a lot) it hurt. It got worse and worse, until I started to resemble The Joker. I consulted Doctor Google, as ever, and was informed of a condition called angular cheilitis. Which can either be caused by thrush (!), a bacterial infection, or an iron/vitamin B deficiency.
Anyway, I continued slathering on Vaseline and Eight Hour Cream in the hope that it would go away, but to no avail. Hence me rocking up at the doctor's in desperation, only to be told that anaemia is really common after you've had a baby, as the baby nicks all your iron stores (little sods). And that an iron deficiency was most likely to be the cause, especially as my periods have restarted and I've had three heavy f*ckers since having Daph.
The whole situation has been compounded by the fact that I decided to give up red meat for a month when Daph was about 10 weeks old, because of some Horizon programme or something I'd vaguely watched while half asleep one evening, that said red meat gave you bowel cancer. So just when I needed to eat more red meat, I'd cut it out completely. Massive Homer-Simpson-style DOH.
I'm rambling, but my point really is: women who have just had babies! Do not give up red meat! Eat more steaks. Drink more blood. You need the iron. Here endeth the lesson.
Luckily my lips are getting better with the aid of some athlete's foot cream (Nice! it specifically says DO NOT USE ON THE FACE on the packet, but I'm hoping my doctor knew what she was doing when she prescribed it...) and lots and lots of burgers. And steaks. And spaghetti bologneses. Cutting out food groups is a mug's game.
Onto more salubrious topics! I've been searching for a few weeks now for some attractive storage for Daph's ever-expanding toy collection. But everything I found was really dull, or super twee. Until I turned to my trusty friends at Nordic House, and fell in love with this amazing set of three felt woven baskets - I love everything about them! Nordic House have got some really great storage pieces on offer - and their beautiful white-painted furniture range is also extremely covet-worthy. Have a look!
Finally, like most bloggers, I use Instagram (hey! you can follow me here!). However, unlike most bloggers, my Instagram feed is not a thing of beauty. Most of my friends who blog have Instagram feeds that could basically be printed out as they are and set into a collage and framed in a tasteful white-painted frame and sold for £75, whereas my feed is just the most random mish-mash of stuff I've seen/done, and that - here's the kicker - I've REMEMBERED to Instagram. I always forget about Instagram, hence it's a bit of a mess.
But this video has made me feel ever-so-slightly better about it... worth a watch, apologies if you've already seen it, enjoy if you haven't. It really made me laugh.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFzKi-o4rHw
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Midweek Musings: Snoring and Sweater* dresses
*Yes OK, that should be 'jumper' dresses, but I liked the alliteration. I thought I'd start sharing some mini weekly updates of stuff that's been going on with me because there's all kinds of random things that happen during the week that don't quite deserve a blog post of their own, but nonetheless I feel the need to share/rant about. (I know I should call this my 'Gratitude List' or something but that would mean I wouldn't be able to moan ever. And I do like a good moan. So 'Midweek Musings' it is).
First up, this week we have a new neighbour in the flat downstairs. We are both very upset about this as we loved our old neighbours - they were a Bulgarian couple and the man was ridiculously good looking. I mean, RIDICULOUSLY - he looked like a model. I think even Oli fancied him. They had two kids under three and were very friendly and nice and neighbourly and took in parcels for us and stuff like that. But (perhaps understandably) when their second baby was born they needed to move to a bigger place, so they left at the end of November.
I have yet to actually MEET our new neighbour, who moved in last weekend, but he has certainly made his presence known. He snores SO loudly that I can hear it through the floor - even with my new carpet. When the baby wakes at 3 for a feed, I now find it impossible to go back to sleep thanks to the low-level vibrationathon going on below me. It has to be the world's most irritating noise - mostly because it's not constant but just repetitive and too low to be drowned out even by my white noise app. This morning at 5am I was tempted to write him a note saying he snores so loudly he's stopping us sleeping and would he mind killing himself or moving out, but resisted. And yes I am aware we have an oft-screaming baby and thus are massive hypocrites, but long-term sleep deprivation tends to bring out the psychopath in you.
Anyone got any hints for drowning him out? I'm trying ear plugs tonight - hate the things as they usually fall out but am getting desperate!
In other news, we are both totally addicted to this new iPad game - Wordbrain. It's kind of like a load of crosswords but without clues. Hard to explain but worth a look if you're at all a fan of word puzzles. It's SO addictive! Even though I'm rubbish at it. And Oli is brilliant. Which is slightly annoying.
And finally, I've completely fallen in love with Hush clothes. They seem perfect for new mothers who don't just want to slob about in trackie bottoms all day. I want the whole damn AW15 collection, but I have just treated myself to this amazing jumper dress. It's literally like a great big sweatshirt made into a dress. Pared with my maternity leggings (which I am steadfastly refusing to give up until Chip is at least 21) it makes the perfect not-too-scruffy-but-still-super-comfortable outfit. I'm in love. I also want this fab silk shirt, but will have to wait for the sale for that one...
Daphne's Christmas tree
Like most people, I bloody love Christmas. Despite living in a compact flat, every year I've insisted that O and I get a massive tree and go to town decorating it. It has to be real, of course (THE SMELL!). And every year if I'm honest it's kind of a bit of a pain in the arse getting it back from the garden centre, up the stairs, and into position without it being wonky or either of us wanting to yell at the other. I seem to remember last year being a particularly stressful affair - as I recall the net machine in Homebase was broken, it was pouring with rain and when we got home we realised a huge chunk of the tree trunk had to be sawn off because it was too wide for the stand (which took hours and nearly ruined my carpet), .
However, I usually have selective amnesia about how stressful getting a tree can be, and within five minutes of it being up and decked and covered in twinkly lights, I'm all oohs and aahs and wasn't that worth it.
But this year we have a baby. And having a baby seems to have made our flat even smaller than ever. Mostly because of the proliferation of baby gubbins that has taken over the living room. Also, Oli starts rehearsing a new show this week and then will be away for most of December, and I'm off to hunker down at my parents' house in the Surrey wilderness while he's gone.
So this year, we decided to go small. Get a tiny tree. In a pot this time, so that we can keep it alive and bring it out every year. We thought we'd make it Daphne's tree, so that every year she can have it in her bedroom, and decorate it how she likes. Apart from this year, of course, when she's too small so Mummy gets total control.
Mummy decided that, to go with the tiny tree, we needed a whole new batch of decorations, and we went with a woodland theme... little birds, hedgehogs and bunnies, and plenty of berries. All from our local garden centre, at the National Trust Morden Hall Park (sidenote: well worth a visit if you live in SW London!)
I love it. It's titchy but so cute and still brings lots of festive cheer to the living room, sitting quite happily alongside all the brightly coloured plastic that keeps Daph entertained while I'm writing these groundbreaking posts. Part of me wonders why I didn't go down the tiny tree route before - it's so much easier and cheaper and really does look adorable.
I also scattered a few tiny little touches around the room which are slightly more 'grown up'.
All I need now is the ubiquitous White Company Winter candle, and my Christmas decor is complete...
DIY Blonde Ombre
Don't worry, this is definitely not going to turn into a beauty blog! But just to have a break from the endless baby baby baby posts, I thought I'd write about my new hair.
I've had my hair lightened for about 300 years now - when I was a child it was very bright blonde, but as I got older, it inevitably darkened and I think my natural hair colour is kind of filthy blonde/mousey brown. The least coveted hair colour on the planet basically. Anyway for years now I've had an all-over high lift tint done, which lifted my hair to a really light blonde - I swapped over to this from highlights because it was so much cheaper and I never much liked the stripey effect you seem to get with highlights. But as I mentioned in one of my pregnancy update posts, when I got pregnant I noticed that my roots were coming through really dark. Like, almost black.
Then my hairdresser told me that she was going to have to change my dye formulation as my roots were so much darker than before, so the levels (not sure what the technical term is?!) she was using wouldn't be strong enough to get the same result. And despite her doing this I started noticing that my once-bright hair was looking a little... yellow. Like properly yellow. Eeeuww.
I decided that change was in order, spent hours googling ombre and balayage (I figured if I've got dark roots now then I might as well go with it right?! even if it is very 2013) and then I booked an appointment at Trevor Sorbie to have a complete hair makeover.
This was the kind of look I was after... But with straight hair. And a fringe.
Unfortunately, that didn't really work out. The colour technician (lovely though he was) seemed convinced that I would regret dyeing my hair darker, and so he only put in one or two shades below my existing colour and the result was (as you can see from below)... exactly the same.
Five hours, £200+ and a glass of complimentary Prosecco down and feeling deflated and a bit pissed off (yes I know I should have complained but I'm far too British for that) I decided it was time for that old mantra 'if you want something doing, do it yourself'.
I should add here: I have never dyed my hair myself. Unless you count copious Sun-In
And that's what I did. I did spend about five hours first saying to Oli 'Should I do it? Maybe I shouldn't? I suppose I've already cried once today (the baby is being 'challenging' this week) so it won't matter if I hate it. Will it?', but anyway. I watched a few Youtube videos of terrifyingly young girls doing it far more professionally than I ever could, especially not at THEIR AGE, then very unscientifically plonked L'Oreal Preference in Florida Honey Blonde all over the top of my head, combed it through the lengths a bit and voila.
It's not too bad is it? A bit more subtle than I wanted and it hasn't totally covered my roots as I got terrified of how dark it looked when the dye was on so I washed it off a bit early (it says to leave it to develop for half an hour but given it took nearly half an hour to actually get the dye on my hair in the first place, I'm not sure when you count the half an hour from?). So I may redo it in a week or so. But anyway, it cost £6.99 and I don't hate it. Result.
Sidenote: Just noticed there are loads of brackets in this blog. Kind of like I'm continually justifying things to myself. Weird.
Review: Winter Garden at The Landmark Hotel
Look! Finally a post that's NOT about babies! Or my pelvic floor! Hurrah.
On Tuesday my friends Susie, Vicky and I went for dinner at the Winter Garden in the Landmark Hotel. It was Vicky's birthday and, as Susie had recently done herself a mischief (twisted her ankle badly) whilst walking along the Great Wall of China (no joke - respect!) our main criteria for the restaurant was that it had to be near to a tube station.
Now I don't often think of going for dinner in hotels, which is possibly daft as there are so many amazing hotels in London and I'm probably missing out on some real treats. So when Susie suggested the Landmark, which is slap bang outside Marylebone station, I was intrigued. (But mostly just grateful at the idea of dinner ANYWHERE without the baby screaming at me). She then mentioned that they have a £35 three-course set menu, which comes with a champagne cocktail...
When we first entered the hotel (yes it is the kind of joint where a be-hatted man in tails opens the front door for you), I was immediately reminded of Vegas. The scale of the Landmark is impressive for London - it's huge and grand and opens out onto a big internal atrium. It's in this atrium (overlooked by all the hotel rooms) that you will find the Winter Garden, complete with palm trees, and a pianist playing show tunes in a soft and unobtrusive manner.
It's all very posh and calm. And hotel-y. The antithesis of the usual trendy queue-for-hours-round-the-block-then-scream-over-the-music pop-up restaurant that is so popular these days.
In fact, I'd even go so far to say as it felt distinctly middle-aged, but maybe that's why it appealed. Yikes. What an admission.
The service was fab, not stuffy but attentive - they immediately seated us and took our coats. The set menu was way better than expected - no cheap options here, but decent starters such as smoked salmon and slow-cooked beef for mains...
The smoked salmon starter was delicate and tasty, served with sourdough and a generous dollop of horseradish. For my main, I had the seabass, trying to be healthy, and it was fab and not drowning in butter as it so often can be. I also appreciated the small portion size - men may not, but it felt like the right amount of food. I've been thinking recently how much portion sizes have started to get out of control - if you're having a three-course meal with bread to boot, you really don't need six potatoes to accompany your main. The one fondant potato on my plate was perfect and just right.
The other ladies went for the slow-cooked barbecue beef, which basically looked like heaven on a plate, and I was jealous. But you know, post-partum diet blah blah snore...
For puds, we all went for the chocolate fondant because, well, everyone knows from watching Masterchef that they're impossible to make at home, ergo you must order them when you go out. And it was just what you'd expect, chocolately and fondanty. In fact, the unexpected highlight for me was the pistachio ice cream on the top - bloody yum. And totally not in my diet plan but I decided I deserved it after missing out on the beef.
The waitress had got wind of the fact that it was Vicky's birthday (to be fair, she was carrying a rather huge bouquet of flowers) and just when we'd polished off our fondants, came over with a cute little cupcake complete with birthday candle. The pianist also started playing Happy Birthday in the background but no one sang along or clapped so it was lovely rather than cringeworthy.
We ordered some peppermint tea to finish and this came with a lovely little tray of petit fours. I like things like this. Maybe this is what makes me middle-aged now. But y'know, nice touches make all the difference.
All in all, I'd say that for £35 the set menu at the Winter Garden is a bloody bargain.
It's not the most exciting of destinations, and the ambience may be a bit better suited to the over 60s, but sometimes you just want proper grown-up food and to have a decent catch up with friends, in an unhurried and relaxed manner. And to be able to hear what they're saying without worrying that your two-hour table booking is nearly up. And sometimes you want to be in stumbling distance of the tube. And for all that, I'd say the Winter Garden is just the ticket.
A new identity
*slightly serious post warning*
It's official: I'm having a new-mother identity crisis.
As I said in my last post, when you have a baby and you go for check ups with health visitors or GPs or midwives, you get asked a lot about your emotional wellbeing. What they are really asking is: 'have you got postnatal depression?' Anyway, I am fortunate in that I haven't felt at all depressed since having Chip. I had a few days when I felt stressed and weepy but it was all quite logically connected to lack of sleep or her crying etc.
I have, however, been pondering a lot about who I am now.
I've recently started going out for dinner with friends again, without Chip (natch). The first time I went, on the way home on the tube I started yawning and wondering why on earth I felt so tired when it was only 10.30pm. And then, literally, like a weird bolt of lightning, I remembered that I had HAD A BABY, and that I hadn't slept properly since at least July and that - even more weirdly - I was GOING HOME TO A BABY.
I felt shocked and terrified all at once. And guilty of course, that I had actually FORGOTTEN I'd had a baby. I'd slipped back into my old life so easily. I mean, seriously, in those few sleepy moments between Clapham South and Balham, I had literally forgotten she existed. It was the oddest thing.
Since I had Chip, lots of friends with kids have said to me 'Do you hate it? It's OK to admit you hate it you know.' But I don't hate it. I actually love looking after her more than I ever thought possible. I've never been hugely maternal at all, and always regarded children as rather irritating. But this baby has me in the palm of her podgy little hand. The other day, when she did a massive poo, I found myself declaring with glee in that clichéd ridiculous baby voice, 'Oh Chippy, that really was a stinker winker!' which Oli found so hilariously un-me he wrote it down on the notes in his iPhone.
I am really quite surprised, and pleased, with how much love I feel for her, and for how much I DON'T resent her when all I've done all day is wash bottles, wipe up poo and listen to endless rounds of tinny classical music coming from the Baby Einstein play mat
However, although I adore her, and I really do quite adore looking after her, I never really realised how much my identity was tied up in my work and my independence. And so now, I'm a bit confused about who I am. I have a wardrobe full of beautiful client-meeting dresses, that are now useless (even if they did still fit, which they don't). I have eighteen Dior lipsticks in various West-London-appropriate shades, dozens of completely impractical Wolford tights, a lonely and neglected Prada tote, and a penchant for expensive meals out that I can no longer afford.
I hate the fact that I am no longer earning money. I had not planned to be having a baby with no job to go back to, and quite frankly, it's terrifying. My accountant told me to 'have a year off and enjoy the money you made selling the business' and not to worry about work for now, but that just made me irrationally angry. I've always worked! I'M A WORKER! For the last two years of my life my identity - and much of my self-esteem - was built around being a company director and all that entailed. I was proud of it and I enjoyed it. My life was pretty much all about my work and my friendships.
Not working is very strange, and I often get mild panic attacks in the middle of the night thinking that I should be doing something with this time 'off'. I read on someone else's blog that when you have a baby, it's OK for you to JUST be looking after the baby. You don't have to be trying to hold down a part-time job too, or finishing a long-neglected novel, or doing charity work, or whatever it is that you think you must do to somehow justify your existence as a SAHM. But it's still hard to give myself this time off. Even though I'm exhausted and probably working harder than I have done in ages - just in a very different way.
Oli wants us to move out of London, to get the sort of grown-up house with a driveway and - dare I say it - that one true mark of adulthood: AN OUTSIDE TAP. For Chip's sake, I am tempted. But for my sake, I am wary. My life - or the life that I am most familiar with - is based in London, in my storage-lacking, unbabyfriendly maisonette in the dodgiest part of SW19. It's so odd. Chip is ten weeks' old tomorrow, and in those short ten weeks the last thirteen years of my life have kind of been thrown out the window and it's almost like I need to learn to walk again. I need to find a new identity.
I am aware that women can't have it all. You never stop hearing it from the media. But this post isn't really about that. I don't particularly want to have it all. I just want to find out who the new me is, and what she wants. Without losing sight of the old me and all she achieved.
Hopefully in time, it'll all figure itself out. But in the meantime, I guess I'll keep buying Joules tops and flat shoes and Abercrombie hoodies and pushing my pram round the park like all the other mums. I suspect they're feeling much the same.
The Marcie saddle bag by Chloe
The problem with being stuck at home all day with a baby is that there's little to do in those precious minutes when your offspring sleeps. Apart from housework. I've been trying to read more, but being exhausted means my concentration levels are pretty shocking. The lure of internet shopping, therefore, is STRONG.
It's fine when it's things for the baby (I signed up for Amazon Family
So inevitably I've been spending a lot of time looking at clothes for me... No longer pregnant = hurrah! A stone heavier than before = not so hurrah! I've decided not to buy clothes to fit my new bigger size, as I AM DETERMINED to lose this extra stone. So if you can't buy clothes, what's left to do but buy a new bag?!
My friend Julia (also a new mum) told me that when her baby was born she got herself a crossbody bag, so that she could get to her phone and keys etc easily and keep her hands free. I conveniently translated this little nugget of information into meaning that a new handbag was an essential purchase for all mothers. And so last week, at one particularly low moment where I hadn't left the house for two days and the baby had been doing her usual screaming-at-me-with-impressive-force thing for more than an hour, I went on Matches and ordered myself the above beauty. The mini Marcie saddle bag by Chloé (side note: isn't Chloe a nice name?)
I even paid the ridiculous £12 delivery charge to have it delivered that very day. And it came on a motorbike and in a posh box. And it made me so happy.
The fact that I can barely fit anything in it is besides the point (that's the one advantage of the ginormous nappy bag I now lug around - all my extraneous extra crap can be stowed in there). It is a mint green thing of beauty, it has a perfect little slip pocket at the front and a perfect little slip pocket inside, and it has cheered me right up.
New mothers: you now have my permission to buy yourselves something ridiculously expensive and unnecessary. In fact, sod permission, it's an order.
If there was ever a time in your life when you deserve it, it would be now.
Disclaimer: handbags are my thing. I totally get that most people would consider this purchase nuts.