Posts
I recently attend a evening's entertainment with a difference. After years of being submerged in pampers and other baby/child related products, I find myself invited via Netmums to a Pampered Chef evening.
Get ready nervously as going to a new house for this and will be meeting new people. Katie's greatest fear factor. Check out the Pampered Chef website for product prices lest I look like a total idiot when I don't have enough cash to buy anything. Why do these things always happen the day before payday?
Climb into the people carrier and find a bit of paper with an address in the right town on it. This may or may not be the venue for the Pampered Chef event. I must have written it down for some reason but this could be one of my regular Nearly New bargains from the Netmums website or something else. Fortunately, the god's are smiling and I arrive at the right house and to a warm welcome from the ever-wonderful local Netmums Coordinator.
The room is packed with women and I manage to find a seat because, let's face it, if I lounge on the floor like the yummy mummies, I will never manage to raise the Titanic and get myself up again. Or if I do, it won't be the most graceful sight!
Do my usual and accept a glass of wine gratefully for Dutch courage.
The Pampered Chef person plonks a sticker on me and ask me how much I enjoy cooking. Claim that it is 8 or 9 which is true on my best days and crashes to zero if I am wound up by children, life, other half, whatever.
The "demonstration" begins with the Pampered Chef person banging on and on (and on) about the benefits of the company's cookware. We are then informed that we can watch her prepare a meal for us but we will be expected to help. Clutch my glass for dear life and hide behind a heavily pregnant lady in the hope Mrs Pampers will not see me. We all stand round like children to Mrs Pampers teacher/lecturer. As the drinks flow, I start to get wicked thoughts that all the products are actually sex toys in disguise and that we are all at an Ann Summers party. Once that concept enters my mind, I keep feeling giggly as Mrs Pampers talks of "choppers" "balls" and "banging really hard". Childish I know but at least it means I keep watching and listening. The other mummies are cooing and oohing and ahhing working themselves into a frenzy about the products. Make a silent bet with myself that they have not checked out the prices in advance like myself.
The "meal" is served in due course. Miniscule cheese tarts and pasta with a bit of tomato on it. Sort of food I used to do when I did not know how to cook to be honest. Realistically, of course, Mrs Pampers will need to keep her costs down in order to make a profit. To be fair, I appreciate being invited and the novelty factor of the evening.
Brochures are handed out and is it me or are there sharp intakes of breath as people notice the prices? People hand in forms almost shame-faced that they have not bought enough. I get a mini-chopper as I cannot chop for anything and a mini-chopper is big enough for me! Know I will get away with it with other half as he loves gadgets.
When Mrs Pampers leaves, people appear to visibly relax. Drink and snacks come out courtesy of our hospitable hostess. There is much good conversation and hilarity. I am not sure quite what happened but I do know I staggered home at around 3am for the first time in many, many years. Raided the casserole still bubbling in my slow cooker and felt a nice sense of naughtiness.
As for the mini-chopper, I have used it once in a month but it serves as a reminder of getting out and about and having a laugh.
I do wonder though if a cookery demonstration can lead to such good fun, what would it be like if the next Netmums event includes Ann Summers or similar?!
Friday, 16 April 2010
Tuesday, 13 April 2010
A Portrait of a day at home with the children
It is still the Easter school holidays and with a mountain of housework and decluttering to tackle, I am attempting a day in with my children.
Are you one of those people who sees deep meaning in apparently innocuous events? I knew the day would be chaotic when I found my labrador puppy emptying the contents of my kitchen bin. I could so easily pretend I had not seen it. Instead, I tackle it and wonder why I agreed to have a puppy in the house. I swear it was a response to grief as the puppy was born a few weeks after my mum died last September. And then I just swear!
I then realise that although having my new slowcooker is great in terms of planning the evening's meal early in the day when I still have some modicum of energy, I really should remember to empty it! What was once a lovely casserole is now turning a lovely shade of green! I am definitely not housewife material!
Spend the morning working through various mountain ranges of washing piles. Actually succeed in seeing the kitchen floor again.
Enter the lounge to see my puppy juggling fake lumps of coal from my "oh so designer" fireplace. Is there no end to the ways he can find to create yet more work for me? Just like with the children, you wipe up one mess only to spot another one lurking and preventing the essential caffeine fix. Can't even comfort eat now that I have put myself of a healthy eating regime. Tomatoes are as yumsville as dumplings and prawns although lovely do not have the same therapeutic qualities as cheesecake.
At this point, my son asks me if there is any good news? Now whilst I normally encourage his sense of irony, is he just taking the piss?
My 6 year old daughter then tells me that television phone-in competitions would be better if they did not give you the answers because then you could make the answers up and that would be so much more interesting. She has a quirky way of looking at the world that appeals to me.
My 4 year old then tells me he has a broken leg. This is a regular statement from a very dramatic little boy who must be destined for the stage.
Other half turns up to collect his post and keeps saying "Are you OK? What's up?" As if I have the energy for a conversation at this point.
Sanity comes in a telephone conversation with my 82 year old father currently caravanning in Kent and planning his booze cruise to France at the weekend. With parents like mine, I must be destined for success one day and then I can pay a housekeeper and write all day long.
Are you one of those people who sees deep meaning in apparently innocuous events? I knew the day would be chaotic when I found my labrador puppy emptying the contents of my kitchen bin. I could so easily pretend I had not seen it. Instead, I tackle it and wonder why I agreed to have a puppy in the house. I swear it was a response to grief as the puppy was born a few weeks after my mum died last September. And then I just swear!
I then realise that although having my new slowcooker is great in terms of planning the evening's meal early in the day when I still have some modicum of energy, I really should remember to empty it! What was once a lovely casserole is now turning a lovely shade of green! I am definitely not housewife material!
Spend the morning working through various mountain ranges of washing piles. Actually succeed in seeing the kitchen floor again.
Enter the lounge to see my puppy juggling fake lumps of coal from my "oh so designer" fireplace. Is there no end to the ways he can find to create yet more work for me? Just like with the children, you wipe up one mess only to spot another one lurking and preventing the essential caffeine fix. Can't even comfort eat now that I have put myself of a healthy eating regime. Tomatoes are as yumsville as dumplings and prawns although lovely do not have the same therapeutic qualities as cheesecake.
At this point, my son asks me if there is any good news? Now whilst I normally encourage his sense of irony, is he just taking the piss?
My 6 year old daughter then tells me that television phone-in competitions would be better if they did not give you the answers because then you could make the answers up and that would be so much more interesting. She has a quirky way of looking at the world that appeals to me.
My 4 year old then tells me he has a broken leg. This is a regular statement from a very dramatic little boy who must be destined for the stage.
Other half turns up to collect his post and keeps saying "Are you OK? What's up?" As if I have the energy for a conversation at this point.
Sanity comes in a telephone conversation with my 82 year old father currently caravanning in Kent and planning his booze cruise to France at the weekend. With parents like mine, I must be destined for success one day and then I can pay a housekeeper and write all day long.
Friday, 9 April 2010
Kate - "you're fired!
My employment was termintated with effect from 1st April 2010. I was actually happy to leave a job that was so demoralizing and pretty much impossible to do because of the flaws in the project. However, I find myself the scapegoat and doubt that anyone will apologize when the project goes on to fail like it did for a year before I came into post and as I am sure it will in the future.
So reaping the benefits, I have less money but more time with my lovely children and less chasing my own tail. Time to look after myself, to get healthier/lose weight, time to play, time to experiment, time to blog and to write.
I have now discovered that my former boss is calling me a c++t on a publicly accessible website and also saying I am a Susan Boyle lookalike. This sent me on a real downer but two days later, I am questioning myself. Susan Boyle is a talented woman - the world seems agreed on that. So instead of worrying that I might look like her, perhaps I should celebrate the fact that I am compared with someone who has huge talent. It is all a question of perspective and by being upset, was I not buying into a society that is so hung up on looks, making harsh judgements on those of us who are not 19 any longer or are carrying weight?
My other half tries so hard to be supportive but I am pretty much impossible when on a downer on myself. Resolve for the umpteenth time not to push him away when he is trying to help me.
My brother has asked me what I will do now. Should I work, volunteer or accept stay at home mumdom until my little boy goes to school all too soon in September? The New Age believer in me tells me the universe will give me an answer. My mum always said things happen for a reason and she was right about most things in the end so let's see what happens.
What do I want to do? I want to write professionally but think I may be kidding myself that is possible.
Am I c**t? Do I look like Susan Boyle? I suppose there is a career in the latter and reflecting on previous bosses, perhaps one in the first too!
So reaping the benefits, I have less money but more time with my lovely children and less chasing my own tail. Time to look after myself, to get healthier/lose weight, time to play, time to experiment, time to blog and to write.
I have now discovered that my former boss is calling me a c++t on a publicly accessible website and also saying I am a Susan Boyle lookalike. This sent me on a real downer but two days later, I am questioning myself. Susan Boyle is a talented woman - the world seems agreed on that. So instead of worrying that I might look like her, perhaps I should celebrate the fact that I am compared with someone who has huge talent. It is all a question of perspective and by being upset, was I not buying into a society that is so hung up on looks, making harsh judgements on those of us who are not 19 any longer or are carrying weight?
My other half tries so hard to be supportive but I am pretty much impossible when on a downer on myself. Resolve for the umpteenth time not to push him away when he is trying to help me.
My brother has asked me what I will do now. Should I work, volunteer or accept stay at home mumdom until my little boy goes to school all too soon in September? The New Age believer in me tells me the universe will give me an answer. My mum always said things happen for a reason and she was right about most things in the end so let's see what happens.
What do I want to do? I want to write professionally but think I may be kidding myself that is possible.
Am I c**t? Do I look like Susan Boyle? I suppose there is a career in the latter and reflecting on previous bosses, perhaps one in the first too!
Monday, 8 March 2010
Netting a Mum or Two
As a parent of children aged 9, 5 and 4 years, I have a long online history with the wonderful Netmums, the website that informs, educates and most importantly, supports mums as they face all the challenges that come along with the joys of motherhood.
I have felt very isolated as a stay at home mum and Netmums provided some form of sanity in the dark days of post-natal depression. For probably 3 years, I have toyed with the idea of meeting up with other mums and for about a year since relocating have had regular email contact with my local Coordinator.
In November last year, hiding behind my children and other half, I attended a great Halloween Party run by Netmums locally. Then with the New Year, I summoned up the courage to attend their regular Music Class with my 4 year old son. Still nervous, still not feeling quite myself, still finding it hard to remember quite who I was before becoming a parent.
Here's to the local Coordinator who always gives a warm welcome to everyone, mums, dads and children alike. She is a total star, always friendly even when going through her own not so good stuff. One of those angels masquerading as a human being,
I hate soft play centres with a passion but will go along to meets there too. It is something for me and something for my 4 year old who misses his sibling when they are at school. Last time, while I was getting a coffee, the mums moved tables. This was enough to set off one of my confidence crises. Mantra to self that they have moved to a bigger table for space, negative self-talk tells me they have moved to get away from me. So sometimes I feel the fear and do it anyway and sometimes I want to curl up in a ball. But I keep trying and that has to be a good thing.
Last week, I attended a Swap Shop night taking along my trash hoping to rescue someone else's trash by seeing it as treasure. My husband dropped me off with me saying I would probably be a hour or so tops. As the car drove away, panic sets in. I ring the bell on the front door - no reply. I knock - no reply. Try to quieten the nagging voice of self-doubt. Back door proves more fruitful and I have my speech already for the mum I have not met before who is hosting. Local Coordinator actually answers the door so I have to rewrite my opening gambit. There is a good welcome with "What would you like to drink?". I work out that alcohol might free me up a bit and accept a glass or red wine. There is a buffet too and mums keep arriving and as I watch, I see I am not the only hesitant or shy person in the room. Maybe I am just human. Maybe that is OK. Later, we all present our stuff and everyone apologises for the quality of theirs - do all women put themselves down so naturally? As a group, we boost each other and comment positively and enthusiastically on people's offerings. It seems one person's trash really is another's treasure and I celebrate both that some people want my stuff and the lovely bedding set, coat and alarm clock that I put in my bag.
I am comfy enough to talk of my late Mum who died exactly six months ago. I bring earrings that she bought in her last weeks, swapping a lifetime of high street shopping for internet shopping when she become bed-bound. I stress that I am not being morbid, rather celebrating a great woman. Laugh at myself a bit and share a little of my experience of having boudoir shots done - letting people in a little. Perhaps that is all it takes. So here's to Netting a Mum or two and to many good times ahead. Thank you wonderful Mums!
I have felt very isolated as a stay at home mum and Netmums provided some form of sanity in the dark days of post-natal depression. For probably 3 years, I have toyed with the idea of meeting up with other mums and for about a year since relocating have had regular email contact with my local Coordinator.
In November last year, hiding behind my children and other half, I attended a great Halloween Party run by Netmums locally. Then with the New Year, I summoned up the courage to attend their regular Music Class with my 4 year old son. Still nervous, still not feeling quite myself, still finding it hard to remember quite who I was before becoming a parent.
Here's to the local Coordinator who always gives a warm welcome to everyone, mums, dads and children alike. She is a total star, always friendly even when going through her own not so good stuff. One of those angels masquerading as a human being,
I hate soft play centres with a passion but will go along to meets there too. It is something for me and something for my 4 year old who misses his sibling when they are at school. Last time, while I was getting a coffee, the mums moved tables. This was enough to set off one of my confidence crises. Mantra to self that they have moved to a bigger table for space, negative self-talk tells me they have moved to get away from me. So sometimes I feel the fear and do it anyway and sometimes I want to curl up in a ball. But I keep trying and that has to be a good thing.
Last week, I attended a Swap Shop night taking along my trash hoping to rescue someone else's trash by seeing it as treasure. My husband dropped me off with me saying I would probably be a hour or so tops. As the car drove away, panic sets in. I ring the bell on the front door - no reply. I knock - no reply. Try to quieten the nagging voice of self-doubt. Back door proves more fruitful and I have my speech already for the mum I have not met before who is hosting. Local Coordinator actually answers the door so I have to rewrite my opening gambit. There is a good welcome with "What would you like to drink?". I work out that alcohol might free me up a bit and accept a glass or red wine. There is a buffet too and mums keep arriving and as I watch, I see I am not the only hesitant or shy person in the room. Maybe I am just human. Maybe that is OK. Later, we all present our stuff and everyone apologises for the quality of theirs - do all women put themselves down so naturally? As a group, we boost each other and comment positively and enthusiastically on people's offerings. It seems one person's trash really is another's treasure and I celebrate both that some people want my stuff and the lovely bedding set, coat and alarm clock that I put in my bag.
I am comfy enough to talk of my late Mum who died exactly six months ago. I bring earrings that she bought in her last weeks, swapping a lifetime of high street shopping for internet shopping when she become bed-bound. I stress that I am not being morbid, rather celebrating a great woman. Laugh at myself a bit and share a little of my experience of having boudoir shots done - letting people in a little. Perhaps that is all it takes. So here's to Netting a Mum or two and to many good times ahead. Thank you wonderful Mums!
Stepping out of the comfort zone
Largely I think as a response to bereavement, I am trying to seize life, the day and all that. I keep testing my nerve and trying new things. One huge one was to accept an invitation to have some boudoir photographs done complete with rose petals, saucy underwear, feathers, fans and a riding crop! I nervously went into the hotel where the shoot was to take place noting the obvious discomfort of the male receptionist at what was happening in one of suites upstairs and probably, worse that how can a size 22 possibly want to take her clothes off in front of anyone. I walked up and down the corridor for an age before tapping on the door of the suite. Maybe they would not hear me and then I could escape without losing too much face. The mirror in the corridor had not done much to reassure me - unkempt hair, no make-up, baggy fat covering clothes - not exactly a glamour puss then! A woman aged about 12 years and inevitably blonde and lovely let me in and instructed me to get my "outfit" on straightaway in the ensuite bathroom. Into bra and pants and the cop-out black silky robe. Then I entered the main room where various women were and it was hard to work out where everyone fitted in. Some were waiting for their photo session, some were just there to support and some were the hair and make-up girls. Confidence started to build when the make-up artist said she would not need to do much with me as I had lovely skin. Same was said by my wedding make-up person so perhaps I have to believe this. Lovely to sit in a chair being pampered with no children pulling at me or demanding yet another meal, drink, cuddle. No man to tell me that I have done the washing up in the wrong order as if life depends on such decisions. Peace and a friendly female-only enviroment that reminded me of the maternity ward when all the visitors have gone. I was plied with some booze to calm me down and turned down the chocolates lest I go up to size 24 instantly. "Are you ready?", the photographer asked and as I walked from the prep suite to the photos location next door, there was a sense of "Let's just go for it!". Suffice to say, I found the experience very liberating and discovered a whole new exhibitionish side to myself. It was fun to play and be encouraged to do so. When Mum died, the worst happened. Now I can try new things feeling that her spirit would whole-heartedly approve. Coming home on the train in my baggy clothes and boring anorak, I kept giggling at the thought "If only the other passengers knew what I had just done!". There is life in the old girl yet!
Monday, 11 January 2010
Back to the land of the living
I am back on here and on Twitter after so long away following Mum's death in September 2009. Hoping this year is better as last year was so dominated by sadness, farewells and trauma. Want to give something back to my husband and children for all the times I could not give them 100% last year. Grief is a strange and fascinating beast. This week, I have felt greedy for more of Mum's company and struggle to face the fact there are now only memories to draw on. Positively, I hope that my sudden realisation that life is very brief, will make me seize the day and do those things I so want to do like writing in particular, getting healthy, moving to a nicer area and so on. Good to be back on Twitter too but can't quite remember how to do it properly. Will perservere on all fronts. Thanks for comments and support
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
Mum died
My mum died last Thursday 3rd September 2009 at ten to eleven at night. She faced cancer with real dignity and great humour. In a funny sort of way, I feel her death means we have regained her how she was before the ravages of cancer set in. Such a huge character cannot be forgotten and will live on in her children and grandchildren. I love her very much and always will.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)