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Archive for the ‘yummy mummy’ Category

Apologies to all the non-bloggers for this blog talk but  Rock&Roll Mummy awarded me with the Sunshine Award and tagged me with a very personal question: “What’s in your bag?”  Of course I haven’t got a bag, and I wasn’t sure about publicly revealing the content of Mummy’s bag. But when I had a quick look inside it and saw that most of the stuff in it was mine I thought that it might as well be my bag. So here’s what I found:

Two nappies  (I’m glad Mummy isn’t faithful to one brand. To be honest they’re much of a muchness), nappy sucks, a spare bodysuit, a pair of tights (that’s interesting… I haven’t worn a skirt for almost a week, which is when she must have packed them), wet wipes, Panda teether (my faithful travel companion along with Tortle, who got sadly left in the car) and an empty snack box.

So that was all my stuff. Now, let’s have a closer look at Mummy’s stuff:

A wooden bracelet – yes, it’s nice but I just don’t know why she bothers. A bracelet should be worn on one’s wrist. If she wares it on her wrist I want to play with it. So she takes it off and puts in her bag.

Sunglasses and umbrella – that really is a funny combination. Why on earth do you need both at the same time?

“The Idle Parent” by Tom Hodgkinson – good stuff, there’ll be more about it another time.

White Sonny Ericsson mobile – yeah, I know not the latest gadget, but I tell you, I’d give up my Panda and all the other teethers if I could have that in my toy box.

And all the usual stuff, house keys, car key lip balm and a purse.

Here we go, I told you, I might as well be my bag. Anyway, now it’s my turn to award the Sunshine Award and the rules are:

* Put the logo on your sidebar, or within a post
* Pass the award onto 6 bloggers
* Link the nominees within your post
* Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog
* Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award

So the nominees are:

Oomphalos

PurpleRamblings

Big Beluga Baby

Perfectly Happy Mum

A Small Hand in Mine

From Marketing to Milk

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Before I was born and before I was even conceived one Bonfire Night, Mummy had a very romantic image of what it’s like to have a baby. She thought it would be all love and bliss; blueberry muffins and cafe latte. Well, I could guarantee plenty of love and a little bit of bliss. I’m not opposed to the odd sip of muffin- and coffee-flavoured milk either, but I couldn’t guarantee it would be all on her terms. And it didn’t take me long to make that clear.

On our third walk to the park Mummy decided it was about time she did it the way she’d always imagined it – pushing the pram with one hand and holding a cup of soya latte in the other.  And off we went to the nearest café so she could put her plan to work.

But I just wasn’t in the mood – Sod’s law, I had an itch and I wanted to be picked up. I tried my best to get Mummy’s attention in a polite way, but all I got was a smile. “Pick me up! Pick me up!” I thought but all I could utter was a pathetic whimpering sound, which got me another smile and a pat on the tummy.

I waited as long as I could to save her embarrassment but as soon as I felt we were far enough from the café I screamed as loud as I could. And I screamed and screamed and screamed. OK, perhaps I overdid it a bit. But the next thing that happened was Mummy put her paper cup on the pavement and picked me up. She tried several times putting me back in the pram but since it worked so well the first time, I screamed again, and again, and again.

And there we were – Mummy beginning to push the pram with one hand and holding Pumpkin with the other. Not quite the way she’d always imagined it. We stopped. “What do I do with my latte?” she said somewhat perplexed.

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Mummy was proud as a peacock when she first took me out for a drive three weeks after I first made an appearance. Three weeks to the day – my first drive with Mummy. But she wasn’t proud of me, she was proud of herself. When some women still use doughnuts, hoops, soft pillows and other such contraptions to sit on, and hardly dare to take their newborn beyond the garden gate, she took me for a drive. Unscathed by the fuss involved in installing the car seat and its contents in the car or the bulkiness of the travel system, she put on her sunglasses and off we went.  I didn’t mind the trip at all, the rocking of the car was quite pleasant if I’m being honest and I soon nodded off in my brown Maxi Cosy Cabrio Fix. But going back home, well that was something… Our city offers about the worst combination of parking spaces that are (too)vnarrow and drivers that can’t park (except for my mother that is…). So as we got back to the car park we found our Mazda3 wedged between two SUVs taking up the valuable space of our parking bay. Mummy could hardly get into the car herself, squeezing her postnatal body between the vehicles, let alone a car seat. And yes, I really thought that was it. Gee! It scared the p** out of me (literally) when she plonked me on the pavement, got in the car and started the engine. Luckily she stopped when she reversed into the street and was able to open the door wide enough to fit in the car seat.

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