Mum stuff : How to have a newborn baby

NOTE: I first drafted this post way back in January, updated it in February at 40 weeks pregnant- and then faffed some more about actually publishing it. Was it a bit personal? A bit serious? Well, yes, a little bit- for me anyway. And so it languished in the not-very-good/ not-ready-to-publish folder (don't worry, it had plenty of company) until now. 

Now it has a different meaning, because now I'm on the other side, sitting here with a two-week-old baby. 

Things are a little calmer now but the first few days were a bit of a shock. I think we had forgotten what life with a teeny newborn is like: constant feeding (I've never been so keen to get off the sofa) and very little sleep. We may possibly have (unfairly) expected baby H to slip comfortably into our routine, and for breastfeeding to come naturally and easily, it being the second time round (aha! But it is only baby H's first time, as Husband reminds me).

So I read the post below back now and it's as though a different person wrote it. Some of it makes me smile, some of it I am trying hard to remember. A few things seems less relevant second time round; people don't tend to give second time mums much advice (because we know it all, right?) and with labour being much more straightforward this time the physical recovery was much quicker. But M&S mini flapjacks have been just as essential.

At 40 weeks pregnant- oh yes, this could happen at any time- and the size of a small house, you might predict that I am a raging hormonal torrent of emotions at the moment.

These go from excitement (we're having a baby!) via nervous anticipation (we're having a BABY?!) to sheer terror (but... wait... I have to get that baby OUT!!). Thoughts range from practical preparation (working out where the baby's going to sleep, washing clothes, buying nappies- all done, I might add) to fairly illogical preparation, which is why I spent half of today making a hot air balloon hanging mobile for the baby's room- in which she/he won't sleep for another 4-6 months- instead of having a desperately-needed nap. 

And whilst I still can't quite get my head around the fact that this giganormous bump is actually going to become a baby at some point very, very (please) soon, I am desperately trying to cast my mind back to what it's like to have a newborn. 

As I struggle with a very independent, slightly tempestuous toddler, I remember a giggly, easy-to-please, relatively undemanding delicate little bundle who spent a lot of time asleep and the rest of it gazing adoringly at me. 

But I'm pretty sure it either wasn't like that- or didn't feel like that- at the time. There was reflux, projectile poo, plenty of tears (real tears, which is apparently quite unusual for a newborn- I vaguely remember even our lovely midwife using the words 'drama queen' at about 5 days in), and lots and lots and LOTS of feeding, for hours at a time, day and night. That oats are good for milk production is the best excuse I've ever had for singlehandedly emptying whole tubs of M&S mini flapjacks in one afternoon.

It also makes me think of all the advice I was given back then, and what advice I would give to someone now. Actually I'd like to think I wouldn't try and give any- especially if it wasn't asked for- but it's so hard not to want to say, at the very least, it's okay. It will be okay. It's hard, it's exhausting, it's amazing. You'll manage, some days better than others. 

Would I have found that helpful? Probably not.

So here are five things people did say to me, some not very helpful but well-intentioned (and quite possibly true) and some which I will try desperately to remember this time around.

1 : Enjoy it! They're only little once!

Oh god. Enjoy it. Yeah. Sure.

When I've stopped worrying myself sick that I'm slowly destroying this tiny little being- that I have surely mistakenly been put in charge of- with my blistering incompetence, I'll sit down with my cuppa and do that. What fun!

I wanted to enjoy it, I did- I knew she wouldn't stay small for long- but it was also (in my experience) virtually impossible to achieve, what with the lack of sleep, the shock of labour, the physical recovery, the sudden realisation that yes, after nine months of mentally preparing, I actually have a real, proper, baby.

This time round I'm going to try very hard to enjoy my newest little person- who knows if there'll be another? I may not have as much time to enjoy them as I did with my firstborn, but maybe I'll have a greater mental capacity.

2 : It's a phase. It'll pass.

Those are truly magic words, and I still live by them. Even when I don't believe them. Even when the current 'phase', whatever it is, is so mindbendingly awful (it's not really, but let's face it, sometimes it feels that way) that it already feels like it's gone on for half a decade. The not sleeping, the reflux, the teething, the food strikes, the bath strikes (I have often wondered if instead of offering a playful splashabout with a squeaky octopus I might accidentally have threatened to pull Cub's arms out of her sockets, such was the screaming), and my current favourite, the tantrums triggered by putting milk in her cereal/ suggesting she wear a coat outside when it's 2 degrees/ offering to change a pooey nappy/ standing too close to her/ daring to speak.

But they are phases, and they pass. Eventually. Hopefully. Don't they?

3 : Get out every day.

There are things I didn't need telling:

- 'Forget about the housework!' 

No problemo. Not sure I ever really remembered it, TBH.

- 'The ironing can wait!' 

Well yes, it's waited about 6 years so can probably manage a little longer.

- 'Sleep when the baby sleeps!' 

Ah HA HA HA HA. Surely you mean IF the baby sleeps? And that's if you can persuade the baby to sleep anywhere but on you...

Two things that did make an endless-seeming day easier to manage: forcing myself into the shower before Husband went to work, and trying to leave the house every day, even just for a 10 minute walk, even if it involved nearly having a breakdown in the local chemist (damn it, why are people nice to you when they can quite clearly see you are on the edge? No, please don't hold the door open for me! And for the love of God, don't ask me if I'm okay). But I always felt better, less isolated and more connected to the world. Having a baby is wonderful in so many ways, and you are never alone; and yet somehow, sometimes, it can feel incredibly lonely.

4 : Be gentle with yourself.

All right. I get a bit honest and open here, but should anyone ever read this and actually expect to read something helpful instead of flippant/sarcastic comments, this bit is important (in my opinion).

Every woman's experience of birth is different. Instead of feeling a great big rush of love for Cub when she finally arrived, I mostly felt relief. I'm not sure I didn't regard her more with extreme awe than love, and I felt guilty about that. I spent the next few weeks in a haze- exhaustion, joy, shock, worry, discomfort (no need for details here but let's just say prune juice was a saviour).  

It took time to recover, and the only way I managed was by accepting that it would take time, that it was okay to feel how I was feeling, and that we were doing fine. I had fantastic support from Husband and my family and friends, and without it things might have been very different- and I realise it's not that way for everyone (which is why postnatal support is so important, and often seems to go by the wayside). It got easier, I physically recovered, the overwhelming-love-for-Cub thing happened, I still have a few marbles left 23 months later and OH GOOD GRIEF. I'm doing it all over again. Whose idea was this anyway?

5 : Advice is just that. Take it or leave it.

If you like the sound of it, take it. If you'd rather boil your own head than follow it, leave it. Most people give advice because they want to help; because they've been where you are and want to offer a solution that worked for them. It might not work for you but hey, you never know and if you're desperate enough you'll try anything. And they mean well. Mostly*.


*Apart from the smug, know-it-all types who miraculously sailed through all of this without a single problem. Console yourself with the fact that they're probably pretending. Or they've forgotten. Or they're just lying. And move on. 

And advice for those with toddlers? Someone shared this blog post with me a few weeks back, and it couldn't have been better timed. It's all going to be fine.

Other stuff : New Year's Revolutions

Ah, New Year's Resolutions. Or revolutions, as I prefer to call them. Every year I mentally and half-heartedly make a list then promptly ignore it. This year, I'm going to make it easier on myself, and aim a little lower. No getting fit (I'm about to have a baby), no detoxing (I'm having a baby) and no get-out-there-and-get-myself-a-super-duper-job (I thought I might just have a baby instead).

1 : Lose weight. 

I really will. Somewhere around February 10th, and I won't even have to give up chocolate. Yippee! Sadly around the same time I will also lose the sanity that comes with a more-or-less full night's sleep.

2 : Open BOTH the curtains in our bedroom at least twice a week. 

I don't fail to do this out of laziness, more because I am desperate to keep in some semblance of warmth from our heat-leaky house. But it's so nice when I can actually see the bedroom in real, proper, daylight, now that I'm beginning to remember what daylight is (jog on, winter).

See what I mean by aiming low?

3 :  Drink a pint of beer. Preferably in a pub. Preferably in peace and quiet.

I might actually struggle with this one. I remember being overjoyed at the idea of a pint of bitter after I had Cub, and then found that consuming that amount of liquid (nothing to do with the alcohol content) was quite a challenge. Never mind. I'm sure I'll rise to it. Practice makes perfect, eh?

4 : Watch Breaking Bad.

Had the DVDs for a couple of years. Have countless friends tell me how utterly amazing it is and how traumatised they were when it finished. Have a Netflix subscription I barely use to cover the series I don't have on DVD. Just. Need. To. WATCH IT.

5 : Get my boobs out in public. Again.

I plan to do this in a particularly ostentatious manner because frankly I can't think of anything more fun than flaunting myself in public and offending the sensibilities of those of a delicate disposition whilst trying to keep Baby Monkey alive (ie. by providing food). It's unlikely I'll make it to Claridges (though I might make a special effort) but, restaurants, cafes and park benches of North West London, get ready: they're coming back. I might peruse the first few pages of The Sun at the same time and then take a straw poll of which boobs people find more offensive.

Some more serious ones? Oh, okay then.

1 : Draw more.

I used to love drawing, but it's something I rarely do now. I read this article recently and it's made me think, again, that it's something really worth making some time for. 

2 : Remind myself of the little things that make me happy. 

The pregnancy hormones this time round have definitely been harder to handle- there have been, without going into detail, some looooooow days. I'm hoping those days will bog off once Baby Monkey arrives but equally I'm not daft enough to think life will be nice and easy straight away with two wee'uns. Sometimes I just need to remind myself of the things, large or small, that make me happy. And then make them happen. 

3 : Talk more. 

Being better at keeping touch with friends and family near and far is a perennial NY resolution, but the loneliness I sometimes feel as a stay at home mum (despite Cub providing increasingly entertaining conversation) makes this one more important than ever. Tempted though I am to retreat from the world when I'm feeling blue, I know that talking to people is the best medicine and reminds me to see the woods instead of just the trees. 

4 : Drink more water. 

So simple yet something I constantly forget to do. I end up making up for it in the two hours before bed which just results in getting up a few more times a night (and I don't need more reasons to do that) and a fuzzy head in the morning that's got nothing to do (sadly) with booze. 

5 : Be nicer to my husband.

He told me to write that, and since I can't think of a fifth, I'll let him have it (I have just made him a roasted veg lasagne, so don't think he's too hard done by).

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Other stuff : The highs and lows of Christmas

So it's 9.30pm on New Year's Eve 2014. There are plenty of things I should be doing rather than writing this- sipping champagne; eating a many-course posh dinner in a lovely restaurant; sitting in a crowded pub with friends; playing daft board games in a cosy cottage somewhere up north. But no. This year we're at home, I have already had my one and only glass of the sparkly stuff (and bloody lovely it was too), we've eaten our pizza, and we've had a little reminisce of the year with photos on Apple TV.

It must be bedtime, right?

Wrong. Instead, I am determined to get one more post in this year. December has not been my, ahem, most prolific blogging month, and without boring the pants off you it's largely been down to illness. But I can't write about Christmas once that clock's ticked on past midnight, so without further ado (and apologies if it sounds a bit off-the-cuff: it is)...

Five Rubbish Things About This Christmas
(bear with me, we'll finish with the good bits. I'm a glass half-full kind of gal. Mostly.)

1 : Cub deciding to wake up between 4.50 and 5.30am EVERY DAY of the holiday. Yep, her spidey-sense started tingling the moment daddy's term finished, and now apparently there are not enough hours in a (normal person's) day to play with him. So it's very disappointing when it's mummy's turn to get up. Cue tantrum. Yawn.

2 : The Snowman. Don't get me wrong; I love The Snowman. It makes me very nostalgic. But we introduced Cub to it a few weeks ago, and that was our biggest mistake. Though I love it for keeping madam's attention for more than a Peppa Pig (the name I have given for the unit of time formerly known as Five Minutes), watching it 20+ times in the last 2 weeks has made me love it just a little bit less.

3 : Conjunctivitis. And the Return of the Cough. A couple of lovely little extra gifts to Cub. Does Father Christmas accept returns?

4 : No alcohol. Well, okay, I may have allowed myself a cheeky glass or two here or there, but there have frankly been moments where I'd have been glad of a good few extra-strength margaritas. In retrospect ordering a mini-cask of real ale for the festive period for our visitors to demolish may have been bordering on self-torture.

5 : The bit where Christmas finished and everyone went home. And instead of going to a wedding up north of good friends we see very rarely- and on to Scotland for some more family time- we stayed at home with the aforementioned gunky eyes, hacking cough, and, just to add insult to injury, a couple of emerging pesky molars.

And Five Great Things About This Christmas...

1 : Friends and family. It's been a tough few weeks with all the lurgies, pregnancy exhaustion, toddler tantrums and early mornings, but it's all made better by our fabulous families and friends. You know it's going to be okay when Granddad gets up at 6am to keep you company with the far-too-wide-awake toddler- and makes you a cup of tea to boot. Frankly this list could stop right here and I'd be content.

2 : Presents. I know I'm not meant to say that, but giving things that draw a smile, and receiving things that I might enjoy in those precious few moments I have to myself was fun. Amongst other things I got a few CDs (oh yes, 2014, I am catching up- albeit just as you're leaving the building), some books I've wanted for ages, a cosy dressing gown and slippers, lots of nibbly things, and some lovely luxurious beauty bits and pieces that might help me feel less like an oversized tiger-striped bouncy ball on legs. And yes, I did get the box of Guylian chocolate seashells, and yes, I did polish them off within a couple of days.

3 : Doctor Who. I've always had a soft spot for Doctor Who- call it childhood nostalgia- but I've found it much less engaging in the last year or so. Probably says more about me and my ability to engage properly with a TV programme (never mind a film) than the writing/ actors. But the Christmas episodes are invariably a bit rubbish, what with trying a bit too hard to be cuddly and heartwarming; kind of like an anti-Eastenders. But this year's had a decent plot, a bit of tension, and was actually quite scary. Good Christmas-Day-Eve entertainment that took me right up to my extravagant 9.30 bedtime (we were watching it on catch-up).

4 : Ikea. Thanks for the toy kitchen (especially with a sale price). And the easel. Toy kitchen + easel = Happy Cub (and that is not an achievement to be sneezed at at the moment).

5 : Marks and Spencer's Bonfire Toffee Apple Parkin. I may have mentioned how unfestive I am when it comes to Christmassy desserts, and so, what with hosting Christmas lunch this year, I took charge of the dessert decision and decided not to exclude myself. And this is what we had. Mmm. Mmmmmmmm. Parkin. Toffee sauce. Apples for the vitamins. A drizzle of cream. Gorgeous, and somehow festive. (Oh, and since I've mentioned Christmas food- brussels sprouts chopped up and sautéed with bacon are much, much yummier than the old standard.)

So that's me for 2014. I'll try and be better- or at least, more frequent- with posts next year but that could hit a small hiccup come February 10th. For now, I am going to admit defeat and, at 10.30pm, head to bed (Husband has already given in) which will make this the first New Year I have not actually seen in. Ah well. There's been plenty of great ones and there'll be plenty more to come.

Happy New Year!

Music stuff : Favourite albums (an abridged list)

I don't know if I mentioned it, but I haven't been feeling very well recently.

I did? Oh.

To be fair we are, as a family of three, now on our fifth course of antibiotics in the space of three weeks, but we are now on the mend*. And as I discovered today that the Malteser Malteaster bunny has been reborn as the Merryteaser reindeer, I think I may just pull through. I know you'll be relieved.
*hopefully. And when I say hopefully, I mean we'd bloody well better be.

So the last few weeks has really just been about keeping our heads above water than actually achieving very much. You know, getting the important things done, like having a shower. Taking the bins out. Doing an occasional load of laundry. Eating. Feeding Cub (not that she's that bothered right now). Any lucid, vaguely energetic moments I've had have been swallowed up by design work (A Good Thing) and Christmas present buying (An Even Better Thing) but not much of anything else- not even listening to music (aside from the obligatory Christmas tunes whilst putting the tree up on Sunday, obviously).

Pre-Cub I would spend ages trawling the internet for new music- mostly via Hype Machine, but also This Is My Jam, BBC Music, Metacritic and sometimes iTunes and Amazon. Now I manage that about once a month, at best. I feel like I've lost my mojo for getting excited over something new I hear; or maybe I just don't have the time or energy to search properly, listen, appreciate, and listen again. I do miss that feeling of stumbling upon a great song by a previously unheard-of band, then realising that their other stuff is pretty good too, and then listening to them obsessively over and over, then irritating everyone I know by constantly telling them how great the band is. It's possible my nearest and dearest are not missing this as much as me.

Instead of new tunes, then, I'm going with golden oldies. Albums that I love and go back to again and again. Now this is a real challenge with a list of only five, so I'll just pick the ones that spring to mind right now, which- let's face it- are likely to be the ones that make me feel better when I'm feeling really pants.

1 : The National - Boxer

Possibly my favourite band in the world. I think I first heard Fake Empire on a free CD from Q Magazine in 2007; then in my annual end-of-year trawl of the albums everyone else had already realised were good, Boxer popped up time and time again. Low-key and lovely, don't get the wrong impression if I tell you it used to help me sleep on long flights. I'm not sure that really does it justice.
Favourite song: Fake Empire. Oh, the piano intro.

2 : Paul Simon - Graceland

Other than remembering the video for You Can Call Me Al (aged 10), I remained completely unaware of the rest of this album for a shamefully long time. Not till 1999, in fact, whilst on a road trip with friends through western US, when it formed the major part of our soundtrack. It was on that trip that I first met my husband, so it won't take a genius to work out why- other than it's a great album- I'm so fond of it. Even though I'm still a little bit disappointed that Chevy Chase is not, in fact, Paul Simon.
Favourite song: Hmmm. Perhaps Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

3 : Crowded House - Together Alone

I don't care if everyone thinks they're MOR. I like them. I've liked them since first hearing Woodface (you know, the one with Weather With You on it) on the school drama trip to Greece in 1992. But Together Alone is my favourite, probably because I am a little bit in love with New Zealand. It made me imagine New Zealand before I'd even been there, and now I've been there it just reminds me of it. I may also be one of the few people to have made an extra effort to visit the Crowded House museum (aka a room in the local library) in the Finn brothers' home town of Te Awamutu. Husband was not over the moon about that detour, but then he's never forgiven me for insisting on visiting the Cumberland Pencil Museum, either.
Favourite song: Catherine Wheels. Or In My Command. Or Kare Kare, because it makes me think of NZ beaches. Oh, I don't know.

4 : Bluetones - Expecting To Fly

I was in a pub over the weekend and noticed during one of my frequent trips to the loo (did I also forget to mention I'm pregnant?) a poster advertising their New Year's Eve party, at which Mark Morriss was appearing. Once I remembered that Mark Morriss was he of Bluetones fame and not Mark 'Return of the Mack' Morrisson, I got, in quick succession, quite excited (Mark Morriss! The Bluetones!), then very disappointed (I don't live near here anymore! I have a child! I NEVER GO OUT ANYMORE!). This album was a bit of a first-year-of-university soundtrack, so my nostalgic memories of it are possibly just a little alcohol-tinged...
Favourite song: Putting Out Fires. It's a bit epic. And good to sing loudly whilst drunk. I think. I don't really remember.

5 : Frightened Rabbit - The Midnight Organ Fight

I think I first heard The Twist on the soundtrack of the US series Chuck, and very quickly became obsessed. This was whilst we were living in Beijing, so most of my memories of discovering how fantastic it is are from perilous journeys in taxis (which had three stages: one: initial conversation in broken Chinese resulting in tentative agreement of destination. Two: the journey, during which I'd smugly sit back and relax with my headphones on, taking in Beijing scenery, proud of my ability to successfully communicate said destination. Three: the alarming moment of realisation that we were nowhere near said destination. At all. Cue ripping headphones off and trying to explain destination again to increasingly grumpy driver before giving up and just getting out in the middle of who-knew-where).
Favourite song: I Feel Better

I realise I've told you nothing useful about the albums themselves, but you'll just have to go and listen, if you don't already know them. I hope you enjoy them.

And yes, I know I've missed out a billion classics, and yes, I know I'll want to go back and change this post about twenty times in the next few hours. A Merryteaser or two should distract me...

Other stuff : When I've got a cold

Slippers: check. Telly: check. Silly Christmas loungewear:
check. Tassled blanket for extra self-pity: check.

Bah humbug.

Obviously having got all overly-enthusiastic about Christmas I now have to write about one of the utterly rubbish things about this time of year: colds.

The common (and by common I mean the not-unusual-but-nonetheless-exquisitely-miserable) cold.

Littlest and Biggest are on the mend from their lurgies, thanks to large doses of antibiotics, which is excellent. The Middle-size one (that's me, although I may upgrade myself to House-size over the coming weeks), however, now has a stinking cold. I HATE having a cold. On the plus side, it's about the illest I ever really get; on the minus side, it's pants. Mornings, evenings and nights are so full of gunk and throbbing sinuses that there are only a few hours in the middle of the day to get anything done.

What I have realised is that every single time I get a bad cold, I say/moan about exactly the same things, which must be delightful for those around me. So I'm putting them in a list, and then maybe this time next year (because mid-late November appears to be the moment our entire household plunges head-first into germs) I'll just refer back to this post and won't need to say any of it.

1 : "If we could only work out how to harness the power of snot, we'd have no energy worries ever again. I alone could power a small country."
I'm pretty sure this is my standard Facebook status update when I'm ill and it's the only Twitter update I've bothered with this week. I know it's a ridiculous, but- what if it worked, hey? What if it could actually work?!

2 : "If we can <insert latest scientific/technological breakthrough here>, why can't we cure the COMMON COLD?"*
Current example: "If we can land a probe on a comet 510 million kilometres from earth which is moving at speeds of 135,000 kmph, why can't we cure the COMMON COLD?".
*This in any case is a moot point because inevitably a cure for the common cold, had it been discovered, wouldn't be deemed safe for pregnant women to take anyway. Much like every other cold remedy. I say it again: Bah humbug.

3 : "I will never take my nose for granted again."
Noses. Wow. They are AMAZING. The ability to suck great loads of air through those nostrils- whilst similtaneously filtering out all the nasties you don't want in your body (aside from cold germs, clearly)- is just fantastic. You're probably reading this bit thinking, 'my nose? Yeah, whatever, it's just there doing what it's doing. Move on,' but trust me, when your nose is unable to do what it does- not just that brilliant breathing thing but the glorious sense of smell it also provides- you will appreciate it a whole lot more. So just take a brief moment, right now, to love your nose. Go on.
Of course, as soon as it's all working again I will just carry on disliking it's general size and shape and totally take it for granted.

4 : "I will never take my sense of taste for granted again."
This is one of the few, utterly depressing occasions where even comfort eating isn't going to help because YOU CAN'T TASTE ANYTHING. Including chocolate.
Bring it on Armageddon; I'm done for.
In theory this should mean that I can sit down with a giant plate of healthy steamed veg or a salad or a food that has enormous nutritional value but zero flavour and not mind, but of course I don't. I live in hope of something breaking through the taste barrier, and so far have only succeeded with jalapeno peppers (thus: pizza) and a really hot curry. Good pregnancy diet.

5 : "You have no idea how bad I'm feeling because you're not PREGNANT!"
Obviously having just been quite ill Husband is trying to be sympathetic and supportive by saying "I know how you feel", but no. No, you don't. Aside from the fact that my cold is clearly worse than yours (don't argue- I'm pregnant) I am also- did I forget to mention it?- pregnant and therefore most of the remedies that make a cold just about bearable are not available to me. I have paracetamol, and hot water with honey and lemon. Woo flipping hoo.
(Clearly this one is only applicable during certain times of my life and probably- nervous laugh- won't be usable this time next year. But it's worth mentioning if only so you feel some sympathy for my poor long-suffering husband.)

An utterly pointless list. Anyone got a nice little list of top natural remedies for easing a cold suitable for pregnant women? Anyone? Anyone?!

Other stuff : Christmas (and an apology)

Firstly: sorry.

This was not intended to be a post about Christmas. I know how upset people get when you start talking about it six weeks (only six weeks!!!) before the event. I was going to write a bit about my week and how I have struggled for inspiration to write a post (again); I was going to write about bursting into tears because Husband brought me tea in bed in the wrong mug; I was going to write about the lurgy that has been plaguing our house for ALL OF LIVING MEMORY (about three weeks).

On second thoughts, I think I might be doing us all a favour by writing about Christmas.

I am more excited about Christmas this year than usual, and I'm usually quite excited. It's got something to do with celebrating it in a lovely new house which already has something quite Christmassy about it (it's old), and to living in a village (well, alright, it's part of Londonish, but you know, it likes to think of itself as a village, as does every other slightly gentrified part of London) that would look really pretty under a blanket of snow (because that happens around every December 25th, right? And when it does, I don't ever complain about how hard it is to get around. Oh no.)

But it'll also be Cub's second Christmas, and the first where I think she'll actually understand enough to get swept up in the excitement and the decorations and the music- oh, the Christmas music- and yes, okay, the presents. I am also predicting that it'll be the one day of the year when she has a lie-in but I'll be awake and up by 6; that she'll manage to pull half the decorations off the tree and attempt to eat them; that she'll open at least one present that isn't hers and snaffle a few grown-up chocolates without anyone noticing. I just hope the tree manages to stay standing and that she stays off the mulled wine. And that she only steals a few chocolates. Without vomiting.

So here are some- perhaps slightly alternative- things I am excited about this Christmas...

1 : A Christmas Gift For You from Phil Spector
Yes, I admit it, I love Christmas music. Keep your John Lewis ads, the tunes are where I'm at. I love Last Christmas and Do They Know It's Christmas. I am a sucker for proper Christmas carols. But this album is my Christmas earworm of choice. I like to think it's cool because it's Motown but actually I know that anything I think is cool becomes, by definition, not cool at all. (As a bonus extra, may I also recommend Sufjan Stevens's Christmas In The Room as a particularly lovely Christmas tune.)

2 : The Box of Delights
Husband thinks this is part hilarious and part awful- look, it was made in about 1984 so yes, the 'special effects' are, erm, special. But I remember watching this when I was seven and it still makes me all excited about Christmas. Just the theme tune is enough to send a shiver of anticipation down my spine. Two years ago I wrapped all my Christmas presents whilst watching this on repeat. And then I discovered from Twitter that Simon Pegg did the SAME THING. So it's cool. Okay?

3 : Bunting (and garlands and lights)
I seem to have concluded that our lovely house- with a wooden-floored hallway and proper staircase and wooden beams and all- calls for an overhaul of our years-old Christmas decorations from Ikea and Woolies. This is obviously just an excuse for some retail therapy, but I'm going with it.

So this year the Christmas tree will be colour-coordinated (get me) in silver and blue and bronze, and we're even going to have stockings on the fireplace, and bunting. Yes, bunting. I've never even thought of bunting before, never mind actually had any. And garlands. With little twinkly lights. And a wreath for the front door. If I could get away with putting them all up right now, I would. (The bunting in the picture is by Ginger Ray, who sell lots of lovely vintage-style Christmas and party decorations).

4 : Guylian Chocolate Seashells
Most people's Christmas sweet treat of choice might be a moist fruity marzipan-and-icing laden Christmas cake; or a boozy Christmas pudding; or perhaps just some buttery, flaky mince pies. Yuck. I hate dried fruit, particularly raisins, but I reserve most of my ire for fruit peel. So I'm not very festive when it comes to Christmas desserts.

In previous years we might make my mum's chocolate mousse (and as it turns out, also Delia's- recipe here), but what has ended up an unintentional tradition is my box of Guylian chocolate seashells. I don't eat them at any other time of year- and that's probably because at Christmas I tend to polish off a box in a day, maybe two, and then never want to see them again. Even now- early November- I'm not sure I can stomach the idea of them, but give me a month and I'm sure I'll be ready for the challenge.

5 : Advent Calendars
The thing is- and brace yourself for this- it's not the chocolate ones I love. When I was little I had one which had little plastic charms in it- they were probably terrible quality and I've no idea what you were supposed to do with them- but I loved it. And similarly I love advent calendars that- horror!- just have pictures. So this year Cub has an Oxfam pop-up picture advent calendar (which I can't find to link to online) and I am really looking forward to opening the windows with her each day. This is of course on the assumption that she won't insist on open all twenty-five on December 1st. Which she probably will. Loudly.

And for us? Well. I am wavering. Probably we won't have one- or maybe we'll have an advent candle, which Husband quite likes- but I have ummed and ahhed over the exquisite-looking Hotel Chocolat Advent Calendar for Two here. But you don't like chocolate advent calendars! I hear you say.

Oh, be quiet.

Mum stuff : Advice for a daughter

by Star Athena on Flickr

A lot of lateness this week. I'm late with my post (just a day or two- I blame half term) and I'm even later catching on to this article by Caitlin Moran (by a whole year. What? I've been, erm, busy). On top of that I have not exactly been overwhelmed with exhilarating ideas for posts (you will be getting Five Favourite Pasta Dishes, Five Slow-Cooked Wonders, and Five Journeys I Once Did But Can't Remember Much About Other Than The Photos soon, though, don't worry), and the words are not flowing easily.

So anyway, I thought that copying this lovely letter- written in 2013 by Caitlin Moran to her daughter- might be an easy solution to my lack of inspiration, but I may change my mind on that in a moment when I realise that adding my own five pieces of advice I would similarly give to my daughter might, just might, turn out to be a little bit harder than I thought...

My daughter is about to turn 13 and I’ve been smoking a lot recently, and so – in the wee small hours, when my lungs feel like there’s a small mouse inside them, scratching to get out – I’ve thought about writing her one of those “Now I’m Dead, Here’s My Letter Of Advice For You To Consult As You Continue Your Now Motherless Life” letters. Here’s the first draft. Might tweak it a bit later. When I’ve had another fag.

“Dear Lizzie. Hello, it’s Mummy. I’m dead. Sorry about that. I hope the funeral was good – did Daddy play Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen when my coffin went into the cremator? I hope everyone sang along and did air guitar, as I stipulated. And wore the stick-on Freddie Mercury moustaches, as I ordered in the ‘My Funeral Plan’ document that’s been pinned on the fridge since 2008, when I had that extremely self-pitying cold.

Look – here are a couple of things I’ve learnt on the way that you might find useful in the coming years. It’s not an exhaustive list, but it’s a good start… The main thing is just to try to be nice … Just resolve to shine, constantly and steadily, like a warm lamp in the corner, and people will want to move towards you in order to feel happy, and to read things more clearly. You will be bright and constant in a world of dark and flux, and this will save you the anxiety of other, ultimately less satisfying things like ‘being cool’, ‘being more successful than everyone else’ and ‘being very thin’.

Second, always remember that, nine times out of ten, you probably aren’t having a full-on nervous breakdown – you just need a cup of tea and a biscuit. You’d be amazed how easily and repeatedly you can confuse the two. Get a big biscuit tin.

Three – always pick up worms off the pavement and put them on the grass. They’re having a bad day, and they’re good for… the earth or something (ask Daddy more about this; am a bit sketchy).

Four: choose your friends because you feel most like yourself around them, because the jokes are easy and you feel like you’re in your best outfit when you’re with them, even though you’re just in a T-shirt. Never love someone whom you think you need to mend – or who makes you feel like you should be mended. There are boys out there who look for shining girls; they will stand next to you and say quiet things in your ear that only you can hear and that will slowly drain the joy out of your heart. The books about vampires are true, baby. Drive a stake through their hearts and run away.

This segues into the next tip: life divides into AMAZING ENJOYABLE TIMES and APPALLING EXPERIENCES THAT WILL MAKE FUTURE AMAZING ANECDOTES. However awful, you can get through any experience if you imagine yourself, in the future, telling your friends about it as they scream, with increasing disbelief, ‘NO! NO!’ Even when Jesus was on the cross, I bet He was thinking, ‘When I rise in three days, the disciples aren’t going to believe this when I tell them about it.’

Babyiest, see as many sunrises and sunsets as you can. Run across roads to smell fat roses. Always believe you can change the world– even if it’s only a tiny bit, because every tiny bit needed someone who changed it. Think of yourself as a silver rocket – use loud music as your fuel; books like maps and co-ordinates for how to get there. Host extravagantly, love constantly, dance in comfortable shoes, talk to Daddy and Nancy about me every day and never, ever start smoking. It’s like buying a fun baby dragon that will grow and eventually burn down your f***ing house. 

Love, Mummy.”

And my five:

1 : Don't eat chocolate. Okay, it's better than smoking, but don't even start on that slippery slope, if you're anything like me, and you probably are. Chocolate is brilliant and wonderful and would solve all the world's ills if only it had the chance, but it also- after the initial lovely, silky, comforting hug- will ultimately lead to your downfall. If you are able to enjoy it in sensible small doses, then go ahead. If not, avoid it. Having said all this, if your voyage of rebellious discovery is- because this is a realistic scenario- between chocolate and say, crack, please, please, please take the chocolate. All of it. Here, have it now. That's how much I love you.

2 : I can't help but echo Caitlin's first point. Be nice. Be happy. Be yourself. Treat others like you would want to be treated, stay away from anyone who doesn't treat you well and spend lots of time with those who do. I've no idea what you're going to be like when you're older but if how you are now is any indication, you'll be fairly clever and you'll enjoy laughing and dancing and hugs and you'll have a very cheeky smile. Just don't change, not too much. (Except for blowing raspberries whilst eating yoghurt. Please stop doing that. Please.)

3 : You're a girl. I'm not sure you've entirely sussed that there's a difference between girls and boys yet (though I am nervous when I ask what you've done at nursery and you reply, "boys"), or why it's important, and actually, really, it's not. There's nothing you can't do. You don't have to play with dolls and diaries and make up and dress up as a fairy or a nurse and love pink, BUT equally you can do all those things if you want to. Make up your own mind- and that's easier said than done. Just don't listen to anyone who tells you what you can and can't be. (I reserve the right to retract this last statement in certain circumstances. Drastic ones, and none I'm going to specify here. There you go, some good old parental hypocrisy, but let's save that for an argument when you're 15.)

4 : Spiders are your friends! Really! They're lovely, cute, entirely inoffensive little balls of fluff with funny spindly (*shudder*) legs that scamper about like little... oh, forget it. I'm scared of them. For no good reason, other than I just don't like the way they look. I hope you won't be. (But if you're not- well done!- please don't ever think it would be funny to pick one up and dangle it in front of mummy's face. This goes back to that whole 'be nice' thing. Okay?)

5 : Take opportunities. Have adventures. Even if it seems frightening, and even when your little scared inner voice tells you you can't, or you shouldn't: be brave. Be confident. Be sensible*, but be brave. Even if it's a disaster, you'll get something from it, and- in another appropriation of Caitlin's tips- it'll one day make a very funny story, probably. 

* But really, be sensible. Drinking some unidentifiable South American 70% alcohol to excess then going for a walk alone along a narrow promontory at high tide out to a small rock in the North Sea is not brave or adventurous, it's just plain stupid. And if you do do that, I can only hope you too have a good friend who follows you and makes sure you're all right.

Caitlin's article was first published in The Times, here (£).