Ex Pat Mamma

Facebook

2008-07-02T11:22:00.003Z

has taken over my life. I hardly ever think to blog, let alone find the time or something to say. But if you haven't got facebook, take a look at this: pretty much describes it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EM2CORdyv8k

The boys are both doing brilliantly; er pupo varies from "love you, mamma" to "Nei! Ekki mamma! Mamma go away! Mamma to BED! Mamma GO SLEEP!" I'm assuming it's a normal reaction to his dethronement. Not that he is any less imperatorial for having been dethroned.

Lo is sleeping outside now; I invested in a baby monitor, because we are 2 flights up and it isn't always the weather for sitting on the balcony to keep an ear out for him. It gives me time at home to do exciting things like hoover. Tell me, what did I do before becoming a mother? In my other "spare time" (ha ha ha) I continue to try to hammer out an article on state responsibility and when lo was not even 2 weeks old, I got a call asking me to give a paper - which for some stupid reason I agreed to, so I presented some thoughts on women and tax law, all hammered out in powerpoint slides in approximately half an hour. I think it took me longer to deliver it than it did to prepare...

Er pupo will be 5 on Saturday and in his honour I have learned to bake cakes! Do not underestimate what a big deal that is for me. With Delia's help, however, I am now proudly competent to make a basic sponge. I'm planning one with a Thomas the Tank face and one with Happy Birthday written on; as well as some chocolate crispie cakes, ginger snaps and banana bread cakes. That's my Friday taken care of! At some point, Lo will get to eat.

Find me and our photos on facebook.

I should have said...

2008-05-11T19:24:00.002Z

Lorenzo Kiljan is here!!!! He arrived on 1st May, a good child of socialism. Here's the story...

I'd had contractions in the morning, which died down again, but had a show about 3pm and could feel the baby engaged. We were sitting discussing whether to splash out on an indian takeaway or save our pennies at 1645 when my waters went. We phoned the hospital, who asked us to come and be checked (because I wasn't 100% about the engagement, as it hadn't been at the midwife app. on Wednesday morning). We waited for our babysitter to come take Kieran (her grandchild the same age was visiting, so I think they partied all night.) Anyway, wegot to hospital, I was telling mw that "they weren't very regular" or "very sore." Hmmm... as soon as I got strapped in to the monitoring belt, stuck on a chair in a most uncomfortable position (about 1715) they started coming and by 1730 I knew this was "it." Waters were a little green, but mw wasn't concerned. At 1800 I measured 4.5 and was starting to hurt; but a woman had just given birth and I had to wait for the room to be cleaned. (I later discovered the father of that baby was one of my students.) I realised there was no way DH was going to get home for 7 to put er pupo to bed so he phoned the babysitter. We finally got the room (ok, it was probably only 10 or 15 minutes later but it felt like a lot), I got in the bath, got out the bath, puffed on the gas and air and bounced on the ball; I passed out, got hoisted onto the bed, had no sooner whispered the word "epidural" when Lorenzo let it be known he had other ideas and I discovered what it meant to NEED to push! This was about 7pm; I already measured 10cm by this time. So no epidural! Started pushing at 1915, screaming and begging for the mw just to TAKE IT OUT and praying for every push to be the last one. Lorenzo popped out at 1932, 4145g, 53cm long, with a 37cm head. That's 9 lbs and 2.2 oz according to my trusty internet convertor.

Lorenzo is drinking well and I feel great. I had one stitch (grudgingly accepted!) and was hardly sore afterwards. The worst thing was the afterpains, which were so bad the following morning that I threw up after breastfeeding. I've had more pain relief for them than I had for the labour! I'd planned to come the Friday morning, but after throwing up, was persuaded to stay in a few more hours, so we got home at 2pm, in time to get settled before er pupo came in from school. He has been great, though probably more excited about the stroller that "Lorenzo gave him" than Lorenzo! He's asking for extra cuddles, of course, but doesn't bat an eyelid when I feed Lorenzo. This week, I've been able to make sure Lorenzo is fed and settled before er pupo comes in from school so that he can have some playtime with mamma.

Having had a great labour with er pupo (including epidural), I would say this time it was actually easier WITHOUT the epidural, because I could feel what to do. Although I felt er pupo start to make his descent when he was born, I had no good sense of pushing and just did what I was told. This time, I just did it; I had so much more control. I also think not having the epidural made my recovery much easier. I don't regret at all having had it with er pupo because it was a longer labour (but still only about 6 hours of established labour) and I was getting a bit disheartened when I requested it; I also never go the hang of the gas with er pupo.

Next time, (as if!), it's going to pop out on the landing before I even get down the stairs!

I've had my first run in with mastitis and survived to tell the tale; milk is starting to regulate itself to manageable quantities and Lorenzo continues to eat and digest without problem. I think because he is so big he is a little more advanced in these respects than er pupo was (remembering er pupo was 2 weeks early which I guess at this stage does make a bit of a difference), but er pupo was never exactly any real trouble either.

Pics on facebook for my friends :) If you know my name, you know how to find me :)

Pushy mother of the day

2008-04-30T11:45:00.002Z

has just signed up er pupo for suzuki violin lessons as of this fall. He might be on a waiting list for a while, so maybe he won't start straight away, but hopefully he won't have to wait too long. I've no idea if he is any good, but he definitely enjoys music and is connected in a way that stands out from his peers at kindergarten. (Honest! Not just me; also his daymum last year and his music teacher in Italy commented on this.)I'm not saying he is going to be a musical prodigy, but any kid who, before he was even two, would beg for opera over Thomas the Tank deserves the opportunity to explore.

I do feel a tiny bit pushy though... and when he starts, will I be able to resist the urge to compare him? Or bore other parents at the school gate with stories of his first performance of twinkle twinkle? (instead of just the regular readers of my blog. LOL! Both of you). I've promised myself that if he doesn't like it, I won't make him go; there is no shorter route to putting him off music for life than forcing it on him. But then at age 4 he is old enough to start piano....

Yes, I'm still pregnant!

2008-04-29T04:11:00.002Z

So you can stop phoning every effing night to ask! I will CALL YOU WHEN IT COMES, OK?! Now eff off and leave me to be pissed off in private.

So why are you here, anyway?

2008-04-27T19:27:00.004Z

My blog has a funny thing attached that tells me from what site people came to visit my blog. And it never ceases to amaze me just how often a google search for "naughty mummy" is the culprit. How disappointed you folks must be to reach my self-indulgent pregnancy and parenting meanderings with the rare diversion into ponderings of Scotland's place in the United Nations.

and now, of course, by posting this again, I yet again distract you from your true internet delights.
naughty mummy, naughty mummy, naughty mummy.

Now, go and get a job or do something constructive with your time, you sad old perverts.

Still pregnant; still trying to write

2008-04-22T11:50:00.002Z

Well, it is my own fault that I am this bored and impatient. With er pupo, I wisely covinced myself he would be late: first babies are "always" late (which really begs the question as to what is normal; I mean, if they are all late, they aren't really late, are they?) Anyway, because er pupo turned up a surprising 2 weeks before his due date, I assumed this one would be at least as early.Bad, bad, bad move indeed. I am now 38+3, so not technically due for another 12 days, but every night I do wonder.
Figgin, however, is perfectly happy inside and is showing no signs of arrival any time soon. Bah., Looks like I will have to finish writing that paper after all. And then I think, well, maybe it is good that figgin stays in for a bit; er pupo has the dr tomorrow for allergy tests and I don't want to have to cancel; Thursday he is off school for a holiday and Friday is a half day for teacher training, then it is the weekend so... maybe next week would be better after all...

38 weeks pregnant = never happy

Perhaps I underestimate toddlers

2008-04-14T11:30:00.002Z

perhaps I have low expectations, but er pupo continues to astonish me with the things he "knows." He a walking dictionary who translates everything: "mamma car; papá machinna; school bíll" and so on (and moreover constantly catching mum out when he asks for the word in Icelandic for cement mixer; or, shaming mother further, asking for the English word for those lorries that carry oil, or milk, or any liquid in a big long cylander. The italian is "autocisterna." Answers on a postcard, please.

But I am more impressed, and simultaneously disturbed, by his whole-hearted embracement of capitalism. The boy goes into my bag, pulls out my purse, takes out the coins and insists: "mette orso." If I really insist, he will tell me in English (because clearly I am too stupid) "bear, bear" which is his teddybear shaped piggy bank. And off he goes with his collection. He hasn't quite worked out about paper notes, or maybe they don't give such a satisfying clonk sound, but thankgoodness we are in the age of cellphones and I don't need emergency cash for a phonecall very often.

He also now goes around the supermarket and puts things he fancies in the basket. And I don't know HOW this is possible, but he has some radar for anything that contains chocolate. I mean, how is it that a 2 yo who has never been given smarties can recognise a packet from 100 paces?

Meanwhile, he is interested in the new arrival to come; or rather, quite possibly 2 new arrivals because er pupo also has a baby in his own tummy which moves frequently as he likes to tell me (I don't like to steal the magic by pointing out that the rumbling is probably just a big fart brewing). That, I hope, will happen soon indeed as I am now very sore and stiff and trying to find just about any excuse possible NOT to finish an essay that I can't be bothered researching.

Will let you know what comes out and when

This is what happens when you neglect your toddler

2008-03-02T16:36:00.003Z

Having taken er pupo to a party for FOUR HOURS yesterday, giving his dad a whole afternoon of peace and quiet, I thought I might cut some slack this afternoon. After an hour and a half of not so subtle hints, they went out together and I got to surf the web. I was most disappointed when they returned within the half hour, and even more so when er pupo's new toy (a piano thing) was not accompanied by the requisite batteries. DH was sent off out again to try to pre-empt total meltdown; I continued to catch up with the football with the occasional nod to the boy and a "yes, dad has just gone to get the batteries."

Boy looked for a second like he was going to pass out; I asked if he was ok, then went back to surf. He got up, wandered off, I finished what I was doing. All was suspiciously quiet so I popped through to find him... sound asleep on his bed. Bless his cotton socks! So now I get to continue to surf the web sans guilt.

Doesn't get better than that.

Yeah, so I don't blog much

2008-02-06T20:15:00.000Z

because I'm a mum and in my spare time, I work, and in my spare, spare time, I am doing about 35 hours overtime a month. Even if I have something fascinating to tell you all, by the time I find the time, even I am bored of it.

Pregnancy is... well, annoying. I can't say I was a huge fan of the whole experience the first time (though giving birth is brilliant, not to mention having a baby at the end of it all). This time, I am tired and stiff and sore; rest is impossible. As is blogging most of the time.

Er pupo grows ever more of a delight. Bah, maybe it's some hormone thing going on, but I miss him when I drop him at school! It took him a couple of weeks to settle (actually, the first week he howled and howled till they finally gave up and called me back). Today and yesterday he shouted "bye, ciao, bless" (yes, all three) then ran off and didn't look back. Yes, of course I was pleased. But also a teeny bit disappointed. I mean, couldn't he at least pretend he would rather stay with mamma a bit longer? Just play the game, baby. You ARE still my baby.

He continues to be obsessed with diggers, bob the builder and Arnobio. He's also got quite excited about penguins (probably because we saw them in Genova acquarium) so I have just ordered him Happy Feet (which, I feel obliged to point out because it is my claim to being almost famous, was made by my exboyfriend. No kidding - he was "lead animator." Ex-boyfriend. Well, we were kids in school; but he was seriously cute! Too cute for me. He jilted me for a girl in his art class. Sigh...)

It's good to be home. Yes, I have a lot of work, but I love it and since Kieran is now in school 8 hours a day it is a lot easier to actually get it done. I'm teaching now and enjoying it: the class seem genuinely interested so it is very rewarding (We haven't got to property law, trusts and estates yet... there is still time for them all to glaze over). It's briliant to be back in the care of the same midwife who supported me through my pg with Kieran and who came for home visits in the first week of his life. No more tests, hurrah! She believes me that I am fine. Backache is chronic, no doubt largely in part to er pupo and his inability to walk in knee high snow. Fair enough, I suppose, he is still less than 1 metre high. BUT, I have my massage booked for tomorrow. Oh bliss, bring me relief. Hell, an hour lying down during the day! That's worth paying for even without the actual massage!

Well, that's about it from us. Expect a post around the end of April. Don't ask me my due date because I really don't have a clue. And I'm NOT having more bleeding tests just to find out. It's all witchdoctory anyway.

Rachael, er pupo and figgin 27+4

So WHY have I been so quiet?

2007-11-22T08:05:00.000Z

Because er pupo will soon be joined by u figgin sometime around April or May and I've been trying to keep it a secret.

I did indeed fly over for the game (see previous post) and, with the exception of a national two-minute silence between minutes 91 and 93, I had a great time.

My clever doctor friends are coming over to Genova to visit next week (all my friends are clever, but only a few are doctors) so hopefully by then we will be shot of this rotten Glasgow-esque weather. Otherwise, I might as well tell them just to stay at home if they want soaked and frozen numb.

Er.. should I have more to say? Pregnancy is going fine, physically; very little vomiting and very little bleeding which was a pleasant change. I was horribly tired though and am still sleeping 10 hours a night. I'm sure having a 2 year old to chase after - a two year old who no longer naps - does not help.

Work is, well, interesting for me, but deeply dull to explain to anyone with a life. But since you are reading blogger that may not apply to you. I've just finished 99 pages on state responsibility (the International Court of Justice, the Security Council and the Treaty Bodies, for those who know what any of this means) and a nice little (short!) comment on constitutional issues of Security Council counter-terrorism resolutions.

Expatmamma, er pupo (2 and 4 mths) and u figgin (16+5)

Reality Check

2007-09-13T08:06:00.000Z

Let's go backwards. Last night, Zambrotta said that Italy, France and Scotland are three of the best teams in Europe. No, that's not a misprint. Scotland. Er... Gianluca, Scotland aren't even the best team in Scotland.

And the evidence?

In third place, on 19 points, World Cup Finalists, France.
In second place, on 20 points, World Cup Champions, Italy.
In first place, on 21 points, uh.... Scotland. (?????)

3 games to go; very bad feeling we will lose to Ukraine who looked sharpish last night. Georgia should be an easy game; and that, as always for Scotland, is an invitation to bottle. The last game of qualifying, against Italy, at Hampden on 17th of November. I am very very very keen to fly over for it. It would be wonderful to be there, but even if I can't get a ticket for the stadium, I could be with friends. Tickets from Milan to Edinburgh over the weekend are currently 42 Euros. Wish Giorgio was here to ask permission, but at that price I could just book....

We started off well; noone thought, least of all me, that we would keep it up. Will we?

oh yeah, bla bla bla, er pupo is fine; settling into daycare this week.

On our way again

2007-08-29T11:53:00.000Z

Sweden has been great; weather has been pretty good and it is just starting to turn autumnal this week. We are off to Italy on Friday for a last gasp of sunshine, lots of work, a little trip to Bergamo to see my folks, another to Sicily for a holiday, which will now have to be cut short because Giorgio's buddy is getting married that weekend (WHY couldn't he have told me a week ago before we booked the flights? Fortunately they were cheap!) I'm very tempted to go up to Milan to see Italia-France which is next weekend (I think) but it depends on how well er pupo is settling in. We will definitely go see Italia-Georgia which is in Genova.

My work has gone very well and I feel really confident about my research (for a change!) Things will slow down in Italy, at least as far as research goes, but I now have so many things in my head (and on my laptop!) that I will be able to process them all out into papers - well, that's the plan, anyway. Our time here has indeed proved productive... (SAHM knows what I mean...)

Er pupo still loves the opera but has become somewhat selective. Oh, he is allowed to sing along as and when he takes the fancy, but if hubby or I threaten to join in, we get a firm "No!" and a talk-to-the-hand gesture. Sing ye not over Pavarotti. Well, can't fault his taste. We loved Jennifer Larmore in L'italiani in Algeir that we are saving our pennies to buy her in the Barber of Seville. Can't wait. meant to be an excellent production :) Might have to buy some books too, for despite Genova having a big library in international law and a quite prestigious law school (or perhaps "because of" the latter!) it has no books at all on feminist theory of international law. Deary me. Well, if I have to order from amazon anyway, I might as well slip that dvd into the pack.

Best news of all today is that ITUNES IS NOW CARRYING EPISODES OF LOST!!!! We missed the last four because we left Iceland mid-series, so now we can just buy those 4 instead of waiting till October and having to buy the whole package. Woohoo!
I am not much of a tv watcher, honest! But I am hooked on Lost!

More from Italy.

Sweden

2007-08-13T13:25:00.000Z

Yes, we do still exist. Haven't been arrested or dragged off a plane due to an errant toddler who won't stay quiet (despite much praying by nearby passengers, methinks).

Italy was fab; as was brother in law's wedding, despite the fact that hubby and I came down with flu and only made the ceremony owing to a generous dose of paracetamol. His wife was absolutely stunning, which in her case, doesn't actually take a whole lot of effort, but since she HAD made a whole lot of effort, oh, wow! Er pupo was the bellezzo of the ball, in his kilt. An absolute darling; but with our flu, and him missing his nap, I have to say, we got a little tetchier with him than was strictly fair.

After the wedding, we recuperated on the riviera. It's so hard being me. Then up to Scotland in time for er pupo's birthday so he could get spoiled rotten by another set of grandparents. We're now in Sweden; hubby and I are working really hard, but taking a day about, with the other spent with er pupo. I must confess, much as he thrives at daycare, and I think he misses being with other kids (as we don't know any here), he does love being with us. He is going through a clingy phase, which is hardly surprising, given the amount we drag him around and change his surroundings; but he is also so enormously happy. He is in a big bed here and is very good about going (even if we do hear him sneak him to potter about a bit before going back to bed in the evening.)

And he still loves opera! Giorgio got L'Italiani in Algeria (Rossini) and L'elisir d'amore (Donizetti) and he begs to put them on. He's quite partial to bob the builder too, but it's the opera he asks for. So, if you see him point to the tv and say "A bus-ah!" (meaning a bus) that is a request for opera - because the opening of the film of the Rossini is outside the Paris opera theatre and a bus goes past. His favourite thing in this order are:

Icecream (which funnily enough is about the only food word he can't say in any language)
Opera (a bus-ah! whilst point at the tv)
Buses (a bus-ah!)
trains (choochoo, even though trains don't actually say that anymore. Quite sad when you think about it)
Excavators (diggerdiggerdiggerdigger)
Trucks (lorry, which he decided to say all of a sudden, despite me spending weeks trying to teach him truck. But there you go. none of this American English for er pupo).

A couple more weeks here; then off to Italy where I can see my other babies and the original er puppone! ROMA ROMA ROMA. Hubby is annoyed since his ridiculous team have finally scraped back into Serie A and are now officially in competition. Don't care. Still love Roma.

Boy is up, can here the scraping....

And we're off!

2007-06-10T19:37:00.000Z

The birthdary party has been survived. I even had fun! Tomorrow we set off for Italy for the brother in law's wedding; then we're off to Scotland for July, and Sweden for August. We head back to Italy just in time for a pleasant September weather :) And back to Iceland in time for the heights of winter. Hmm...

more from us from, well, wherever we happen to be.

Television watching - at last

2007-05-27T20:18:00.000Z

TV turns your kids brains to mush, it's official. If they watch more than 21 hours a day they get fat and lose motivation for school. But you know what? Mums need a break sometime.

So, it has been some disappointment to me that er pupo has shown no interest in tv. The most I've had out of him is about 10 minutes at a time (unless he has been sick, where that can go up to 20 minutes as he is too tired to protest). He loves Bagpuss beyond measure. But that is only a 15 minute show and when they go out of the shop into Bagpuss' imagination for cartoons he tends to wander off.

However. Aha! Success! Last night, he woke up - a poop had been the culprit but I'll spare you the details. He had no intention of going back to sleep and since we were watching a DVD of Rigoletto, I took him through. He was captivated. Now er pupo loves music and dances constantly, sings along when he can at the top of his voice - including to the radio in supermarkets, which is a teeny bit embarassing - and there is always music at our house. His dad plays him opera and they dance together. Even when I was pregnant, he would jig about inside me when he heard music.

So, last night. He started by gaping fascinated at the screen. Then he started to dance, then before I knew it he was singing along. When the soprano had her aria he just began to scream as loud and high as he could to imitate her! When we got to the "impending disaster bit" he started nodding frantically and saying "no no no" (It was Verdi, so impending disaster is inevitable). I am quite sure he didn't understand the story, but I think he got a sense from the music that something bad was happening.

Opera is a lot like kids' tv - bright costumes, big make-up, exaggerated gestures and music, music, music. Forget CBeebies, I'll need to find some Rossini dvds for his birthday. But we'll not put away Bagpuss just yet. The only risk is he'll be chatting to the other kiddies down the beach in 18th century literary italian! Come to think of it, he'll sound a lot like my hubby speaking English when he first met me!

Scotland for the Security Council #2 - the Campaign is Launched

2007-05-27T16:32:00.000Z

The campaign has begun! The Guardian Weekly published my ever so slightly tongue-in-cheek letter, the subject of which I blogged on shortly after the Scottish elections. Unfortunately, they edited the letter slightly so that I think it might get taken seriously.

Since I'm on a trusty mac, which is not fully supported by blogger (GET A GRIP, MAN!) I can't post a hyperlink, but the original post is here:
http://expatmamma.blogspot.com/2007/05/scotland-for-security-council.html

I think the paper has copyright in my letter and it is not on the web because GW is subscriber only. But trust me, it was quite, quite brilliant ;)

As in all good divorce settlements, it pays to demand the outrageous - it's like bargaining in the Chinese silk market: wherever you start you can only go in one direction. So ex-husband who has barely seen the kids all their lives demands custody; mum, who has done all the caring anyway, is so desperate to keep custody that she gives up her claims on the house and savings because "all I want is the kids!" Same principle. Scotland demands the SC seat; at the negotiation table says: "ok, ok, rump uk, you can keep the SC, as long as we get the oil." A much relieved, and eager for international prestige rump uk says "yes, ok, phew!"

This is what I do for a living

2007-05-15T15:46:00.000Z

I write things. My work in progress is called:
State Responsibility: A concerto for many soloists and little orchestra

It has three movements:
Adagio
Andante ma accelerando
Vivace

Only I know what it means. The same will probably be true when it is finished.

Don't you just wish you were me?

Now you know why I never blog about my dayjob. I am a geek of the first order.

Why good parenting is easy and impossible at the same time

2007-05-09T11:08:00.000Z

We all know how to be good parents. Be loving; show affection. Be firm and consistent. Give praise for good behaviour or learning new skills. Don't lose your temper. Set clear boundaries. Be a good example. When toddler behaves badly, stay calm and tell him why you are unhappy; neither give him what he wants nor get mad.

It's so EASY. It's so bleeding obvious.

And yet.

You have be superhuman to actually do it every day.

Scotland for the Security Council!

2007-05-05T14:19:00.000Z

The campaign starts here!

Ok, let's start with some admissions:
1) The SNP picked up about a third of the vote; this does not independence make
2) Loads of SNP votes were "anti-labour" rather than pro-independence; likely more than were the votes for other parties of people who would vote for independence
3) The argument that follows is on the shoogliest of pegs.

But let's hypothesise, go with me, have fun.

An independent Scotland could be a member of the EU so for ordinary Bill and Ted, there won't be a whole lot of change. They can go and work anywhere in the EU. Members of the EU can go to work in Scotland. Scotland would probably be more open to immigration from elsewhere, and perhaps more generous to asylum seekers; one can only hope. It needs some help to maintain its population (though see below the risk of refugees from the rump UK armed forces).

But, but but BUT.... the UN. The UK is a permament member of the security council. permanent. 62 years on and still there. vetoing everything they don't fancy, bullying the "little people", starting wars around the place, making international laws (more or less; it's not official, but it happens in practice. Trust me, you don't want the boring details).

Now, do not mistake Scottish independence with "secession." Secession is when a little sister state that has been colonised and ruled by a big state gets its independence back. But that isn't the case with Scotland and the rest of the UK. Scotland and England (and Wales, which WAS colonised, but was never quite so bothered about it), were two independent and equal sovereign nations who made a treaty to unify. They created a new state, Great Britain. If Scotland becomes a new, independent state, so too does the rest of the UK. It does not just carry on being "the old UK minus a bit up top"; it is a new state and has to itself reapply to the EU and the UN.

Hence, the security council seat. I vote for Scotland to take it.

Now, there is a precedent here, slightly inconvenient, but far from insurmountable - the USSR. When it dissolved, Russia "continued" the statehood of the old USSR, kept membership in the UN (ie didn't need to reapply like Latvia, Ukraine, etc.) and with it, the security council seat. But the USSR was nor formed by pacts between sovereign states. Moreover, the considerations that applied to Russia may not apply to Scotland.
1) geography: ok, granted, the rump UK will have a majority of territory.
2) population; again, the rump UK is going to win this one
3) nukes. Now, I happen to believe these are hanging about in Scotland. The rump UK was a bit nervous about having anything quite so scary nearby, so they stuck them up north out the way, so it wouldn't matter so much if one were to leak, blow up or whatever nuclear missiles on submarines get up to on their days off. So Scotland will obviously have to keep trident. (Or just disarm the bleeding thing and put the engineers to good use developing renewable energy which we can flog back south and to the rest of Europe. Maybe keep one though just to help the Scotland for the Security Council Seat campaign).
4) armed forces. I understand Scots constitute around 1/3 of the armed forces (I know it's high, but I read it somewhere on the web, so it must be true!). All Scots can have the choice of whether to remain in a rump UK regiment or transfer to a new Scottish regiment. Given that Scotland would not be fannying about in Iraq having their soldiers playing "operation human shield" it will be enlighteing to see what proportion of the current UK armed forces discovers a Scottish granny.

Constitutionally, the separation of Scotland from the rest of the UK is more in keeping with the breakup of the former Yugoslavia; lots of new independent states were created; Serbia was NOT considered to be the same state as the former Yugoslavia (well, not until the genocide case in February, but that was on a technicality!) Serbia had to reapply for admission to the UN just like Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia and Slovenia.

So, there it is, Scotland for the Security Council. Probably less likely to legitimise bombing the crap out of distant lands. Probably less likely to ever use their nukes.

Now: independence, there's the rub. I'm not convinced a majority of Scots want it; at least not a majority of those who can be bothered getting of their butts to vote. If I were the Lib-Dems, I'd call the SNP bluff and say, SURE, have your referendum and shut up. The SNP would lose; be humbled and get on with devolution. If the Libs insist on waiting a few years the SNP might actually prove they know something about governance, about economics, then some of the Don't Knows (myself amongst them) might be convinced. They can't make more of a hash of it than the idjots that designed and planned the elections that brought them to power (well, almost, not first minister yet, Aly).

And for my dear English friends; you know that most people who vote SNP, even those who support independence are not "anti-English" (well, maybe about the footie, but then the English are "anti-German" about the footie - we all have our demons). Scotland for everyone! Scotland for the Security Council! Me for Queen!

ælapest #2

2007-04-17T21:43:00.000Z

no fair, we already had this! Yesterday, er pupo was sick at daycare, but didn't seem the worse for it. His daymother wasn't concerned enough to phone me and only told me when I went to collect him and found him in his "mom-jeans" (you know, the ugly ones with elasticated waist that live in his change bag for just such emergencies). Today, I have succumbed, starting with the sensation of having swallowed a rat around lunchtime to this evenings experiment which consisted of drinking half a glass of water, and vomiting up 2 litres. Whence does it come?

Better me than him

STOP PRESS

2007-04-08T20:29:00.000Z

WOMAN GETS PAID MORE THAN MAN! It seems Seawoman Faye Turney, her being a gentle female and mummy to boot, is going to get more cash for her story than the male hostages.

There's more outrage, more anger. Yeah yeah, we heard it. Some people ("news" organisations? I use the term under advisement) get their kicks out of dubious claims to moral superiority. Bet those people will be first in line to buy the papers. It will be the same papers paying for the stories that are casting aspersions on the professionalism of the sailors.

Meanwhile, I wish my Guardian would actually report some news. But I guess on Easter Sunday the big "news" is 1970 or so years old and not so likely to be found in such an avowedly and aggressively secular paper.

Why I should not read the news and other stressful things

2007-04-07T12:01:00.000Z

It gets me all fired up, you see. And then I have to come here and bore you lot. Assuming there is, indeed, anybody out there.

There are certain parenting jobs I do better than hubby. OK. There, I've said it. I have supermamma sniff-a-poo skills at 300 yards; I wipe er pupo's face when he finishes his dinner; I find him clothes that actually match. And don't need ironed. But at the end of the day, I cannot say that any of these things makes me a better parent than my hubby. And let's not get started on our respective cooking abilities. Who cares?

Well, it seems, the Daily Hate columnists do. Where does this come from? Strangely enough, it all started in Iraq. Or maybe Iran. That's kinda the crux of the whole international dispute. 15 British sailors are lifted by the Iranians and taken captive on the basis that they were encroaching on Iranian waters. I have no doubt it was enormously stressful for each of them and for their families. I suspect they knew little about Iran apart from stories of "Islamic fundamentalism" and "terrorists" and they would have no idea what to expect, what treatment to expect, whether they would ever come home. Now, I suspect, they are very relieved to have been picked up by the Islamic state and not by Iraqi insurgents. It seems they were treated respectfully and kept safe, warm and fed. The only violation of the humanitarian law appears to have been the appearance on Iranian television.

But wait, what's that? A WOMAN? A woman sailor? Blond and pretty? Oh my, and in a headscarf? With a fag? And what's that I hear? She has a daughter at home? Why, how could she? And the British media spent two weeks camped outside this young woman's home, the home of her parents and published her photograph daily. Oh, the excitment. A woman. Extra pathos then.

And then the backlash. Because she's not just a woman. She's a mother. Cue a bunch of editorials lamenting 1) women in the front line and 2) mums who have careers. How could she leave her child? How could she risk her life like this? I believe the "selfish" word crossed a few lips.

The answer, not that any of the editorials bothered to listen, was that her little girl was safely at home with her father, yes, fathers know how to cook, clean and play too, and probably a host of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and loved friends.

Why is it worse to lose a mother than a father? Well, usually it is worse for an infant because that infant is cared for by his or her mother. The loss, the change for that child, is more dramatic and more traumatic. But if dad is the main carer then that's not true. Noone cares if the 14 male sailors taken prisoner had kids. Well, they would just have been doing their manly duty and protecting the realm and their families within it. When a woman does it, is that not as noble?

I've never exactly been known for my support of the military, but I will say that this young woman and these 14 young men believed in what they were doing, maybe not the war in Iraq itself, but they didn't foresee that when they signed up, but they believed in the military, in defending the country, defending their families and loved ones, being out there, risking their lives so the rest of us don't have to. They know when they sign on the line the risks that they may face and are presumably trained on coping mechanisms. I hope so.

It was interesting to see 7 at the press conference yesterday - scripts in hand. The woman sailor did not appear, but neither did 7 other sailors. Perhaps being paraded on one national television station was quite enough.

I wish all fifteen a safe and relaxed two weeks of leave, enjoying time with their families, coming to terms with the stresses of their job. I wish also every compassion and comfort for the families of those who never made it home. On all sides of this war and every other that is tearing apart our World.

Meanwhile, if we don't want to risk the lives of mothers on the front line, then we shouldn't risk the lives of fathers either. Maybe we should stop going to war. Are you listening, Tony?

Easter

2007-04-04T15:15:00.000Z

is upon us. Er pupo returns in 40 minutes for 5 whole days of our company. Eek! He'll be begging to go back to dagmamma by Tuesday. I'll be begging her to take him by Sunday night.

He is a good little boy. Determined, willful and sure of himself, but good. He tries to act the teenager, too cool for kisses, too busy for cuddles, too confident to hold my hand. But every now and then he forgets himself and shares a special moment where only mamma cuddles will do. I love those moments. He's exactly the kind of kid who will confirm the pseudo-sociological studies that show kids who go to daycare "talk too much" and "argue too much." Bring it on!

I have evil chest virus which means speaking is not an option (insert joke of your choice here). Doc suggested that my "holiday" over the weekend would give me a chance to recover. I suggested he take the boy then.

Hubby changed the tyres today, which means it will snow tomorrow. Skiing is promised over the weekend. On my street. I'll retire with my hot water bottle and tea, while er pupo howls at the door to go out (he's worse than a dog) and hubby "checks his email" and pretends not to notice.

Roma play tonight. Trying to decide whether to brave the bar for the inevitable torture. They seem to do better when I don't look. Perhaps were I in better health I'd be more inclined to risk the heart attack but we'll see. I really believe they'll xxxxxxxxxx. There, I said it. One click and it's in print. OK. changed my mind. Won't print that.

Today we learned...

2007-03-25T19:21:00.000Z

that if you thrown St Arnobio in the toilet he goes away for 2 hours and you have to go to sleep alone. Cue much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Scratch that, cue bawling and screaming and being generally inconsolable.

On the pilgrim's return, er pupo wouldn't let him out of sight. And thankfully kept him suitably distant from the toilet.

The Curse Returns

2007-03-22T16:24:00.000Z

with an outbreak of headlice at daycare. I have never been so pleased that my son, at a whopping 20 months, is still a great big baldy. Daymother locked up today to blitz the buggers, clean everything and wash all the teddies, blankets and so forth. St. Arnobio and er pupo's clothes were promptly washed chez nous, however a perfunctory glance at his very little hair showed no dancing creatures. THANK YOU, LORD! I know that sooner or later, the inevitable infestation will come to us (well, assuming er pupo actually gets some hair at some stage), but I have only hideous memories of the knit comb and disgusting stinky shampoo and have no desire to subject my son to such evils. (Those who know me and my hair wll understand immediately why the knit comb was so traumatic. Let's just say "curly" would be an understatement.)

Er pupo joined us at school this morning and was really, all things considered, rather well behaved. Neither hubby nor I had to teach (though I did have some meetings) so it turned out actually to be rather a pleasure (skive!) to spend some time with him.

Wait, stop. Better not go on making this sound like good news on the blog or I shall be struck down...

only good things

2007-03-20T15:38:00.000Z

so no posting from me. We are all well; we have booked our summer travels (George Michael gig in Lucca included, hurrah!); I have even been skiing and come back with all limbs fully functional. I have just passed an Icelandic exam to qualify as an Icelandic permanent resident (perhaps "exam" is too strong award... there were 20 questions which included "What is your name" "What country are you from?" and so forth). I have finished teaching so unofficially the sabbatical starts RIGHT HERE! I am so far spending it trying to make some sense of the Bosnia-Serbia judgement and if I can ever work out how to explain it in less than 5000 words (current challenge for a local publication), I may even consider branching out and putting a comment on it here. But don't count on it.

I await the curse of the blog...

gonna stop posting good news

2007-02-27T08:29:00.000Z

yesterday morning, dagmamma calls in sick. minor panic ensues until girl from hubby's class agrees to take er pupo for the day. At great expense. So from now on, only bad news, in the hope I can purge my demons here and they will be shamed enough to leave me alone.

Healthy, happy, hurrah

2007-02-25T20:40:00.000Z

Dagmamma recovered; we have managed to stay healthy. Pray let it continue. We celebrated the Chinese New Year and perhaps the pig is bringing us fortune. Er pupo resembles more and more the porcine race, in terms of appetite and table manners. He is thoroughly happy and keeping us in good spirits with his own joie de vivre. My mother is finally out of hospital, though "well" would be too strong a word. Hopefully that will all right itself soon.
What can i add? Since times of sickness, we have been very busy working to try to catch up and keep up, and running around after duracell boy who is now so uberconfident with his vespa that he drinks and drives, uses his mobile phone and drives, and tries to take it down the stairs. (Did you spot the oxford comma? Is that the thing now? It wasn't when I was taught at school but now I see it everywhere. The Americans use it, so that can't be a good sign. But then it's the OXFORD comma, so surely that counts for something...) Anyway, the vespa: I have to hide the damn thing in the morning to prevent the inevitable screaming and turning into an overcooked spaghetto when he's told he can't take it to dagmamma. Snow has returned, for which er pupo got a sledge. He found it fun for approximately 4.7 seconds (approximately, I say, could have been anything from 4.6 to 4.8) then got bored, climed off and insisted to be carried by papá. Hmmm... it might be very useful for getting boy to daycare and back. On the other hand, all depends on will of small boy. Big will of small boy.

20 months soon, still more or less baldy, loads of cheek, loads of energy and loads of love. Wouldn't swap him.

Dear God

2007-02-06T08:57:00.000Z

Whilst I appreciate that you are all-seeing, all-knowing and generally omnipotent, it has crossed my inferior and imperfect mind that perhaps you have been concentrating so much in finding beds for all the innocent souls shot to pieces in Iraq and Sudan, that maybe you have not had so much time to concentrate on the affairs of random working mothers far away from the action and nice weather. Of course, being generally omnipotent, it does occur to me that you must be able to deal with all these problems at once. But anyway. Allow me, in my imperfection, to address you.

The thing is, I am not Job. I understand that Job was a patient man whom you tested to measure how deep his commitment to you. I am not he. I am not a patient man. I am not a man, and never have been. Patience also generally escapes me. I have been a patient, but I don't think that's quite what you mean. If this is a test, then I have failed. That's ok by me, I can accept my imperfection. On this matter at least.

I think what pushed me over the brink of tolerance was the false hope. Er pupo was better; he was off to dagmamma. Hubby was still moaning about being sick; I was still sick, but just getting on with things, because that is What Mothers Do. But then, for me to have him all ready to go back to daycare and then give the evil vomiting bug to the dagmamma. That really was rough. I wept. But you know that, because you know everything.

To give me my laptop back, at small financial cost, no less, and promise me full working order. And then yesterday, to come back from class to find that it had died again in exactly the same way, whilst on standby. A little hard to swallow.

I know that no single thing that has happened this year has been awful. Rather it is the accumulation that is pushing me to the brink of the cliff with Nervous Breakdown written on the other side. I also know that, all grace and glory be to you, my worst terrors were averted when er pupo and I fell down the steps on New Year's Day.

I will celebrate the Chinese New Year on 18th February. I know that this is a heathen festival, but it's timing is based on stars and things, and since you made them, then maybe the Chinese know something I don't. Forgive me if this is but a pagan ritual. But please stop all the bad things. And get my mother out of hospital and healthy.

Allow me to fail this test. Please.

With all high respect and regard.
Expatmamma.

anything you can do

2007-02-03T06:47:00.000Z

Er pupo has lost his title in the World spew weight-for-volume championship. Beaten by his very own mam, no less.
I woke around 2am Thursday with that telltale bellyache that you just know is going somewhere but you can't help hoping if you go back to sleep it will disappear on its own. It doesn't. I soon found myself with one end on the loo and another over a basin as my body purged itself of everything I had eaten in 2007.

An hour later, my body discovered some left over Christmas dinner, and felt the need to fire that out too.

Another hour later and my body had searched deeper recesses to find a light breakfast from 1995. By this point, even water I was drinking was coming straight out again. Hubby, who admittedly has not been in great health either and who is knackered from both that and his own sick son, was sympathetic enough to call a cab to get rid of me. Even in my pitiful state at 4am I could see through the pretext of "you need to go to hospital" when the truth was "you need to pee off and let me get some sleep." (The clue was: "Is it possible for you to vomit more quietly? You will scare the neighbours."

A+E must have taken me for a drug addict on arrival, but soon had me on a drip where I stayed till lunchtime. My blood pressure had dropped to that of a sunbasking lizard in Tunisia, at a nearly-dead 91 over 47. Resting. Our attempts to take it standing up were aborted; the first to allow me vomit; the second because I fainted.

Yesterday I was slightly better and at least didn't vomit, but I still can't really eat. This morning, I woke at 5am with a hint of the nausea, which is why I am now here instead of sleeping to prepare myself for another weary day of sickboy. (Bowt time he got better as well).

My one silver strand of hope was that this year would actually start to improve is that I got my mac back, and on this I send you my greetings. That hope was quickly dashed when my dad phoned a couple of hours later to tell me that my mum had been in hospital since Wednesday with a fierce viral chest thing that wouldn't clear up. She's had it since Christmas, but now it has got really bad and she just can't shake it.

So, if anyone else would like to join me on 18 Feb to celebrate chinese new year, let me know. I'm done 2007 already.

Now back to bed for about 20 seconds of sleep till er pupo decides to join us.

Oops! Sorry commentors

2007-02-03T06:46:00.000Z

er... yeah, so some time ago I set this thing to moderate comments, so I wouldn't get folks advertising through my blog. And, um, yeah, i kinda forgot. so sorry posters for not posting your comments. They have now been posted and i will try to pay attention in future.

Please comment!

perhaps NASA can learn something

2007-01-31T20:04:00.000Z

temperature is down; vomiting is up. Vomiting of which a 15 stone beer guzzler could be proud. Where does it come from? Where does he store it before it all launches out like a Columbia shuttle launch?
Boy is not well and still banned from communal gatherings. Mamma and papá try to juggle everything and generally fall short. Clothes, sleeping bags, sheets are in an endless cycle of laundry. Arnobio is holding up pretty good - no stains, despite suspicious odour, so we'll hold out with him till the weekend.

I last breast fed over a year ago. And yet... especially when he is sick, a little milk still escapes. The female body remains a mystery, not least to females. It is part of our mystique. Or something.

fever, vomiting, misery. and attitude

2007-01-30T22:00:00.000Z

er pupo is sick again. Last week he was bright as a button. That's a very shiny jeans-type button, not the dark plastic ones you get on men's shirts. He was ready for the MMR. Owing to his highly inconsiderate allergy to eggs, the whole thing was quite the circus and mother and toddler went up to hospital to have the jag administered under the supervision of paeds and nurses and auxiliaries and vets (might have made the last part up) and then we stayed for 2 hours to be "monitored" in case of some adverse reaction. There was a reaction, but only to the massive room full of toys in which er pupo was to wait. There was even a child-size formula one car that he got to play in (batteries thankfully removed). I was knackered within an hour. Er pupo had a brilliant time.

So home we go, happy and healthy is he. Till Monday, I am in my office, enjoying my morning ritual of waiting 15 minutes for my antique PC to start up (GOD, I miss my mac and she is still busted, but don't start me on that), when dagmamma calls to tell me to come right away, he has a fever of 38.5 and his eyes are rolling. Last night, it was over 39 and he woke hourly looking for something to drink.

I put it down to the MMR. A delayed reaction. The trusty internet confirmed my suspicions. The doctor this afternoon did not, and called it "an ear infection" and gave him antibiotics. Thankfully, he isn't in pain (at least, not in his ears), but I have a sneaking suspicion that doctors in Iceland use "ear infection" the way in the UK they use "virus." It's a catch-all when they don't know what is wrong or what to do, but in this pharmaceuticalised land, parents get the reassurance of walking away with a prescription. In er pupo's case, it seems to be working very quickly and tonight his temperature was a reassuring 37.6 and that without paracetamol.

The boy is well enough, it would seem, to express his preferences. And the boy has taste. I put him in his cheap and fluffly soft slippery shoes from China. He seems happy enough. For about 5 seconds. Then he spots his fancy Italian expensive sandals and cries out for them. I hand them over, he rips of the soft shoes and throws them down, and proceeds to attempt to beclad himself in the sandals. Fair enough, I love a good pair of shoes myself and I can't fault his taste.

He managed a good play session this evening, involving climbing into the shower and getting stuck whilst I was indisposed (oh, use your imagination!) and whining because I wouldn't push him on his little car. (Hey, my arm is still sore here!)

I'll be home tomorrow morning, then in to teach some more; hubby will take over and hopefully, if his temperature continues to fall, we can fire him back to daycare on Thursday. It's not that I don't like looking after my son, it's just that, well... I kinda like my time in the office too!

tick, tock, tick, tock

2007-01-23T13:46:00.000Z

So this year, I shall be thirty. As shall a number of my dearest friends. And you know what? I couldn't give a damn. Having a baby ages one way more than any numbers. I've felt thirty+ for a good year and a half, and, if truth be told, my lifestyle has been more "thirties" than "flirties" since I moved to Iceland and got a grown up job, the result of which was that every time I found myself in the pub (which was rare, as I needed to see my bank manager in advance every time), I also found a bunch of students who all wanted to discuss work. And, well, singing I will survive on top of a table is not something you want them to remember at 8am on Monday morning. Not that I would ever do that. Anymore. DVDs and cake, quite enough excitement for me these days.

How come birthdays and Christmas (for me, fused together but the unfortunate timing of my parents' debauchery) seem to occur every couple of months?

I watched a documentary on Take That the other day. (I can feel your virtual envy cascading over the web as you read of my exciting life) One of them was quoted as saying he saw the writing on the wall when the flat chested 13 yearolds had turned into big bosomed 18 yearolds. Hell, we've all got kids now! Even half of them! Hubby says Robbie is the new Cliff Richard.

Getting older is easy. Easier than dying, anyway. Raising kids, now that's what creates the wrinkles.

Back to normal plus 10%

2007-01-23T10:08:00.000Z

He is healthy. DEFINITELY healthy. Too healthy. It's like he has bonus energy and feels the need to run around trashing the house and being generally mental all day. But, heheh! For 8 hours a day, that isn't MY house.
He's also eating constantly and keeps waking up at night and crying because he is hungry. You'd think he hadn't eaten for a week. Oh, yeah, well, yeah. I guess.

Just in time to poison him again with a trip to the hospital on Thursday for his MMR. Normally this would be done at the surgery, but er pupo is allergic to egg, so they need to do it at the hospital "just in case." Just in case of WHAT? Well, if only I knew. Then again, perhaps it's better I don't know... MMR is cultured in an egg (or something) so goodness knows what will happen when they inject it into him.

Meanwhile, my laptop is BUSTED big time. 9 months old apple. Everyone said: "oh, get an apple, they're the best, bla bla, noone ever regrets getting an apple." Not till NOW! Thankfully, US warranty will pay up as she needs a new motherboard. How is that even possible on a 9 month old machine?! Hard drive is allegedly safe. We'll see... the work stuff is all backed up, but what about the important things like all my photos of er pupo? And my slightly embarassing downloads from itunes? (No, of course I didn't burn them onto cds, because I assumed my ninemonth old mac was made of tougher stuff.) Did I mention she was only 9 months old?! Poor baby has been sent to Reykjavik for said new motherboard and will be returned in due course. I have to pay for some "admin" expenses (hah! Sending an email to America and waiting for them to send the cheque) but at least I don't have to pay for a whole new laptop.

And...

2007-01-19T18:58:00.000Z

if, touch wood, er pupo's toilet habits continue to improve, I can come back to work on Monday and give my arm a rest! Meanwhile, it's the office for me this weekend (please note, it is Friday 7pm, I am here and unlikely to be going home anytime soon. Though, as you can see, not exactly "working" as such..., well, everybody needs a little break between R v R and Donogue)

must be getting better then...

2007-01-19T18:32:00.000Z

yesterday evening he sparked back to life and played and laughed and laughed and played. Then collapsed exhausted and went to bed. This morning, he woke up and chirped away to himself in his cot until I crawled out of bed to see to him. (Readers, I had been up a number of times during the night providing milk, so crawling was the most that could be expected.) He was in a very good mood and asked for his milk, behaved for his nappy change (clean, hurrah! despite night milk) and then had some caramel yoghurt for breakfast. Lots! It does, admittedly taste of candy. Whilst pottering about in and out of the bathroom, he suddently disappeared. A few seconds later, I saw a shadow inside the shower box. I opened the doors to find a very big grin on a very little face. Er pupo can now officially shower alone. Or so he thinks. With his shoes on. But hey, he can climb in over a step as high as his groin and slide the doors completely shut (especially when mamma is at the other side, trying to repeatedly open them. which isn't so easy from the outside). I tried not to pay too much attention and definitely not to tell him off, for that is a sure fire way to guarantee he will be in there at every opportunity. He hasn't quite sussed out the faucet, but unfortunately it is well within toddler reach and the water can come out at 70 degrees. If you've got a ball, I'll find a chain.

Alternatively...

2007-01-16T20:04:00.000Z

er pupo will NOT go to daycare. Not a well boy :( The only thing he ate all day was tomato soup, which came speedily out again in both directions. One armed mamma spent the day desperately trying to get water and milk into him, change nappies and clothes (and change those clothes again. and again), clean up skitters and spew and generaly provide comfort (cuddling, oh cuddling, and you must stand by the stereo. I said STAND, not sit, you lazy old mamma) to His Royal Whinginess. Hubby of course was "too busy" and came home at 3, too late to go to the doctor, but just in time to send one armed mother out to get the groceries. And then act all resentful about the fact he had to do the washing up and put his own washing away. All done, of course, as slowly as possible so that he could look very busy and laboured, whilst actually doing as little as possible, and I battled with entertaining sick pupo, washing some very unpleasant bedclothes and muslins, and changing er pupo's sheets.

I suspect my arm won't be getting better anytime soon. More complaining from me to follow...

There's always a bright side

2007-01-15T19:15:00.000Z

1) It's not broken, just torn ligaments all over the shop.
2) I didn't lose all my teeth. This should not be underestimated. Given that despite both hands being thrust out in front of me I still ended up with a mouthfull of snow, and peeling it off my goggles, I imagine were it not for the said torn ligaments, I would be looking like an extra from Fight Club and facing bankruptcy. Dentistry is completely private here (including for kids!) and completely cartel-ified. I'll settle for 50 quid and a couple of hours hanging about A&E for exrays.

And when I wrote "river"? You know I mean "burn." About 30cm at it's deepest point. Which of course was the point at which I went in, and the point at which the ski remained. One metre later it was about 5cm deep and lots of pretty stones. You should have heard that bubbling burn. Pretty, pretty sounds.

But I'm looking on the bright side! It wasn't a tidal navigable river.

Back to sofa, hubby has been ordered to bring home the goods (i.e. choccie). Er pupo will have to go to daycare tomorrow, cold and fever notwithstanding as I cannot impose on my buddies to do boy-lifting again. And he'll have to go extra early, because hubby will have to take him before his class starts at 8am.

Maybe it's the drugs. But it's starting to be a little funny.

The word "knob" was invented to describe me.

2007-01-14T19:13:00.000Z

So I envisage myself as this superchic skibunny type (at some time in the future!) but in the meanwhie, need to actually learn to ski. I went up today and it was icy and visibility was rubbish, so despite skiing actually ok, I went off the path, because I couldn't SEE the path I thought I was on a path, but it turned out to be a ditch. With a river in it. Being a ditch, there is no room to turn, or sway side to side (no idea what it's called) so one picks up a fair speed. The snow collapsed under my weight, one ski went IN the river and I went face first into a bleeding ditch. I put my arms out in front instinctively (or I'd probably have no teeth!) but in so doing, I have totally busted my right arm. I then had to fish the damn ski out of the river, which meant wading IN the river. Of course, this was all in a ditch, so there was nobody around to see or help me (which may, in retrospect be a blessing, since I'll bet my supertrendy students were up there). I'm waiting on a buddy to run me up to the hospital to get some meds as I can't drive and I can't lift er pupo, and he has a cold and a temperature, so can't go to daycare and tomorrow hubby teaches from 8 till 2.15 so I've no idea how I will get him out the cot :( I mean, if there is a river to be skied into, you can bet your butt that I'll be the one that skis into it. At least er pupo wasn't with me for this little foray into slapstick. Slapstick of a particularly unfunny kind. Unless you are one mean SOB.

Yeah, go on, have a good snigger, Ms Acorn Diaries.

He really is...

2007-01-12T09:08:00.000Z

that naughty.

Oh dear. And I thought he just gave the attitude to his mamma. Hubby gave him a row last night for something or other, and the response was a big laugh. Dagmamma told me this morning that sometimes he pushes the other kids. (The shame, the shame of it.) I told her she should give him a row (in case she didn't feel that she was allowed to or something) and she said she did... and you know what? He laughs. Laughs right at her. Then goes back to whatever he isn't meant to do with a big cheesy grin and giggling.

He's too little for "time out" on the basis that I cannot leave him alone for more than a millisecond or he'll either destroy himself or, more likely, whatever is in the room.

He's too little to blackmail, on the basis that he doesn't actually have any vocabulary.

He gets the very ocassional smack on the hand, but there is no point overdoing that, or it will become irrelevant. And sometimes I hold his wrist and give him a firm: "Do I have to give you a smack?" And you know what? He laughs.

Damn him! He's tougher than James bleeding Bond. "I will tell you nothing. Nothing. We will destroy your evil enterprise. You will not succeed. Britain shall prevail." (I originally wrote that with "the Taleban" in place of "James bleeding Bond" and continued in that vein. But then I decided it was racist and objectionable so rewrote it. It's not nearly so funny now, but hey, at least I won't invite a fatwa.)

Our other boy issue is that, well, quite honestly, he smells. I think it is a gorgeous smell. But in our sanitised little World, I'm not so sure that others agree. He had baby eczema, so we only showered him twice a week, and are still somewhere around that level (maybe 3 times a week, if he has a particularly vicious poo). Of course his butt is thoroughly cleaned and perfumed and cleaned again. But no longer is he a lazy baby lying around all day and not getting dirty. Now he is official toddler, running around constantly, getting all sweaty, playing outside in the snow (albeit clad such as to make the Michelin man envious) and generally smearing food into his every crevice. Well, not EVERY crevice, he's not that rude yet. But anyway, his hair-fluff, neck, ears, etc. And his dear little fluffy head smells so lovely when you hold him. But perhaps only to his mamma. And his father, who I'm amazed can smell anything, since he only changes his own clothes once a month.*
*May be slight exaggeration.

And when we do bother to wash him (er pupo, not husband, who can jolly well wash his own self. I think), we don't use soap. (Shampoo remains irrelevant is The Baldy Viking has not yet the need.) Again, from the excema habit and also because, well, water seems to do the trick and give him such lovely soft skin. I suspect soap of causing dryness. In fact, now I think about it, I wonder if it is that new shower gel that is making my own eczema so horrible these days?

Now, taking these together, one MIGHT think: Aha! Punish the child by washing him more often! "If you try to bite me one more time, I will give you a shower! With SOAP!"
Those who might suspect such a thing know nothing.
1) I don't wash my son, because, well, frankly, I can't be bothered. Should I instigate the shower-punishment thing, I'd spend most of my day naked and shivering whilst trying to keep a wriggling toddler still while I a) wash him, b) dry him. During b) he'd be naughty again, so back to a) we would go.
2) My son loves the shower. Hardly a punishment.

So, ladies and gentlemen, if you have any wordly advice to offer with regard to problem I behaviour and punishment and II being smelly, except that I LOVE the smell, I trust you will not hesitate.

Why is it that...

2007-01-11T14:03:00.000Z

when I give er pupo a row, he either ignores me, throws something (else) on the floor, laughs, or tries to bite me.
And when hubby gives him a row, he goes all quiet for a record 5 seconds, ponders it and remains well-behaved for at least half a minute?

Er pupo got a new toy last night because obviously three boxes of plastic, with the odd bit of wood thrown in for class, are not enough to entertain his 18 month old person. But this toy was an investment and should improve my Sunday morning sanity. Er pupo loves to copy his dad in the kitchen and "cook" with him. However, this usually involves pulling all the pots out of the cupboard, onto the tiles, and generally banging and scraping them around a bit. You see where the Sunday morning sanity comes in. Yesterday, I presented him with his very own toy cooker, with side panel sink and food prep area. He is delighted. So delighted that one of the first things he did was drag it from the living room to the kitchen (like, DUH, mum, it's a COOKER) and then blow kisses both to the cooker itself and to his mamma for having given it to him.

And I am delighted. Because it is a hell of a lot quieter than pots.

Jamie Oliverino, eat your heart out.

18 months

2007-01-06T14:29:00.000Z

and a few hours. Since our life was turned upside down by the arrival of er pupo.

We have returned to Iceland, following a week in Italy and a week (including Christmas in Scotland). I'd like to say it's good to be back, but... do miss the eager (and free) babysitters. We had a great trip and a lovely Christmas with my folks in Scotland. We saw loads of relatives and friends and in Scotland drank our annual quota of scotch. yum yum.

We flew back to Iceland on 31 December, and got stuck in Reykjavik for two nights as there were no flights north till the 2nd; meanwhile, hubby and I both got flu and er pupo and I fell down a flight of steps on New Year's Day. Miraculously, he is ok, though I am still quite shaken by the whole experience. Having escaped injury, er pupo decided to compensate by throwing himself into a supporting wall (it's hard to explain, but quite simply, it hurt a lot and he got a massive lump and bruise). God punished me by breaking my 9 month old apple ibook, which is now in the shop and because i got it in the US, the warranty isn't valid here, so i expect megabills.

All in all, not the most fantastic start to the year (though admittedly a fine end to 2006). I plan to start over on 14th Jan, which is orthodox New Year. I think I'll pass on getting er pupo circumcised for it though...

work beckons, lots as usual, but this year brings with it a sabbatical. woohoo! And in the summer, the ferry will run from Seyjisfjordur to Scrabster, so it is likely we will go over with that, stack the car high and come back with whole piles of my old books which are too expensive to ship.

The year SHALL get better. It can only... (well, I won't say that, because I said that just before my mac packed up)

Home alone

2006-12-07T21:00:00.000Z

Hubby has been in Switzerland since Sunday, leaving er pupo and I home alone. He has been remarkably good - probably scared, because he knows that if I get cross with him, he won't have his dad to bail him out! He's been eating well (my cooking, no less!) and being reasonably cooperative getting changed and going to his daycare. His sleeps lousy these days, but I think he is just waking up thirsty because of a cough that has been lingering since before we went to China. But doc says it isn't "in his chest" and will go in its own time. I'm sure it will.
On Saturday, we make our way South, then on Sunday, will go to Italy to meet hubby, visiting Scotland, England and France on the way. It's not easy this jetsetting life, and for sure, it will not be easy single handed with a toddler. A toddler who is pathologically incapable of sitting still. And doesn't sleep on planes. Or on my lap. Or anywhere, really, apart from his bed.

He's walking all over the place now, but only inside. Daymother tells me he prefers to sit or crawl outside, despite the fact it is around zero, there is slush everywhere and loads of puddles. Or perhaps because of that. Just as well I always pack a spare pair of dry trousers.

Completely exhausted, from a four hour a day teaching schedule (beginning at a very dark 8am) and trying to finish up a huge pile of admin before taking off. The exams (which the students took today), will have to come to Italy to be graded. It seems cheeky to say I need my holiday, seeing as we are only just back from China, but that wasn't a holiday! And in Italy, I will have motherinlaw doing all my cooking and laundry. Bliss indeed. I'm all for bringing back bigamy; a wife would solve so many of my problems.

Happy Christmas!

Why I should listen to my mother and that she is Always Right.

2006-11-27T22:18:00.000Z

Such is the lesson learned by er pupo this morning. The hard way. The hard as a bathroom unit way.

Boy is notorious for his attempts to leap headfirst from the change table. This morning, he was actually behaving relatively well and we had got as far as the trousers, before he decided that he was bored and that despite it being -7 outside, the sweater was optional. Having realised that if he doesn't move at the speed of light, we will grab him and hold him down (cue: much whinging, wailing, gnashing of teeth and ocassional biting of The Mother Who Doesn't Understand Me) he launched himself at superhuman speed towards the sink unit. Mamma grabbed legs as they slid on the muslin lying on the change table. Legs stopped. Head kept going. Result: one burst lip, enough blood to satisfy the darkest fans of Oliver Stone and a very surprised and sorry expression on a little boy's faced. He looked at me stunned that this could possibly have happened to him and for a moment, I believed that he had in fact realised that my insistence that he lie still on the table was not just an arbitrary decision of mine, but actually served the purpose of facial preservation.

By 4pm he had forgotten the entire incident. Unfortunately.

Otherwise, the now walking boy shows no end to his independence. Neither mother nor father (ESPECIALLY not father) may assist him with the challenges of eating but instead er pupo is perfectly capable of holding his own bowl and his own spoon and steering his dinner into his own mouth. One. Stellina. At. A. Time. 25 Stelline on the floor. Per spoonfull.

And for my next trick

2006-11-21T21:02:00.000Z

he walks! He's been getting bolder and bolder, holding on less and less, standing up on his own rather well, and finally, on Sunday, he decided to take a grand 5 steps or so, and has been practising ever since. Not quite ready for the London Marathon, but hey, at least he is walking. I keep believing that this will somehow make my life easier (for example, he can stand up so I can put his snow suit on), but I strongly suspect the attitutude will remain unchanged, and he'll still be scarpering off, because he'd rather stay at the daymother's than come home.

The case turned up from KLM, so er pupo is happily in repossession of his little emperor hat. The boy that hates hats will not take this one off! I suspect he knows its significance. Or maybe he just likes the Roma red and yellow. KLM still owe me cash for my replacement purchases in Amsterdam, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they will be less than forcoming.

And meanwhile, to top it off, my neighbour is learning the trumpet. As in learning. From the very beginning.

A few less ducks in Beijing

2006-11-09T20:01:00.000Z

since hubby, er pupo and I tucked into a few. yum, yum.

Er pupo became the central tourist attraction of Beijing for a month, as every visit took an extra hour spent with him flirting with all sorts of hoi polloi and having his photograph taken, perhaps ten times on each day trip. I kid you not. The ladies in the hotel even delivered him a big bunch of flowers. He thoroughly enjoyed himself, though is also happy and excited to be home, and delighted to return to his dagmamma and tell the other kids about his adventures. He talks and talks these days, though nothing comprehensible. Walking is every day closer, but still no cigar. He refused to sleep on the plane, both going and returning, giving us a token 45 minutes in each direction. Of a ten hour flight. That´s 9 hours and 15 minutes of trying to entertain a toddler on a plane. He was happy enough, though, and didn´t cry, so I count my blessings.

One of our suitcases has gone AWOL, but KLM will pay up the big bucks in due course; only tragic loss is the Christmas present for my sister and er pupo´s "last emperor" hat, which he simply adored. I mean, this is the boy that hates wearing a hat, but take this one off him, and he would cry and stretch his arms out to have it back. Must be the colours, red and yellow, i.e. Roma, for my little pupo.

Uncle Mao says hello, by the way.

Scottish football has come down to earth after a loss to Ukraine. We knew it couldn´t last.
SCO 4 9
FRA 4 9
ITA 4 7
UKR 3 6
LTU 3 4
GEO 4 3
FAR 4 0

Lorry loads of laundry await, as does a desperate need to get some more sleep.

Puzzled

2006-10-09T22:26:00.000Z

Something is amiss in the World of football:

1 Scotland 3 3 0 0 9 1 8 9
2 France 3 2 0 1 6 2 4 6
3 Italy 3 1 1 1 4 4 0 4
4 Lithuania 3 1 1 1 3 3 0 4
5 Georgia 3 1 0 2 8 6 2 3
6 Ukraine 2 1 0 1 3 4 -1 3
7 Faroe Islands 3 0 0 3 0 13 -13 0

Bet we get humped by Faroyer on the second leg!

Some signs of intelligence

2006-10-09T22:02:00.000Z

Now, being quite honest, er pupo has not shown much in the way of Einsteinian tendencies. Ok, so, fair enough, expectations weigh rather heavily on the son of two doctors. (Drs Campbell will soon be able to attest.) He has been slow to crawl, slow to walk, slow to speak. (For those interested, currently he can only manage the first of these three.) And yet, today, with great determination, and a temper that involved three spoons being thrown angrily at the wall when it didn't quite work (or when mummy wouldn't let go), er pupo showed us that he can perfectly well eat a yoghurt, with a spoon, all by himself. I am no longer needed. And I'm kinda chuffed. But I'm most proud of all that I managed to get it on video with the digital camera! Er pupo, our hopes have not yet died. We'll keep them till you are a rebellious teenager, then give up utterly.

Bearing in mind the significant possibility that I won't be able to access this from China, I take my leave, wish myself góða ferð and shall be in touch in about a month.

Testing Toddler

2006-10-02T22:06:00.000Z

So, we've had the allergies confirmed (pine nuts and eggs - the latter he will hopefully outgrow, the formally, unlikely) and now have more medicine, an "epipen" to jab in his thigh should he stop breathing and a letter that will hopefully allow us to take them on a plane. We have also learned to say: "he cannot eat eggs/pinenuts" in Chinese, and have it written down just in case our accent is too dodgy for comprehension.

Er pupo, meanwhile, has entered the realm of toddlerdom and has a temper to rival any member, living or dead, of the Qualter dynasty. And they say that age 2 is worse....

And then there were eleven

2006-09-22T21:41:00.000Z

Another three, THREE teeth on the bottom, all very pointy and just poking through, but through they are. There is a canine on top that has been lurking for months and surely must pierce that tiny layer of skin in the next few days. Er pupo is being remarkably good about the whole thing, although has had his temperamental moments. No more than his mother, however, and I don't have the teething excuse. Shall have to think up something good though...

Getting very excited about the whole Beijing adventure. We are staying (and I will be teaching) in Haidian which is not far from Beijing zoo and I believe we will next to the first stop of the new line of the metro. Just a short tube right to the forbidden city, tianamen square and, my personal hotspot of excitement, the silk market. We've read the guidebooks and found out where the baby superstore is, just in case we forget anything. We are staying in a hotel (not self-catering, unfortuately) which makes things a little harder with er pupo, but I think I will put him on ready-to-drink formula milk to make sure he is getting his vitamins and so that we can always have it when out and about. The tap water is best avoided and of course we'll have nowhere to sterilise.

And apart from that... shopping, sites, shopping, sites, shopping at the sites, and a bit of Beijing duck in between. quack quack

oh, the shame, the shame of it

2006-09-18T12:55:00.000Z

I spent all week complaining to anyone who would listen about how difficult er pupo was being and how i didn't know how to cope with him. He was whining constantly, wouldn't eat, wanted held continuously and was generally bad tempered...

... fast forward to saturday, when he laughs and i see 2 new molars on the bottom of his mouth. the wee soul was in pain all the time.

Bad mummy for thinking satan had possessed her child.

since he likes to keep me entertained

2006-09-11T21:50:00.000Z

he has now decided to be allergic to eggs. So off we rush to get the medicine that has joined him on all his travels to discover that the bottle has been lying smashed at the bottom of the change bag for some time.
Just as well he "only" suffered from hives which then went away (till they reappeared on his butt when he pooed. Almost funny come to think about it).

So now, a 2 week wait for the paediatrician and we hope for the best he doesn't take a more serious reaction in the meanwhile. Then we need a letter explaining why he has to cart the medicine with him constantly and for the bottle to be less than 50mls, in case we ever decided to fly through or to the UK again. Which until they do something about these damn restrictions isn't looking too likely...

Strange things happening back home

2006-09-08T10:03:00.000Z

It is very possible that I am sleepwalking as I type this, because credibility is most definitely stretched... but last time I looked, Scotland was topping a European Championship qualifying group containing France and Italy. Having scored 8 goals in 2 games.
Italy was languishing on 1 point.

Scottish football is a well known tease. Mostly you hang about knowing they are duff and yelling "my granny could do better than that, and she's been deid for 20 years" and then, out of nowhere, they pluck a win against Germany or Netherlands and a draw against Italy and we think.... "oooo, just maybe... dare I hope?" and the fever takes over and we all think: "we're going to actually qualify for a proper tournament!!!"

And then... they lose at home to the Faroe Islands and we all crash back to earth with a bump.

So this time, 6 points and 8 goals or not, in a group containing both Italy and France, when only 1 teams goes through automatically and 1 to the playoffs, I'll not be booking my flight to the main event just yet. But... i suppose... I could buy the TimeOut guide to Austria and Switzerland. Just to look, mind....

Beijing is asking

2006-09-08T09:59:00.000Z

And I'm dancing!
We've booked our tickets and got our jabs, so there is no turning back now! (especially since very expensive tickets are nonrefundable!). Briefly, I was invited to teach for 3 weeks in Beijing and hubby and er pupo have invited themselves along. Well, hubby invited himself, er pupo doesn't quite know yet that he is going. Hubby will play au pair and we will see China! Soooooooooooo excited :)

Anyone expecting Christmas presents this year can anticipate a "theme"!

Unbelievable

2006-09-03T20:57:00.000Z

Nappy rash came as no surprise as er pupo was on antibiotics and it seems to be the way. So he gets some cream from the doc here, but we decide to use something from Scotland that had worked before (my fan club will recall the 2 month epic battle with nappy rash when er pupo was 2-3 months). So the rash starts to clear up, but before it has completely gone, the cream runs out.

Being cautious parents, we then turned to the icelandic cream to finish the job. To which er pupo has taken the most awful allergic reaction and now his bum and "front bottom" looks like it has 2nd degree burns. He is so sore. Yet again, we turn up at the hospital (it's a Sunday) to get yet more cream (now 2 different kinds) and I get to spend the rest of the day mopping up the bathroom as he runs around with a bare bum.

He seems a little better this evening though we're not sure if it's the air, the new cream, or the lack of the old evil cream. He has to go to daycare tomorrow, where he has to be in his nappy, but I'll try to pick him up early so he can have some time to run around.

The whole experience does rather bring to light why we battled for 2 months when er pupo was little - seeing as the cream we got to fix him was what was causing all the trouble in the first place.

poor poor baby :(

Lazarus

2006-08-28T12:13:00.000Z

6.30-8.30pm er pupo clinging to mamma and whining
8.30pm to bed
9.30pm awake, full of the joys of spring, smiling, climbing, throwing all his toys all over the floor
10.30pm to bed.
10.40 TO BED, pupo.
10.50 Standing up in bed, singing, shaking cot bars and throwing Arnobio (patron saint of longsufference or something) out of cot, then whining till mamma gave it back, then thowing him out again...
mamma hanging over edge of cot, dosing off to be woken by er pupo eating her watch. (pupo's first rule of property: "if it is shiny, it is mine")
11pm, no, pupo, really TO BED, it is NIGHT TIME. your mamma hasn't slept since Wednesday and you must sleep now.
11.05pm er pupo crying in cot, because he wants to PLAY PLAY PLAY. Mamma weeping in bed, because she is so knackered she can't move her legs to get out of bed to go see pupo and tell him to behave himself.

It's wonderful to see him full of energy again; just wish I could say the same for myself. If you are well enough to play, my son, you are well enough for your routine today and there shall be no nonsense about it!

His temperature is right down, but the antibiotics have upset his tummy and given him a horrible nappy rash. He's not over the ear infection and there'll be more pain and tears, but for now he is up and down like an interval workout and every up is slightly upper than the last.

Well I never

2006-08-26T11:13:00.000Z

thought I would be so happy to announce that my son has an ear infection. However, as an alternative to flu, I'll take the ear infection every time - at least the latter is easy to treat.
Er pupo howled the night through, which is something of an improvement on the previous night of whimpering the night through. Not much fun for the neighbours and I can't say I was delighted, but I'd rather see him with the energy to give it a good howling. He was also thirsty which is a relief as despite all my efforts, I couldn't get him to drink enough yesterday.

Send get well vibes our way.

Mothers have gravitational pull

2006-08-25T11:08:00.000Z

It's not often that er pupo and I share a bed. These ocassions have been: in hotel rooms when the alternative is howling the night away (er pupo, not me, I hasten to add); at his grandma's at 4 months when he had the cold and wanted to bf every 3 seconds; this summer for half a night when he woke up scared in yet another new bed; last night, when er pupo was trembling from a high fever and I was scared he might start to convulse.

Er pupo, it would seem, has the flu. His temperature this morning was 39.7 and I'm sure it was worse at 3am, though hubby and I were not at our most lucid and had inserted the paracetamol before it occured to us to pop in the thermometer. (Note to the Brits: in normal countries, people do not try to get red sticky liquid into a screaming baby, but rather bung a suppository up baby's bum. We take the temperature using the same orifice. So once paracetamol is in, trying to stick the thermometer in too is perhaps a little ambitious.) Quite frankly, our priority was to lower his temperature and calm him down and knowledge of the precise numbers did not strike me as of crucual import as I staggered around in the still dark (but only just).

Now I could continue and tell you how awful it is to have a sick child. For sure it is no fun. But it is not exactly a thrilling read. ("Baby is sick, he is whimpering; he wants held all the time; he is scared, he won't sleep, eat... yeah, you got it, ok.") But I have discovered a unique bend in the earthly laws of physics at the intersection between mother and child. It goes like this:

Child starts on one end of bed; mother on other. Child cries; both move to middle for cuddles. Child falls asleep. Gravitational pull takes effect and child moves towards mother. Mother is both nearly suffocating herself as heavy child is now on her head and scared of suffocating infants (having read too much about how children DIE, they DIE DIE DIE if they sleep with their parents - remember it is 3 am and rationality is not at its peak) . Mother moves away. Child, without any twitch or limb movements slides silently towards mother. Mother moves away. Child slides again... and so it continues. Child is on top of duvet in sleeping bag (remember those cot death studies, reader). Mother is under. Or was. Mother is now under corner of duvet the approximate size of the average facecloth. Butt is hanging out over the edge. Child has flu (hence unique sleeping arrangements) - flu is clever virus and plans for mother to succumb with equal severity.

I think I should publish this study in Nature.

Flu. That is what happens when you wash the bear.

Congratulations Drs D & R!!!

2006-08-15T13:43:00.001Z

Woo hoo, my friend in Scotland had a wee boy on Friday! They are still in hospital, whilst mum gets some rest but I can't wait to see the photos.
Hurrah hurrah hurrah more friends for Kieran!

Oh my!

2006-08-14T21:30:00.000Z

Er pupo's new playmat arrived by mail from Italy. It was a birthday present and very light foam, so we just mailed it. I put it out, not giving it much thought, then got back to making his tea. After dinner, we went through and he was quite excited about it, so I went through the tiles explaining what all the vehicles were. That is a ship, this one is a helicopter, that is a truck, that is a... surey not... it must be meant to be a submarine. Quick consultation with mr expat.... it IS a bleeding armoured tank! I couldn't believe it. Now, I'm of the "no guns" camp with er pupo, but a tank? With a massive gun hanging out of it? Surely I'm not the only person not to find that appropriate for a little kid's playmat?

If I can be bothered, I will photograph and display offending item. Unlikely though...

on a happer note, we have a buyer for the car. Actually, we have 2. Ah, poor Romabill. But he will stay in circulation for a wee while yet.

Arnobio #2

2006-08-12T08:21:00.000Z

Dilemna over. Whilst we we umming and ahing and ooing and erring and hmmming and ... ok, you get it, er pupo's dagmamma took matters into her own hands and Arnobio was returned yesterday having been washed in the machine AND tumbledried. I think she was worried about infecting the other kids.

He is almost white. Poor bobo...

and, in case you can't get enough of my star photography, here is another...

OUR NEW CAR!!! WOO HOO! A 2002, 1.2 Astra, with 63,000 Km.

We shall miss the Romabill, currently parked across the road, so that when folk come to see her, they won't notice the big oil patch on our drive. Hope someone takes her, 'cause otherwise, with insurance (3rd party) at 500 quid a year, it'll be the scrap yard :( :(: (:

But we shall always have our fond memories, not least of our marathon drive around Iceland, all three.
http://expatmamma.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_expatmamma_archive.html

Card shark

2006-08-04T10:00:00.000Z

Hey hey, so hubby's birthday last night and he had a couple of buddies over to play poker. Now to explain, it is 10ISK (about 8p) to play, max raise is 50 ISK (40p), you can only raise 3 times in each round of betting and there are never more than 2 rounds of betting per hand. So on a wild hand you could lose a max of, ooh, nearly 3 quid. And just in case you STILL think we are morally reprehensible, we were drinking orange juice and non-alcoholic apple cider.

And I made 1800 ISK! (about 15 quid, but it sounds so much more in Kroner. It's just about enough to buy 2 gin and tonics in a bar.) On only my second night of poker.

Ah, boys, underestimate not the pretty girl at the table. She might need to keep looking at the rules to see what kind of tricks she can get, but she is good at maths. And more importantly, can see through her hubby's bluffs every time.

Note to ma and pa. No, I do not plan to play for "real" money or join any online casinos. oh, is that my son calling? Must dash, sorry, we'll chat later...

PS: Dr DC - are you out there? And is that baby out yet?! Do let me know...

To wash or not to wash?

2006-08-03T12:44:00.000Z

Arnobio. Er pupo's favourite thing in the whole world. It's a stuffed bear that's been in his cot since we came home from the hospital and at some point we realised that he loved it more than anything else, that as soon as we put him into his cot, he would look around for it to grab, that it would solve any problem that a breadstick could not. (I felt quite sorry for Bob, a soft toy that had also been in the cot, but Bob is tough and can take the rejection.)

But Arnobio stinks. And not in a good way. Is there a good way to stink? Or is stink a word that can have only negative connotations. Unlike smell, or give of odour, vapour, perfume.... I digress. The bear has BO. He has been slept on for months and vomitted on on more than one ocassion. And we're not talking innocent breast-milk vomit either. This was the real home cooked carrots and sautéd apple. Er pupo doesn´t mind, but when Arnobio is being put to the task of 'comfort the screaming child who has just whacked his head. Again.' and is in mamma's arms, mamma gets positively giddy from the perfume. Which is rather dangerous, since she is holding a child who has already whacked his head. Again.

So to wash? And we'll have no pansy suggestions involving damp cloths, thank you. We´ve tried that and it doesn't cut it. The odeur pervades. Not to mention the stains. So it's washing machine or... or what? Or we live with the stink. Personally, I don't think my washing machine is up to the challenge and l'eau d'Arnob will remain, albeit more of an eau du toilette than a pure parfum. But how long will he take to dry? And what will er pupo do in the meantime? When he whacks his head? Or needs to go to sleep?

sick sick sick

2006-08-03T12:27:00.001Z

at the Italian football verdicts. Complete disgrace and scandal. I said before the World Cup that nothing would happen to the big boys; then I was in Italy when the original recommendations came out. Sensible football fans were reasonably happy but I advised caution. So now what? Milan is playing in Champion's League, whilst staying in Seria A with Lazio and Fiorentina with some joke of a point deduction; they still have all their juicy TV rights. Juve is in B (for now), though I'm still not convinced that will last. The facts of the case are no great surprise to anyone that follows Italian football (though a change of Government was needed before anything was done about them). The verdicts are a disgrace to any sport worthy of the name. Last year, hubby went on strike from football after Genoa (caught matchfixing) were relegated to C instead of being promoted to A (they finished top in B); seemed just to me, after all they did appear to have fixed a match. Juve fix entire seasons and are now peddling the same influence to save their butts from any serious sanction. Think it's time for me to go on strike. Juve lose their titles, but only this year's (now to Inter) and the previous year's (Milan were 2nd but are not in a position to exactly claim that title right now). No change to the 2004 title (Milan with Roma second), 2003 title (Juve with Inter second) or 2002 (Juve with Roma second) despite the fact that the fixing has been going on for years. At least Roma and Inter can hold on to their integrity and know how well they did without threatening the referees.

Makes me wish Italy hadn't won the World Cup. Almost.

Reality Check

2006-08-02T10:16:00.000Z

Home we are. We had a great time away and managed to get more work done than we ever do here, despite juggling er pupo, beaches, ice-cream and sunshine. It's a hard life.

Er pupo was a star traveller, despite being subjected to 3 flights and 5 different countries all in one day. He took immediately to all his grandparents (it seems he has an instinct for people who will spoil him rotten), ate kilos of the finest tomatoes on the Riviera, was introduced to gelato (yum yum, no, I will sit nicely and open my mouth and not try to grab the spoon for THIS!) and, on the flight from Nice to Gatwick, en route to Scotland, delighted me with his first "mamma." He now says it all the time. In the absence of the parquet, he decided to crawl properly and now there is no stopping him - that is, when you can get him off his feet. He loves to stand up and can cruise around to get where he wants - but only if he doesn't think too much about it. The sun made him grow like a hothouse tomato - and, moreover, also his hair! It couldn't exactly be descriped as a lot, but there is definitely some serious fuzz. I wish it would grow a bit more to cover all the bumps he manages to inflict on himself with his new found climbing skills.

Today we visit his nurse for the one year MOT (although now at 13 months). I am likely to go to China in October for 3 weeks and I want to get some advice on whether I should drag him and hubby along. Hubby is very keen to go, but that means brining er pupo too, and I don't want to do that if it means a whole lot of extra vaccinations. Of course it would be great to have him with me, but at the same time, it might all be a bit much for him.

He begins with the dagmamma on Monday. We will take the week to introduce him gently and then there are another few weeks before I begin to teach. Hubby for some reason does all his teaching in the Spring, so we will be on call should there be any problems. But I expect er pupo to revel in it. He was more than happy to be left with his grandparents, even before he had reacquainted himself with them and took great delight in playing with his big cousins in Italy.

Posting is likely to be infrequent, as I juggle the double shift, but I'm confident and excited about the future for our little family.

And off we go

2006-06-09T14:54:00.000Z

Hurrah! On monday we go to Italy; but I won't have time to post before then, trying to cope with hyper boy who has discovered his feet - however, only for long enough to lose his balance and fall over and bang his head. And if he's not doing that, he's howling because he wants his mum. Please let this be a phase.... Thank goodness he starts daycare in August and in the meanwhile, we can fob him off on the grandparents for, oh, I don't know, maybe 2 days before they realise how hard he is to look after! Perhaps I exaggerate, but things have been very difficult since the start of May as hubby has been back at work, as have I, and we somehow believed we could juggle that with boy care. Er, no. The trusty laptops are coming with us; boy goes to beach (accompanied, presumably), we sit in hot stuffy apartment and work. Yes, go on, feel sorry for me, having to spend a whole month on the riviera.

We went to the hospital today and saw the paediatrician who ran some skin tests. He came up slightly allergic to wheat, which is odd indeed, considering the quantity of breadsticks the boy goes through; it might have beeen a false positive. They don't have tests for pine nuts or dried figs, but when we come back, we will go up with the two and they will test it directly. We have some antihistamine, should he get another reaction, or, heaven forbid, a more serious one, but for now, I'm feeling relaxed about the whole thing.

So now what? Well, get boy dressed and go up to friends' to watch the World Cup of course! (only on private-far-too-expensive-for-a-poor-law-professor telly).

Have a good summer!

This will not go down well

2006-05-31T13:13:00.001Z

On the 12th we're off to Italy. We will be: on a minibus, in an airport, on a plane, in an airport, on another plane, in an airport, on another plane, another airport, car, FINALLY the riviera, around midnight (having left the hotel at 5am).

And what else is happening? Oh yes... Italy's first match in the World cup. Which starts at 2100 (Italian/German time). Our flight lands at 2155. Father in law will be driving to pick us up - just over an hour each way.

Not going to be popular....

Let's just hope they manage to stay in it long enough for us to watch some games together this time.

just as we prepare for our holidays....

2006-05-21T17:32:00.000Z

er pupo goes and gets allergic. Probably to figs, but possibly pine nuts. One minute he's happily munching away on some home made bread, with figs and pine nuts; the next he has some spots by his mouth. Five minutes later, they are all over his face; half an hour later and his eye is swollen and red and I'm packing him in the car to A&E. Of course, when he gets there, he miraculously recovers before we actually see the doc. Typical! He has a referral to the paed whom I'm expecting to run some tests to find out what he can and can't have. Meanwhile, I need to keep him on baby food till we work out what the problem is :(

A little time

2006-05-19T12:49:00.001Z

has passed. Er pupo is one month older and still blabs away: "papá, papá, papá" and I swear he said mamma this morning, but he wasn't for repeating it and hubby didn't hear so we'll have to wait to tick that one off in the books. He finds it very funny to make very unPC native american calls with my hand and is now learning to do it with his own hand, though his attempts to stick a whole fist in his mouth are making this a little difficult. He's losing his puppy fat and becoming a proper little boy. Proper crawling is still beyond him (why bother, when one can drag oneself on the parquet) but he is into EVERYTHING! He loves to explore the house. He had a couple of traumatic days when we were teaching him the word "no" (in connection with power sockets), where he would start to bawl every time we said it - but now he looks guiltily at the power socket, we say "no", he looks over again, thinks about it, then moves on back to something far more interesting. Like tearing up the tv guide.

We're all off to Italy in three weeks, which is much needed after a very stressful term. Hubby is officially back at work, but we are basically sharing the caring of er pupo, working a lot at home, including evenings and getting a babysitter when needs must. He'll start with the dagmamma when we come back at the end of July. And then... independence hails. I'm hoping he'll learn to walk during his time in Italy and Scotland, but I don't have great expectations. To be quite honest, I don't give a toss that he seems to be behind the average child on his movement. He'll get there when he's ready and it won't make any difference by the time he starts school. He's very happy, blethers non-stop and is pretty smart at getting his own way. What more does he need?

So that's us; holiday much needed, so I can actually do some work. That is, take the laptop, NOT sit in meetings all day, and get some research going.

Oops

2006-04-28T19:19:00.000Z

So I've been feeling a little shaky and sorry for myself today after last night's traumatic events. My throat's sore too, from the effort and my voice has dropped a good octave and a half. Ah, woe, is me. Then hubby told me that the neighbour downstairs had been worried all night because she heard me screaming and thought something had happened to er pupo. I think I owe her an apology... her and probably the whole neighbourhood.

Primal Fear

2006-04-28T11:24:00.000Z

Last night, there was a spider walking across my pillow. An ENORMOUS spider. I exaggerate not, it was the size of the circumference of your average coffee mug. That's MUG, not expresso cup. Not expecting such in Iceland, I thought it must be a shadow, but no, it really WAS a spider and it was moving! Blessedly away from me, but that didn't stop me as I leapt from my bed and began screaming hysterically.

At which point, I woke up.

Now, spiders are pretty scary things, especially ones that look like they could swallow a cat without chewing. Waking up to the sound of screaming isn't much fun either, though I have some experience of that, since my darling hubby will ocassionally share one of his nightmares with a blood curdling yell. But when you hear screaming, then realise it is yourself, and yet aren't quite awake enough to stop yourself, don't know where you are or what is going on... well, THAT is scary. Nightmares, I can deal with. Nothing in my life so far compares to the fear of waking up whilst sleepwalking. WHERE AM I? WHY AM I SCREAMING? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE (as hubby emerged from the bathroom, looking almost as scared as I felt)? WHAT'S GOING ON? It is unbearably disorientating.

The science boffins shall correct me, but as I understand things, when you sleep, your body goes into a temporary paralysis. Some people suffer from bouts of this paralysis whilst awake - not good if you are crossing a busy high street. In others, the sleep can come without the paralysis at times, and hence sleepwalking. I haven't done it since I was a teenager, and for some reason then only when I was extremely tired. Thank goodness term finishes today (I type as I invigilate the last exam) so hopefully I can get some proper, dreamless, walkingless sleep and not have another run in with blind panic.

Er pupo, light sleeper as he is, that he will wake if we turn the kitchen tap on, didn't even flinch. Hubby wasn't too chuffed though.

They can't take that away...

2006-04-19T13:58:00.000Z

Yesterday, we paid off half our mortgage. The Kroner continues its descent and I am beginning to get nervous. This is a small country; there will be no rush to save it. Incredibly, the Prime Minister has been publicly talking down the currency and suggesting that it is a sign we ought to join the EU and the euro. I wonder where his savings are? So before our savings lose any more value, we have bunged them on the flat. The mortgage is index linked; the savings account not, so even if interest rates go up (and our mortgage has a guaranteed fixed rate of 5.1%), it is in our interest to keep the mortgage down. If the banks collapse, at least we have somewhere to live. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to send money to the UK to pay for our holiday but it bites so bad to send it right now. I keep hoping to wake up to a minor recovery, but every day it is worse.

Our holidays are looking more and more austere...

A little etymology

2006-04-15T13:19:00.000Z

With some regularity, I discover words in Icelandic that bear more than a passing similarity to those of Caithness dialect. House is hús (pronounced hoos), one goes út (oot), to cry is að gráta (growta), to go to somewhere is to go tíl. On Thursday, we learned one more, particularly fitting for er pupo, which is að blaðra (blathra), which is quite literaly, to blether; er pupo is a blaðrari, a blether.

He is still quite chuffed which his papá and shows no likelihood of managing mamma any time soon, nor any interest in the attempt. He chats away to himself constantly, especially in his high chair and it is quite a delight to watch his little face frown in concentration as he makes a new sound and listens to himself.

Happy Easter

Plummeting

2006-04-12T12:16:00.000Z

For months, our currency has been over-valued and I've been saying to hubby, GET OUT, GET OUT NOW. GET THE SAVINGS INTO EUROS. And of course, we didn't. We half heartedly went to the bank when it dropped 10% and got some information, but there was no "ethical investment" option, so hubby said no and asked his uncle to look into alternatives in Italy. Currency has since dropped another 13% and I have just booked our vacation accommodation in Scotland. We will also be in Italy for a month. If things keep going at this rate, I don't think er pupo will be eating much.

teeth!

2006-04-11T14:48:00.000Z

in the plural! Yet another sharp little pincer appeared this morning. And he said mamma. Once. By mistake. He was just practising making sounds and hasn't learned the word yet. But my heart melted all the same. Wee petal.

Easter vacation approaches which means a few days off to spend with him. We'll stay home, but it will be relaxing to not be running around or having to teach rude and arrogant first years who seem to think they 1) don't need to come to class 2) do ME a favour if they do come to class 3) can come into the class at any time of the lesson, disturbing me and the other students 4) can use their cell phones to class 5) may play computer games, surf the net, chat on msn in class 6) know more than I do. Big virtual slap to them all.

He waited for his mamma.

2006-04-09T16:30:00.000Z

As I left for DC, er pupo was showing signs of major advances in crawling, speaking and teeth. Thankfully, he managed to contain himself until my return and this week (Wednesday), I had the joy of discovering his first very sharp little pincer. Today, he added to his tricks, with a very careful "papá" that he has been practising every since. Papá is, of course, more than delighted. There has been absolutely no intention nor effort to produce "mamma" but hey, at least I found that tooth. Crawling still seems beyond him, I mean, why bother, when you can just yell? And he can always pull up the play mat so that the toy comes to him. Nappy changing is a battle of the wills, as he insists on being on his tummy and I insist he stay on his back. It usually involves some screaming (usually his), but I will NOT, unlike his gullible father, be seduced into letting him have his own way on this. So I say now, but then, I am not the one who is at home with him all day. The "provider" role certainly has its advantages.

It's all change now; even his hair grew when I was away. Admittedly, it didn't grow very much and it is only noticable because he was such a baldy before I left. But it seems that from now on, perhaps for the next few months, there will be rapid development.

Back to Reality

2006-04-09T10:26:00.000Z

and a pleasure it is. I had a great experience in DC. My students did well in the Jessup moot court, we all learned a huge amount and, try as I might to resist, I actually quite liked the city. Akureyri has been firmly placed on the map and our law school has proven its international credentials. My students won 2 of their 4 rounds. We lost one student to severe bronchitis, which meant another student had to step in for her with 3 hours notice, but despite a very stressful day involving doctors and hospitals and exrays, she seems to have recovered. I even managed to wangle my way into a major conference on international law and met a couple of former professors. I took advantage of my relative liberty to party hard and work hard.

And yet, it is always a great joy to return home to my little family. Er pupo was delighted to see me. I don't think he was particularly upset by my absence; as long as his dad was around, he was content (though a little nervous if his dad went out for an extended period, leaving him with his grandma), but I was given a great welcome home. When I picked him up, he laughed and laughed with joy at being reunited with me. Ah, the poor thing knows no better.

Work keeps me busy, as does the boy. The light is changing fast here, and er pupo has not quite understood that just because the sun wakes up at 6am, he doesn't have to. And he is a long way off from appreciating the concept of a "weekend."

The easter break approaches, and then there are just a few more weeks of teaching, before the summer term when I can actually get on with my job without being hindered by legions of complaining students. Well, not legions exactly, but it seems that way when they are at their most irksome. On my first day back, one student approached me to ask if she could have the essay question early because she was going to Spain with her boyfriend. And she expected me to be sympathetic. I was very tempted to give her a slap and blame it on the jetlag.

Bring on summer. I don't find it reasonable that in April I should still be having to dig my car out of the snow in the morning.

So, I leave

2006-03-24T10:05:00.000Z

for DC on Sunday. My students have already sailed off, or at least, have got as far as Reykjavik. They fly tonight and I will see them in DC. Mother in law and her friend arrive tonight to "help" with er pupo, which means hubby won't get near. Hopefully it will provide sufficient distraction for him not to miss his mammy too much.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about it all. I'm anxious and nervous as I don't know how er pupo will be without me. Maybe he won't even notice I'm gone. But what if he is miserable, cries all the time, won't eat, won't sleep?

It will be such a joy to come home to him...

I shall report on my return. By then, hopefully something will have been done about our pc problems at home.

Teaching and Talking and Writing and Coaching

2006-03-21T14:31:00.000Z

Yes, indeed, I owe you an update. My excuse this time is not so much lack of news as lack of time. Er pupo is continuously a joy to behold, though for the second week running has spookily woken up bawling as the open credits of Lost appear on screen. I mean, it's the only programme we watch!

In the last 7 days, I have given 3 papers, although they were admittedly on more or less the same thing. I have to try to write something about them now. One was written up, till I gave the paper and got so much, ahem, "feedback" (i.e. told it was duff) that I have to make some changes before I can send it off in the vain hope that something thinks it is interesting enough to publish. Another will be published in September, so I have a little breathing space there. Not that these are actually on my research project, oh no, that would be easy. So come summer (by which I mean May) I actually start researching my proper project.

At least by then I shall have finished teaching for the summer and... dadaDAH... the most timeconsuming and second most thankless task of all time: coaching the students for the Jessup international moot court competition to be held in Washington DC next week. Click on said link to the team blog. Perhaps they would be more competitive if they actually worked on the case and not the blog, but, sigh, I am but the lowly coach. This does all involve a week in Washington, which I can hardly afford in terms of time, but at least it's an opportunity to buy a shiny iBook at US prices.

First year essay grading is ever a delight, though perhaps less so for the students when they see their grades. The internet is the bane of my existence. Why oh why do they cut and paste random things from random, unreferreed websites? And worse, why do they think I won't know?

Our home PC is not working; I'd like to use that as my excuse for non-blogging, however, it only went funny last week and it seems I have not posted for a teensy bit longer than that. But it does provide me with an excuse right now for cutting this off and getting on with my job.

He lives! He lives!

2006-03-02T12:57:00.000Z

For a little less than a hundred quid, the romabíll is on the road again. that's it for another year - when no doubt we will be told again that we have an oil leak that we have to fix, but hey ho, it'll do for now.

update

2006-02-24T15:36:00.000Z

busy, busy, having to earn my keep, pay the mortgage, raise a son, you know, the usual. I'd consider retiring, but the Romabíll failed her MOT this morning. On the other hand, pupo's complaint with little chef is now with their legal team, so who knows? Maybe we'll get a big enough pay off for a new car. Then again...

Work is hectic, trying to run a law school with no money. Home is good. Pupo is adorable. Babysitter is booked and hubby and I have a "date" tonight for the first time in months. We'll go to the movies and might splash out on a wee dram afterwards.

I'm probably off to Washington, DC next month, courtesy of my students who happily won a moot court competition and are off to the finals. I'm the "coach" and they beg me to go. No, really, they beg me. Next year, I'll need to find them a competition in Barbados. Did I tell you hubby and I nearly moved to Barbados? Ah, another time...

Hmmm... I think I should be offended.

2006-02-08T18:08:00.000Z

That's amazon for you. Well, my friend got offered his heart's desire on amazon. And here's me, trying to help out a friend by looking for a book on getting your baby to sleep and I get offered I can make you thin. Excuse me, I AM thin. And if that's not bad enough, I then get offered The Attachment Parenting Book. No, not my thing, you'll be surprised to hear. What a lot of tosh that is, don't start me....

Amazon, amazon, you know me not. I am an enigma.

Naughty Mummy

2006-02-05T12:23:00.000Z

So, er pupo had his first taste of ice cream last night. And I mean "taste" not "eat." I let him lick my finger. Twice. Well, of course he liked it. But then, he likes everything so that was no surprise. He was up a little late, as we had guests, but we put him to bed at 8.30. At 9.15, he was still singing away and playing, so I went through and he was high as a kite. I took him up, to try to give him some milk and a soothing cuddle, but NO, IT'S PLAYTIME MUMMY, WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY OR SOMETHING? At ten, I put him down again and he quickly fell asleep and woke at 9 this morning.

Lesson learned: a TINY bit of sugar is a dangerous thing!

Somewhere along the way, I lost a post

2006-01-31T20:23:00.000Z

Er pupo, my beloved, is flourishing. The boy who would wail and whine and cry and moan until I held him during our winter vacation has now moved on. I rush home from work at 4pm, scoop him up into my arms, feed him, cuddle him, play with him, clean him and... the whole time his big blue eyes follow his father around the room. And should his father leave the room, he stares at the door. Well, thanks, buddy.

Bah humbug. I know ginger tomcats with more loyalty.

Dear Little Chef....

2006-01-30T14:32:00.000Z

30 January 2006

Dear Mrs XXXXXX

With reference to your letter marked EP/CRN 122755 HO of 19th January 2006, I wish to express our disappointment vis-à-vis the dismissively bureaucratic tone and the derisory compensation enclosed.

In your letter, you claim that the restaurant in Tomatin “had already been ear-marked for closure”, as though that could justify the fact that it was not provided with heating facilities in the disabled toilet. This restaurant has been in operation for approximately 20 years! Having an unheated disabled toilet in the middle of a Scottish winter is tantamount to having no disabled toilet at all – and a violation of the Disability Discrimination Act.

You mention that your “restaurant managers have been made aware that they can request… portable heaters.” Might I suggest that not only may they request them, they be obliged to do so.

My son’s cold eventually developed into asthmatic bronchitis and bronchiolitis. This involved an emergency hospital visit, 2 inhalers and antibiotics for a related ear infection. The antibiotics in turn triggered fungal infections in his stomach, hampering his appetite, and a fungal nappy rash, causing considerable further discomfort. It is likely that he will now suffer from asthma in the future, despite the fact that he had shown no prior indication of this. We had to cancel his swimming lessons.

Frankly, the ten pounds voucher is an insult. Firstly, it does not come close even to the costs of his medical bills (to date, around seventy pounds), not to mention the extent of his suffering and our related anxiety and stress. Secondly, as it is in the form of a voucher demarcated for redemption only at little chef, its real value is negligible. Thirdly, the limited validity of the voucher, given your knowledge that we live abroad, appears as a cynical attempt to prevent us using it.

You thank us for “bringing this matter to your attention”; we hope that, by returning it to your attention, you will give it some more careful consideration.

Yours sincerely,

oooo ya!

2006-01-29T18:49:00.000Z

ooooo be afraid

2006-01-26T17:07:00.001Z

So the little chef replied to my complaint. I was kindly informed that the Tomatin little chef is "earmarked for closure" which is why they haven't bothered to heat the disabled loo (for 20 years!) and that managers "could" borrow a portable heater if they wanted. To top it off, I was given, wait for it, a 10 pounds voucher to be used in any little chef by the end of June. Pupo's medicine and hospital trip probably amount to 60 or 70 before we start! I almost relish the opportunity to reply to them. The word "derisory" will be in there at least once.

Pupo, on the other hand, is finally recovering. He went to the doc on Tuesday and his lungs are tip top again. He still has a slight cough so should get the inhaler till it is totally gone and will need it again if he gets a cough or cold in the future, but for now, the bronchitis and bronchiolitis are licked. Yeehah! The tummy ache and nappy rash are related; if a fungal infection on the butt isn't bad enough, the antibiotics also allowed a fungal infection in the stomach. Gross. But even that is almost gone and pupo is eating and drinking again.

Work is good, productive; hubby has settled at home and now can actually go out for a walk with boy now and again.

Getting There....

2006-01-22T15:19:00.000Z

Not only was pupo suffering from nappy rash, but he had a sore tummy too and wouldn't drink his milk. He was thristy and would eagerly grab the bottle and suck, but after a few seconds would start to cry and kick his legs. On Friday evening, we phoned the duty dr to ask if it would be ok to stop the antibiotics and he agreed. Pupo is a different person! He is so perky, drinking and eating well again and his butt is well on the road to recovery. He's still taking his inhalers and is very good about it - he needs one 4 times a day and the other twice a day, two puffs of 15 seconds for each, but he doesn't complain and actually tries to hold the inhaler thing. Or maybe he's just a big drug addict (he is remarkably perky after the steroids!)

Today, the daughter of pupo's godmother was christened today. I went, but pupo and hubby stayed home as we were worried about spreading our germs. She has a huge family and they all had babies last year, so it is always a joy to see them. Welcome to the family of God, little girl.

Sick little boy

2006-01-20T17:58:00.000Z

Pupo and hubby have been stuck at home all week. The bronchitis and bronchiolitis got worse over the weekend, so we went back to the dr on Monday and came home with antibiotics, 2 inhalers and a baby that will likely have asthma recurring in future. It's impossible to know much yet, but until he is old enough to tell us, we should give him the inhalers as soon as he gets a cold or cough,. Lots of kids grow out of "baby asthma" and hopefully pupo will be one of them.
Meanwhile, all the drugs have overloaded his system and he has a nasty outbreak of nappy rash - having been perfect for months! And we can't do our usual trick of leaving him butt naked, 'cause we need to prevent him getting a draught. He's not eating so much either - and for those of you lucky enough to have met pupo, that is serious business! I think it's just the drugs making him too tired.
This boy was a picture of health last week! How can a cold lead to this? It's possible that he was always susceptible to asthma and we just didn't know (he has always had eczema and they regularly correlate) but regardless, it is still hopeful that it will all be behind him before he starts school. Fingers crossed...

And yes...

2006-01-14T10:17:00.000Z

therewaspunctuationintheoriginalSomethingtodowithcutandpaste...

Hmmm... well, something didn't work there

2006-01-14T10:05:00.001Z

Here is the letter (hopefully)... I await their response (promised within 14 working days) so that I can update them on how pupo's condition has worsened.

Dear Sir/Madam,I am contacing you to let you know of my disappointment with the baby facilites at the Tomatin Litte Chef. Whilst on a visit to Scotland with my five month old son, he soiled his nappy in the car. We decided to stop for an early lunch at Tomatin in order to change him. Unfortunately, having been sat in the car seat, it became necessary to change all of his clothes.The changing table at Tomatin little Chef is located in the disabled toilet. When we arrived, it was freezing - literally. The outside temperature was 0 degrees, and it was clear that the toilet was not heated. I felt cold with a t-shirt and 2 sweaters, so you can imagine how cold it must have felt for my infant son. It took about five minutes to clean him thoroughly, during which time he was naked (as he had soiled his vest and trousers). He became extremely distressed. We redressed him back in the restaurant area as I wanted him out of that toilet as soon as possible. Once dressed, he remained upset during the time it took our family to eat our meal and only settled once back in the car. I mentioned to the young man who was serving us that they must heat the toilet to be told that it had no heating!My son now has a cough and whlist it is impossible to know its origins, I can safely attribute its severity to his experience at the Little Chef.My son is a healthy little boy, but I shudder to think the effect this may have on much younger babies, even having a regular nappy change in such conditions. It is also simply unacceptable for disabled customers to be obliged to use unheated facilities. I should also add that there was no soap in the disabled toilet, so I had to wash my hands in the ladies; something that would not be possible for a disabled customer.On your website, I see that you advertise yourself as a baby friendly chain with "free organic baby food and baby changing facilities at most sites."I expect something to be done about this as soon as possible, so that no other babies need to experience what my son has; and indeed, so that disabled customers have the same comfort as other travellers.

Don't go to Tomatin Little Chef!!!

2006-01-14T10:05:00.000Z

And yeah, come on, sue me, I dare you! And just you wait for my counter suit!

Pupo's cough was much worse yesterday and there was so much phlegm that he would choke on it sometimes. So we called the dr out and he said that his lungs had a lot of mucous and that he had asthmatic bronchitis. We were sent to the hospital and thought we would have to stay the night. Kieran was given a ventilator with something to immediately relax his lungs and some steroids for a longer lasting effect. Thankfully, we were then sent home and he does seem to be a little better today, but we'll keep him home for a good few days and I suspect he'll miss more of his baby swimming class.

So what has this to do with Tomatin Little Chef. Well let me tell you...

Poor pupo

2006-01-12T18:22:00.000Z

After a breastfeed on Monday, pupo wouldn't settle and in the end, we gave him a bottle too, which he happily wolfed down. Thinking that my milk supply was probably waning, owing to the reduced feeds, we decided to call it quits and I gave him his last breastfeed on Tuesday morning. He now understands that he doesn't need his mummy when he is hungry and that the bottle will do the same job, so life is getting easier for hubby (even if he is still knackered and has been at the pool now for an hour an a half. Only slightly jealous, me, 'cause I never got more than an hour before I had to rush back to feed.) But now pupo has the cough as bad as hubby and I. He'd been giving the odd token cough before, but in the last couple of days it has got really bad and he coughs up a lot of phlegm sometimes. Can't help feeling that it has got worse because I stopped breastfeeding and now he isn't getting my antibodies :( But it would be cruel to put him back on the breast now and confuse him even more; then have to start over taking him off the breast. We'll use the freezer supply over the next days and see if that helps and I'll still have to express a wee bit while my supply drops, so he can have that too. We went for his 6 month check and jag today and the dr said we should wait for his cough to clear, 'cause his breathing was a bit laboured. Poor pupo.

Good news is that he is now over 8 kilos and has gained more in this month than he had over 2 months; clearly benefitting from the solid food (of which he can't get enough - the boy has just scoffed 4 potatoes - after a bottle of his usual creamy milk.)

Manflu

2006-01-08T20:56:00.000Z

So hubby has cold. A sore throat, blocked nose. You know, the usual winter cold.

He thinks he has flu/bronchitis/tb/some rare, but extremely painful and potentially fatal disease. That headache might be a tumour you know.

I might have had a little more sympathy had his reaction to my cough over the past few days been a little more supportive than sighing in exasperation when, despite water, cough sweets and sitting up, I can't stop coughing during the night. But, since it hasn't been more supportive, he can suffer away. For sure, Kieran won't be interested and will demand business as usual. No days off on this stay at home parent lark.

One of the best things about parental leave for fathers is that they learn how tough the job is; how, be it manflu or mastitis, you still have to drag your ass out of bed, feed the boy, change the nappy, play, sing, cuddle, encourage, and put to sleep again. 4 times a day.

Meanwhile, I'll be back in the office, far enough away to hear neither hubby's death throws nor pupo's screams as he insists that bottle milk just won't do.

Breastfeeding: My Two Cents

2006-01-07T09:54:00.000Z

I always expected to stop breastfeeding when I went back to work. Pupo is now 6 months and healthy and has done very well. But now the time is upon is, I feel obliged to share my thoughts on breastfeeding. Hell, the World and his wife have shared theirs with me over the past year, so it must be my turn.

BF is great.
You give your baby a perfect meal, you don't have to worry about "balancing diets" or giving enough fluids. You just offer, they take what they need.
You give your baby antibodies. After our trip to Scotland in November, I languished with a cold for 3 weeks, whilst boy was better in days. One morning, up expressing at 4am, with bare legs, cold tiles and an open nightie, the reason for this finally dawned on me.
BF is easy; I can't imagine having travelled alone with pupo carting and sterilising bottles en route.
BF is cosy; it's like you get a "free cuddle" every time.
He appreciates it; this is not immediately apparent. But from about 5 months, he would ocassionally stop to look up at me beaming in delight and adoration. It is always nice to feel loved.
No periods.

BF is rubbish.
Well, it's not so much the BF itself that is rubbish, but there is lots of rubbish that comes w ith it. And number one on that list...
Evil Rash, aka mastitis. The most pointless condition known to woman. It has no advantages, nor purpose. It is not even virus or bacteria which you can respect as "living" beings. It is only pain and flu. And it comes at the most annoying times.
Never getting a long lie. Yes, today er pupo lounges till 10am. Where am I? Well, UP of course, because even if he sleeps, I am so full, I have to get up and express.
Those first weeks of always being on shift; noone else can do that 4am for you. BUT (militant bfeeders, look way now) you can give them expressed milk from about one month. Just don't do what I did and stop using the bottle at 4 months to fill up the freezer instead, because now I have a freezer full of milk and a boy who screams whenever a bottle approaches...
Constantly swimming in and smelling of milk. First thing in the morning, soaking. Going out for the evening, soaking.
Never wearing anything pretty. Nursing bra straps and breast pads take something away from that strappy number.
No sex drive. Ok, so maybe that isn't due to bf. But I've still got no period and I suspect my body has shut down for the winter.

OK, so the negative list looks a bit longer, but the positives still outweigh by far. I don't regret bf for one second. Despite my repeated battles with mastitis (including yesterday, but I'm LICKING that SOB, come and get me, big boy, dare ya!), we've not really had any problems. The martyrdom school of motherhood hold informal competitions on how difficult bf has been for each of them - the more cracked nipples, the less sleep, the more starving and screaming the baby, the more bullying the medical profession and family, the more of a triumph it is to bf regardless. But sod all that. Don't be scared, pregnant ladies. BF can be a doddle.

Right now, I feel more sad about stopping bf than I do about going back to work. I'd thought maybe to give a feed in the morning and one when I get home from work, but since he is still sleeping at 10am (despite going to bed at 8.30), and since I have to be in the office by 8am, it doesn't look like that is going to happen.

Back to Work

2006-01-06T17:46:00.000Z

Hello. We made it home safe last night and I hauled myself back into my office this morning. We had a great trip and pupo was very well behaved - but of course :) It was a bit strange to go back into work, but I think hubby had the harder job today as pupo has decided he will not take a bottle.
He was delighted to see me when I came home - hubby that is, not pupo! Nah, pupo was beamiing with delight and clung onto me as tight as he could. Bless his cotton socks. Hubby has gone off for a well deserved swim and sauna.

Pupo reached the 6 months mark yesterday. He's still baldy, gumsy and can't roll over. But he smiles constantly and is a constant source of delight. Well, ok, maybe not constant... not in hotel rooms where he tends to scream all night.... but definitely mostly a source of utter joy.

I'd better go and earn good husband points by setting the table

Holiday ttime

2005-12-04T17:17:00.000Z

Tomorrow we jet off to Reykjavik, then Glasgow, then Genova, then Thurso before coming back in January. My maternity leave is officially over (sob sob) so I'd better make the most of this holiday - and enjoy putting my feet up whilst hubby takes over the pupocare :)

Sophisticated pair, hubby and I

2005-12-02T14:53:00.000Z

OK, so he can't roll over yet, sit up, has no teeth and is bald as a coot! But the boy is trying to blow raspberries and it is sooooo cute. Hubby and I have been doing this a lot, 'cause it makes him laugh, and now, bless him, he frowns, puffs his cheeks out and makes a kind of vvvvvv sound with loads of froth. It is unbelievably cute :)

Trusting thyself

2005-11-29T14:33:00.001Z

We all know the books say 6 months. Er pupo seemed to be getting hungry a little before 4 months, but I waited 2 weeks to make sure it wasn't a growth spurt. His nurse had broken her elbow so was off sick, but I spoke to another one who said to give him formula if he was hungry! Anyway, I ignored that because if he needed milk, I could give him milk, and just kept him on the breast for another 3 weeks before finally giving in and giving him rice in breastmilk once a day (starting last Sunday).

So today he goes for his jags and sees his own nurse and he has gained only 800g in 2 months! I lose more than that spending 20 minutes in the hot tub! The nurse agreed that he has probably been hungry and needs to go to at least 2 solid meals a day, in addition to his usual milk. (He was well above average weight at 3 months, so it hasn't done him any harm to slim down, but it is still heartbreaking to see him plummet down the chart when I KNEW he needed solids!!!) She said that if a baby was satisfied with milk it was great to keep them on just that for 6 months, but if they need more they will tell you. And he did. And I didn't trust him or my own instincts.

I'm determined to trust myself and my baby in future. Poor thing was telling me he was hungry and I kept giving him a dummy and sending him back to sleep. So he's getting a carrot tonight!