mothers on the verge

The Central Valley 'Bro' is a peacock-like creature who's natural habitat is the fertile plains and endless strip malls of Central California. The Bro's testosterone-loaded gait is what makes him so distinctive; he walks as if carrying a heavy load within his Jockeys at all times, his steroid-pumped arms swinging low and displayed to good effect in an Ed Hardy sleeveless tank. The Bro's jeans are usually as tight on his rear as feasibly possible - all the better to show off his... erm... heavy load. Accessories are a key part of the Bro look; the Bro who bears the bling is a Bro to be reckoned with, the bigger the diamond ear-studs the bigger the respect, y'all. And with the ubiquitous baseball cap perched on top of his cropped head and his feet shod in the latest, most desirable sneakers (i.e. whatever costs the most $$$), the Bro is ready to go. Not being of the most erudite of dispositions, the Bro isn't much of a talker; he prefers to pepper whate

We buried my Grandfather three days ago, on Saturday, and the emotional hangover is just starting to abate. It was a beautiful ceremony. It took place at the graveside on our family plot at the local Memorial Park, the sunlight dappled through the trees overhead with a light breeze offering respite from the hot Californian summer. I've been to very few funerals in my life thus far so I don't have a lot to compare it to, but regardless, this one felt very special for all kinds of reasons. The mourners were made up of family, friends and neighbors, all of whom had many special memories to share about my Grandfather and kind words to give.  The pastor knew both of my grandparents well, having grown up just two doors down from our family home, and so was able to give a deeply personal and moving sermon which avoided being overly religious - my Grandfather, despite being a spiritual man who had a strong interest in theology, did not adhere to any particular brand of organized r

...this piece of unhelpful news:   Coffee cuts depression risk in women. Gives a whole new wrinkle to "mothers little helper." Maybe CVS will start filling scripts for lattes.

MotV is in The National newspaper today. Read all about it here: http://www.thenational.ae/lifestyle/family/how-blogging-provides-a-creative-outlet-for-mothers-in-the-uae

Grandpa: y ou were a unique man and you enriched our lives immeasurably. Thank you. Thank you for your quiet wisdom. Thank you for your perspective. Thank you for your affirmation, your confirmation, your acceptance, your lack of judgment, your heartfelt concern. Thank you for your empathy. Thank you for making me feel strong and intelligent enough to stand on my own two feet. Thank you for showing me that fear is nothing more than a feeling to be overcome. Thank you for teaching me to think for myself and start to accept who I am – faults, eccentricities, differences and all. Thank you for helping me to see that physical beauty is transient, insubstantial and fades like everything else in this life; you demonstrated that true beauty is the light in someone's eyes when they smile, the ability of their heart to love without fear or reservation and the truth that resonates in the words they speak. Thank you for making me realize that learning to live with an open

As the 10th anniversary of 9/11 winds down here in New York, I wanted to post a few images of a friend's public art project from this weekend: He drew one of the Twin Towers in chalk along Fifth Avenue from 14th Street to 19th Street. Every ten feet marked for each floor. A cup of chalk at each floor, a gentle encouragement to write a memory, thought, image. I shot these Friday morning, spending an hour watching as people interacted. Fed Ex drivers carefully wheeling packages around the cups. People taking pictures. Drawing. Crying. One woman picked up several cups in anger, throwing them out. A couple followed her, picked up the cups, and put them back. I think the last image summed it up for me the most. I watched the Towers hit, burn, fall 8 blocks away from my apartment. Had the ghost of the buildings, the white cloud, envelope me. Spent the nights that followed burning candles in my windows, the electricity cut off, to let the police officers stationed each night on my corner

I wish I could look on back to school with some excitement. I certainly remember as a child feeling nervous but psyched to go back and see friends, even meet my new teachers. (Yes, a bit of a nerd. I know). But I can't even find a remnant of that feeling. In reality, I should be thrilled to be getting "my office" back. After all, summer can be tricky for me -- I write and report from home as a freelancer and having The Kid around asking questions, wanting me to listen to something she's just read, or help her with a project can fracture my time in a truly overwhelming way. And the truth is when she leaves for school Thursday morning I will thrill in the quiet. For about 8 minutes. Because actually -- besides missing her tremendously -- I know what will be coming by the end of the day: fighting over homework, opening a lunch box that's still full of uneaten smashed food, and knowing that just as I want to really stretch my hands over the keyboard to let the writi

We've been on the road - not the international escapades of my cohort Kate, but a respectable distance from Manhattan. We packed up the Kid and hauled out to Montana and spent days hiking through pine trees, galavanting on rapids, and spying ancient geysers. I know I claimed the tag Manhattan Mama when we started this blog. But truth is I am a Western girl at heart. Do not get me wrong - I love grabbing a perfect steak at 1 am, and a fancy martini just a block from my house, being able to see incredible museums or listen to great live music with just a simple subway ride. And I thrive in the eclectiveness of the city -- and I think the Kid does too. But it's also important for me that I get OUT. And out to me requires a big sky, land choked with trees and nights so quiet I can hear the wind. I don't see myself moving back West at least for now. But I consider it crucial that the Kid sees land like this at least once a year. She needs to pass by people who say Hi and smi

Currently trying to recover from an operation whilst trying to figure some essential stuff out. Back on the blog when I get body and soul together.

I'm back in Dubai and jet lagged to b*ggery (why else would I be posting at 4am?). Too many time zones in too short a time, it's a killer. After getting in at 2am yesterday morning, the girls were comatose in bed until lunchtime so I made the most of the peace and quiet by getting out of the house to run a few errands. As my car is still in the garage having God knows what done to it, I was in the Daddy Pimpmobile which is great fun. Not only is Alpha's own personal nod to a mid-life crisis super-fast and emits a pleasing growl when you put your foot down, it's the sort of vehicle more often seen driving through South London at high speed with a police car in hot pursuit. Maybe I'm a bit odd (it has been said before) but the image of a mid-life mild-mannered matron such as myself driving such a dodgy-looking beast amuses me. Driving in Dubai during Ramadan is a pleasurable experience because the roads are almost empty, which means that you can spend less time t

So I did it. I got a tattoo. A few weeks shy of my 38th birthday, I finally took the plunge and submitted to the tattooist's needle. The reaction from people I've told so far has ranged from "DUDE!!!" to "Uh-Uh. Mid-life crisis!" but I don't care. I had good reasons and it's something I've been wanting to do for years anyway. The difference between having a tattoo done at my advanced age, as opposed to when I was younger and more impulsive, is that I did my research first. The tattoo parlor I eventually chose - based in my family's home town of Fresno California - came highly recommended and is about as respectable as it gets... if such a word can ever be applied to this type of establishment. Plus my dad rather sweetly called them up to quiz them about their sterilization methods once I'd reluctantly confessed to him what I was up to that morning (some things never change, whatever age you are). It's not a big tattoo. In fact, hard-c

Back in France after two marathon sleepless flights (got an upgrade though, yay) and a train journey. BB delighted to be free of her pushchair/ plane seat restraints so spent the afternoon wobbling at high speed around the garden, her adoring older sisters and cousins in hot pursuit. All charmed by BBs new ability to walk backwards, throw herself head first onto anything squishy whilst squealing in wild abandon, and shout "no!" to all and every reasonable adult request before racing off in the opposite direction. It's now nearly 2am. BB and I are totally wired and hiding out in the kitchen to avoid waking everyone else up. Milk for BB, wine for me - hopefully both will have a pleasing sedative effect. Jetlag sucks. Tomorrow (today!) - packing five weeks worth of baby and kiddy crap into three frighteningly small bags and getting ready to fly back to Dubai on Sunday.

No fat men in 80's casuals this time but we have seen lots of soldiers in full camo gear and a party of six nuns. No electrical storms to be seen so far so fingers crossed we'll be on our way within the hour and will make it to Paris unscathed. Next post will be from France.

Reassuringly low-rent... Revisited.

Now that BB has reached the grand old age of 13 months and a bit, she is most definitely no longer a baby. Due to the fact that Firstborn and the Small(er) One are now closer to the pre-teen stage than babyhood, I'd totally forgotten what toddlers do and how they behave. Here's what BB has taught me in the past month: 1. If it's dirty or otherwise repulsive then a toddler will be drawn to it like a magnet. Toddlers enjoy sticking their chubby hands up drainpipes and down the toilet, eating objects found on the floor (flies appear to be especially interesting), licking windows, investigating the cat's dinner and similarly revolting pursuits. 2. Toddlers have scant regard for danger. Attempting to fling themselves into the deep end of the swimming pool, executing a full-force face plant on to any object that looks bouncy (air beds seem to be ideal), sticking their fingers in plug sockets, wildly shaking anything wobbly (standard lamps, side tables etc), chasing the