A Mothery Conundrum

There are many,many domestic issues that one has to face when one is sole carer of small children. All of them deathly boring. Like why do 3 year olds put an entire tin of Vaseline lip balm through their hair just before bed? Why does Custard insist on picking off the letter keys on the keyboard and flinging them into the fruit bowl? And which kid puts my earplugs deep into my bedside container of aqueous cream EVERY NIGHT?  Etc, etc. But tonight, I am thinking about starchy foodstuffs. Ergo:

Rice, couscous, and quinoa are quick things to cook,and the children like them. But they do get all over the floor, stuck to jeans, mashed into the sisal rug, become ingrained into the fabric chairs and fall deep into the crevices of the leather couch. I am oft to be found under the dining room table on my hands and knees in true ungainly matronly fashion wiping the pesky little grains up and my hands get all dermatisis-y from the rinsing of the wiping-up cloth. Possible solutions run to:

1. refusing all but pasta every night;

2. putting the kids on a no carbs diet;

3. feeding them outside on the metal stairs/the pavement;

4. giving them sandwiches in a lunch/dinner reversal. Like a picnic,except indoors, every night, without the sense of occasion or the wicker basket;

5.feeding them in the nude, in the bathtub;

6.not feeding them at all. 

Something for me to mull over at 3am when I am feeding the baby and settling him back to sleep again, and again. Any further thoughts on this irritating domestic issue gratefully received. Have I missed any other major ones? It is always nice to share your pain.

Triumphs of the Day

My Marc Jacobs ensemble – grey wool strapless dress, only slightly ruined by white nursing bra straps announcing themselves every time my carefully placed cardigan swung the wrong way. I am fitting my clothes quite nicely,all things considered (read: 11 pound baby)  and discovering some gems in amongst the maternity detritus. Today was a good sartorial day. 

The KitchenAid red mixer arrived. It is a thing of beauty, and  incidentally, worth the price of a small car in New Zealand.I shall attempt a cake for Friday’s school bake sale. I am quite excited.

I decided that  tomorrow’s trip to the hair salon will be all about me emerging as Alexa Chung. I will channel her hair colour and choppy bob,oh yes I will.

Further on the Alexa theme, I decided today that I will get myself a Mulberry Alexa for having a baby. Self-gifting is truly a lovely idea and one that I endorse wholeheartedly.My husband does not so much, but it is my pelvic floor that is needing repair and my stomach with the angry red scars.I need a little tan satchel love, for goodness’ sake. And crucially  it will leave my hands free for holding the baby/general mothery multi-tasking. It could  be seen as a necessity, rather than a luxury, if you squint your eyes and bend the truth a little. 

Every day, that little new baby is a bit of a triumph. He is terribly good-looking, with darting little round dark eyes and the most lovely milky breath. He swaddles up very nicely in his pink merino wool blanket and really likes dancing to the Glee soundtrack.

Painting the boy’s toenails in Chanel Paparazzi pink, and getting away with it.

Snoozing on the couch at 7:47pm. That is precisely what I am going to do, just as soon as I deal with the rice underfoot.