Posts Tagged 'family'

The Impostor.

My son’s creativity has started to really blossom lately. He keeps on inventing elaborate and often bizarre stories about a variety of real and imaginary characters. I had been finding this hilarious, but I think now he is experiencing some kind of end-of-Summer school holiday fatigue. Maybe he’s getting bored of my face, because the little rascal’s only gone and made up an imaginary mother.

Her name is Steak.

She has red hair and blue eyes.

She can drive and has a red car.

She lives just down the road and has two other kids (Stetch and Daniel, apparently) who he can play with everyday.

She has a dog called Tommy.

She ‘does working’ and goes to a different gym to me.

And yesterday, just to add insult to injury, he said ‘she has more moneys than you’.

Part of me thinks this is really funny, and part of me worries he’s making up for my shortcomings as a mother (and even as a human being).

The blasted woman’s got it good! She didn’t give birth to him for 18 hours, she doesn’t clothe him, feed him, nurse him when he’s sick, pick up his toys, put up with his tantrums, scold him when he’s naughty, endure him when he’s whining. She doesn’t wipe his bottom. I bet she hasn’t even got stretchmarks, THE BITCH!!!!!!

I’ve got one thing on her though. HER NAME IS BLOODY RUBBISH.

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Where on Earth to Take the Kids?

Is a question every professional housegirlfriend across London asks herself on a daily basis. How on Earth will I get through London transport with a pushchair and luggage safely within the time bracket between morning and evening rush hour? Which stations have escalators or lifts? Where should I change underground lines so that my journey flows with minimum hassle? And, when I finally reach my destination, where the hell can I go for a coffee and chill out from all the bloody stress while the children are safe and entertained?!!!!!

 

FEAR NOT!!!! From the ashes, here rises http://babyaboutlondon.wordpress.com !!!!!

 

Sometimes(most of the time), it is very hard to know what to do with yourself when you have a toddler in tow. I can’t help thinking that a London guide for mums who, like me, get a bit tired of watching paint dry, is sorely needed. So, I am starting a new blog where contributors will be asked to review any child-friendly facilities such as restaurants, playgroups, activities, cafes, bars, pubs, etc. around the Big Smoke with the intention of making such decisions less stressful. Evidently any contributions will be duly credited. I often find it very tiring trying to come up with creative ideas of where to go and meet people, and trawling the internet is often not enough to ascertain whether a particular cafe is going to be the icing on the cake or Hell on Earth.

 

So let’s get together, parents, nannies, childminders, professional housegirlfriends of London! Get the party started, let the games begin. Send your reviews to professionalhousegirlfriend@yahoo.com

Back with a Bang

Many apologies for my prolonged absence from blogspace. Are you still there? Good. Just making sure I wasn’t merely apologising to myself for letting myself down, not carrying out my good intentions with a discipline of steel, yadda yadda yadda.

 

Turns out rather a lot has happened since my last post. After a gruelling exam season, I have finally graduated from my degree with a 2.1.  I did have a 1st for about half an hour due to misreading a friend’s text message at first, and I screamed the house down with jubilant excitement, only to have to retract the news later! Nothing is ever straightforward.

 

 

As I mentioned before, I went for a (much too short for my liking) holiday in Rio in May, where I unsuccessfully planned to revisit the Vila Mimosa, Rio’s biggest prostitution district. During the trip the Boyf proposed! Yes, it was during a beautiful pink sunset on Itauna Beach in the town of Saquarema. The location was filmworthy, but I was sweaty and breathless and red in the face from running along the sand… So, I guess my days as a professional housegirlfriend are numbered. My heretofore bare fingers are now adorned with a rather sparkly bit of bling.

 

 

After getting back to London I have been struggling to get back into the swing of things. I have found I really miss my life in Brazil and desperately would like to go back to live there soon, even if only for a couple of years. I can’t bear the thought of my son growing up without experiencing a bit of my own childhood. You heard it here first.

 

After living off my student loan, my bank account is now looking rather poorly. Like pretty much everyone else in the country I am feeling rather downbeat about the economic situation. I am bloody skint! Time to get a job. A full time job, which will involve leaving my baby at nursery from 8am to 6pm five times a week. Which will leave little money left over after said nursery fees are paid. Which will mean my child spends more time being looked after by others than he does by me. It is all rather painful… Part of me is desperate to begin my career and put myself out there, to stop feeling completely dependent on my partner’s income and pursue personal achievement; another part of me just can’t help feeling that these early years with my son are infinitely precious and ephemeral. I think he still needs his mummy an awful lot and I find the thought of handing him over for such prolonged periods of time absolutely terrifying. I am completely certain that I am not alone in feeling like this!  My lack of experience is restricting the number of home based work I could do too… I can’t imagine how difficult some women must find to be pressured to going back to work some times as early as four months after childbirth. Evidently many women relish returning to their careers away from the world of nappies and perennial catnapping, but I can’t help feeling there is something unnatural about forcibly breaking the mother-baby bond so soon…  And so I am feeling excited and also rather terrified of re-entering the work force. What is the answer? I imagine my son will be ok… But I am going to miss him like HELL.