Domestic goddess!

Over the last couple of weeks I have become somewhat fixated on food.

Those of you who know me know that there is absolutely nothing unusual about this. I happily confess that I am one of those people who wakes up in the morning and starts wondering what to have for dinner. Since our foray into parenthood and the requisite level of organisation (ie that there are only so many times you can greet your spouse with a scowl and the words "we're having takeaway for dinner an YOU'RE collecting it") I have become quite adept at planning a menu or two. Actually what I have taken to doing is being one of those people that eats the same thing in rotation. Like an old person.

So we have a fairly regular weekly diet which is based around the nutritional fundamentals of curry, pizza and pasta. Appealing, no?

It started with America's Next Top Model. Watching vacuous skinny people be vacuous and skinny drove us to eating pizza in large quantities, hence Friday became "pizza night". Originally this meant buying pre-made pizza bases and adding my own toppings. Gradually this morphed into pre-made pizza bases with home-made pizza sauce and toppings. Now it has gone one stage further. Oh yes siree!

Now I am making my own pizza dough/bases.

That sounds truly Martha Stewart-esque, doesn't it? Before you start panicking and visualising me grinning slightly maniacally whilst wrestling home decor and brandishing a mondo huge kitchen knife, I am simply bunging all the ingredients into a bread machine and selecting the "dough" setting. Oh and adding some extra "flair" like chili, or sun-dried tomato, pesto, fresh herbs etc etc.

And it is astonishing. Tonight's pizza was a tomato relish/herb base with mushroom, red pepper, feta, bacon and smoked paprika. Bloody marvellous.

Saints preserve us, but I am planning to start a mini herb/veg garden come Spring and it's going to get out of hand.

This is what happens when you stay at home looking after kidlets. Be warned.

Oh and that photo is not my pizza. In case you were wondering.

The rant I had planned

was to consider the American studio remakes of "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo", "Wings of Desire", "The Vanishing", "Dark Water", "La Femme Nikita" and "The Return of Martin Guerre" amongst others.

I may come back to it. Or I may not.

I may simply rant on and on about something else entirely. Who knows?

Stupid American Remakes

I am planning to rant on about the dubious propensity of the Hollywood studios to remake confusing foreign films, ie films that require the viewer to read subtitles and often to follow a plot, into bog awful miscast "American" movies with happy endings. However, I have been slightly distracted by Gert's rear right foot.

Now, the sharp-eyed amongst you will note the jaunty angle of one of her claws. It would appear that during her vigorous galavanting around Newtown Park in hot pursuit of tennis balls she managed to puncture her foot. Being a hard-ass she gave no indication of any such injury or incident at the time, nor when she scampered back into the car, not even when she got home and ate a hearty breakfast. It was at lunchtime when she staggered/hobbled out of her bed, left a trail of bloody pawprints in the hallway and stood on 3 legs looking pathetic. On close inspection a distinct hole was espied, still oozing blood, and so off to the vet's we went. The jaunty angle caused by swelling between paw pads.

Now she has 5 days' worth of antibiotics and is housebound for 3 days (until the hole heals up) with strict orders that gallavanting shall be avoided. Should just about make her demented. So on Friday I expect to have my arms wrenched out of their sockets by a dog desperate to RUN!!!

Oh, and...

In case you thinking "Oh for fack's sake, stop bloody whinging you middle class git", I was brought back to reality whilst out ensuring Gert was getting her morning exercise (Sorry Cesar, she only got 30 mins tennis ball madness because it is BLOODY freezing today).

Gert did a stonking steaming and squishy poo; I had no poo bags; I found "emergency" poo bag in my own bag; I scooped up poo like a responsible dog owner.

Emergency poo bag had massive split in bottom and most of the triple-S poo went straight into my grabbing hand.

Start the week!

This morning started at around 2.30am for me.

I woke up with a cough and a splutter, coughed a bit more, fetched a glass of water, coughed a bit more and then decided to transfer myself to the living room sofa so Jo could get a decent night's sleep before a workplace Monday morning. Unfortunately I didn't go back to sleep which means I am already 8 hours into my day and it's only 10.45am.

However, time was not a-wasting. The last few weeks have been a bit dodgy for me as I've found the slow, relentless grind of mothering a toddler is at times immensely boring. So I decided to fall back on my usual research resource and surf the net to find out if anyone had any top tips. Hooray! There are loads! Exercise, utilise family for babysitting, part-time work, don't forget your relationship.

Boo! I'm already doing all of them!

So what's the problem? The problem (I think) is that my tiny brain works like this -

"okay, I'm awake, time to feed/dress/entertain boy"

2 mornings a week = "Boy is creche, must do work, must do work, must do work; must exercise dog first...that dog whisperer bloke says dogs need 1 hour of vigorous exercise each morning. Then must do work!"

"Must collect boy from creche, feed him and get him into bed for nap" OR "Must take boy to playgroup/park/zoo/beach, feed him etc" OR "Must go to supermarket,etc etc"

"Bugger, need to do washing/shopping/empty dishwasher, then must do work whilst boy naps"

"Chores done, now to work....Sod that I'm going to read a book/surf net"

"Oh shite...I just spent whole of boy's nap NOT doing work, now I feel like a slacker/lazy git"

"Boy awake, must dress and give bottle, then we'll do something that won't cause him to go nuts"

2 afternoons a week = "Must get boy ready for nanna/dads, then must do work - only have a couple of hours"

"5.15pm - Jo home from work - must take dog out again and then sort out dinner, perhaps do some work afterwards?"

"Dog walked, dinner made, 7pm and I am knackered...and I have achieved sod all today - tomorrow will do better"

1 evening a week = "5.30pm - time to go and teach class until 8.15pm"

Weekends = MUST DO FAMILY STUFF AND BE DOMESTIC GODDESS!

I think I am doing this wrong. Perhaps a change in attitude is needed?

Imaginary hair

Holiday

We've been on "holiday".

This means we've driven 5 hours north to a converted post office next door to some natural hot springs and a 40 minute drive from the ski fields.

Would have been alot more fun without a toddler, chronic period pain and a dodgy back.

The good news is that Ben will definitely be a snow fiend, which means in a few years time i will be able to send himself and Jo up the mountain to do silly things whilst I sit quietly and read a book.

Hoo-bloody-ray.

American food programmes are dangerous

I'm sitting here on a Monday night, Jo's out doing something community-minded, I've finished the work I HAD to get done today, so I'm sitting in front of the telly with a glass of red watching Americans eat outlandish amounts of food.

I'm watching "Man vs Food".

For those of you who haven't seen or heard of this programme, it is based on this chubby bloke travelling around the USA and eating "local" cuisine. Generally this means huge amounts of barbeque or burgers. I mean plates that would happily feed at least one adult and a couple of kids, plates that make my mum's special Christmas plates look tidgy. The scary thing is that I find myself getting quite peckish whilst watching it.

Each episode culminates with the presenter taking on a food challenge. You know, one of those "if you can eat this stupid sized burger in under 45 minutes without spewing up we'll give you a t-shirt" type challenges. That part tends to put me off food a bit. This week's challenge = 15 hot dogs covered in mustard and chilli in an hour. His prize? He gets to rename the challenge. WHY?

So that's my life right now. Rock and roll, huh?

You may be wondering what I'm having for dinner. Cauliflower curry (it's what needed using up). Go me! Go my arse!

It's been nice knowing you.

Something other than the boy

That's what I'm going to attempt to write about.

This is quite a challenge, but I am determined to be one of those rounded modern mothers. You know, the ones who have interests outside their kids, which of course I do. Like watching TV and spouting on about old stuff for hours on end. Oh and moaning about my clothes being too tight, so then taking dog for a run, followed by eating shedloads of food.

In fact, the high point of the last couple of weeks for me may have been purchasing some microfleece pyjama bottoms and a thermal pj top for next to bugger all. This may not seem like much to many of you (although I know Catherine will be green with envy), but our house is freezing in winter. Bloody freezing. Not so bad as the place we lived in when I was a kid that got so cold one winter that my pet hamster tried to hibernate, but we are severely lacking in central heating, double glazing, sturdy insulation, blah blah blah. It has been known for me to sleep with my electric blanket left on low, though I do fret that I may demonstrate the wick effect of human combustion - now I think of it that is about as much motivation for running as a person could need - but it keeps me warm at night without having to attach myself limpet-like to the Mrs.

BUT microfleece and thermal jimjams, a decent pair of woolly Costco socks (bought some 11 years ago in Vancouver), and I am the proverbial bug in a rug. The Mrs still "claims" I sleep starfish style in the centre of the bed, but I have no proof and so deny all.

What else? Not much really. So here's a nice picture of Wellington.

Close up

See? You can hardly see a thing! And this photo was taken last week.

Now the boy's previously scalded bonce only glows a fierce red when he is throwing an almighty strop. Like he did on Sunday when the toy I had bought him was deemed stupidly expensive and taken back to the shop. Jesus, that was epic.

Things currently making me frown

1. seeing a bloke in full waterproof gear cycling in Antarctic winds with driving rain and wearing flip flops
2. how bloody freezing the house is despite having the heating on
3. that bloke that presents "Grand Designs"
4. the fact that it is only Tuesday
5. news reports that the British government are going to start sending child refugees back to Afghanistan

Worst fucking day ever - so far

Thursday morning started out with a positive spin on what was essentially a non-descript day. Persistant drizzly rain. Bleurgh.

So I rugged up the boy, put on his new wellies, and off we stomped to the park to splash about in puddles. And, I must say, he's a damn fine splasher! The dog had a doggy daycare day - trust me, she has alot more fun there than she does stuck at home with us on a rainy day - and we were free agents. So after an hour of puddle splashing I managed to wrestle the small boy back into his pram (he's at that stage of wanting to walk everywhere, even though it takes hours) and splashed our way back home.

Off with the soggy clothes, on with nice dry and toasty warm thermals & jumpers, and time for a sit down with a cuppa, a few ginger nuts and perhaps a read of one of his more entertaining books. Tea made and on the bench, turned to get milk out of fridge and THUNK....ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE! Small boy had got up on tippy toes and managed to pull over the mug of hot tea right onto his head.

Boy is freaking out, I am cursing like a sailor and freaking out.

Luckily we have a downstairs shower right next to kitchen so boy and I whip straight in there and on with cold water. What the bloody hell are you supposed to do next!??!?! Ambulance? No fuck it, the car is right outside and the hospital is 500m away. One Dukes of Hazzard style launch out of the end of the street and we're at the hospital in 2 mins and boy is being dosed up to the eyeballs with painkillers.

4 hours of crying and screaming later (mostly induced by me/nursing staff trying to find ways to cool down his scalded scalp), he finally fell asleep on my shoulder. Luckily what could have been VERY nasty, only appears to be slightly nasty in medical terms despite the scald covering almost half of his scalp and one ear. Long term prognosis is minor scarring on ear, everything else should heal up by itself and be unnoticable.

The most deadly thing for me as his "me-me" was that whenever I randomly started crying over the next couple of days Benj would come up and insist on giving me a cuddle and his favourite book to read. Killer.

Knackered

Benj is teething. Again. How many teeth does a kid need? Surely 7 is enough.

Anyway, this means we are enjoying his waking up crying 4 or 5 times a night, still waking up at 6am, and spending most of the day wanting to be comforted. Along with this going on I've been upping my running distances with the dog - 10km every other day.

Results? Aching arms from lifting up hefty kid ever 10 mins, aching legs from running around in gale force Wellington "breezes".

PS

Is wanting to tell the 20something dreadlocked "radicals" who have moved in across the street to stop writing their cod philosophies about life, love and society on the pavement and that wearing no shoes doesn't make you closer to the earth yet another sign of old age?

I should point out that during the festival on street pitches are rented; the pseudo-hippies had a mate set up a coffee stand in their driveway (thus not paying a pitch fee) and made a quick buck flogging coffee to unsuspecting locals. Whoa. That's really showing it to The Man.

They actually make my jaw clench in irritation.

I am truly getting old.

It's Monday morning and the sun is shining, in fact the forecast is for sunshine for the next few days which is rather lovely as summer is officially over. The baby boy is spending a couple of hours at the local ultra groovy playgroup/creche flinging himself headfirst down a slide or going digging crazy in the sandpit.

And I am sitting on the sofa with a headache, eyes like pissholes in the snow and achy teeth.

Did I spend the whole weekend partying? Raving until the early hours of the morning with our new hippy neighbours? Quaffing huge quantities of alcohol whilst recklessly lazing in sunshine?

No.

The cause of my fragile state is simply a week of parenting followed by a weekend of Newtown Fair and the Phoenix semi-final.

Newtown Fair is an annual event - usually the first Sunday of March - where numerous craft/food/knick knack/clothing/music stalls set up in the main drag and side streets of Newtown. Our street is the venue of one of the main sound stages, which is not a problem, but I've come to realise that a hoofing great big truck setting up outside our house at 6am is tedious.

Here is the soundstage and the bloke from no.5 who sings Billy Bragg-esque social commentary songs about "The Man". He was then followed by a twentysomething band who did covers of various emo tunes, a Pixies-a-likee band and so on.

Small boy happily slept through his lunchtime nap though.

Then at 3pm we headed away away oh from the festival shenanighans to the other end of town to see if NZ's only A League football team could achieve the seemingly impossible, ie to qualify for the final of the league. Now, it should be borne in mind that the Wellington Phoenix have only been around for a couple of years and that one of their best players is a Crystal Palace cast off, and were almost universally shite prior to this year. It was almost heart-warming how crappy they were. They would get into the opposition goal area and then become confused, frantically passing the ball to one another in seeming attempts to avoid the pressure of having to actually take a shot. Often, they would actually turn around and head back towards their own goal.

And somehow this year they have suddenly had a collective moment of enlightenment. Last night was their last home match of the season, capping off a run of 19 unbeaten home matches. Astonishing.

Of course, football fans being the open-minded and cockle-warming souls that they are, the Phoenix supporters - of which there are usually 3000-5000 - celebrated the sell-out 35000 crowd with rousing choruses of "where were you when we were shit?".

Although we got home at 7.30pm and I was in bed by 10pm I am knackered.

And, thus, I am old. Truly.

Are we terrible parents?

It's Benj's 1st birthday on Sunday and all anyone seems to want to know is "are you having a party?"

Are we terrible parents because, frankly, we are both knackered and don't think Ben will notice if we do NOTHING? Plus, he has a bazillion toys anyway and our place is not big enough to take anymore stuff. More importantly having a party would involve tidying up the house, which is just crazy talk.

I'm thinking maybe brunch at a kid-friendly cafe.

Here's the man himself checking out the ladies.



Ugh.

That thing I said

You know how just the other day I was going on about wanting to be at home?

Well after my first morning of solo parenting, combined with Benj spending his lunchtime nap screaming for 2 hours, I am over it. Where's the nearest pyramid?

laters gators.

Dear Benja,

I love you and I miss you.

Give your mum a smooch and tell her I'll see you both on Friday.

lots of love
Meemam
xxxx

Day 9 - Luxor

If this photo is crappy it is because I chose not to bring a camera with me to Egypt this time, thus any photos are from my phone. Oh yes, I am THAT professional.

So we survived El Minya and two nights in their only 4 star hotel, and from what I can tell only habitable hotel, and it was crap. The hotel that is. Our guide gave me the option of a room in the main building or a room in a garden chalet so, being a selfish git, I chose the garden chalet option. I've stayed in a couple of hotel garden chalets in Egypt and without fail they have been roomy, in beautiful surroundings, big comfy beds and nice bathrooms. In El Minya the garden chalet resembled a 1950s prefab in a Stephen King version of "Hi-De-Hi".

The exterior decor came in two shades - bloodstain red or H-block poo-stripe yellow/brown; I was allocated poo-stripe. Once I had managed to force the door open, using a combination of room key and my shoulder, I was immediately assaulted with a vivid aroma of damp and camel dung. I should also mention that positioned reassuringly outside my room door was one of those smash the glass fire alarms with the glass conveniently pre-smashed. The bathroom consisted of a shower delinated by a 2-3cm high cement basin edge, which combined nicely with a shower curtain that stopped roughly 30cm above ground level. Upon attempting to use the shower I discovered that the shower-head and shower-hose were not entirely connected, resulting in a simultaneous downward and sideways jet of water, and that the water temperature was a little fickle.

Did I mention that the garden chalet was at the rear of the hotel garden and only about 3m from a wall separating us from El Minya's main thoroughfare? First night a car did some astounding backfiring at 3.45am, second night Egypt won an international football match.

But the bed was comfortable, if a little short.

Now we're in Luxor and I have a room in the main building. It's lovely.

Oh, and we spent 7 hours in Luxor and Karnak temples today. Wonderful!

Tomorrow it's tomb time! My favourite.

Adios!

Guess what I'm supposed to be doing?

yep, it's a free day on the tour and I am "working".

Well, I do have the research books open at the right pages and a pen on the desk, so as far as I'm concerned I am working. I don't have the distraction of making myself cups of tea, but I may just phone room service for some coffee.

Okay, coffee ordered, back to blogging (I have a 24 hour wireless access card).

As the tour goes, so far so good. Our guide, Ramy, is very young (probably about 28, but seems young to me), very tall and VERY pretty, so all the ladies in the group are very happy, and he seems happy enough to defer to me and let me boss everyone around, which is making me power-crazed and happy, so as I said, so far so good.

The only real drawback is the weather; freezing fog in the mornings, which clears around 9.30/10am, but it's still pretty hazy. The one big advantage of this is that the city is completely hidden in the groups photos of the giza pyramid complex, aside from that it's a pain in the arse. But, it's our last day in Cairo and hopefully the weather will be good as we travel further south.

In 3 days we've managed an entire day at the Egyptian Museum (unheard of amongst the guides), Step pyramid, Bent pyramid, Red pyramid, Giza pyramids, Hetepheres pyramid, one mastaba tomb, boat museum, Sphinx, Khafre valley temple. Not bad. having said that my legs are screwed from clambering arse-backwards down a 90cm high, 62m long descending chicken run into the Red Pyramid. And then back up again. On the plus side, it doesn't smell half as bad as it used to.

Right, off to do some work now. Will try to blog again once I am back online, maybe in a couple of days!