Mid-life mum

My baby don't cry (in-flight)

By Cari Rosen, July 15, 2010

The combination of an aversion to aviation (mine) and a toddler who is unable to sit still for longer than 25 seconds (also mine) is not entirely desirable when it comes to undertaking an excursion overseas. And yet it would appear that the lure of sunshine and abundant patisserie must have momentarily clouded any semblance of judgement that I might otherwise have displayed, had I not emerged pallid from an icy winter with an overwhelming craving for carbs and flaky pastry.

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Exams for three-year-olds?

By Cari Rosen, May 27, 2010

Now that our offspring are turning two, at any gathering of parents and small fry there seems to be a single topic of conversation. Suddenly the only thing that anyone wants to talk about is school.

Despite the fact that (for those of us reliant on the state system) it is still well over a year until we are even allowed to apply for reception places, the very mention of the phrase "catchment area" causes instant mass hysteria, arm waving and fainting - it's a bit like being at a Beatles gig but with slightly more modern haircuts and no one called Ringo.

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Birthdays? A piece of cake

By Cari Rosen, April 22, 2010

The baby's second birthday is approaching. She is very excited by the fact and most nights can be heard singing Happy Birthday to herself in her cot. I am planning cakes and she is practising candle blowing and has told us that as her gift she would like "yellow big-girl knickers and some Play-Doh".

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The bear facts about tales and rhymes

By Cari Rosen, March 25, 2010

Once upon a time there were three bears. Not, as the story would have it, a mummy bear, a daddy bear and a baby bear, but three identical bears. And they lived, not in a cottage in the woods, but in a cot or a wardrobe, depending on which point of the rotational cycle they were at.

When one bear was beginning to look a little past his prime he would be whisked off to rehab and replaced, in the dead of night when small people were snoring, by another bear, slightly fresher perhaps, but in all other ways indistinguishable from his cohort.

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It's a learning process… for me

By Cari Rosen, February 25, 2010

Somehow, when I was sleeping, my baby stopped being a baby and grew into a big girl whose powers of observation are second to none.

Of course, it does stand to reason that just as I get older, so does she. But as I am in denial about my own ageing process and the fact that yet another birthday is approaching, so I seem to have forgotten that she is no longer a babe in arms, but a walking, talking toddler with something to say about everything.

One current obsession is hair:

"Mummy long hair."

"Yes that's right darling."

"Me long hair."

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I'm a slummy mummy, and proud of it

By Cari Rosen, January 28, 2010

Delusion is a wonderful thing.

In my head I am just out of university, a slip of a girl with the world at her feet.

So it comes as something of a shock to realise that somehow, when I wasn’t looking, my forties have managed to sneak up on me, bestowing upon me a couple of extra dress sizes that I really don’t remember ordering and enough grey hairs for my mother to suggest the immediate purchase of a job lot of Garnier Nutrisse.

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Fun is such hard work

By Cari Rosen, December 30, 2009

It’s winter. It’s cold, it’s wet and pushing the buggy through the freezing rain and snow has lost its appeal.

In days gone by, I revelled in days like these, believing it was nature’s way of telling me to curl up on the sofa with a good book and a duvet. Turn up the heating, pull on the covers — and relax.

When the baby was small, inclement weather wasn’t such an issue. After all, play-mats are play-mats, come rain or shine. Add a chorus of Baa Baa Black Sheep, a quick jiggle of Minnie Mouse and a couple of “coochie coos” and, frankly, everyone’s happy.

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The 10 rules of baby care

By Cari Rosen, December 3, 2009

The baby is 18 months old. There have been many lessons learned.

1) Do not expect a sensible answer to a sensible question

For example…

Q: “Darling, why are you lying in the mud in the middle of the park?”
A: “Sleeping.”
Q: “OK — and may I ask why you are sleeping?”
A: “Dreaming.”

2) Do not ask rhetorical questions

My “and what shall we wear today?” (which was academic given I already had her jeans and top in my hand) was met by a decisive “spotty jim-jams, two pink plates and an umbrella”.

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Shoe shopping… it's sole destroying

By Cari Rosen, November 5, 2009

Women, I am told, love to buy shoes. There must be something wrong with my genetic make-up: I do not love to buy shoes. And now that I have to buy them for the baby too, my pleasure in this task has dissipated still further.

Contrary to footwear forays in the past, I had actually been looking forward to the purchase of her very first pair of shoes. Forget the sandals, the lightweight canvas of summer. Proper shoes. A proper milestone.

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Why parks are no walk in the park

By Cari Rosen, October 1, 2009

It would be fair to say that we have already established that motherhood is one steep learning curve. So how is it that I am continually surprised when I discover yet another new thing I never realised I needed to know?

For the majority of my 40-something years a park has been… well, a park. Nice green space; a few dogs; the odd tree; a swing or two. In my younger days I would have been delighted by a tennis court; now a cafe will do me just fine. But basically nothing too far off the standard dictionary definition.

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