What not to wear August 30, 2011

I have a t-shirt-type top that my husband thinks is too young for me. I know this because when I came home with it, he gave me that look that speaks volumes, and then said something along the lines of, “Isn’t it a bit too cool?”.

What he meant was, “isn’t it a bit too cool and young and fashionable for a mother of 3 who’s rapidly approaching 40″.

At the time, I dismissed his look and clearly misguided comments, and assured him I most definitely wasn’t too old to be wearing a tiny vest top with a faded image of a Union Jack and some Beatles lyrics printed on it.

However, ever since that night, I’ve been secretly concerned that he may actually have a point and so I’ve taken to wearing it only when he’s out.

For no particular reason, I took this top with me to Mauritius and one morning, feeling brave, (and ever so cool), I decided to put it on. I checked in the mirror and somehow convinced myself that I did indeed look youthful, and fashionable, and very much a yummy mummy in my oh so cool top and equally small shorts.

I headed downstairs to join twinsdaddy and the troops for breakfast, and was greeted by the blonde at the bottom of the staircase eyeing me suspiciously.

She quietly observed me before cocking her head to one side and saying,

“And what are you wearing?”, in a tone that can only have been taught by Trinny Woodall herself.

I truly thought those types of conversations wouldn’t be happening for at least another 10 years, and when they did, it would be me doing the enquiring.

Needless to say, the t-shirt hasn’t been worn since.

 

 

There were two in the bed and the little one said… August 18, 2011

When we booked our holiday villa, we purposefully chose one with 3 bedrooms so that we’d all get some peace and quiet. We discovered about a year ago that the big brother and the twins should no longer be put in a room together overnight, unless of course, our intention is to keep them up all night talking and prodding each other.

This villa has 2 double bedrooms and a twin bedroom which we thought would be perfect. The big brother could have the luxury of the double bed, whilst the twins shared the twin room (how apt!).

What we hadn’t known, was that the twin bedroom is at the top of the house and the bedroom nearest the master, is another double. We toyed with putting the girls up top, but the thought of them being free to roam was bad enough, without the added danger of a flight of stairs and some not too sturdy banisters. Particularly as no doubt, they’d be making their maneuvers in the middle of the night in the pitch black.

This is the girls’ first time sleeping in anything other than a cot, so they can’t believe their luck at being able to climb in and out of bed whenever they want.

I can’t believe we thought it would be a good idea.

So, the big brother is up in the twin room alone, whilst the girls are sharing a double bed. Heaven help us.

On night one, I spent a good half an hour surrounding the perimeter of the bed with cushions and suitcases to break their (inevitable) falls.

We then positioned the pillows in two distinct areas within the bed. The left side for the brunette, the right side for the blonde.

We explained carefully that this was a ‘big girls bed’ and only ‘big girls’ are allowed to sleep in it. We also tried laying down the rules about staying in bed until morning… how they laughed when we turned out the lights.

For the next two hours they climbed in and out of bed, then came to tell us how they’d just climbed in and out of bed and could we go and tuck them in again please? It quickly became more than a little tiresome.

The novelty was just too great. When they finally dropped off to sleep, it’s safe to say they were utterly exhausted. Instead of lying neatly in their allocated spots, the two ‘big girls’ were happily entwined in each other’s arms, heads touching. It would have made a lovely photo, only we didn’t dare take one for fear of waking them.

We were woken the following morning to a now familiar phrase, “Look Mummy, we got out of the big bed!”.

Oh how I miss the cots.

Mauritius – Day 1 August 14, 2011

Well let’s just say the holiday hasn’t started exactly as we might have hoped.

1. The night flight.

Waking the children at 0100 hrs was fine. They weren’t bad-tempered or overly reluctant to get up. It turned out, they thought it was morning, so they then proved highly unwilling to go back to sleep again once on board the plane.

The fact that Emirates insisted on a meal service at 0400 hrs did little to help our cause. I’d love to know of anyone who thinks a Cajun chicken mixed with creamy egg mayonnaise sandwich is appealing at any time of the day or night. I’m just assuming it was a muslim chef who created last night’s menu and was punishing all of us for not observing Ramadan fasting!

2. The rain.

We landed in Mauritius in time for a lovely wet shower, just as we stood outside the terminal building waiting to board our minibus. Soggy feet, damp toddlers and an extremely grumpy sleep-deprived 7-year-old. Just the ticket for a further hour confined in a small space.

3. The tummy bug.

After barely an hour at our villa, twinsdaddy took on a decidedly unfetching shade of yellow before proceeding to spend much of the rest of the day locked in the bathroom. Twinsmummy succumbed 12 hours later.

There were times during the next 24 hours when twinsdaddy and I wished we were back in Dubai with Joy to deal with the troops, as we literally negotiated over who got to use which bathroom. It wasn’t pretty.

This morning (Day 3) we felt brave enough to leave the villa and venture to the supermarket for supplies.

The sun is shining. The sky is blue. Even the children seem brighter.

The holiday (hopefully) starts here.