The end of an era October 23, 2011

Yesterday, we sold the Mountain Buggy. Now this probably doesn’t sound like a big deal to most people, but to us, it’s signalled the end of an era.

We bought the buggy after much lengthy debate when we were still in the UK but knew we were moving to Dubai. I’d done all the research possible on which was the best buggy for twins. More time, effort and energy went into choosing this stroller than we’ve ever spent on choosing a house or car!

Twinsdaddy thought it was an awful lot of money to be spending on a baby-mover. I remember one particular afternoon, at our neighbours house, dragging both our friends into the debate over whether we’d really feel the benefit of the rear suspension and proper air-filled tyres. They both diplomatically sat on the fence but were the first to pop over when the Mountain Buggy was delivered and take a peek at the contraption that had generated so much discussion. (If they’re honest, I think they were also just a tiny bit impressed with the rear suspension!)

When the girls were tiny, I’d pack them into the buggy, both laid out flat on the fluffy sheepskin inners, and walk for miles around Arabian Ranches where we lived at the time. They would snooze contentedly for an hour or more, whilst I convinced myself that every morning was at least another kilo of my baby weight lost forever.

It came on holiday with us; travelled back to the UK with us; trekked into the desert and paced miles through every mall in Dubai.

It was in the Mountain Buggy that we captured the photograph of both girls smiling for the first time; and the photo of the big brother, perched on the front footrest, pulling faces at his tiny sisters trying to make them giggle.

And now it’s gone to a really lovely couple who are awaiting the arrival of two adopted babies from Ethiopia.

They too cooed over its robust frame and big, springy wheels. They stroked the sheepskin inners and marvelled at the huge shopping basket. They too drive a Volvo.

And better still… they paid the asking price!

A not so rare breed September 20, 2010

When we moved to Dubai and I was roughly 5 months pregnant with the girls, I did lots of research into the support groups and networks available to Mums of multiples here in the UAE. I was relieved to discover that a group existed in Dubai, and that they met for weekly play sessions and a monthly Mums night out.

That was roughly 21 months ago. Since then, I’ve given birth to my twins and somehow not managed to find one free Sunday morning to join the play sessions, or indeed an available Wednesday night to join the Mums of the group for a well-earned drink or three.

I rarely bother with New Year’s resolutions but have decided I will instead embrace the concept of New School Year’s resolutions from now on. With big brother safely back in school, the girls and I need some structure to our week, and as they are now more mobile and inquisitive, we need some stimulating activities outside of the home. Preferably involving other small people. The novelty of crawling round on the floor, wearing out the knees of every pair of trousers I own, has really worn off.

Drum roll please…. bring on twins club. Or Multiplied UAE, to give it its proper name.

This week, the location for the play session was the mall closest to our house so there really was no excuse. Armed with the double buggy and enough boxes of raisins to deplete the entire Californian harvest, we headed to ‘Cool Time’.

I was hoping to see hoards of similarly frazzled Mummies, all desperately relieved to be having an adult conversation and not having to repeat everything they said, twice. But no. These women looked like they’d all seen the inside of a hairdressing salon this month, were wearing coordinating outfits, and showed no signs of having had a sneaky nip of gin on the way in.

This wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

Where were the shattered wrecks of human beings, deranged from lack of sleep and suffering from repetitive strain injury from all those nappy changes?

Not only did they look normal, they seemed to act normally too. Each and every one of them introduced themselves and their offspring to me,  managed the required swapping of pleasantries (how old are yours? did you deliver in Dubai? do you own a Mountain Buggy Urban?) and tactfully avoided pointing out to me that due to the blonde’s recently acquired cold, I was sporting bogies on both shoulders and in my hair (as I discovered MUCH later).

The other surprising observation was that there are frankly, an awful lot of twins in Dubai. Having spent the past 19 months feeling a little bit special, if only for the fact that I have two and not just one, mucus-loaded offspring in tow; I have to admit to going to twins club and feeling a bit, well, average.

And that just won’t do at all.

The end is in sight April 14, 2010

It’s ok. I’m going to survive. There are just three more days left until the beginning of the summer term and I know we’re going to make it in one piece.

Tomorrow we are going to have lunch with some friends from my son’s class. He’s been told to bring his swimming stuff so a pre-lunch dip seems likely. The girls can enjoy licking someone else’s floor tiles for a change and I can have a conversation with a like-minded adult. By that I mean a female with children who has also spent every one of the past ten days searching for something original and entertaining to do that doesn’t involve excessive exposure to the sun or an over reliance on Cartoon Network.

On Friday we’re going to a barbecue at our friends house which is literally just down the street. This is great as due to Dubai’s zero tolerance policy on drinking and driving, we can enjoy a few glasses of wine and need only the co-ordination to steer a Mountain Buggy back up the road at the end of the day.

On Saturday my son has a party to go to at Fun City. There is nothing remotely ‘fun’ about Fun City that I can see but the world’s population of five year olds would probably disagree with me. The upside to this particular party is that it’s being held in one of the more interesting malls here in Dubai so my plan is to drop the party boy off at the door and make a very sharp exit towards the shops. If I’m really organised, I can fit in a pedicure and latte but I don’t want to get my hopes raised too high. It’s almost sounding like fun!