Happy Birthday big girl

To THE most beautiful girl in the world...

(Cut me some slack - I am her Mother).

Happy Birthday little one.

Four years ago today we met for the very first time.

It was just before three o'clock in the morning, 12 days after you were due to arrive and I have to say, it was about bloody time. Not least because we were moving house two weeks later.

I'm sorry if the first noises you heard from me weren't exactly comforting, but you did have rather large shoulders, even then, and gutteral screams were all I could manage. It wasn't your fault sweetie. I think it was more likely the resulting stitches which caused the agony.

When I look at you now I truly do think you're the most beautiful creature in the whole world. You AND your sister of course *cough*. She'd never forgive me.

But four years ago I couldn't have said the same thing. I can't lie. Your face was more than a little squashed, rather angry, and a funny shade of purple. And that rather unsavoury goo you were covered with? Well, let's just say, it did occur to me at the time how lucky I was that I wasn't a lion or a sheep or else I would have had to lick you clean.

*shudder*

But a lot can happen in four years.

And I'm pleased to say that you've had a few baths since then.

It's been a good year being three hasn't it? In fact I know the tantrum you threw last night was only because you were sad to say goodbye to three, wasn't it?

But four is good. At least that's what your sister says. I don't think I can remember that far back.

She says that you'll learn to ride your bike this year because that's what she did. And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn to write your name too. Your mastery of the letter E is certainly coming along nicely.

I can't wait to see what this year holds for you. You're beautiful Edie. You really are. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your Mummy. Your Daddy says it too.

Happy Birthday beautiful.

History and Happiness

Seventeen years ago I fell in love.

Completely and utterly.

I knew my life would never be the same again.

And I was right.

I was 19 years old.

But it was nothing to do with a man. Or even a boy. Well, ok maybe it was just a little bit, but for the purposes of this post, it wasn't.

It was a country.

Thailand.

I loved it. I loved the people, the food, the climate, the hapiness that it gave to me so easily.

In those days I think I had a permanent smile etched on my face.

And sometimes when I'm sad and exhausted and overwhelmed by my present day life, I like to remember those times. I like to think that maybe one day I can feel like that again. If only for a moment.

So, it was only natural, given the past few months, that I would want to come back.

So here I am again. Seventeen years after I first arrived and 15 years since I was last here. Looking for just a little bit of that happiness.

And do you know what?

I think I've found it.

Back then I fancied myself as a bit of a philosopher. Still do, but shhhhhh, don't tell anyone. At 19 you can get away with it. At almost 36, you can't.

So if I say I wrote the following when I was 19, maybe you can forgive me, just a little bit.

You will always love the place where you learnt about life
Because you'll never believe anywhere else can offer you such riches
And understanding life being one of the world's greatest riches.

But what you have to understand is that you can never stop learning.
So don't be fooled into thinking that there's only one place for you.
The key to understanding is that you can never understand everything.

So expect everyhting, but wait for nothing.

Because if you wait it will never come.

Thailand, I still love you. Thank you for making me feel happy again. I owe you one.

Happy Birthday my darling girl

Today my darling Edie has turned three, although the poor mite is hardly aware of the fact since we were in such a rush for nursery this morning, we didn't have time to open any presents (which is just as well because there weren't any). A fact not helped by nursery woman asking her what presents she had received...

"Cards", Edie replied.

"Cars"? nursery woman asked quizically.

"Cards", I repeated. "Er we're saving presents for later".

"Did you have cake for breakfast"? nursery woman blundered on.

"No, cake's for later too", I insisted.

And that's how I left it as I then dashed off to the supermarket to buy cake and presents.

Edie will never know.

And Edie, my darling, if you ever read this post in years to come and think that Mummy didn't love you, then please continue reading and you'll know for certain that that's not the case.

Little Edie, you are the most divine creature anyone has ever met. You are stunningly beautiful (of course everyone says that you look just like me...cough)! But not only that...you are truly captivating. Katharine's Mummy, Veronica, says that you're the only other child, aside from her own, who she feels unconditional love for, which is just as well because I have noticed you hit her quite a few times.

But, you see, that's the thing. Despite the fact that you, er hit and er, kick and pull hair and bite and generally try to do a very good job of turning people against you, it just doesn't work. Everybody loves you, Edie, not least your Mummy and your Papa and your big sister Renée.

Happy Birthday little one. You are now officially very grown-up. And don't forget, very grown-up girlies don't need to bite any more, or hit, or throw tantrums for that matter. Only two year-olds do that...

Love for my stepdaughter

Not many of you know this, but as well as being Mother to my two little monkeys, I am also a step-mother to an almost 18-year-old. I haven't ever mentioned her on this blog because, well (a) I've never asked her permission (erm, still haven't actually, so Als - please don't hold this against me) and (b) she doesn't live with us, so on a day-to-day basis my role as step mother isn't a hugely active one. However, I've just read a thread for a discussion on British Mummy Bloggers about being a step parent, and I thought 'well yes, I guess that does apply to me', so in light of that, and the fact that she's coming to stay for the weekend, I thought I'd share with you a little bit about Alex.

I first met Alex when she was five years old, the age that Renée, my eldest is now. Her father and I had just worked together on our maiden job (filming a team climbing Mont Blanc) and we were collecting her from Lyon airport where she'd been staying with her grandparents, to bring her back home to Bath, where she still lives now. Although her father and I weren't 'together' at that point, I was already developing a little crush on him and was therefore anxious that his daughter would like me. (And before you start thinking of me as a hideous homewrecker, her parents had already split-up before we met...just thought I'd clear that up)!

'Can I brush your hair?' she asked me as we sat down at the cafe. 'Tu est tres jolie'. (And for those of you who don't speak French, she told me that I was very pretty). I knew we'd get along...(She also told me that I had hairy arms, but hey, I forgive her. She was five at the time).

And now she's almost 18 and I still find her just as enchanting as she was 13 years ago. I'd like to say that we've had our 'moments', but actually I can't remember a time when we haven't got on. She's been a teenager and slammed doors and wanted to wear clothes that weren't exactly appropriate for either the weather or her age, but I don't think we've ever argued about a thing.

Alex, correct me if I'm wrong. My memory isn't what it used to be! And besides, I still have manflu so my judgement could be somewhat clouded. But seriously, I love you and I care so much about you and despite the fact that you're now taller than me and have bigger boobs (yes, for those of you that know me I know that's not saying much - be kind), I will always feel protective of you.

Alex, my darling, you are amazing. You are everything I could ever hope for my daughters to be. You are so beautiful and bright and clever and funny and kind and kind of cool too. If I was your age, I'd want you to be my friend. I want to hang out with you and laugh and share all the things that you share with your friends. I look at you and know that you could do anything you ever wanted to do with your life. You have that special thing about you. You impress me. Thank you for being such a wonderful person, a fantastic stepdaughter and an amazing big sister.

This morning, your little sister, Edie, was in a bad mood...a two-year-old bad mood which involved a total refusal to cooperate in any way. She didn't want to get out of bed, she cried and made herself rigid when I attempted to put her clothes on, she ran away and hid when I told her that it was time to go to nursery. I thought 'Crikey, this is going to be a looooooong day', but then I remembered you were coming to stay for the weekend and I knew that the moment I told her, she would change her mood around.

And she did.

'Alex is coming to stay Edie', I told her. 'She'll be here tomorrow morning when you wake up'.

She stopped crying at once. She smiled. She even did a little dance. And in that one moment, I was so grateful for you, even though you weren't here, and I just wanted to let you know how much your sisters adore you, as we all do.

Thank you for always loving them and never once feeling resentful that they came along. You are a truly special person.

And by the way, don't think that you'll be sleeping in tomorrow morning because Renée has already told me that the first thing she's going to do when she wakes up is to jump on your bed.

You have been warned.

Happy Birthday my little one

Now I should really be posting about my trip to Butlins, but I can't escape the fact that today my eldest daughter turns 5. So sorry Butlins, but you will have to wait. And just as a quick update, I wanted to let you know that the party for 25 little monsters in my own home turned out to be not quite as hideous as I had imagined. The sun shone for the whole three hours of the party, there were no tears, no accidents and no one actually set foot inside the house, except to use the loo of course...I'm not quite that mean. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say, you can now call me party planner extraordinaire!

But now back to today.

My darling Renée. Happy Birthday little one. I can not believe that you are 5 years old - so grown-up, with your long hair and flawless skin, able to tell me what clothes you want to wear but quick to throw a tantrum when I choose something you don't like. A big girl, but still so small and vulnerable. You are brave beyond words and can hold back your tears when you fall over and scrape your knee, but you can still cry when your balloon bursts (and I'm so sorry about the enormous red one that you saved all the way through Butlins, even rescuing it after it had flown off the balcony, only for me to burst it on the rose bush as I was unloading the car at home). I'm sorry I made you cry - I will buy you another big red balloon and kiss your broken heart better.

I remember when you were first born. Your face was so wise. I seriously thought that you had already lived a thousand lives. Maybe you had. Your name means 're-born', so maybe that says it all. When you cried I sang you Amazing Grace and explained that you had to stop crying or else you'd wake up the whole hospital and I'd look like I didn't know what I was doing. You obliged in an instant and I will be forever grateful.

Thank you for coming into my life and making me smile and cry and feel things that no one, except you could make me feel.

You are unbelievably clever. More so than I ever was, I am sure. And as much as I am able to teach you, you can teach me too. You have taught me a lifetime of lessons already - to be patient, tolerant, kind, loving...all these things I owe to you.

Thank you for being the most amazing daughter. Every day when I look at you I realise just how lucky I am. Happy fifth birthday my little horserider, swimmer, comedian, daughter, sister, grandaughter, friend.

May only good things happen to you in your life. And if for any reason they don't, then I will be here for you, always loving you and remembering the first ever time I fell in love with your little squashed face.

It's those priceless moments

"Mummy I love you" said Renée to me this morning as I was brushing her hair in time for school.
"I love you too darling", I replied.
"No, but Mummy, I really, really love you."
"And I really, really, really love you."

This had the potential to go on for some time. It reminded me of the book that my Mother had bought for me when I had first given birth to Renée and one that I hadn't read in a long time - the one with the two hares - 'Guess How Much I love You' - where Mummy Hare concludes by saying 'I love you right up to the moon and back'.

I wanted to say something similar to Renée, but she beat me to it.

"You're the best Mummy in the world and if they had Mummys on other planets then you'd be better than them as well."

It was a priceless moment which brought tears to my eyes and made me realise just how lucky I am.

Letter to my daughters

So after a hectic weekend of Grandparents and yet more eating, I have finally been able to sit down and read the newspapers. This is a huge treat since I normally don't have time to buy them, let alone indulge in them. But today, for an hour or so at least, I did. And as it was Mother's Day yesterday I came across a few articles relating to the very subject. My favourite was a collection of letters written by three or four authors to their daughters offering help and advice for their later life (all the daughters were young and this letter was to be given to them at the age of 21). And it got me thinking about what I would write in a letter to my two daughters. This is what I came up with.

To my darling girls,

I'm going to start with a cliché, but believe me when I say that it is true. I would die for you both. I really would. I never understood how that felt until the first moment I saw one of you in pain. You were a day old and the doctors were performing their routine 'heel-prick' test which involved extracting four or five drops of blood from your heel. You were hysterical with pain and shock, not understanding why anyone could hurt you so. And in that moment, as I watched your rigid body and your contorted face I felt it. And I still feel it now and every day. I feel it when I watch you sleep at night with your soft, peachy skin and your perfect features, your eyelids flickering with all your excited thoughts. I feel it when you tell me that you love me and when you put your arms around my neck and let me take in your irresistible scent. I feel it when you share your excitement with me and when you are wise beyond your years. I would die for you in a heartbeat my darlings, and this is the truth. But don't let that make you feel under any pressure to please - the love I feel for you will always be there - no matter what you do, or who you are. Because here is another cliché for you - I just want you to be happy. Truly. Of course I want you to be healthy too, and adored by all who meet you, and kind and successful and loving. But most of all I want you to be happy with whatever it is you choose to do.

So here's my advice to you - and I hope it helps somewhat towards your path of happiness.

1. Try not to fixate on the future so much that you don't enjoy the present. The journey itself can be so much more rewarding than the destination.


2. Always treat people the way in which you would like to be treated. Be kind to everyone you meet. And if they are not kind back, then don't think it is your fault. Maybe they're having a bad day.


3. Don't be afraid to follow your dreams, whatever they may be. Only you know what really makes you tick.
   
4. Travel if you can. Go to places that make you open your eyes and realise that there is so much more to life than what is inside your own front door.


5. Don't be afraid to trust people - but only if you understand that sometimes the people you trust can let you down.


6. Marry for love, but try to remember (and this piece of advice comes from Grandma) that however much love you have, if you have no money, then love sometimes goes out of the window.


7. Believe that you are capable of doing anything that you want. Don't be scared of trying. If at first you don't succeed, then try and try again. You can and you will do it.
   
8. Always be yourself - whoever that may be.


9. Try not to get excessively angry about things - nothing is that important. And if you realise half-way through an argument that you are wrong, then have the courage to back down.


10. Never forget that I will always love you.


11. Never bite your fingernails.


12. Always put on clean underwear.


13. Eat your vegetables.


14. Don't shave your legs - wax them.


15. Never go to bed on an argument or with an untidy kitchen.


16. Always listen to your Mummy and do exactly what she says.

And if at any point you forget this advice, then remember just one thing. I will always be here for you. If your heart is broken and all you want to do is curl up into a ball and sob, then I will be here for you. If someone hurts you, I will be here for you. If you are scared or lonely or panicked, I will be here. Never ever forget that.

Your Mummy