Cambridge Mummy on … hating being fat but not doing anything about it.

Posted on June 29, 2012 by cambridgemummy

It’s got to stop. This eating. I have to take myself to one side and have a serious talk with myself. I’m gaining weight. And not doing anything about it. And because I’m gaining weight, I’m eating even more rubbish. It’s pants. I’m not happy with myself, my lack of will power or my ability to manage myself. It’s pretty crap really. So what am I going to do about it? Take myself in hand? Or watch tv and feel sorry for myself? I hate the photos from our holidays. They aren’t the me I want to be. I have to get a grip of this. I can have it all. I can loose this weight. I’ve just got to put my mind to it.

Anyone else struggle with this kind of thing?

Cambridge Mummy on … letting go

Posted on June 28, 2012 by cambridgemummy

Cambridge Mummy… on being a bird and having ‘bird power’….

Posted on June 27, 2012 by cambridgemummy

Birds of a feather may flock together - but do they have "bird power"?

I was being chauffeured home from a work meeting this afternoon and found the text below in the notes. I thought it would be good to share it, because it’s something that still resonates with me….

Bird power is something that I refer to in real life but struggle with explaining in my Online Life. I don’t know why. Perhaps its because I don’t want to appear like too much of a fruitbat? ;) It’s not that I’m a huge femininst. Well, part of me is, but that’s another blog altogether. It’s the fact that I’m a bird – I can drive, jumpstart a car, can negotiate for the things I want and need for myself and my family. I can look after myself – I can be alone and have spent plenty of time alone. I’ve moved things and people and relationships on when I’ve needed to. I am working hard to make the most of the relationships that really mean something to me.

Hang on, I, I, I !!! This is all a bit self centred isn’t it? It’s hard though to explain it and attribute it to others because they may not want to be labelled as being a bird. But I will anyway. Here’s some of the smart women I know who have bird power…

There’s A – one of the smartest women I know. She’s not just clever. She’s uber clever. She’s a bird because she doesn’t lord it over everyone she meets. I think I’d be asking people complicated maths stuff, just because I could, if I were her! She’s a bear with a huge brain, using it for good – her family and the charity she works for, whilst juggling all of the household stuff as well.

Then there’s K. She didn’t want to be a stay at home mum full time, she wants to be a working mum with time off each week with her children. She’s a proper bird because she has worked out what she wants and how to make it happen for her family and get own benefit. It’s a juggle, but she’s doing it! Respect!!

Then there’s B – a strident femininst who proposed to her partner on FB and tells it like it is. She’s a top bird because she has the courage to voice her convictions and stand by them. And her grammar, whilst she’s doing it, is divine!!

But being a Bird is more than that. It’s paying it forward, seeing the opportunities in life to help others knowing that at some point someone or something will pay it forward to you in return. Someone who has written about this really well, is Elizabeth Wurtzel. Her book, The Bitch Rules, has been a really important book for me. It’s out of print at the moment which is nuts as it’s the best 5.00 I have ever spent. I bought it for lots of friends. Because it speaks the truth about being a bird. About travelling light. About making the most of your time alone, and making the most of your time with your family, about broadening your horizons. About not taking rubbish from other people (she doesn’t use the word rubbish, she uses a swear word, but I can’t because my mum sometimes reads my blog).

These are all bird like qualities. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about being a fortress with no empathy or emotion for others – it’s the opposite of that.
In fact, being a bird meant I could tell a stranger on the tube today how much I liked their eyeshadow and that I’m practising that exact look.

And to me, that’s pretty cool :)

*Image credit to Alisdair

Cambridge Mummy on … vagina, foo, nunny, girls bottoms and Femfresh

Posted on June 23, 2012 by cambridgemummy

Femfresh have gotten themselves into trouble for apparently making fun of women having different names for their genitalia and then, not liking it when people people responded negatively to this, on their Facebook page. Nu huh. Social Media is a two way conversation. You don’t just get to push your content out there – people get to reply and comment as well!!

So what do you call 'it'? Your 'flower'??

Anyway, the whole kerfuffle aside, I want to know what you call it – you know, ‘that place’. And what you are teaching your kids about it. What is it in your house? A ‘flower’, ‘mini’, ‘muffin’, ‘lady garden’, ‘kitty’, ’pompom’, ‘twinkle’, ‘noonoo’, ‘noony’ or ‘hoo haa’? Or a ‘foo’?

In ours it’s my girls bottom. A friend pointed out a couple of years ago that I could confuse the boys – that they would think I poo from two different places. We’ve not come up against that bit yet, so I’m sticking with “girls bottom” for the moment.

Thank you to martin_heigan for the image, though I’m not sure he’ll expect it to be used in this context!

What do you call ‘it’ in your house? Can’t wait to hear and see who will share….

Cambridge Mummy on … whether a leopard can change its spots

Posted on June 21, 2012 by cambridgemummy

People talk about this topic periodically, usually when someone lets them down or doesn’t turn out to be who they thought they were. I’m writing about it tonight, from a different perspective. But first, what do you think? Can a person fundamentally change? I see people who’ve experienced a radical religious conversion and am not sure sometimes, well, I think it’s too good to be true.

And then I think about myself. And it’s no road to Damascus event, but this week, I was in Bicester, for work. I was literally 5 minutes from the outlet shopping centre. Where Orla Kiely has just opened an outlet shop – last weekend in fact, because I saw the tweet about it! And I didn’t go. I can’t work out why?

Is it because I thought to myself “I don’t need any more Orla bags / purses / things” ??
No, because you can never have enough Orla and I want a leather bag at the moment from her collection.

Is it because I thought to myself “We can’t really afford this” ??
No, because we could if I wanted it.

Is it because I didn’t have enough time?
No, because I was over an hour early.

I don’t know why I didn’t go, to be honest. But I was thinking about how much I would likely spend there – at least £100, if not £200. And I just thought to myself, that it’s not what I wanted to do any more. To spend £100 on a bag that I don’t really need. But I didn’t know what else I would want to spend it on either, which was equally confusing! I know. I’m still in shock over this. I love pretty much all things Orla – my first bag was when I was 19 and it cost me one of my student loan instalments at University. Yes, a whole student loan installment ( !!!!!! )

But something had shifted in me. And I don’t know what it is. I didn’t feel the pull that I used to. The urge to go there and “just look” even. It’s a strange experience. I don’t know quite what to make of it. Maybe I’ve actually got exactly what I need these days. Maybe I don’t ‘need’ anything else?

Aside from the consumer aspect, it made me think that I shouldn’t be so black and white about some things. Perhaps leopards can change their spots after all? What do you think?

*Flickr image used under CCL

Cambridge Mummy on… best friends being parted by going to school

Posted on June 18, 2012 by cambridgemummy

Disclaimer: Just in case you weren’t aware, this is my personal blog. It’s not being written with SEO and all that in mind, so I get to write my titles exactly as I like to, like I have done today. It’s not how I’d write them if they were for work stuff….I don’t want you to think I’m not title aware ;)

Here are two best friends. They are also known as a Daddy and soon to be 4 year old son. Or Lovely Bloke and W. But there’s a problem looming. All too soon, they are going to be separated for hours at a time, when W starts big school, in September. He goes to pre school nearly every day, but that’s not the same in our minds. It’s optional, not obligatory. Lovely Bloke and W get to do stuff together, like going to Waitrose on a Friday morning, doing the shopping and having a milk and cake together in the cafe. I hear that it’s all very civilised, until W decides he’s bored of it and says “right, lets go”…

And even before big school happens, E 0r BIG E, as I’m referring to him, will be home from school for the summer. This will be great in itself – lots of adventures and opportunities for playing for all three of them. But right now, he’s at school 9am – 3pm ish and it means that lovely as E finishing school will be, it’s also going to mean that Lovely Bloke and W will have even less time together, for their pootling around, doing jobs, getting into trouble and having fun when they think no one is looking.

So right now they are on countdown, and I don’t think either of them have realised it yet. I don’t like how sad they will be when they do realise. So for now, I’ll treasure these photos of them sticking “bugs” on each other’s noses, boobs, bums and arms. Which ones do you think W did?

When we were gearing up for E going to big school, it was exciting, an adventure. Now it’s time for W to make the transition, I just want to cry. I’m sad. It’s the end of an era. I know it’s a good thing – we are raising two bright, enquiring, relatively polite, funny, good to be with boys who are thriving at school and pre school. We love the smug parenting moments when we are told about something good, kind or smart that they have done. But the other bit of me, just wants to snuggle under the duvet with them. They are growing so fast. Sometimes, I just want time to stand still.

Cambridge Mummy on … the family holiday

Posted on June 16, 2012 by cambridgemummy

You know you’ve been on a family holiday when….

Your children don’t go to sleep before 10pm at night, because they have been up late every night you were away.

Your children don’t wake up in time for school / pre school, because they have been getting up between 9am and 10am each day you were on holiday.

Your children are telling people that “mummy’s bottom is very white” in the playground.

Your children don’t understand why they have to revert to eating meals for dinner, instead of just chips/pasta followed by as much ice cream as they could eat, coupled with sprite / Fanta by the bucket load.

Your husband is looking lost because you’re back to work and taking calls from clients who need your input at 5.55pm. He’d rather I was not doing that. But then it’s taking those calls that pays for the holiday, so he’s smart enough to not mention it directly.

You have peeling skin and think “there must be some educational purpose to this to show the boys how the human body works”…….

You look like David Dickenson from Bargain Hunt because you put suntan lotion on everyone one day one, and forgot to apply any to yourself.

You spend days 2 – 14 trying to cover up with a rash vest and applying lotion at every conceivable opportunity to limit the damage incurred on day 1.

You shamefully present your fridge magnet / soap to family that was bought in the airport because it was the only thing you could find, and don’t mind that they say “thanks” without much enthusiasm.

You finish your tea and are disappointed that there aren’t any “dancing girls” going to be around tonight for post dinner entertainment.

You actually miss the sound of the “choo choo waa, choo choo waa” song from the Mini Disco that happened each night. And you have it going around your head, even though you have a love / hate relationship with it.

You are annoyed that you have to do the dishwasher after every meal. When on holiday, the fairies did this, so how come we didn’t manage to pack them into our suitcases.

The washing machine is on so frequently that you worry that it might self combust.

You pray for good weather so that you can get as much washing on the line as possible to enable you to get rid of the overflowing suitcases full of dirty clothes in the front lounge.

You are disappointed to go to your bedroom and not find chocolates lovingly placed on your bed that’s been made beautifully.

Did I forget anything?