Milk & Manolos

The Munchkin has just enjoyed her first Ballet Class. I guess that officially makes me a pushy mother. Not only has her name been down practically since birth, I allowed my Best Girl to attend looking like a Little Britain character. There she was in her fuschia tights and leotard and everso slightly clashing candy pink tutu.

Worse still, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying a total of 6 times during the 50 minute class. The way her chubby little arms and legs flailed around in absolutely no time to the music, nor her teacher, Miss Lucy. The enthusiasm was there in bucketfuls, and with a little coaching (this week we’ll concentrate on the flapping of her fairy wings) I could have a little Darcy Bussell on my hands.

Previously shying away from any form of group activity or class, I’m now beginning to see the error of my ways. Undoubtedly it’s difficult to punctuate you week with various genius creating classes throughout the week, particularly when you work. I now think that perhaps one or two could be beneficial, if not to your purse.

Next stop Mandarin. What ? China’s where it’s at, apparently.

To counteract the Husbands rather amusing diet (some how fried veal escolape and enchaladas with sour cream are permitted foodstuffs) I thought I’d treat the Munchkin and I to a sweet fest.  Particularly after the good talking to our beloved childminder gave me last week about the lack of sweet treats on our premises.  

Keep It Sweet does exactly what it says on the tin.   There I salvated as I loaded my virtual basket with treats galore.  Strangely, I’m not a huge fan of the sweet stuff, favouring crisps and nuts as my culinary vices, but boy, living every eight year olds dream certainly got me going.  Never has my mouse been so busy.

As I wait for my Pear Drops, Cola Cubes and Refresher bars to arrive, I’m reclaiming my stance on the sweetie jar.  The Munchkin will have to make do with dried fruit until the tender age of eighteen to enjoy these pleasures. 

Returning oddly sized Christmas lingerie this weekend, I spent the few minutes waiting to hear if my wish was to be granted by the rather scary Sales Assistant amusing myself with the packaging of Trinny & Susannah’s support garments.  Never have I seen anything so brash and money grabbing.

I mused for a moment over my failure to include the trusty Spanx pant in my blog.  This is information worth sharing.  Quickly adding it to my long list of resolutions, I’m hence removing it with a proud tick following this post.

There’s no doubting we all have days when we feel a little ‘bloated’.  These are one of the sneaky little tricks that fashionistas squirrel away for such days.  A variety of shapes, sizes and colours caters for whatever your concern, quickly smoothing you out and pushing you in and comfortably too. Also, you can resist the aptly named Power Brief ?  Surely this is something every woman should own ?  Following the shrinkage of my so called ‘lucky pants’ there’s been a space in my closet for a favourite brief for far too long.  One that’s just been filled. 

Today I’m on my soap box, depressed by the world in which we all live, and worse still, will hand over with the family jewels in our respective estates to the Munchkins.

Being the bloshy madam I am, since the Green Revolution hit the headlines, I’ve typically let it wash over my head. Stubborn beyond belief, and sure as hell not having anyone tell me what to do, I watched with interest and general agreement but failed to take the next step.  Some how the switch has been flicked, and in a series of serendipitous events I’m buckling down and becoming an Eco Warrior.

Of course I have no intention of dreading my hair, nor turning vegetarian, but there are small, painless ways in which we can stop the disgusting waste of resources, preserving Earth for generations to come.

First step on the journey is We Are What We Do’s eco-bible Change the World from 9 to 5, second only to their Change the World for a Fiver. Small actions can create huge results, surely we owe it to the small people?

I’ve found a little something that is going to revolutionise the Husbands life.  My downright refusal to iron anything since 1986 has meant he’s had his work cut out on the pressing front.  Well, not quite.  On closer inspection it’s likely that you’ll find we’re more than a little creased.

X Crease is going to change all that.  With a quick spray here and there, the Husbands occasional Sunday night chore will become even less frequent.  An instant clothes de-creaser, if only there was one for the face.

Having spent the weekend clearing out my closets, there is now a gapping whole in my shoe collection. Much loved flats, sparkly sandals and heavenly heels all failed to make the “will I get another seasons wear out of them” grade. All having seen far better days they couldn’t even be recycled (to my material benefit) on Ebay, but are currently doing their bit for Cancer Research.

Having carefully assessed my footwear needs, top of my list is a capsule collection of flats. With small chubby feet around, I feel it’s the least I can do. Particularly at weekends.

Perhaps not topping the Times Style Magazine’s hippest shoes, there is still a small place out there reserved for the careful and stylish use of the Ballet Pump to complete a look. When heading down that road there’s only one place to go, and that’s French Sole.

A plethora of colours and styles to choose from this is the sweet shop of leather pumps, and needless to say far better for the waist line. Make mine a black patent leather please. 

I’m a big believer in the concept of New Year, New Start. I’ve cleared out the closet, written my immediate to do lists and agonised over short and long term goals (the Husband insisted I remove Swarovski Crystal Jimmy Choos I plan to own for holiday time, citing them as not only impractical but far too pretty for my rather stubby toes).

As part of my ‘New Me’ plan and upon recommendation from my actress sister-in-law, I invested a mere £ 5.49 in Paul McKenna’s Change Your Life In 7 Days. Cheap at half the price I thought.

Ok, I’m not entirely sure WHAT I want to change, but I’m game, and as they say, a change is as good as a holiday albeit a shoeless one.

Hitting the intro with gusto he already had me in tears with a touching Giant analogy that pulled at my maternal heart strings. Whizzing through my day one task I was ready to hit the CD player and for a touch of hypnotism. With Paul filling the room before I knew it I was 3, 2, 1, back in the room.

With a spring in my step and ready for whatever 2008 might throw at me, Paul holding my hand every step of the way, I’m a new disciple to his genius. Attempting to add ‘personal audience with Paul McKenna’ to my short term goals, I think I may have negotiated my shoes after all. 

Battling with the January blues, I’ve decided to give myself a makeover.  Well, a good talking to, to say the least.  Following a low key Christmas I’ve found myself lolling about in clothing that’s only suitable for a Sunday morning and no make-up, on a far too frequent basis.

Part of my master plan is to step up the overall look.  My dry January will see that my body is a temple, rather than the well loved church hall it was in December.  Now all I have to do is ensure my face reflects that.

While I detox to my hearts content, I can rely on Yves Saint Laurent’s Touche Eclat to help ensure that I’m looking my best. This is one staple NO ONE should be without.  Man, woman, and well, I’d like to say child but fear that would be a little too controversial, can benefit from having one of these squirrelled away in their bag du jour.

Light reflecting particles help give the face a radiance that sometimes can only be found following a 10 night stint at Chiva Som, and at a fraction of the price.  Get clicking today.  

Having received a Doctors kit for Christmas from a beloved Godparent the Munchkin I fear now has Munchausen’s Syndrome.

Suddenly obsessed with all things medical there is endless talk of doctors and hospitals. Examining every visitor over the festive period, she now demands a twice daily once over, asking politely each time if she should go to hospital “yes ?”.

Plasters and bandages are also important to her. Yesterday I caught her attempting to wrap a very angry cat in crepe bandage “just in case”. She demands that her knees are dressed with Savalon and plastered each night before bed, despite not having a scratch on her. When attempting to suggest that perhaps it wasn’t necessary I was met with the roth of a two year old in full tantrum mode. Hand me the plasters I requested.

These aren’t just any plaster let me tell you. These are the extra special sticky bandages embossed with her favourite CBeebies characters Master Charlie and Miss Lola. Delivered lovingly by Santa to help ease the pain and upset of the odd graze, little did he know that his gift wouldn’t last a fortnight.

Fortunately Mummy’s on hand with her trusty iMac to help ship another batch in. And another. And another.

While leafing through my copy of Easy Living this morning, cappuccino in hand and Munchkin Jackson Pollacking in the corner, the ol’ blues were quickly attracted to Lush Lamp Shades new set of pillows cases.

I’m truly not one for novelty bed linen, in fact, as the Husband will tell you, it’s pretty hard to get me to deviate from white cotton. Actually, make that impossible. Before settling on my Mr Right, I would be lying if I said there hadn’t been a boyfriend or two. Each and every one, including the Husband dare I add, had the most ghastly bed linen I’d ever seen. One even had a zebra print sheets which wasn’t changed, or washed, for a year. Uh, I can taste vomit as I type.

As past experiences mould our personalities and tastes, I can therefore blame the male species for my 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheet demands. Well, that was until I caught sight of these.

I’m thinking they’d go beautifully in my French Grey boudoir and add a little style to bed time. Lord knows, I need it in my flannel pyjamas.

Credit card at the ready, it might be time to surprise the husband. Mind you, must be careful not to give him any ideas in the bed linen department.