Milk & Manolos

The Munchkin is following in my footsteps. The Husband is worried. Fortunately he knows not what is round the corner. I do, hence the sleepless nights.

Already at the tender age of two and a half she sees the importance of a good accessory. Handbags and shoes are her thing. With fierce determination and a stubbornness I refuse to recognise in myself she carefully co-ordinates her daily outfits. Once completed her attention turns to the handbag, fully equipped with lipstick, pen and mock phone.

While it’s adorable to discover her tastes, I do harbour concerns that her style gene is yet to develop. Yesterday she looked like what I can only describe as a chav, complete with pony tail high on her head consisting of all of three hairs and looking far more pineapple than anything else.

I couldn’t resist showing her these sweet little numbers in the hope that she’ll eventually put down the pea green faux leather number she’s become rather attracted too. This little lady has a love for unnatural fibres that compares only to that of Kerry Katona, something most definitely to be ironed out at a later date methinks.

Having discovered Sally Shufflepants while diligently scouring the internet I had at first decided to give it a full body swerve due to the name which was far to sickly sweet for me. But putting my fear of the dentist behind me I double clicked and found a truly great place to help keep my present box stacked up …

Before I married the Husband, I was the girl that had every exercise machine known to man. In my studio flat. It wasn’t a good look, but I had convinced myself that by investing some of my paultry bonus into some home exercise gear that not only would I be perma-toned (given my 10 minutes of daily dedication surely this was the least it could bestow upon me ?) but my body would be one step further to being a temple, rather than the delapidated church hall I had sadly created through hours of sitting in pubs and drinking establishments, smoking my way into oblivion.

When the Husband arrived on the scene, my coteree of machines became a deal breaker. It seemed he wasn’t as keen on home exercise as I. He had a fair point, they weren’t the prettiest things in the world.

Imagine my delight at discovering rowhire. Here you can hire, without any commitment to buy, a top of the range water rower or Keiser M3 indoor cycle.

For just £9.90 a week, I can dodge the gym while attempting the whet the Husbands appetite for home exercise. Quite frankly, I don’t see why he’d find me in anyway unattractive, red faced and sweaty, labouring over a state of the art machine that I’m clearly not fit enough to use. Second thoughts, I’ll also buy a lock for the bedroom door.

The Munchkin has developed a fear of the dark. A rite of passage I’m sure. While she cowers behind me when we enter a darkened room I stand tall, protecting my Bumbalina from all manner of fears, hoping that just a little might rub off on her. Needless to say it hasn’t.

This is where the handy Anti Monster Spray comes in. Before bed, we squirt here, there and everywhere, paying particular attention to under the bed, and ensuring that all closet doors are duly closed and the cat is fast asleep at the foot of the bed, ready to catch any spiders (another fear. We’re working through them one by one).

Let me tell you it works. The lavender, while a touch June Whitfield, certainly has her off to bye-byes in two shakes of a lambs tail, while the bright packaging tells her exactly what she need do should she wake and be scared. Squirt of course !

My daughter is obsessed by all things Willy Wonka. So much so, I have the Oompa Loompa song imprinted into my brain, actually, make that branded into my brain. She trails around the house, when not whining about watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, humming what is slowing become her theme tune. When I asked if SHE was an Oompa Loompa, all I got was a tut and dirty look that only a 2 year old could give.

Every cloud has a silver lining, and it’s important I remember this. While we’ve been subjected to Gene Wilder doing his thing at least five times this weekend I now have all the ammunition I need to manipulate Madam into doing pretty much anything (evil cackle). She wouldn’t eat her lunch until I announced it was Willy Wonka Macaroni. Wolfed it straight down. A temper tantrum narrowly diverted by telling her that Willy Wonka wouldn’t like her to behave in that way. Wonderful. Thank Gene.

And the s-w-e-e-t-s ? While she drools like a St Bernard over the lollipops and sings like Bonnie Langford that “the Candyman can” we’ve managed to divert any demands.

Back in the day when I was still in knee highs, and enjoying Albion Market of a Friday evening, we had a house rule. The only sweets we were allowed were on Fridays, which were imaginatively entitled Sweetie Night. Dad would come home bearing two white paper bags full to the brim (or seemed to be) with penny sweets.

We have the same rule. Of sorts. The Munchkin, following a weeks worth of good behaviour is allowed on a Saturday morning only, to go with her Daddy to choose a lollipop at the local sweet shop. Never have you seen such happiness for 5 pence spent.

So it’s true. The Candy Man can, only just in moderation.

A little over a year ago we were at lunch at a friends, when suddenly, from nowhere, an amplified voice started to groan and shout. To much hilarity the Munchkin had found my god-daughters Early Learning Centre piano. Within two shakes of a lambs tail she’d come over all Liberace and was tinkling the old ivories and singing (hmmm, I’m not sure we can call it that …) away like there was no tomorrow.

The minute we got home I hot fingered it to the ELC website and purchased her own, very spoilt little lady, piano, and it’s been worth every penny. While long gone is the groaning and shouting here to stay is the tuneful little voice that sings along to my piecemeal version of ‘Twinkle Twinkle’. I do miss the days of dodgy karaoke but am channelling very ounce of her musicalness into learning the piano.

Having recently been introduced to Key Skills Pianos I couldn’t help spread the word. How cute are these ?

Developed by Sharon Abbott an ex-concert pianist (retired at 13 ! See, they start em young) having spent many an hour searching high and low for a non-plastic, non-bosa nova beat piano upon which to teach her daughter the art of ivory tinkling, and she found nothing. Commissioning a carpenter and seeing a gap in the market, Key Skills Pianos was born.

In my endless pursuit of developing a well rounded Munchkin I’m dropping hints to Grandparents a go-go that there is a bean of talent there waiting to be nurtured. Of course, it could also be my chance to finally perfect Chopsticks …

My love of all things precious, and in particular sparkly, has had me trawling the internet for suitable baubles for my Spring / Summer Look Book.

Not usually being one for dangly earrings I couldn’t resist bringing you these beauties from Alexis Bittar. Beautifully simple and fresh these are sure to be a staple once the weather improves and we can finally scoop that hair up, rather than using it as a human scarf as I’ve done for the past three months.

The Daffs are here so not long to go …

Following Bonhams recent urban art sale anyone who’s anyone are chasing their own bit of Graffiti ’skirt’.

Undoubtedly the place to start is Pictures on Walls. THE inaugural dealers in urban art prints since 2002. Being in with these guys could make you a whole lotta cash as they are the proud purveyors of original Banksy prints.

Of course you need to be up at the sparrows fart and never far from your computer to catch them, these are hotter than hot cakes on the coldest morning known to man. Signing up to their newsletter and regular checks of the site will ensure you have some classic pieces for your walls.

It’s inevitable.  There will be a time when we’re caught short.  The Munchkin wants entertaining, and like NOW Mummy.  The hours I’ve spent in restaurants, waiting rooms and on one occasion, a car showroom where Madam has descended into meltdown.  I mean, who can blame her ?  There’s only so long you can sit in a stationary Mini, buffed to within an inch of it’s life, putting dirty hand marks here, there and everywhere and flicking every switch and pushing every button. Happening most frequently at out favourite eateries the Husband and I have coined a term for it … restaurant stagnation.  And be careful, it can happen to adults too. You can imagine my joy, not to mention amusement having stumbled over the Momemergency Kit.   Hardly rocket science, I can’t believe another enterprising individual hasn’t thought of it before now.

Full to the brim of activities for small people ready, willing and able for the moment you need them.   The slight bore is shipping it in from the States and great expense, but a brilliant present, if only to yourself. Failing that, it can inspire you to create your own.

I admit I know little about money, apart from the fact I like it.  Interest rates, ISA’s and all that technical jargon flies effortlessly over my head.

Having got myself into the inevitable financial trouble that tempts every early twenties singleton, I began, with the help of some learned friends, to draw up a budget and try everso hard to stick to it.  

When someone suggested signing up to moneysavingexpert.com I was there in a shot and quite frankly haven’t looked back.  From reclaiming bank fees (and there were lots to reclaim) to advice on car insurance, health insurance, credit cards and utlity bills to name but a few, I devour the weekly newsletter with gusto.  This weekly visitor to my inbox has helped save us a fortune … 

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.