Gok Wan is my hero. He has relieved the hours of boredom that I have been slowly accruing whilst my three month old baby girl is attached to my boob, guzzling for endless minutes each day. My husband thinks I am nuts because all I want to do is get to a Haberdashery and buy some bows, flowers, ribbon – any shit that I can use to garnish my clothing. Husband generously offered to support ‘project embellishment’ by picking up some leaves and sticks to complement the soon-to-buy items that I will attach to my wardrobe. Funny. With a new baby, we are on a serious budget and new clothes are a no-no for a while but there is still a smile on my face (an anomoly for someone who loves clothes but can’t buy any). Why? Because good old Gok has inspired me to funk up my old clothes, which I intend to do with as many accoutrements I can find. The potential for me to end up looking like a Christmas tree is great, so I understand Husband’s mockery. Personally, I like the Christmas tree look thank you very much! There is no such thing as ‘too much’ or ‘overdone’ in my life. (more…)

Yesterday, when the little boy in front of me on the bus tantrumed for an entire hour I really tried not to judge. I know well that the poor mom trying to control little Mr Psycho could be me in two years time. But seriously! This kid was completely wild and out of control – he threw his arms and legs around like an overturned insect, he bit his mom and he screeched like a demon being exorcised back to hell. My daughter was sleeping soundly next to Mr Psycho and when he started bashing her pram I envisioned picking the kid up by his hair and throwing him out of the bus window. Lucky for Mr Psycho his mom yanked his arm away and he listened … well, he started bashing her instead of my baby’s pram. Fine by me. Everyone on the bus watched in uncomfortable silence and those with iPods thanked God in heaven and cranked up the volume. After Mr Psycho’s mom eventually managed to strap mini-Satan into his stroller (with the help of my husband) he writhed around like a mental patient in a straight-jacket and his crazed eyes darted around in search of someone who he could direct his fury at. I have heard of the ‘terrible twos’ but have never ever seen behaviour like this. I am scarred for life.

Toy company Mattel is gearing for the December launch of its new Barbie Ladies of the 80s collection . The range is aimed primarily at collectors and includes three Barbies: Cindi Lauper, Debbie Harry and Joan Jett. All I can say is: Where were these Barbies when I was growing up? and I need the Cindi!

The 80s Barbies can be pre-ordered at Entertainment Earth ($34.99 each) and Amazon ($69.95 each).

I was absolutely dreading my antenatal class on Saturday. The thought of birth videos, synchronised breathing and mom-bonding completely freaked me out. This whole having to push a baby out thing is just becoming far too real. My fear is comprised of many elements but a large part of it is the uncertainty and the lack of control (I won’t even mention the pain … oh the pain) that envelops the act of birth. Much to my relief, antenatal class went a long way to quelling some of the fear relating to the whole ‘WTF am I supposed to do’ part – without birthing videos and the accompanying crap that I had assumed would formulate the class. (more…)

You gotta love metalheads! Last night I, along with my 34 week pregnant belly, went to a Paradise Lost gig at Islington Academy in London – as fan and music journalist. So whilst the husband and his photo pass were hanging out with the important peeps up front, I made my way upstairs – wisely thinking that my baby girl, although a fan of Paradise Lost, would not appreciate being crunched against a hoard of sweaty metallers for two hours. Luckily there was a nice comfy couch with my name written all over it, so I sat my ass down to wait for the metal masters of doom and gloom to inflict their brilliance on the night. (more…)

So what’s up with bicyclists who don’t wear helmets? I understand that cranial protective gear may look a tad brain-like and will thus compromise any attempt at a fashion statement – of course splattered brains mixed with some gravel always goes well with American Apparel. Many people just aren’t willing to sacrifice their dignity to ensure the confinement of brain matter. (more…)

Whilst walking home on Friday night, I was fortunate enough to witness three guys perform a stealth operation right in front of my very eyes: one was the designated tip-tagger, and the other two were lookouts. Once the deed had been done they bolted down the street as if the armed forces were breathing bullets down their necks. I shook my head and then laughed out loud as I considered how bored and unstimulated one must feel to find the act of signing a rubbish bin so enthralling. The whole adolescent, gangster-wannabe thing seems just a tad … um … pointless. If I wanted to mark my territory I would find a more attractive way of doing it. Challenging authority through art or intellect seems to be far more useful than vandalising public property with some lame-ass signature. But dawgs will be dogs – at least urine wasn’t involved. (more…)

To say that I am afraid is the understatement of a lifetime. Petrified, terrified and horrified are better adjectives but even they don’t come close to describing the fear that is slowly but surely permeating Pleasantville. In approximately ten week’s time (actually nine week’s and 3 day’s time – if all goes as planned), a baby with long arms and a big belly, judging by the measurements taken at today’s scan, will be squeezing its way down my birth canal. Oh woe! woe! woe! is me. My lamentation cannot be reckoned with. I have spent the last twenty-seven years avoiding doctors and it seems that at least two decade’s worth of irrational fear is going to culminate in one moment consisting of many hours (literal or figurative, or both) of pain and humiliation. Did I say “Woe is me” already? (more…)

Today my colleague at work asked me if I am going to eat my placenta, and if so, would I eat it raw or have it made into pills. As my jaw proceeded to drop and dribble extricated itself from my mouth, I managed to splutter an adamant “No!” So, here’s the deal: placentophagy is on the rise and is not only limited to weirdo actors and their scientologist friends.

Naturally, I was curious as to why a person would consider eating the bloody membranous afterbirth that is expelled from a woman’s body after her baby has been born. Recent research (based on experiments conducted on rats … nice) shows that the placenta and amniotic fluid of a woman contains a molecule (POEF, Placental Opioid-Enhancing Factor) that modifies the activity of endogenous opioids in a way that produces an enhancement of the natural reduction in pain that occurs shortly after and during delivery. Some doctors, therefore, prescribe placenta consumption as medicine to help stem bleeding after birth and to help the uterus clean itself out. The placenta is rich in nutrients (iron and protein) that will help the mother heal after childbirth, and is also known to be a great source of vitamins and minerals, which are thought to help fight postpartum depression – vitamin B6 is great for this. Other benefits of placentophagy include an increase in energy levels, increased production of breast milk and a decrease in the likelihood of iron deficiency and thus insomnia or sleep disorders. One has to wonder why boiled, canned or pilled placenta is not readily available in local pharmacies? (more…)

My 22 week anomalies scan happened 7 weeks ago and I am still haunted. The word anomaly is enough to put the fear of potential ‘mutancies’ into any normal run of the mill mom. Just say it to yourself: anomaly … anomaly … anomaly – my baby is anomalous **shudder**. And then pluralise it: anomalies **double shudder**. Great!

On my second visit to the scanographer, memories of my first scan plague my mind. The first time the scanographer put the scanny-thing (I prefer ’scanny-thing’ to probe thank you very much) on my belly at fourteen weeks, I literally had one eye shut and the other half open – thinking that perhaps I had imagined being pregnant: perhaps my body had been playing tricks on me and nothing would be there. Well, the little jumping jelly-bean on screen dispelled those fears rather rapidly. And I left thanking my body for being most reliable. This time, for the anomalies scan, I also had one eye half closed as I anticipated a third leg, missing arm or perhaps a horn sprouting from my baby’s forehead. The third leg thing is way weird (I mean there’s no way I would be able to sew three-legged trousers) but the whole one-armed unicorn baby thing would be totally manageable – I am definitely qualified to file down a horn and cut off a sleeve. After all my worrying, what three and a half hours of scan revealed … yes, three and a half hours … is that we are having a little girl **yay** who is as stubborn as her mother, and that I have no need to sew or file or cut as of yet. (more…)