Thursday, 22 March 2012

Dam shoes!

Mabel has issues with her new shoes, well in fact the whole process of wearing shoes.




Now I realise that in years to come this will very much change in the opposite direction but right now she will do anything to get them off. And no matter how tight I do the buckle (that's right buckle) somehow she can still wriggle her foot out. Last week I realised this too late as she threw one across the floor in John Lewis. Of all places!


And in her bid to remove them she also ends up having a good chew. The other day in the car I could hear her frustration at not being able to get them off then it all went quiet. I turned to find her sucking the bottom of one. She walks outside regularly now and the soles are pretty dirty on account of me encouraging her to get messy (bid to even out OCDD, aka OCD Dad).
"Argh man Mabes" I shouted back, "Out of your mouth"
She mumbled something on the lines of "take them off then" under her breath whilst by now slightly dirty coloured saliva dripped onto her coat. Am I the only parent who has to remove shoes on car journeys?


Notably whilst walking outside she has no problem with them, just when she stops. 


And unfortunately I too had my own shoe drama at work this week.


My place of work has a very large atrium entrance with offices pretty much all the way round the outside. Said area is normally pretty busy, it houses a security desk, lots of people milling, cash machines, seating area etc etc.


Now you know when you have a pair of shoes that need re-heeling but you haven't got round to it so they make a click when you walk. I'll be honest they aren't expensive enough to bother. But they are leopard print, comfy and do make me feel slightly brighter when wearing all black, on say, a Monday.


I was on my way out of work last week (busy time of day, lots of people also leaving) coming down the escalators that run through the middle of the atrium when one of the dam shoes got stuck in a ridge. Now of course I didn't know this until I pretty much flew off the last step (desparately trying to stay upright). Oblivious, I went to step off and my foot wouldn't come with me.


In my panic (because of course I did panic, everyone remembers the story you were told as a child of someone getting stuck on an escalator) I had saved my foot but left the shoe behind. Now 3 or 4 steps beyond the escalator bottom I looked back to see my shoe 'bobbing' around at the end, much like something left at the end of a supermarket conveyor belt. 


I considered just carrying on walking but then what if my heel-less shoe was left on the security desk for its owner the next morning. Or more to the point I would have to hobble in to collect Mabel from nursery in one shoe. 


So I limped back (how hard is it to retain dignity wearing just one heel?), waited for someone to come down after me (mortifying, I could see the smile he was trying to suppress) and picked up my shoe. Then with as much composure as I could muster (including a 'faux' searching my bag for something to avoid the eyes of anyone) I replaced my shoe and strided out.


Shoes, who needs them?


(Still having issues with images,not sure if these have worked)









Saturday, 10 March 2012

Back in the game?

As you know I have had ridiculous technical issues with my blog which have meant I have been completely out of the loop for ages now.


As a result I kind of fell out of love with it, partly also due to a complete lack of time and feeling perhaps I had run out of things to say (as if).


Well, a couple of things have spurred me on to get back in the game...


The first, a double blind date with Fee to meet Emily who writes the fab blog Unravelled. Fee will no doubt have pictures so I will leave it there but shall we say the date seemed to go really well (oh God, hope this isn't one of those situations like in Guardian magazine where one party clearly had a better time than the other, though to be fair with it being the Guardian they are generally all quite PC and middle class polite so maybe I am o.k?) Anyway our lovely coffee date reminded me of what blogging can bring. 


The second, well I just missed the other blogs I used to read so regularly. The stories, the inspiration, the photos, the giveaways (though I was yet to win one). All such good fun. I had made my peace with not continuing my blog as a diary, since my initial goal was to blog about my pregnancy and I actually made it through Mabel's whole first year. But I didn't seem to have any extra time through stopping and actually I do find writing quite cathartic sometimes.


So here I am trying again. Not going to get frustrated. Not going to get all 'shutters down' if I can't upload a picture. Going to try on blogger and then if it doesn't work commit to setting up a new blog after today and linking it across. 


Oh and there was a story I meant to tell...


 It goes a little like this. Mabel and I started swimming lessons this week. I thought I would be all organised and put my swimmers on under my clothes prior to going and when I got there was really glad I had since the changing rooms were communal and tiny (it was at a hotel pool). The lesson went really well and Mabel, despite being the eldest by 6 months and therefore looking and sounding like a hooligan, did brilliantly with her first underwater swim.


Anyhow, we all left the pool and huddled into same said small changing rooms. Conscious that my baby (yes I know she is a toddler, in denial) could walk I let the others use the main bench along the middle and I stood awkwardly against a sink on one side. Mabel was far from pleased with the scenario of being changed on a towel on the floor but I persisted and set her up with a snack whilst I got dressed.


And then I realised the error of my previously organised ways. I hadn't brought any underwear. 
Nothing.
No knickers, no bra. What the hell was I going to do?
Stood there in a dripping wet bikini I eyed up my options in a slight state of panic. There was a toilet. But I couldn't leave Mabel in the communal area perched on a towel surrounded by an otherwise wet floor. And taking her with me was surely not feasible both on a hygiene and space front.


There was nothing for it. I would have to wait until everyone else was ready then get dressed. 
I pretended to be tidying up my things, fed Mabel some of her fruit (was looking at me like, 'back off, I want to feed myself thank you). But they were taking ages. All had young, screaming babies to dress and there was only so long I could stand around looking odd and now cold. 


So in my wisdom I decided to try and hold the towel up with my chin and pretend to put on my knickers followed by my jeans. Yep that's right, I mimed putting on underwear (which according to my brother is worse than just pretending I always go commando). 
It seemed to go o.k, there was a slight issue around zipping my jeans up in a hurry which I'm sure you can appreciate  (why do people go commando?) but at least I was half way there. I turned to pop my towel on the sink whilst I 'pretended' to get a bra and realised my biggest error of the day.
I was stood in front of a whopping great mirror. I had just mimed putting on underwear in front of a mirror. 


Devastating. 
I didn't bother with any further amateur dramatics, just shoved on my vest and felt the relief of it being a dark blue stripe and not white or more see through.


It crossed my mind to just announce to the group,
"argh I've done that thing where you forget to bring your underwear, ha ha" but just wasn't sure how it would go down. You don't want people to not laugh or worse think you are looking for offers of borrowed knickers. Or offering to try and help in some way. Argh just too cringy. 


So I don't know if I can go back. Well I do. It costs us £10 a week and luckily my frugality overshadows my pride / self respect. Hmm something in that!