I'm not usually someone who understands designer clothes for kids. My stepsons trash their clothes and I love that I don't care. Life is far too short not to slide down the slope at the park on your bottom. As soon as we get home I whip muddy clothes off, chuck them in the washing machine and replace with clean ones. I'm the kind of (step)mum that tells the kids to jump in the puddles.

Fashion isn't for children.

Or at least that was my view until I was flicking through Red Magazine and saw this dress.
Isn't it utterly darling! Forget just wanting a healthy baby, suddenly I want a girl just so I can dress her in Diane von Furstenberg (for Gap - I haven't totally lost it). £29.95 doesn't sound completely ridiculous, I mean the rest of her wardrobe would be normal cheap stuff.

I mean, I know a child isn't a doll but...
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I recently joined Groupon and can see how it could quickly spiral into an addiction. There's plenty of stuff I've lived without because it has been a bit too expensive. At a massive discount, suddenly spending money I normally wouldn't seems far more affordable.

I like my spa days. When I lived in the Far East it was not only an affordable way of life but was somewhat expected. There was a look of mild horror from the therapist during my first pedicure as she stuck into filing and polishing me into submission. Even when the exchange rate saw my rent soar (my finances stayed in the UK), I kept up keeping my feet nice.

While I had enjoyed doing The Shred, I was starting to feel the strain so the possibility for a deep tissue massage, facial and pedicure for £31 was too much to resist.

I had heard of All Your Life in Cheltenham but it hadn't struck me as being hugely spa-like. Their make-overs featuring Botox and filler consultations also put me off as it sounded rather like paying for the opportunity to be marketed to. As it happens I rather liked the idea of a friendly place for non-surgical work but as I'm only 29 and in relatively good shape wrinkle wise, it's something for the future.

Picture
Photo from their website promising happy face
Their website warned of limited parking but there were plenty of places. Given the fairly high prices of parking in Cheltenham, this makes a huge difference to whether I'm likely to revisit somewhere. Reception was friendly and the main waiting area was as nice as most spa waiting areas.

Something I struggle with is feeling the cold (perhaps I was spoilt by those cheap massages in the tropics). One of my favourite UK locations is actually in Gloucester where at Cedars there are treatments such as the La Sultane Skin Softening Signature Treatment (£69 for 85 minutes) where you lie on a heated bed. Utterly blissful but not a cheap treat!

There's no way around it, my treatment room was cold. Fair enough it was freezing outside but the whole building felt a bit draughty despite all the heaters. But what impressed me was that my therapist wrapped me up in towels and a blanket and checked I was warm enough. While I was far from cozy (a temperature my mother considers near stifling), I felt cared for in a way that's relatively uncommon in the UK.

The massage itself was fantastic. I booked deep tissue because my sudden exercise routine had left me in knots and these were duly worked out. Far from an aromatherapy rub down, this felt like a responsive sports massage. What made it super relaxing was that the soundtrack was a Ministry of Sound Chill out. Don't get me wrong, I love rainforests. I used to live in a city where lush foliage sprang wherever it wasn't concreted back and the air was thick with insects (butterflies the size of birds and cockroaches for the big yuk yuk). But rainforest is not a soundtrack; rainforest is an earthy scent following rain and a heady humidity with sweat prickling on your skin. Rainforest captures all your senses not just sound.

Nor do I like whale song. They always sound constipated.

After my massage I was wrapped up like a mummy for a lovely facial that left my skin looking bright while feeling soft and I didn't break out in spots in the following days. I've always been pleased with fancy facials but find that the mini-facials included in these kind of packages can feel a bit rushed and inadequate. This was the best mini-facial I've had to date.

And to round it off, my pedicure.
It was pretty much a nail file and paint but then the therapist did point out my feet were in great condition. But isn't the colour fab? It's been five days since they were done and the colour is as bright as the first. They are also the mostly neatly painted they've ever been.

So I was very happy and completely unprepared for what came next.

My therapist suggested I head back to the waiting area and have a drink while they completely dried. I had a gorgeous Camomile and Spiced Apple tea and was offered cake. Free cake? Um, hello this is a first! And so as I admired my toes while drinking tea, I also nibbled on a lemon cupcake and read the March issue of Vogue (yay for quality publications rather than gossip weeklies!).

I was really won over and am more than willing to overlook the temperature since my car windscreen looked as though it was starting to refreeze by the time I got out.

The website cites fairly standard massage prices but while I was there, there was a list of specials for walk-ins. Given the central location of All Your Life, this is something I might stop by and check out when I'm shopping for the day. They don't appear to have sent out a newsletter since last summer and I can't find them on twitter but I've liked their Facebook page in the hope that these specials hit social media soon as I'd definitely drive to Cheltenham for a massage as good as that one again!
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Stupid dream 02/09/2012
 
Last night I dreamt I had a baby. It was a girl and she was just lovely. I was very lucky and had a pretty short labour and was well enough to go home the same day (went in quite late at night, gave birth as it was getting light then home early evening). She had big eyes like me and looked rather startled. In fact she cried very little, instead just staring at everything.

Which is quite a lot of detail. Enough to make you think it was all real.

Stupid dream :(
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I'm not exactly low-maintenance to start with. My very patient husband endures eye rolling at such mistakes as making me a cup of Pukka Herbs Detox Tea when I asked for liquorice tea on the grounds that it smells like liquorice when blatantly I wanted the Clipper Liquorice Tea and if I'd wanted detox tea I'd have asked for detox tea.
Like Sally from When Harry Met Sally I like things the way I like them.

But being a fussy cow doesn't necessarily equate to glossy self-grooming. For a long time all I really cared about was my skin. I have eczema and my priority was finding a skincare regime that would sooth and heel. This has been my second winter with good skin thanks to Estēe Lauder.

Prior to my wedding in December my super glossy maid of honour Rachel took me to Bobby Brown. The girl should be on commission for how much she's gone on about the stuff but that appointment was eye-opening. I'm now a devoted fan of Bobby Brown concealer. The base is good but I am lucky to have clear skin so it merely enhances. My main flaw (as I perceive it) is the bags under my eyes. Although the big change in how I saw my flaw came from something Rachel said about them. She said that she thought my eyes were beautiful although that may be because they were like my brother's (her boyfriend).

Rachel (and Bobby Brown)'s ethos is being yourself but a bit better and I don't actually want to be some identikit yummy mummy wearing Boden. I want to be a mummy who simply retains a sense of self and doesn't lose her identity in a sea of nappies.

From what I've seen, those who have perfected doing their hair and make-up spend far less time doing it than those of us who labour on through. Joining their ranks is rather like perfecting my home routines to keep everything clean and tidy. I do relatively little housework but I'm always (in theory) on top of it. My skin rarely has a flare up because I scrutinise it regularly (my heated mirror with lights is both a blessing and a curse) and take combative action.

Time to add glossy locks and an airbrush finish.

According to Carmine my beauty style is 'Classic with a touch of natural.' In case that doesn't mean much to you, there is this helpful picture next to the text that talks about my 'signature style.'
Incidentally that's pretty much what I'm hoping to look a bit like and I've decided to try their beauty boxes. There are loads of these boxes around each offering around five deluxe samples (tiny bottles but a fair bit bigger than the free stuff you get with magazines) for around £10 each month.

Trying five things a month seems quite a manageable way to up my game a bit.

This is a link to Carmine boxes. I think I get a bonus or something if you use it and order a box.
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One of my favourite things I've read has been "I'm not his mother, but he's my son." It was an article about being a stepmother and absolutely rang true to how I feel about the boys.

I worried about it. I was only 26 when I started dating their father and wondered how it could even work. I wondered how I could build a relationship to the centre of my lover's world.

I needn't have. I feel incredibly blessed but really it's been easy. Firstly they both look just like him. They're also smart and funny and cuddly. Secondly, and most importantly, their mother isn't bat shit mental. She's nice. She came to our wedding actually.

It's been nearly three years since they came into my life and I've changed beyond recognition. When I met them I was somewhat broody but I also knew that if I was to have a child with their father that my relationship with them would have to take priority.

The first night I stayed over was at the eldest's invitation. It was Bonfire night and I said I couldn't come with them because I couldn't get home afterwards. He sweetly asked Daddy whether he'd mind me sharing his bedroom. Keeping the straightest possible face his dad said he didn't mind.

I started staying every weekend. Then we all moved to a new house. I proposed and we told the boys. They were fairly non-plussed but in future months when someone asked the eldest who "Kay" (their nickname for me) was, he said I was his stepmother.

The change in me has been gradual and in many ways I've not noticed it but tonight I sang and I NEVER sing.

Neither of the boys is a great eater although the eldest is a lot better. Unfortunately the youngest has chicken pox and if he's going to fight it (and be lulled to sleep with a belly full of carbs) then he needed to eat. The eldest pretty much cleared his plate before the youngest had had his second mouthful so I suggested that he be allowed to leave the table while I stayed with the youngest.

It's an endurance test. The tears, the efforts at distraction and the utter mind numbing nature of it all. He was tired. He needed a wee (was taken to the toilet). He was cold (a jumper was provided). He was poorly (yes, that's why you need to eat). He was bored. SO WAS I!

I love the idea that our insistence that they eat their tea, have baths, wear clothes etc are things that we seemingly devise to torture them. Frankly the appeal of putting them in their pyjamas, throwing the odd bag of crisps at them and letting them fester in front of the TV for an entire weekend is quite appealing.

But after snot and tears and yes a glass of red wine for me, he was done. Or at least all ten mouthfuls had been inserted. Now to get him to swallow, another challenge altogether. But I was proud of him...

"You are the champion my friend
Because you kept on eating right till the end
You are the champion
YOU ARE THE CHAMPION!"

He laughed.

I cheered.

He swallowed his tea.

I took him through to his dad and brother where he watched some TV before going for his bath. I'm so exhausted I could cry.

But you know what? This is so much easier than when he was two!

Why do I want a baby?
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I'd had a busy day and decided to unwind with a cocktail. Home made raspberry vodka with a slug of vermouth and a dash of Cointreau served on the rocks was like a deconstructed Martini with a hint of a Cosmopolitan about it. I was quite pleased with it and it tasted lovely.

I went into my husbands study to speak to him and put my glass down. As he is wont to do he took a sip and upon realising it was alcohol spat it out back into the glass.

But this wasn't the worst impact his being ill has had on me (although frankly I fail to appreciate that a single mouthful of alcohol would affect the antiobiotics he's on). He's been so ill that sex just hasn't been on the cards. So no chance of baby making for February.

Still, I'm very healthy. I just finished day 10 of the 30 day shred which means I've finished level one. I'm really rather proud of myself and it means I don't need to resort to such ludicrous efforts as wearing these hideous shoes!
Featuring a concave sole and a unique spring action in its heel, that destabilises the wearer's centre of balance, the Antelope shoe is said to combine 'slimming and style'. (Full article here)

Style? The heel looks like the brace that Forest Gump had to wear on his legs and I imagine the effect on ones gait would be similar. The absurd thing is that wearing a standard stiletto tones your legs and arse so the benefits can be had without you looking like a lunatic.

Stylish shoes look like this.
I must say that I'm more than a little in love with Prada's S/S 12 Collection. It's cute and playful and the colours are gorgeous. I've not really coveted Prada in the past so it's nice to have a fresh flash of desire for something new. 

Not that I'm in the market for designer shoes alas but then I'm not pregnant either and that hasn't stopped me falling in love with a cradle at the antiques centre.

Might just watch their video again...
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My husband is ill, poor thing so we're not going out tonight. We were meant to be going to a work function of his and while not exactly high on my fun ways to spend a Friday night list, I was ready to be arm candily polite to his colleagues and shine to make him look good.

For the last four days I've been torturing myself by doing the 30 Day Shred and while I'm far from "shredded" (sounds vaguely disturbing), my best assets (my legs) are looking great and a short(ish) floaty dress with killer heels was all lined up. 
Still, it was good motivation to get me started and I have every intention to carry on for the next 26 days. It's something to focus on and I've surprised myself by quite enjoying it. I think the key is that I have a clear end point. Obviously I should carry on doing some form of exercise at that point but I think I'll look for another time limited DVD. Six weeks to something or other.

Because I need a project. Aside from taking folic acid and having sex there's not a lot I can do right now regarding conceiving. And really all that's changed is that I'm now taking a vitamin tablet because we had sex before.

I'm still fairly unconcerned as it's so early but yesterday two friends announced birth of their offspring and truly, I don't have that many friends! I know when something is on your mind you see evidence of it everywhere but truly, everywhere I look people are having babies!

I hope it's infectious.
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I wasn't pregnant. I wasn't too upset as I didn't really think I was and was already thinking about the next month's trying.

I just glanced at the tabs on my browser and laughed at the eclecticism. I have a lot of projects...

1) The tidying I mentioned in my blog Style all round is going well. The entire ground floor (minus my husbands study) is immaculately tidy and generally stays so. It is increasingly very clean. Upstairs is far from awful but will soon be brought to the same standard. The Good Housekeeping forum on Mumsnet helps a lot and I rather tragically got very excited on the Lakeland website where I just placed a big order.

2) I've been studying belly bars suitable for use when pregnant.
According to the website Jobananas, the length of my navael piercing will stretch and flatten which may make wearing jewellery uncomfortable. But jewellery made with softer and more flexible PTFE can get around this. Yay! And aren't the little feet cute? Of course, it doesn't really fit the Highlights and Hunter Wellies ethos but it'd be hidden so that's ok.

3) My husband and I have a friend in Amsterdam who we're hoping to visit in April. I want to go in April because I want to see the tulips. We'll stay with them for a couple of days before taking a train inland to visit other friends, then to Delft then back to Amsterdam for a night in a hotel. I just need to choose which fixtures and fittings appeal because something Amsterdam is supposedly great for is special interest hotels and I've never played in a dungeon!

4) Finally I'm planning a dinner party for next month. I was inspired by Downton Abbey and there'll be many many courses rounded off by cigars. As we don't smoke, they'll be filo pastry filled with a spicy chocolately nut paste.

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Today I went gallivanting into Bristol to see my friend H. Given I tend to do the lions share of the cooking I asked my husband to cook a special meal for my return.

A quails egg dish and a very slow cooked leg of lamb down and I'm about to head to the living room. I paused to pour another glass of red wine.

Husband: No.

Me: What?

Husband: I said no. You've had enough.

Me: Um... eh? < I'm not even close to drunk >

Husband: If you're pregnant...

Me: ... then the baby is eating egg white.

Husband: Egg white?

Me: Yeah. It's like the yolky bit in an egg and it eats the white then it gets implanted and sticky* and then starts to share my bloodstream. But if I am pregnant now then it's floating around eating the egg white.

I got my wine. I think it was easier than engaging in that kind of conversation with me.

I should probably read a biology book at some point.

* I read this on Mumsnet. I have NO idea what it is.
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Today I came across Pretty Pushers. A website promising "A dressed up delivery."
There has been a fair bit of eye rolling on Mumsnet but I like the idea. Sure the idea of an outfit for giving birth in is a bit daft but is it any sillier than half the stuff that women put in their birth plans?

Sure there's a risk that changing into it would go out the window but simply by planning what to wear, there's one more little thing you've sorted out in your mind.

What we wear matters. I'd never dream of going into an interview without my game face of full make-up, hair done and heels. It's not so much how I present myself through these things as how they make me feel. I feel more mature and capable in lipstick and good shoes.

Of course labour isn't pretty. I know that. But that's not really the point here. This is about game face.

You see, I've had instances where I haven't had my shoes or straightening irons when faced with a challenge and I coped just fine. I'm actually pretty good at surprises and emergencies, it's the sense of impending doom of a scheduled scary thing that gets me worried.

So maybe I've never wear it. Maybe I'd vomit all over myself and then still have hours of labour and then get changed into a hospital gown. That's fine.

But for now I'm happy there's an option to try and be pretty in the run up to the pushing bit. After all, it'd be nice to try and look half reasonable for my husband while we wait.
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