Beware of the stalker

The friends' drought is really beginning to bite. So I've taken to hanging out in the Church Of the Lonely Ex-Patriate (Starbucks) hoping to land some new ones. So far I've had no biters. Usually the COLE is full of wistful-looking English speaking females but now I'm beginning to think they've all gone home. There are a lot of Dutch people though.

I know we're all meant to hate Starbucks, it being a global company that displaces local enterprise etc, etc, but when it opened in Lausanne I rejoiced: out went the tea shop with fluorescent strip lighting and orange plastic chairs, in came the leather sofas and lounge tunes. Now I have a nice warm place to park my sleeping Glorymouse in the afternoons (it's about the only time and place you can actually find her asleep) and a hot, caffeinated mug of froth to keep me from total collapse. Shame it's so expensive, but some things are worth stumping up for...and if it brings me a new pal then it will have been a good investment.

No friends yet, unless of course I learn some Dutch. And that would make my head explode.

Time differences

Welcome back, bad old days.

This time two weeks ago, Glorymouse slept through the night* and then slept like a normal human being**, two nights in a row. Rob and I looked at each other, full of joy and wonder. Was this it? Had she finally got it? Could we start going to bed at 10pm again?***

Guess what? No, No and No! After experiencing the joys of 10 hours uninterrupted shut-eye G thought, where's the fun in that? So for the past week she's been waking up 3 times a night, needing an hour or two of holding / soothing / leaving to scream before she goes down again.

In fact I left her to scream so much last night she was hoarse this morning. Are you reading this, Gina Ford?

Still, her little round face and rosy cheeks and special way of smearing banana into the furniture... when morning comes around she melts me every time. (Especially after a strong cup of tea.)

Glory would also like to say a big THANK YOU to everyone for wishing her a happy birthday.

* 7.30-5am
**7.30-6.45am
*** beyond 9.30 has hitherto been considered 'too late'. Rock 'n' roll!

Happy birthday Glorymouse!

Yes! She was 1 on 11th January.

We had a party. We played Stick The Tail On The Donkey, which turned into a frenzy of ugly competitiveness (and that's just the adults.) We had pass-the-parcel; I didn't win, and sulked until I realised I'm 33. I tried my best to get all the toddlers to sing and do the actions to lots of kiddie songs; Emma refused, watching from the sidelines with utter contempt. The cake - made by Switzergent, fruit, cream-cheese icing - lasted about 20 seconds. And afterwards I had to lie down in a darkened room, muttering to myself 'stressful', 'chaos', 'never again' and 'wine please.' Of course we will do it again - Emma is 3 in two months time - and my whinging is just pretend really, it was good fun. 

Potty training: how it works

Me: Emma, you know how you've been going on the potty...how about wearing big girl's knickers today?

Emma: No thanks, Mummy. Wear nappy today.

Me: But Emma, you're soo good at doing wees on the potty, why not real pants like a great, big, clever girl?

Emma: (thinks for a moment.) No, Mummy. Want a nappy.

Me: But Emma (tries to keep desperation out of voice), wouldn't it feel nice not to have a nappy on your bottom, to be all clean and....(searches for right word)...free?

Emma: (shouts) WANT A NAPPY MUMMY!

Me: But...but

Emma: (as if world is about to end) WANT NAPPY! WANT A NAPPY MUMMY! WAAAAHHHH!

Me: Okay! Okay! (puts nappy on bottom to avoid impending metldown.)

(heavy sigh)

Happy New Year

Here are my New Year's Resolutions.

Number 1. I am never travelling on an aeroplane with young children ever, ever, ever, ever again, at least not without a tranquiliser gun about my person.

Number 2. I am going to give this blog a makeover. I am sick of Easyjet orange. It makes my eyes hurt.

Number 3. I am going to make the concierge love me. I will take my washing out in a timely fashion; I will invite him to parties at our flat; I will serenade him with a kareoke machine outside his front door if I have to. Anything for a quiet life.

Number 4. This April I shall run 20km instead of the usual 10km. Gaaahhh. If I've written it, that means I have to do it.

Number 5. I will buy a piano and play it. I was quite good once. Though I wonder if this will hinder progress with Number 3.

(plus be nicer, more eco, eat less lard, give up smacking blah blah blah. )

Off we go!