So what's new with me? Well, I have breasts that look like out of date aubergines thanks to two pregnancies and breastfeeding, I have three veins popping out of my left leg, and my feet have expanded beyond the largest size of women's footwear... Yeah, I'm great!
Apart from the (many) niggles of carrying baby Segundo, all is well, and Oscar is taking my mind off everything by having full blown conversations with himself. Now if only I could find out what "bee-ya dee-ya doo-a bee" means, we'll be laughing.
Oh and he saw his first elephant today. I mean his first real elephant. Now that - seeing your baby see in the flesh what he has been obsessing about in 2d for months - that is priceless...
09 July 2011
14 June 2011
Staring at the son
Well, I'm finally in a position to be able to sit down and write a few things down. In other words, I'm on holiday in the Ile de Re, with no chores to do, and someone else is taking care of Oscar.
A lot has happened since I last blogged, obviously. In no particular order...:
Oscar turned one, and said Maman for the first time. Or rather Oscar vomited and then looked up with love in his eyes before saying Maman and kissing me with his mouth still full of vomit. But it was mother's day, so I still had tears of pride in my eyes. And it's not like I'm not used to being covered in food and vomit stains by now, anyway...
As a bilingual baby, he hasn't said many intelligible words yet (although as his official translator I understand a lot more than others think he can say), but he delights us with all things beginning with baa... There's baaateau (boat), baabaa (sheep), baaain (bath) and baaaon (ball), and then he amazes us with his animal impressions, with a hand up in the air to show us the elephant's trunk, the cow's mmmoooo and the woowoooo of the owl. But most impressively, I think, is the fact that when he's tired, he runs up to his bedroom door, banging, saying Dodo, which means sleep. What a clever boy. Then again, as the wiser members of my family and friends have pointed out, have you ever heard of a one-year-old who wasn't clever? The cleverest of all one-year-olds in fact?
So life is good. Oscar has a brilliant nature, laughing most of the day and waking up early plotting his domination of the living room without crying for at least half an hour, sharpening his teeth on any surface he can find (five through so far but three more are showing signs of joining the party soon). His months of squealing non stop are over now that he is walking all over and climbing anything that seems stable enough to hold him - or not.
Krusty has turned into a fabulous daddy, too, getting up to play with Oscar each morning to let me sleep an extra 20 mins each morning. In fact the one or two mornings I did have to get up, Oscar just looked at me angrily saying dadda, as if I had stolen away the best part of his day...
And anyway, I'm glad to grab those extra minutes in bed, because most of the time I'm bloated, and nauseous, and exhausted, and in a bad mood.
As for the rest of the day, my mouth is constantly full of saliva and I have to go to the bathroom every 30 minutes.
But I'm happy.
Oh and I'm pregnant again, by the way. But Oscar's already in love with every other baby (or, in his language, deedee) he sees, so let's see how THAT goes!
A lot has happened since I last blogged, obviously. In no particular order...:
Oscar turned one, and said Maman for the first time. Or rather Oscar vomited and then looked up with love in his eyes before saying Maman and kissing me with his mouth still full of vomit. But it was mother's day, so I still had tears of pride in my eyes. And it's not like I'm not used to being covered in food and vomit stains by now, anyway...
As a bilingual baby, he hasn't said many intelligible words yet (although as his official translator I understand a lot more than others think he can say), but he delights us with all things beginning with baa... There's baaateau (boat), baabaa (sheep), baaain (bath) and baaaon (ball), and then he amazes us with his animal impressions, with a hand up in the air to show us the elephant's trunk, the cow's mmmoooo and the woowoooo of the owl. But most impressively, I think, is the fact that when he's tired, he runs up to his bedroom door, banging, saying Dodo, which means sleep. What a clever boy. Then again, as the wiser members of my family and friends have pointed out, have you ever heard of a one-year-old who wasn't clever? The cleverest of all one-year-olds in fact?
So life is good. Oscar has a brilliant nature, laughing most of the day and waking up early plotting his domination of the living room without crying for at least half an hour, sharpening his teeth on any surface he can find (five through so far but three more are showing signs of joining the party soon). His months of squealing non stop are over now that he is walking all over and climbing anything that seems stable enough to hold him - or not.
Krusty has turned into a fabulous daddy, too, getting up to play with Oscar each morning to let me sleep an extra 20 mins each morning. In fact the one or two mornings I did have to get up, Oscar just looked at me angrily saying dadda, as if I had stolen away the best part of his day...
And anyway, I'm glad to grab those extra minutes in bed, because most of the time I'm bloated, and nauseous, and exhausted, and in a bad mood.
As for the rest of the day, my mouth is constantly full of saliva and I have to go to the bathroom every 30 minutes.
But I'm happy.
Oh and I'm pregnant again, by the way. But Oscar's already in love with every other baby (or, in his language, deedee) he sees, so let's see how THAT goes!
01 March 2011
The Kitchen Nomads
So here it is, finally, the reason why I have had no time for rats and monkeys recently – my dear and stylish friend Paola have been obsessed by deliciousness for a while now, and after a long simmer (slow cooking brings out the best flavours, remember?), our blog is finally ready to be served.
The Kitchen Nomads is a layer cake of recipes and anecdotes, with a few exotic journeys thrown in for good measure. On it we share our Colombian, Spanish, French and British family cooking secrets, adding inspiration picked up from our nomadic lives along the way. Yes, we've gained a few pounds getting this collection of recipes together, and yes, you will probably gain a few in the process too, but we promise that it'll be a real treat.
So come put your feet under our table. If you want to jump right in and get an update every time we cook a meal, send us a nice email at hello@thekitchennomads.com, or get all modern and "like" our Facebook page. You more shy and reticent types can simply click through and explore www.thekitchennomads.com – at the moment it's still in its beta state, but we'll be introducing new concepts, ideas and events soon, where you can come and taste what we are talking about in the flesh.
Make yourselves at home, and welcome to our gourmet family!
25 February 2011
Punished by Portman
While my husband was out hobnobbing with the financial intelligentsia of Hong Kong, I sat at home making croissants from scratch. As you do.
Not only was it the most labour-intensive thing I've ever made, but you do NOT want to know how much butter goes into those babies.
And the result is not the light, fluffy, crispiness I expected really. Then again, I made them while watching Black Swan - how I imagined I could make something so calorific while watching such skinny girls strut their stuff, I do not know.
Not only was it the most labour-intensive thing I've ever made, but you do NOT want to know how much butter goes into those babies.
And the result is not the light, fluffy, crispiness I expected really. Then again, I made them while watching Black Swan - how I imagined I could make something so calorific while watching such skinny girls strut their stuff, I do not know.
13 February 2011
27 January 2011
Where are the rat, the monkey and the baby tiger?
So, what lame excuse for disappearing do I have this time, eh? Well, I could say that between puréeing vegetables, washing nappies and tidying toys, I simply don't have time to blog anymore. But that wouldn't strictly be true.
No, it's something else that has been stealing my few and precious spare minutes each day, and you'll have to wait a little to find out what it was, I'm afraid. It's a secret new project that I'm very proud of, but it'll take a while longer to be ready for you to discover it properly.
And no, I don't have a bun in the oven. Not that type, at least.
Since we've been gone, we have taken the bambino on yet another intercontinental adventure. I really am a sucker for torture. If I have said it before, I'll say it again - the best advice when it comes to travelling with young children is: DON'T.
More constructively though, if you are travelling with a baby, don't do what I did - when the steward comes along to offer a row of four seats (the holy grail of economy class flying) in exchange for the baby bassinet, just say NO. I paid for my hubris with a baby who just would not sleep and wanted to walk up and down the row between a man coughing phlegm into a cup on one side, and huff the grumpy dragon lady on the other.
Of course it was fun in between nightmare flights, and even if eating Quality Street at 3am with a jet lagged Oscar while everyone else was asleep was frustrating, there are worse things that could happen at Christmas.
And anyway, Oscar is rather good company these days. He's stopped vomiting every time he's hungry, like a weird bird trying to feed himself, and he sits down for entire meals of grown up tastes like fish, broccoli and spinach. His orange nose does betray his preference for carrots, though...
He's over the squealing and crying of month 6 (surely the worst month so far, hopefully the worst month of those to come), and he's transformed into a bundle of cruising cuteness, discussing the finer points of "dadada" and "nanana" with me while he chews on his gums to ease the pain of teething. His giant toothless grin has given way to two tiny pearly whites at the bottom, with one trying to poke through on the top, and his endearing habit of gnawing at everything - the table, his toys, my chin - have turned into a rather painful vice.
Each day he seems to set himself a new target in the flat, skillfully avoiding the toys I set in his path to reach instead for the plugs, cables or large boxes full of the things we parents still haven't got around to tidying in the baby proofing process...
His odd Klingon salute/mini Dr Strangelove zombie arm movements have turned into full on waves when we say hello and goodbye, making me immeasurably proud.
His hand skills have also expanded to using the remote control for the TV, one of his favourite passtimes. I have spent many an hour standing next to Oscar, turning the TV off while he switches it back on. I have no idea how he knows which button to press. One day, as I took the extreme liberty of going to the bathroom for a minute, I came back to find that he had subscribed to the Fashion TV channel, which made for a very interesting conversation with my cable provider... "Yes, I promise, my seven-month-old baby boy mistakenly got through the three screens to confirm he wanted to subscribe..."
But then he laughs, and all of his mistakes and mischief seem irrelevant. He laughs when he has the hiccups, when he sneezes, when he sees hair... He's easy to please.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to pack while Oscar sleeps. On Monday we're taking the plane to Thailand. That's right, the plane. There's just no teaching some people...
No, it's something else that has been stealing my few and precious spare minutes each day, and you'll have to wait a little to find out what it was, I'm afraid. It's a secret new project that I'm very proud of, but it'll take a while longer to be ready for you to discover it properly.
And no, I don't have a bun in the oven. Not that type, at least.
Since we've been gone, we have taken the bambino on yet another intercontinental adventure. I really am a sucker for torture. If I have said it before, I'll say it again - the best advice when it comes to travelling with young children is: DON'T.
More constructively though, if you are travelling with a baby, don't do what I did - when the steward comes along to offer a row of four seats (the holy grail of economy class flying) in exchange for the baby bassinet, just say NO. I paid for my hubris with a baby who just would not sleep and wanted to walk up and down the row between a man coughing phlegm into a cup on one side, and huff the grumpy dragon lady on the other.
Of course it was fun in between nightmare flights, and even if eating Quality Street at 3am with a jet lagged Oscar while everyone else was asleep was frustrating, there are worse things that could happen at Christmas.
And anyway, Oscar is rather good company these days. He's stopped vomiting every time he's hungry, like a weird bird trying to feed himself, and he sits down for entire meals of grown up tastes like fish, broccoli and spinach. His orange nose does betray his preference for carrots, though...
He's over the squealing and crying of month 6 (surely the worst month so far, hopefully the worst month of those to come), and he's transformed into a bundle of cruising cuteness, discussing the finer points of "dadada" and "nanana" with me while he chews on his gums to ease the pain of teething. His giant toothless grin has given way to two tiny pearly whites at the bottom, with one trying to poke through on the top, and his endearing habit of gnawing at everything - the table, his toys, my chin - have turned into a rather painful vice.
Each day he seems to set himself a new target in the flat, skillfully avoiding the toys I set in his path to reach instead for the plugs, cables or large boxes full of the things we parents still haven't got around to tidying in the baby proofing process...
His odd Klingon salute/mini Dr Strangelove zombie arm movements have turned into full on waves when we say hello and goodbye, making me immeasurably proud.
His hand skills have also expanded to using the remote control for the TV, one of his favourite passtimes. I have spent many an hour standing next to Oscar, turning the TV off while he switches it back on. I have no idea how he knows which button to press. One day, as I took the extreme liberty of going to the bathroom for a minute, I came back to find that he had subscribed to the Fashion TV channel, which made for a very interesting conversation with my cable provider... "Yes, I promise, my seven-month-old baby boy mistakenly got through the three screens to confirm he wanted to subscribe..."
But then he laughs, and all of his mistakes and mischief seem irrelevant. He laughs when he has the hiccups, when he sneezes, when he sees hair... He's easy to please.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to pack while Oscar sleeps. On Monday we're taking the plane to Thailand. That's right, the plane. There's just no teaching some people...
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