A lofty tale

So Big Boy was saying with my parents and Baby Boy was napping so we decided to do something crazy. Something I haven't been allowed to do since we moved into this house. Something that Hubbie likes to do alone and when we're not around to break the mood or to spoil his fun. He finally allowed me to go into the loft. The loft is his domain, his territory, he is the master of all he surveys up there. As part of the great declutter I got special dispensation to do an inventory of what we had up there so we can decide what to store, what to sell and what to throw. I was a bit nervous so he gave me some basic safety instructions and told me where it would be ok to step, oh and to wear shoes.

As he took the loft steps down and the clanking sound rung out we both froze in case it work up Baby Boy. After a few moments we decided to risk it and went upstairs. I looked around in horror at what I can only describe as carnage. For years I have trusted Hubbie when he assures me that it's all organised up there. That when I give him clothes that the kids have outgrown and put them in labelled boxes and bags he has carefully put them somewhere on a shelf he has built. I've been convinced that all those old toys, the unused electricals and the masses of exercise kit I've bought is safely stored away. What I saw when I finally went up there was just piles of stuff. Literally, piles of bags and partly assembled toys. Bags and boxes of shoes, mine the boys' and some that don't even appear to belong to any of us. As I stood there trying not to fall through the ceiling below I rolled up the sleeves of my onesie (shuttup it's still officially time off !) and got to work.

what could possibly be in this box ? 

I opened bags and boxes and relabelled them then put similar items together. I found baby toys, a moses basket, a bath seat and door bouncer as well as bags of clothes that I thought I'd given away years ago. Clearly I had asked for them to go up in the loft until I decided what to do with them. Now it was time to decide and I was armed with a marker pen, but wasn't allowed to bring the clipboard and sheet of paper to draw a map of the location of everything.

As we worked through the piles of stuff I noticed the edges of some of the bags appeared to be shredded and Hubbie laughed that there might be mice up there. I grimaced a bit and as we started to gather rubbish to put into a black bag he went a bit pale. My eyesight is pretty ropey anyway so I didn't quite know what he was asking me to steer clear of. "Is it a furball, a bundle of unmentionable or is it a dead mouse ?" I asked. Hubbie grimaced and said, "the latter." I stepped back and cursed our cat for not doing the one job he is most qualified for in this house. Ok, Neo isn't known for his love of heights, but still it wouldn't hurt to earn his cat treats would it ?

To be honest of all the things I expected to find up there - Shergar, Lord Lucan, a secret family of squirrels - it never occurred to me to look for corpses. I left it to Hubbie to dispose of the body in a suitably dignified manner once we'd established that I had lost the marker so I couldn't draw an outline round it like a mini crime scene. Give me a break it was harrowing.

At least now I know where the foot spa is, because we all know that every home must have a foot spa that is never used don't we ? I also have a corner for all the yoga kit I've hoarded over the years, many boxes of baby stuff for my sister (or for NCT sales) and clothes in every size from newborn upwards. I now understand why so many people were keen to give us things when we found out we were expecting. Your home gets overtaken once you have children. The garage, the loft, all the bedrooms, pretty much every surface and even our parents' homes are littered with kiddie things. Once the travel cot, baby car seat, bath toys and assorted walkers are done with and you accept that you won't need to keep them 'just in case' it's a waiting game to see who will have a baby next so they can have it all.

It's still a work in progress and this is just the first phase of the great declutter - still it would have been nice to find the luggage that we haven't seen since last year.

My mission, should I choose to accept it is...

I've set myself a new challenge - not one that involves dancing for hours or running or walking to raise money for charity. This is one where I am going to give something up. I've done it before so I know it's possible. The last time was out of necessity, this time it is out of embarrassment and mostly shame.

I've been declutturing our home for years now. At the weekend I decided it was time to take a serious look at the cupboard filled with shoes and bags to see if there was anything that could be gotten rid of. Turns out there is quite a lot. On a massive scale. I mean to a degree that I find so cringe-making I'd be making jokes if it didn't make me look like such a dope. So here is the unedited truth.

I have enough handbags to use a different one every week of the year - and the majority of them have never been used.

A small selection of my many, many bags. 

I've got more shoes than every other member of my family put together - I don't just mean the boys, I'm including siblings and parents here. This is following a cull of shoes and having a half dozen brand new pairs in boxes put aside to sell already. 

The clothes I own are repetitive and unimaginative - mostly jeans in either bootcut or skinny leg / jegging style. I own many striped tops and over the years I've noticed I've got the same jumper (exact same style, colour everything) because I've forgotten I already own one. 

At the weekend as I was sorting through the many handbags I found three (not one) three piles of clothes hidden behind them. There were 8 items of maternity clothing that I bought and never even opened. Yes, I bought some maternity clothes in anticipation of becoming pregnant again and completely forgot I had bought them. Then I found one of the piles was maternity clothes that I had worn and didn't need any more. Nice frocks, trousers, etc. that I had worn even after my boy was born, but that strictly I didn't need to keep.  

I was shocked by my own inability to remember how much I own. At my sheer greed.

So, here is the challenge I've set myself. I'm not going to buy any new clothes, shoes or accessories until my birthday next year. This will be interesting as we have established that I don't buy out of need, but mostly forgetfulness. I will go out to a shop I like and see something I like and when I get home I realise I've got more than one of those already - well, of course I have, because I like it !

Just to be clear I'm not equating this will real suffering. I will still go out to eat with Hubbie or friends. I will go to gigs (but I won't buy a t-shirt) and I will buy nice food for us to enjoy as a family. What I won't do is 'treat' myself to a handbag because I've always wanted one like it. Or to a shirt because I never look glamorous enough and I want to feel like I'm still that fashion forward young woman I used to be.

Wish me luck with it - and if you fancy a handbag let me know :) 

My imaginary family (and other first world problems)

I have a lot more than this 

Talk to anyone who has known me for a few years and they will tell you about my compulsive shoe and handbag habit. Neil will tell you how at Uni I was invited to most concerts because I was the only one who had a credit card to pay for gig tickets. This is the only explanation I can (or will) offer for having been to see Clannad. Bee will tell you how I own more coats than it is possible to wear - I know this because when we were watching Buffy once I mentioned that she had a different coat on every night and Bee said the words, "Pot, Kettle, Black." SJ will tell you I have accessories ranging from belts and bangles to perky hats and pashminas. I might not remember what day it is, but I will be damned if I'm going out uncoordinated.

I mention these oddities as my evil capitalist ways have been curbed in recent years, due to a combination of reduction in income and changed priorities. Yes I know being a stay at home parent is reward enough - blah, blah, blah - and I genuinely do prefer to buy things for my son and Hubbie. However I appear to have swapped one overindulgent habit for another. It became apparent to me as I found myself picking up far too many Easter gifts yesterday - I can't say any more than that as Hubbie does read this and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Hot Cross buns a-go-go

You see there are three of us and yet I grocery shop like the apocalypse is imminent. At Christmas I bought 4 Christmas puddings - 4 !! Our boy doesn't even eat Christmas pudding and we still have two of them. I've just stopped myself from buying a bumper pack of Easter eggs from Thorntons - I've already bought enough for all of us and all our siblings. In the supermarket the other day I bought up one of every type of Easter cake for a 'special Easter afternoon tea' and we currently have four flavours of hot cross buns at home. I reiterate, there are three of us.

Don't panic though, I think I've worked it out. I'm shopping for my imaginary family. I know, I know. Bear with me here. I'm one of four siblings, my father is too and my mother is one of five. Hubbie has one brother and we have one son. I always thought I'd have a pretty big family. I wanted to have four and Hubbie was kind of ok with two. Before we had our boy we were approved to adopt two children and at one point were asked to consider three children - a toddler and younger twins - so we would have been a pretty big family overnight.

As it is we have one child and he is gorgeous and we adore him. However, we had thought we'd have more and part of me clearly hasn't let that go. In my head I was supposed to have a brood of kids and I'm clearly shopping for them. That's why I have enough cakes to sink a small fleet, a freezer filled with mini twister lollies and enough straws to build a replica Eiffel Tower.

I saw someone this afternoon who I haven't seen for a few years. She asked me if I'd had any luck in falling pregnant again and I told her I had been and it hadn't worked out. She said, "Oh well at least you've got little one." Of course I have and he's not a consolation prize. She's not the only one to remind me that our family is incomplete. It's a regular question and I dread any family event where I'll see someone who's onto their second or third or more pregnancy. It reminds me what I don't have and it prompts them or others to ask if we want to have more children.

Of course we do.

I'm not ungrateful for my small family. I love how close we all are. I just have to get real about how much chocolate, cake and biscuits we can get through.

In these shoes ? I don't think so…

I went back to work two months ago. In order to make it possible for me to work we have a finely tuned operation involving dropping off to and picking up from nursery, some home working and family childcare. My boy goes to nursery from Monday to Wednesday and on a Thursday he is at home with either Hubbie or my sister who is a nanny and has helped take care of him since he was a baby. 

The new routine has been tiring and repetitive and yet I've lost all ability to dress myself properly. You'd have thought that I'd have found my groove with what to wear to work by now, but apparently I have time to find clothes for my boy, but not for me. I was so perturbed by this revelation (brought on by two days last week where I was wearing entirely inappropriate clothing for the weather) that I put my name down for a style session at the Britmums event on Saturday.

Now bear in mind that I have always loved clothes and shoes and handbags and accessories and pretty much everything to do with fashion. I've never been a trend setter, but I always took time to keep up with what was in fashion and would browse and spend time and money in clothes shops. My happy place was Topshop Oxford Circus and if I was late home on a Thursday night Hubbie would call to check if I was there for late opening - I usually was. If friends phoned me I would often be part way through buying clothes or I'd have just bought some shoes. I loved clothes. I still do. I just don't know what to wear any more.

On the Saturday morning before I went to Britmums I got up early and looked outside the window to see what the weather was doing. I chose some loose fitting trousers instead of my usual jeggings and a shirt that I thought was light and pretty looking. They weren't high fashion or frumpy, they were ok. Kate (the stylist) took one look at what I was wearing and said, "your clothes are too big for you." I stammered a response along the lines of, "these were my post pregnancy trousers and the top was from East because I had a voucher to spend." How post pregnancy is three years exactly ? I'm seriously failing at being a yummy mummy.

Then yesterday I wore a top that kept falling off the shoulders with some jeans that are a bit loose and realised that I do it all the time. Today I caught sight of myself in the mirror at a pilates class and I saw an older version of my teenage self. Since I was 18 I've worn enormous clothes to disguise my shape. I used to buy men's large size t shirts which swamp me now, back then I was almost 2 stones lighter so I must have looked even more ridiculous. I still buy and wear clothes that are too big for me. I've done it for years. Well, decades actually.

In my head I'm much bigger than I actually am. In my mind I have fat knees. a massive body and chubby arms. Wearing clothes that are too big for me doesn't make me look slimmer, or shapely. They make me look like I've got someone else's clothes on. Dark clothes that don't fit too close to the body or flatter my figure.

In order to be able to dress myself properly do I need to become one of those odd people who break a biscuit in half or eats 2 rice cakes for lunch ? Do I have to become skin and bone to be happy with my body so that I don't mind wearing clothes that fit me ? 

Or do I just accept that I'll never be skinny because that requires too much deprivation. I don't want to be so obsessed with myself that I only think about my own body shape to the detriment of all else. When I lost weight and was a size 10 I never truly accepted my smaller size. I kept all the jeans in larger sizes (just as well really) and still thought I was enormous. I was convinced that the labelling in Dorothy Perkins was somehow flawed.

So if I spend more time planning what my boy wears than what I wear I think that's ok. I've spent enough of my life (and money) on myself. Now it's his turn.

I have seen a great pair of shoes in Next that I think I might have to have though…  

From Clockhouse to Yessica and back

As my little man goes to nursery on Mondays and Tuesdays I now have time to do nice things for myself. On a Monday I present my radio show on Croydon Radio and on a Tuesday I usually catch up with some boring housework and watch a DVD if I have time or like today I get something to eat outside the house. I decided to have some dim sum for a treat today and was really surprised at how many families were eating out too. Then Hubbie reminded me that as it's the last day of school hols for most children this is their last hoorah with the grown ups.

When I was at school we didn't have a ritual other than to get our bags and clothes ready the day before we went back for the new autumn term. What we did have was the annual shoe shop on the Saturday before we went back. Every year my Mum would pack us all off in the car and take us to Hounslow to buy everyone new shoes. We always began at the C&A end of the High Street. For the youngsters out there it was like a department store that sold skiing gear at affordable prices and was a favourite amongst Asian families. I was delighted to find a few years ago that C&A still existed in Europe - we bought a pretty ropey suit for Hubbie in a branch in Paris and a vibrant pink coat for me that all but two of the buttons fell off after two wears.

The reason for beginning at C&A was so that my Dad could take hours to buy the same blue shirt and sand coloured trousers he bought every year. It took so long because he was so outraged that his size had gone up since last year and he'd try all permutations of outfit before reverting to his usual style and colours. He was also the wild card in the shoe buying stakes as my Dad has always worn slip on shoes, but he'd insist on trying every pair in every shop before choosing the same ones as last time. I have a theory that he can't actually tie shoelaces which is why he wears slip-ons. He never helped me tie my laces and seemed a bit befuddled when I did them myself. I will test this again when my son has shoes with laces and get back to you.

Of course the trawl of the High St ineveitably ended at Curtess shoe shop which provided most of my teenage footwear. It was affordable, pretty fashionable, but not trendy. Also, Paula Rushbrook from school worked in the Greenford branch on Saturdays so she'd slip friends a sneaky discount. I bought my first pixie boots in Curtess and probably many other ill-advised fashion choices. A woman with a love of shoes is so cliched as to be beyond parody. I mention this only because my own love of shoes has slowed in recent years due to swollen feet in pregnancy and now the need to be able to put on shoes quickly to get out of the house to do whatever activity is planned for the day.

I pretty much only wear sandals or boots now anyway as the trawl of the High Street was usually a pointless and ultimately unsatisfying search for the Holy Grail of shoes. A non-ugly, practical and yet nice to look at pair of shoes. I've found they just don't exist so I now own beautiful impractical shoes kept in clear boxes to look at. Lots of flat sandals that tone my legs (apparently) and many, many pairs of boots that keep my feet super warm.

However, it's the pair that I don't yet own that interest me most right now. A few years ago me and Hubbie made a bet which he lost - the details of the bet are not that important - suffice it to say that he owes me a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and it's now time to collect. I've never spent more than £50 on a pair of shoes (boots don't count) so this is a pretty major purchase for me. If I'm not careful it could end up being the most expensive pair of flip flops ever or a disastrous foray into the world of slingbacks (after a bad experience at Nine West in Las Vegas we don't mention them any more in this house).

I'll keep you posted as the search progresses...