Belabumbum Lotus Nursing Bra & Underware

When to say goodbye to your lovely, lacy underwire bras, you ask?  Well, the question is twofold.  First is the issue of when to switch to maternity bras.  You’ll likely find that you will likely need to switch from your regular bra to a maternity bra around week 18 depending on the person.  You’ll know when the time is right because you won’t be able to get through the day without feeling constricted and uncomfortable.  If you’re normally on the smaller size and you are finding that even while pregnant you’re not in dire need for extra support then it’s ok to go the route of buying bras that are a bigger cup size.  However, if you are normally well-endowed and your pregnancy means your breasts seem to be taking on a mind of their own then I would recommend getting a proper maternity bra asap.  If you are on the frugal side then it is perfectly acceptable to buy nursing bras as they are just as comfortable as maternity bras and you won’t have to purchase once the baby is born.  Look for bras that have a high cotton content or other natural fabric so that you’re skin can breathe, the straps should be slightly wider so that they are more comfortable, and the back should have 3-4 hooks so you have room to grow.  You will likely have to buy new bras twice in your pregnancy, once in the 1st or 2nd trimester and then again near the end of your pregnancy as your breasts could change size considerably.  Some people recommend against wearing underwire bras as they can restrict milk ducts.  Personally, I just found them to be incredibly uncomfortable and couldn’t stand to be in them for more than 2 hours.

The second issue is whether or not you are destined to 9 months of boring, “functional” underware.  The answer is no.  There are plenty of options out there if you are committed to wearing pretty undergarments during your pregnancy.  Notable brands include Belabumbum and Hot Milk.

The film American Pie introduced the world to a couple of notable items:

• Stiffler
  

  Guess what four-letter word he's thinking of...

• Shitbreak
  

  Who hasn't been there on a Sunday morning?

• A horrific connection to apple pie (no image necessary)
• And the concept of MILF’s (courtesy of Stiffler’s Mom)

That film came out eons ago, so I’m left to wonder… why does this commercial trouble me so?  (The ending kind of freaks me out.)

Now I know it’s not as horrible as a dick hole in a pie, and maybe I’m being unenlightened by thinking this, but why do things keep breaking in that video?  Is her stomach knocking up over shit?  Is she crazy?  Isn’t that dangerous to have an expectant mother in heels walking around smashed glass?

So many questions…

我还在 Corner Coffee. 我的晚饭是一个 Bacon+Egg 三明治 (sandwich)，一碗罗宋汤 (borscht)， 和一杯热奶 (hot milk)。

Umm… I did what I said and went over some Chinese characters from McGill’s curriculum for the first two levels (the first three volumes of 新实用汉语课本 New Practical Chinese Reader) and finished Ballet Shoes.  Emma Watson was a better actress than in Harry Potter, and I wonder what it is that holds her back in the latter.  I also started another film, 秘岸 Lost Indulgence.  I found it when I was trying to look up Xi’an filmmakers.  I’m not sure why it turned up, because the director is from Chongqing (a.k.a. Chungking), where the film is set.  张一白 Zhang Yibai is his name.  It turns the subtitles that come with the film are Traditional Chinese rather than English, but since I already know the premise of the film, it’s going okay (20 minutes into it).

There are two effort-making speakers of English in the next booth and I feel like I should go make friends.  I think I heard the girl sing along a little bit to Regina Spektor, when a song came on.  But they’re doing the same thing as me, internet-ing, just together.  They aren’t native speakers of English; I think the dude’s speaking Spanish to his computer now. She could be Russian, or Eastern (Northern?) European anyways. He looks Asian (Filipino?) and she had curly, blonde hair. She speaks Chinese quite comfortably, although hers isn’t any better than mine (I’m eavesdropping: she hasn’t studied more than two months and her vocabulary is definitely much weaker, although she’s more keen to practise, I think). There is another white girl studying Chinese alone at her own table.

I’ve ordered another 杯 (cup [of]) 热奶 (hot milk).  I guess that’s the way they drink it here.  Or it’s ’cause I’ve been ordering milk from cafes, so it’s only available steamed.  In any case, it’s nice, but making me sleepy.  I’ll stay until this 咖啡馆 closes to take advantage of its wireless internet though.  It’s better than staying shut up in my dorm room.

I think I need to watch a movie filmed in Harbin. I think it would help.

Go to a nonprofit coffee and concert house and sip a latte while listening to some mellow jazz.

Of course, that can be a bit difficult! Said coffee house does not have shows every day, nor are those shows always mellow, the baristas sometimes use too much espresso in the lattes, and you probably have no idea where I’m talking about in the first place! So here are some guidelines for similarly awesome ways to relax.

• Drink something hot, unless it’s a hot summer day. Green tea, hot milk, or Mate would be best; black tea is alright; any low-caffeine coffee beverage is also fine; a triple shot in the dark will give you an ulcer. For cold things, I like iced tea or fruit juice (guavas ftw.) Said drink may be accompanied by some variety of yummy pastry.
• If possible, go outside or open your windows. This is especially nice on warm, sweet-smelling summer nights.
• Don’t do anything excessively capitalistic in nature. This one might only apply to me, but it’s impossible for me to relax when I’m being treated as a source of income by an unethical business. I am noticeably on edge at theme parks and music festivals.
• Good music can be extremely relaxing, no matter what it is. I can relax while listening to good metal (just because I get to bask in the awesome of some good musicians,) but generally, smooth acoustic stuff is nicest. Trance or jazz are also nice. Since I sing, I notice the slightest bit of tension or other poor technique in people’s voices, so it’s easiest for me to relax to Maaya Sakamoto. Don’t listen to anything that engages you emotionally too much- happy or foreign lyrics are best.
• If not music, lighthearted TV is good. I like children’s anime, because it’s usually fairly well-written but doesn’t require too much of an emotional investment.
• Don’t let your mind wander towards stressful thoughts! This can happen if your relaxation modus is not stimulating enough.

Let yourself kick back and feel awesome for being able to really relax.

Of course, most of these things are useless or impossible when having a panic attack. I have had a lot of these, and they are not fun! Singing really helps calm me down, though, because I physically cannot get the sound to come out if I’m too tense. It forces me to relax my arms and unclench my jaw. If you ever have panic attacks, try singing!

Wow, I am extremely enthusiastic about de-stressing!

Jag ska verkligen inte läsa Aftonbladet, jag blir bara irriterad, det slår aldrig fel!

Idag är tydligen den stora snackisen huruvida det är viktigt att vara snygg/sexig när man är gravid. Naturligtvis kommer Svenne-Banan att svara nej på det för face it om Svenne-Banan skulle svara ärligt och klämma i med ett hurtfriskt “det vore väl fördjävla trevligt om kvinnor ansträngde sig utseendemässigt jämt ” då skulle Svenne-Banan bli nedskjuten meddelst nackskott för så säger man inte i “jämställda” Sverige. Jämställdheten i Sverige går nämligen ut på att alla helst skall vara så manliga som möjligt. Okvinnligt är det nya svart och det som är “tjejigt” glittrande och rosa det är lite sämre och framförallt inte nödvändigt, fånigt och dumt rentav.

I Sverige fungerar nämligen jämställdheten som så att det är ok att vara ful, det är rentav lite fint att vara ful sålänge du inte är ful och rik för då är du per default ond. Därför uppfinner vi trevliga myter om att fula människor utvecklar lite mer personlighet än de som var snyggast i högstadiet, att det är det som är på insidan som räknas. Av någon anledning räknas också graviditet och amningstiden som en tid då det inte bara är ok att vara ful, man är direkt korkad om man anstränger sig för att vårda sitt yttre och inre överhuvudtaget. Alla underkläder under graviditeten måste vara fula för att vara ändamålsenliga för det har Malin Wollin sagt och då är det sant.

Självklart spelar ytan roll, däremot är det inte det viktigaste som finns. Det är inte ytan som göra att vår partner vill leva med oss år ut och år in. Det är inte din yta som gör att dina vänner ställer upp för dig och det är sannerligen inte din yta som avgör om du är en bra människa eller inte. Men jo, ditt förhållande kommer vara längre om du anstränger dig utseendemässigt för din partner i jämförelse med om du skiter fullkomligt i det. Att alltid se bra ut på jobbet är en fördel även efter att du bevisat vad du går för och hur du blir bemött av andra människor vid ett första intryck kommer att påverkas av bilden du projicerar av dig själv.

Herregud om det var insidan som räknades så hade vi inte behövt tjata oss blå i nyllet för att påpeka att så är fallet.

Så nej, det är inte viktigast i världen att du är snygg när du är gravid eller ammar och rent känslomässigt hamnar det djävligt långt ner på listan troligtvis beroende på att man som gravid eller nybliven förälder är fullt upptagen med att vara alldeles för trött och orolig för att kunna tänka särskilt mycket alls på något annat.

Men det är heller inte mer eller mindre viktigt än någon annan gång i livet och att ens hysterisera bakgrunden till den här artikeln som handlade om att det har startat ett företag som säljer sexiga underkläder för gravida och ammande kvinnor är helt djävla frontallobotomerat. För att inte tala om att det f o r t f a r a n d e efter alla år tas för givet att fina underkläder handlar om att vilja ge någon kåtslag, det får inte handla om att man själv vill känna sig fin.

Varför skall det göras till något fult att man vill köpa fina underkläder när man är gravid? Varför går det jante i att man skall köpa hudfärgade behåar i noppande 100% bomull bara för man ammar?  Har folk ens SETT en vanlig amningsbehå någon gång?

Varför i hela helvete skall folk moralisera över det riktiga i om en behå har spets på sig eller inte oavsett tidpunkt i bärarens liv?! Varför skall kvinnor “skyddas” från att behöva vara sexiga istället för att det får lov att vara ok att göra individuella val, vari består den “jämställdheten”?

Där mina vänner kan vi börja prata om hora och madonna syndrom, där kan vi börja prata om ojämlikhet mellan könen och DÄR i “omtänksamheten” gömmer sig de förlegade kristna värderingarna om att sex är till för fortplantning och kvinnors kroppar är till för att behaga mannen.

Moraliskt Riktig enligt Aftonbladet

Moraliskt Fel enligt Aftonbladet

maternity bra hotmilk

   Hotmilk maternity bras are creating a real stir. Gone are the boring and purely functional bras of old and very much ‘in’ with Hotmilk are bras and maternity lingerie that is sexy, delicate and highly practical.

Hotmilk is a maternity bra line from New Zealand and they are certainly turning the fashion world on it’s head.

And now let the Thanksgiving festivities begin!

I had every intention of going to bed immediately at 10pm yesterday but I was all worked up after watching Biggest Loser – argh.  Vicki makes me so mad, I keep waiting for the week that she goes home.  My mom and I both agree that if she wins the contest, we won’t watch next season!

Anyway, since I went to bed after 10, it was definitely a struggle getting up this morning… Luckily, I made it to work by 7, but my morning was definitely rushed.  I started out with a bowl of hot milk + cereal which included 1 cup of fiber one, grape nuts, sliced banana, pom seeds, and skim milk.  Delish and ultra-flavorful.  Kept me quite full too.

Mid-morning I resorted to a trivia oatmeal packet – sorry for the redundancy here, but I can’t help it.  They fill me up AND keep me warm!  Looks like Kersten got the correct answer in the comments from yesterday’s post!  Way to go

Lunch was a Thanksgiving PB sandwich… I just came up w/ this name since the combination of pumpkin & pb reminds me of fall & thanksgiving!  On the side I had a yogurt & fiber one.  I also THOUGHT I packed an orange to have w/ my lunch, but it appears that I misstakenly left it at home :/  Booooooo!

Mid-afternoon, I excitedly tried the Clif Z Bar in Apple-Cinnamon flavor.  Again, the flavor completely jumped out at me – it smelled so yummy.  I wanted to warm it up, per Mrs. LC’s suggestion; however I ate it around 3pm when I was driving home from work, so no microwave was available!  See above for picture

I was contemplating either doing spin OR other cardio and I decided since I’m not doing spin tomorrow (they are having a class but I don’t like the teacher) that I should take advantage and do it tonight instead.  I ran around and did errands at the bank & Target and then headed to the gym to do about 30 minutes of lower body strength training.  The spinning class wasn’t until 5:30 and at that point it was 4:30 so I knew I didn’t want to spend an extra hour in the gym waiting around, so I improvised and did my own 30 minute spin class.  It was great and I burned 250 calories all by my own instruction.  I did sprints, climbs, accelerations, hover, and isolations.

When I got home, I pulled out the remaining leftovers of my homemade chicken noodle soup and reheated a bowl each for Bill and I.  So warm, yummy, and comforting.

A little while later, BellaEats cranberry pumpkin bread called my name, so I had a warm slice with Promise Light on it.  Divine!

I was contemplating whether I should make my applesauce tonight OR tomorrow morning and ultimately decided, that I should wait until tomorrow to make it so it would be “more fresh” = lazy me.  So now I’m about to throw in some laundry and just RELAX w/ Bill.   Maybe a cup of tea will even wind up in my hands

I can’t believe Thanksgiving is tomorrow, can you?  I will be posting tomorrow, but for those of you who will be unable to read, I’d like to wish all of you and your friends/family a very happy Thanksgiving!!!!!

I found this on AOL today and thought it was a great tip and idea! Anyone else have alternative hot chocolate ideas?

A store-bought hot cocoa mix made with low-fat milk can add up to 250 calories per cup. Shave off about 115 calories, and some unwanted sugar, with this flavorful hot milk beverage: Heat 8 ounces of low-fat or non-fat milk with a cinnamon stick. Pour it into your mug and stir in one tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder and one teaspoon of vanilla extract.

Maternity fashion, or lack of, has always been something that I had my eye on without knowing why. Although I’m not pregnant, I have an appreciation for stylish and chic things and that’s why I started on a hunt for fashionable maternity wear. So after researching in this category, I came across some designs for trendy mothers who seek to look good inside and out during their pregnancy. At the end of the day, happy mothers probably mean happier babies.

Many of the brands I came across in the maternity category started by woman entrepreneurs who left their day job to start their own business. And most importantly, they were successful at it. So aside from the great designs, it was encouraging to find these success stories and learn from it.

i. Intimates: I’m starting with this category after seeing countless ugly bras designed for pregnant or nursing moms. Pregnancy is probably when women are most aware of their self image and having sift through hundreds of designs, I’m appalled at the lack of choices available in the market. To keep hopes out there, below are some of my favorite finds. Keep in mind that some international brands may not be available in the US.

BENDON

Bendon, a New Zealand brand, has several sub-brands in the nursing bra category. Few designs that were my favorites were:

Bendon Lace Nursing Bra

This style comes in two different
colors on nordstrom.com: crystal
blue and black. It provides
underwire-free support and
soft shaping. Can also be found
on figleaves.com.

La Mere Nursing Bra

This style is under the the subbrand
Elle Macpherson Intimates. It comes
in four different colors and can also
be found on nordstrom.com or
figleaves.com.

FREYA

Freya, a UK based company, offers chic and sexy lingerie to customers around the world.

Rosalie

Rosalie nursing bra is listed under
Freya’s best seller styles and comes
in couple colors. You can read reviews
on herroom.com. Freya has some very
cute regular bras you might want
to take a peak on, Charlie and Matisse are just a few.

BELABUMBUM

Belabumbum is known for its bold color choices with fabric imported from Brazil. It has a few great choices for maternity lingerie and it’s another cute site that is just fun to browse around.

Copacabana Nursing Bra

I liked this style for the simple
and casual look. It has also
comes in a set with boycut as
shown on the product site.
Belabumbum is also featured
in some of the well known fashion and parenting
magazines.

HOT MILK

HOT milk is another New Zealand based company who produces maternity and nursing lingerie. They are by far the sexiest and most stylish brand I’ve seen in the category. It’s too bad that they are currently only found in Europe and Asia markets.

Delicate and Dangerous

This style is made of pink satin
with French blue and cream floral
embroidery. It looks super sexy
in the picture and hope they will
become available in the US soon!

Baby Doll Delicious

Another favorite of mine is
this sunflower embroidered
maternity bra. I just love the
color and chic style!

BELLA MATERNA

Bella Materna is a Seattle company focused on luxury nursing & maternity essentials. On their site, they mention their products are all made in the US!

French Lace Nursing Bra

This is probably the sexiest style
I’ve seen among all US brand offerings,
with a premium price tag. It’s US made
imported French Lace and Italian
nylon/Lycra.

AMORALIA

Amoralia is a UK company started by Jules Fossett, an ex-advertising strategist, who saw a need for stylish maternity lingerie.

Nougatine

This was another stylish nursing bra
that caught my eye. It comes in three
different colors and my favorite is
actually the Caramel shown on the site.
Catriona Mackechnie in the US carries them.

Noisette

This is an interesting style that
combines vintage and modern look.
The cup has fresh balconette shape
for a feminine look. I’d only found this
on Amoralia’s site so check about their
international shipping policy.

CONDESSA

Condessa is an LA based company that offers “fine lingerie that is also nursing – accessible.” They don’t seem to have many options but the couple that they offer are quite good options for stylish nursing bras.

Cassandra (Lace)

The Cassandra-Lace line has the most
style among the selections available for
this brand. It is designed in 3/4 lace cup
and 1/2 cup cotton lining for comfort.
See more colors here.

Veronica

I was very surprised how this demi
cup nursing bra could be so simple
yet modern and stylish. Don’t know
if it’s good photography but I think
the shimmering material definitely
adds the extra shine needed for a
stylish glow.

Everybody has bad memories about their childhood, when they were forced to drink hot milk with honey and onions… ewwwwwww!!

But do try it without onions – just milk and honey. It is incredibly good – and also, the one and only effective cure for sore throat.

Under no circumstances, do not try it with lukewarm milk. That tastes just disgusting. Use hot, almost boiling milk – and drink it with a straw. Yummy healthy goodiness!

Do not add honey to the milk before heating, especially if you use microwave oven to heat the milk. Microwave radiation breaks down enzymes in the honey and diminishes its healing effect.

Usually, one cup (~0.24 liters) of milk goes perfectly together with one tablespoonful of honey. Stir, get a straw, go sit on your sofa – and feel how your sore throat, cough and runny nose are going away. And for a change, medicine doesn’t taste bad, instead it tastes incredibly yummy!

I’ve had to come and have a little sit down, so I thought I would make it a constructive sit down and chat to you.  I’ve just nearly set the kitchen on fire and am feeling a little shaken.  I’ll just stay here quietly until my limbs stop trembling and then I must go and tend to Christmas dinner once again, hopefully with less combustible results. 

I’ve just noticed that I smell slightly charred myself, so I expect I managed to set a small portion of my hair alight while I was simultaneously spit roasting the kitchen, which is nice.  There’s nothing quite like the smell of flaming hair to put you in the mood for a good party.  The only other smell to compare with burnt hair is that of burning milk.  I hate hot milk.  My mother used to try and make me drink it when I was unwell, to make me feel better.  She learned her lesson the hard way the day she tried to feed me Weetabix with hot milk to keep my strength up and I vomited it all over her bedroom about thirty seconds after I’d protestingly shovelled it down.  I recommend it only if you need a good purge.  Otherwise I’d steer well clear.

Now then, let me tell you about the conflagration.  When I do roast potatoes I always like to parboil them first and then bash them round the saucepan a bit before I start the roasting process.  This always means that my spuds are fluffy on the inside and crispy on the outside, which is just as things should be in the land of roast dinners.  Usually I do it all myself with no bother whatsoever.  After they’re all fluffed up I put the roasting pan over one of the lit gas rings, pour in my oil, wait for it to bubble and then throw the potatoes into the hot fat.  I give them a jolly good shake, sprinkle them with sea salt and then pop them into a very hot oven for an hour.  Job’s a good ’un.

Today I had my brother helping me with the spuds.  He put them on to boil and I was busy prepping the veg, so I didn’t take any notice of how long they’d been on.  He suddenly announced that he thought they were going to turn into mash if we didn’t do something about it pronto.  I panicked, set the roasting pan on the hob, drained the potatoes and then threw them in.  About half a millisecond thereafter the roasting tin caught fire with a giant ‘whoosh’ noise and four foot of flame leapt skywards in a sizzling festive display.  Robert’s diagnosis, once we had extinguished the flames was that he thought I had probably left a little water in the bottom of the drainer and it had been the accelerant to the blaze.  Nice one!

Now luckily the potatoes didn’t burn, although they will be more mashy and less crunchy than I would like.  I don’t have the strength to start again however, so we will just have to make do and mend.  My nerves are shot, and the thought of doing a re-run does not fill me with glee.  Plus, if I start again I may well get beautiful roast potatoes but the beef joint will be charred remains and the Yorkshires will weld themselves to the top of the oven and die, so the potatoes must be sacrificed to the greater good.

My brother is delighted this year that he hasn’t been invited to dinner for his prowess with the Yorkshires (see previous food related blogging), and has turned up looking remarkably cheery.  Little did he know that his role as the great Yorkshire Pudding Meister of Glenfield was to be replaced with that of Fire Extinguisher Extraordinaire.  Still, into each life a little fire must be kindled.

Luckily Jason was out of the room when this occurred or I would have been in big trouble.  I have inspected the ceiling and I have managed to avoid any scorching or smoke damage, although the extractor fan isn’t looking too well.  Jason isn’t best pleased when I destroy his lovely house (although I could say the same about the cabling running all over my living room, but then I suppose we’re not likely to have to call the fire brigade for the cabling are we?).  As it was, we opened the window, wafted the air with a slightly singed oven glove and threw the potatoes swiftly into the oven to hide the evidence.  I came up here to have a lie down and a stiff helping of Terry’s Chocolate Orange.  I have to say that I am feeling a hell of a lot calmer now I’ve eaten half of one all to myself.  Calmer, sicker and less interested in finishing cooking the dinner it is true.

Yes folks, it truly is Christmas day.  I know this only because of the Chocolate Orange.  The year I didn’t get one, I walked round to the twenty four hour garage to purchase one, and it wasn’t officially Christmas until I had tapped and unwrapped.  I don’t like anything else that tastes of chocolate and oranges, but there is something sublimely magical about the milk chocolate Terry’s Chocolate Orange which is forever Christmas for me.

I even got some lovely presents, which was very unexpected, as Jason and I decided we weren’t doing presents this year because we’re going away on a stellar holiday next year and want to save our pennies.  We did get each other things via the kids though, and some cracking choices were made.  I love books, as we have already established, and my best ever presents are book tokens, of which I got many from friends. This means my boxing day trip to Borders is ensured.  I am already excited and have been raiding my Amazon wish list for ideas.

Because I am a book addict, I can’t help buying books all the time anyway, so I save my Christmas and Birthday book lists for things that I would love but can’t quite justify buying on an average week.  This includes things like special edition children’s books which I used to read as a kid, but are now released at ten guineas an ounce, cookery books and art books, both of which are very expensive, but needful nonetheless.

I already received the new Nigella and Jamie cookery books, the new Nigel Slater (he is just the loveliest man.  His book Appetite is brilliant) and a Tana Ramsay book, so even though there are several more cheffy type books on my list, I might leave it and treat myself to some art books instead.  Mind you, I might just buy the Heston Blumenthal book, not because I am going to attempt to build a bread oven in my back garden out of twigs and mud, but just because it will make Jason nervous!

I have been fondling a book called: ‘The Genius of Photography’ for several weeks now.  It accompanies a cracking BBC 4 series of the same name, which is one of the best things I’ve watched on television all year.  It’s one of those books I will dip in and out of, but don’t really need (not like all the other books!), and it’s twenty odd quid, so I have talked myself down several times already, but I may well crack tomorrow.

The best thing is, I shall spend the next twelve hours making and re-making my list (checking it twice, as with all the best Christmas type lists), go to Borders resolutely, and then come back with some things I’d never even thought about, but which were too exciting not to bring home.  It’s such a joyful thing.  All my relatives think I’m mad.  Most of them think that book tokens is the poor relation of Christmas gifts, but for me it’s like gold, frankincense and myrrh all rolled into one (heavy, shiny and a bit sticky).

We did, I have to confess, have a very civilised run up to Christmas in the end.  Despite all my panics of yesterday (or maybe because of), I had all the presents wrapped and everything organised by half past nine last night.  We watched rubbish telly for an hour and then went to bed to read.  I’m still tired today, but it is my own fault, as the children were exemplary.  I just had a good book which I wanted to finish (How To Talk To A Widower by Jonathan Tropper), and accidentally stayed up until quarter to one reading.

Sometimes my children amaze me.  Specially when I compare their behaviour to my own at their age.  Even though they can be vile mutants from the planet Blarghhhh, they are never, and I say this with hand on heart, never as badly behaved or hideous as I was in my worst moments, and infinitely better behaved than I was even in my best moments.  I confess that if I had had to parent myself, I would seriously have been hanging on the Supernanny hotline for weeks on end.

I was thinking these kindly thoughts this morning.  They all slept until a reasonable time, unlike me, who used to get up at 3.00 a.m. at the latest every Christmas day until I was a teenager when I was comatose every year until after the Queen’s speech.  Talking of which, Oscar managed to record this on Sky Plus today, which is very skilled.  I am now worried he might be a budding monarchist.  I think he might be mixing the Queen up with Helen Mirren.  Helen Mirren has a much better bosom than the Queen and Oscar is very partial to a good bosom.  He likes to stir people’s cleavage with a toy spoon.  I am trying to break him of this habit, but he gets quite cross about it.  A boy has to have a hobby I suppose.

Not only did the girls sleep till a reasonable time, they also got up quietly and went downstairs to play until we got up.  We woke at quarter to nine, which is a veritable lie in and a half for us these days.  Oscar woke at nine.  We all had breakfast together, and then went upstairs to open our presents.  The presents are all in the study because Son of Derek is rather tall and lanky and it’s the only place large enough to fit him comfortably.  It is also the warmest room in the house, which is good because Oscar refused to be dressed this morning and paraded about with his belly straining over his nappy and chocolate goo from a well masticated chocolate coin smeared about his upper person.  He was extremely happy.

They didn’t fight over their presents.  They didn’t get wrapping happy and start tearing at the boxes like pygmy savages.  They remembered to say thank you for everything and they were genuinely delighted with all their presents.  I remember unwrapping my own presents in about ten minutes flat some years and making inroads on my brother’s stash because I was bored.  I have also been known to break something as soon as the box was opened and have spectacular tantrums over unwanted presents (cue, school desk year, when I asked for a surprise).  Looking back on it, I’m amazed I have managed to live to breed children of my own.  Although thinking about it, perhaps this is my mother’s final revenge.  As my ex-husband rather worryingly liked to say: ‘Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.’ How right he is!

The only time I really had to raise my voice was when they were sent to their room to play with their new things while I cleared a path through the debris and I caught them fighting over a sticker that had been in the bottom of the stockings.  This argument was brought to a swift close when I threatened not to spend the next half an hour of my life trying to extricate Barbie out of her specially welded box and throw her in the bin instead.

What is it about Barbies?  They wrap them as if they were precious jewels or dynamite liable to go off at any minute.  They put in plastic toggles, wire ties, sellotape and sewing, along with the usual packaging paraphernalia.  Even with one standard Barbie it takes a good ten minutes to get them free from their box.  Tallulah was given a Twelve Dancing Princesses’ Barbie on a rotating stand, which requires ten (and I am not kidding here, TEN) batteries, in order to teach you to dance like a fool.  Auntie Lisa is now Queen of Tallulah’s universe, and top of Jason and mine’s hit list (Barbie is very loud, very insistent, and has no discernible volume control.  Nice one.  Wait until she has kids and I will be wrapping the drum kit after the first scan).  It took me thirty minutes to prise Barbie out of her wrapping, and another ten minutes to unscrew all the little gizmos on the battery opening lids.  If you don’t have kids I will warn you that they have decided that batteries are quite dangerous, and in order to stop children eating them, all the battery housing on toys is now screwed down for extra safety.  This is very commendable and very annoying when someone is hitting you over the head with a Tonka toy because you’re not making Optimus Prime speak fast enough for their liking thank you very much.

Now then.  Dinner has reached a crescendo, so I must go and attend to it.  It must be eaten and all plates cleaned by the time David Tennant sashays onto the screen.  It will, sadly for the men in the house, be the small screen, as a veto has been put on turning the lounge into a building site for the day.  Harsh but fair I feel.

It only remains for me to say, Happy Christmas to you all, and don’t waste nine pounds on a Waitrose chocolate Panettone.  I waited weeks for it, and it tasted like cardboard that had been rubbed lightly with a malteaser.  Rubbish.  A black mark for the world encyclopaedia of cakes and biscuits coming up.

Várias ilustrações para livros didáticos.

Various illustrations for school books.