Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

Monday, February 23, 2015

how to do coffee outings with a baby

I think I have the Mums Who Coffee With Their Babies dialled.

Been meaning to impart this wisdom survival tactic now that I know what I'm doing my baby has started crawling and I can't actually visit coffee shops with him anymore because it's uncharted chaos.

For mothers-to-be, or those simply venturing out to buy a hot drink while carrying a child, this is how it is done. (It mustn't be crawling yet. I don't [yet] know how to do a [dignified] coffee visit if the child is moving. Sorry.)

Put a bib on the child

I've tried to do the whole "oh I'm just giving him five raisins, so he doesn't need a bib" thing before. I've also tried to just casually let him gnaw on an Organix Carrot Finger, thinking the whole rigmarole of pulling out the bibs, wipes, etc negates the relaxed atmosphere of grabbing a quick coffee.

There is always mess, and there is always aftermath.
I've given Sebastian his tea ("supper") while I've tried to casually sip on a flat white. This is so he is distracted for at least 45 seconds and I can then savour the taste of the Ethiopian beans.

If you like it, you shoulda put a bib on it.

Pick your coffee shop according to these three very important things
1) Your buggy must fit through the door without any heaving;
2) Notwithstanding, the cafe should ideally have a spot for you to park your buggy so that it doesn't take up space next to your table;
3)  Most importantly - it must have big tables that are not clustered close to one another.

I've been to coffee shops where there are lots of little tables all packed in together and I have had a bad time.

For one, Sebastian will turn around and try to pick the toast off a stranger's plate. Or knock over their teapot. And the whole session quickly becomes about trying to stop a cascading crescendo of destruction before it starts.

Secondly, other mummy friends have the same problem, so you end up throwing your coffee everywhere, apologising profusely to everyone around you, and not finishing a sentence with the person with whom you're trying to have a conversation with.

You need a big table, not one of those piddly Parisian cafe things. I live in London, and sadly restaurant tables the size of a dinner plate are commonplace. People are stuffed into small corners and are all but sitting on someone else's lap. So if you find a coffee shop or restaurant with wide[r] tables, stick with it.

You see, when you bring a kid to a public area, you bring a lot of crap with you. Wipes, hats, bottles, bibs, spoons, teething toys.
Then you forget that most tables at have a vase on it, salt and pepper shakers, a menu holder. Knives and forks.
You want something big. You need a dumping ground. So go to a place with big tables and lots of space between each one.
Chains are [sadly] usually more 'buggy friendly' than independent coffee shops, at least around Clapham anyway.

Some of the more buggy friendly chains in the UK are All Bar One, Byron Burger, Bill's, Costa Coffee, Nero.

Pay while the going is good

This is really important. It's the difference between being an amateur Mum Who Coffees and a professional. Some places do table service - a delight when the waiter thinks ahead and puts the coffee out of reach of little hands, but is a disaster when they plonk it down in front of the child - but this means you usually only pay right at the end.

Nine times out of ten I leave a coffee shop, my baby has declared he has had enough sitting around and starts to scream a little.
A panic starts to happen, and there's furious hunting through handbags for the right change or waiting for the card to be fucking approved and it's mayhem and disorder as the baby basically has a meltdown on your face.

Or, like one of my mummy friends, the child projectile vomits up her salmon risotto over everything and instead of being able to pick up her bag and run the fuck away, she has sit in her child's vomit waiting for the bill.

So. The moment they serve the coffee and cake, get the bill. Pay it.
If you have to leave in a hurry - which is pretty much always the case -  at least with my baby - you can.

Bring more snacks than is necessary

Ply little hands, and friend's baby's hands, with snacks. Do what you can to get your cuppa Joe. Out in a public place. With another adult human. Snacks are more distracting than toys.

(Even if, like mine, they eat their toys).

Do it in the afternoon

For some reason, there is more time. As your baby starts to drop naps and becomes more active, and then starts to eat and basically become a mini person, you'll find the day stretches out and starts to really lag between their afternoon nap and their bath time.

There are a good few hours there where you'll need to get out of the house and need a change of scene. This usually happens around 3pm, which collides pretty nicely with your dire need for a coffee because you haven't slept the night before and you're completely catatonic.

Morning coffees work well when the child is still sleeping four times a day.

After six months, it's afternoon coffees all the way.

People without children will stare at you

When you're a mum, you get judged. Especially by those who don't have babies. Yours will cry for no reason, or you'll wipe up its vomit with the arm of your coat instead of a muslin, or something will happen in public whereby other mums will look at you knowingly and give you an encouraging, exhausted smile, but others will just passively-aggressively frown at you. Because they somehow think you WANT your child to kick off. 

Learn to ignore and don't even look at these people. Sometimes your baby will start crying for no reason and you won't be able to stop it. It will feel like the whole world is looking at you, and you'll desperately start to sweat and beg your baby to calm down.

Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't even look around you. Your baby is going to drop stuff on the floor, smear stuff all over the high chair, scream loudly because they think it's fun, and cry. And it's going to be loud and messy.

If you care what others think, it'll debilitate you. So just keep on keepin' on.

Your coffee will never be hot

Just a final note. It's a common known fact that mothers never manage to finish (or sometimes even start) a cup of coffee. Because you'll have to attend to five other things the moment you sit down to take that first sip, and sometimes you forget you even made yourself a cup.

Don't worry, you'll get used to cold, or at best, luke warm, coffee. You might even start to not notice.

When I do finish a cup and it's still actually hot, I silently high five myself and get a real feeling of complete and utter satisfaction because I have managed to bust through my last best score.

It's like a little game of Tetris I play with myself to see how far I can get in my cup of coffee.

Try to pwn that shit.



Thursday, January 29, 2015

mary poppins: why you're not missing out even if you think you are

Before I ramble on about life at the moment, I thought I'd take a time out to talk about one person.

Defragmentalising. Defragmentifying? Defragging? Defragmenting. The Mary Poppins Agenda.



I thought about this as I walked Sebastian to nursery this morning. Every mum who has ever watched Mary Poppins is ruined to find an exact replica. Everyone wants a Mary Poppins; someone to rear your child disciplined, yet full of song. Creative, but with a fastidious ability to tidy up.

But I was thinking about this long and hard. Is Mary Poppins really that amazing? 
We all want one, but we can't afford one [in the UK.] Is she just marketed really, really well?

Here are the reasons I think she is not all that a bag of chips.*

1) Just like Mrs Doubtfire, she's actually another person. And Julie Andrews doesn't mind her own kids, so essentially Mary Poppins doesn't exist at all. 

2) Sugar. Blatantly not on. It's highly frowned upon to give children under the age of 1 added sugar, at least in this country. So if you're going to give the medicine a chaser, does it have to be a spoonful of sugar, Mary? You're pumping the kids full of processed glucose granules, come on. How about a piece of fruit, Ms Poppins, fruit, smothered in omega 3 oils?
See? Sugared to the gills. In their two pieces from Bonpoint.

3) Power suits. When I was at home with the baby all day, I wore my sweat pants. My chunky jumpers, my sweat pants, and sometimes, I wouldn't even bother with the pants at all. Don't tell me you come in there looking like a British Airways air hostess and manage not to get irate when little sticky fingers (from the sugar you gave them prior) leave detritus on your shoulder pads.
4) Supercalerfragilisticblahblah.  According to some trivia film site, this word originated from "an urban myth that it had something to do with Irish or Scottish prostitutes."
If you're not teaching my boy about hookers, can you at least teach him a word that is slightly coherent? (And in three languages please?) What about "superfluous."
Or "discombobulated."
Or this:


5) Cherry Tree Lane. This road does not exist in London. However, it looks like the family lives somewhere off Holland Park, looking at the rest of the movie set. George Clooney and John Cleese live in Holland Park, as well as the country's top lawyers and investment bankers, so I'm guessing you come at quite a price Mary Poppins. I'm thinking at least £3 000/month after tax. So most normal families wouldn't be able to afford you at all.




6) The 'Feed The Birds' scene at St Paul's Cathedral. This is actually illegal, you know. Since the sixties it's illegal to feed the pigeons/sky rats due to the excessive defecation from this expanding avian population. Next you're going to start parking in loading zones or 'forget' to update your parking disc.

7) Apparently Mary Poppins and Mrs Banks never speak to each other in the film. The entire film. This might be the most problematic out of all the scenarios. Power suits, sugar, illegal bird-feeding and overpriced West London nannies aside, it's simply not feasible to not talk to the mother when you're employed as the house's primary child keeper.

 Maybe you were busy folding the laundry or singing lullabies, but I'm sorry, never a word exchanged? At all? That's impossible. How did you arrange their schedules or find out when to do the school run? Or talk about Michael and Jane's chicken pox infestation, or how Michael left his socks at rugby practice, or how Jane has a lactose intolerance, or what time she is getting back from work to attend the parents AGM?
Literally, not even possible. And frankly, what appalling levels of communication.

8) Your best mate is a chimney sweep. Let's talk about Dick van Dyke for a minute. I'm sure he's a lovely chap, and his delightful Cockney accent tickles the children pink, but it's a little bit odd isn't it? Especially in this day and age? The man needs to take a shower, for one, and for two, he just brings half of the East End's chimney sweepers around whenever he bloody feels like it so that they can dance on the roof of the house. I am not sure I approve. I have to assume you're also in some kind of sexual dalliance with the chap, which is your choice of course, but not on my watch.
9) You're just way too pretty. Nothing personal, but it's a woman thing. The nanny should never be prettier than than the matriarch. Don't want to tempt the husband and all that.
10)  I'm all for imaginative play, but it's scenes like the below that do make me believe that you might be doing loads of acid. With your lover.




Merely saying.

*Mostly because I can't afford her.