Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Thou shalt not covet thy daughter's doll

My daughter - my only daughter - was 1 this week.

Her carers at nursery have been telling me for the last month 'she wants a doll'. Apparently she is very maternal and screams when her dolls are taken away.

I thought she just liked cars and stress balls.

Anyway, if I was going to buy her a doll it was going to be special. So I got her a beautifully put together, quirky, completely delicious Moulin Roty ragdoll. Here she is:


AND NOW I WANT IT

But she’s 1 and you shouldn’t take toys from a baby.

But I think she really does prefer the stress ball.

 *puts doll in inside pocket of work coat and runs off*


Tuesday, 23 August 2011

Why isn't it cool to like Beyonce?

It may not be cool to like Beyonce, but surely you agree she's a decent role model for our daughters? See my post on In the Powder Room





Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Oh Shit! It's a girl!

"I'm having another baby and I'd just love it to be a boy!" I said.

I am already the proud owner of one well-balanced, non-climbing, sweet, attentive and 100% in-love-with-his-mummy boy. So for my second child, I'd like another please. Oh it's for practical reasons (I convinced myself). They'll be great friends and I won't have to buy new clothes and toys. A boy it is then. Sorted.

I didn't want to admit I was scared. That a girl would challenge my place as number one princess in this house of men. That she would question me, manipulate me, and worst of all, be much better dressed than me.

I'm a tomboy you see, a real Daddy's girl, much more at home drinking beer and watching sport than I am painting nails and decorating bedrooms. What could I possibly have to offer a girl? I can't teach her about fashion or wearing pink. I'd only embarrass her in front of her friends. She'd probably disown me as soon as she could talk.

And then I had one. Shit, it's a girl (and I said it aloud, to my husband and the midwife). But we haven't even got a name, I thought. And then I started to really think about it. A girl. What do I want her to be?

And I realised I wasn't scared, I was excited. I will bring her up to be brave. She'll be passionate, strong-willed, have a zest for life. I'll teach her to not to judge, treat everyone the same and never ever be bettered by men. This is my big chance, not just to be a supportive mum but also a great friend.

I'm still afraid of how she'll turn out and if she'll love me forever. I'm not afraid to admit that I still feel threatened by her very existence and I doubt I'm alone – am I?

But I'm happier than I've ever been. I'm addicted to her clothes and have embraced pink. I shower her with kisses. I even rented Beauty and the Beast. Because of all the Disney princesses, I want her to be Belle.

And I named her Eve, because she's my first lady.