The New Wet Patch

Most mornings, my colleagues and I who have kids have the "how was night" conversation. It is characterised by both jocularity and a certain amount of one-upmanship.

P: Morning all. I'm shattered. Bloody kid woke me at 5am.

B: That's nothing. Suzy weed in our bed and we all had to decant to the kids' bunk beds.

Me: Aah, kid's urine in your bed. The new wet patch. (Howls of laughter from entire office). That's nothing. Mine poohed in our bed last night. Lucky it was firm and his Spider-Man pyjamas held it in.

The new wet patch. I think that says it all. Everything changes when you become a parent. Everything is now relative to the fact that you have children. Some of it is great. Some of it is quite simply tragic. Trying to sleep with your feet in cold kid's wee is tragic. More tragic though is the fact that that as long as your kid is in your bed, that's the only wet patch you're gonna experience.

I have recently made another change and returned to work full time. I wasn't managing trying to be a mum in the afternoons whilst I had clients calling me up on the phone. I know women are supposed to be able to multi-task but I just couldn't deal with a language challenged (can't say mum yet) but certainly not vocally challenged (instead of talking she screams long high and loud) 18 month-old daughter, a four year old son who simply had to show me how his parasaurolophus could hang from his pirate ship, AND offer my client considered advice on their current crisis. Dear client, I often wanted to shriek, I am having my own crisis. It may not be costing me millions, but it may well cost me my sanity.

So sanity now prevails in my home. It's not easy. I feel guilty a lot about how much time I spend with my kids but they seem to be adjusting just fabulously. Now we just have to make some changes to our current sleeping arrangements and ensure the wet patch is the one we all remember from before we had kids.

The Mother's Christmas Wish List

There is a very clever very funny woman on the web down here. Her name is Sam Wilson and she edits www.women24.com. I have laughed at everything she has ever written. Her latest missive - The Mother's Christmas Wish List had me cackling - see below.

It is that time of year again, when we mothers pull out our best 'oh, you shouldn't have!' smiles and glue then on our faces while we unwrap yet another round of bath bubbles, cheap perfume, and indescribably ugly clay things handed to us by our nearest and dearest.

And I am not even talking about the ridiculous gifts we get from our children.

Well, not this year. This year, I am writing a list of all the things a mother really wants and I am sticking it on the fridge. Hell, and as my Christmas present to other mothers, I will stick it on the pre-school notice board as well.

The thing is, even though I am a mother, I still like nice stuff. You know, lovely things a la Absolutely Fabulous that come in happy, glossy spreads on magazine pages – things like exotic handbags, interestingly pointy shoes, perfectly designed and deceptively heavy little bowls for holding, well, nothing... you know the kind of stuff I mean.

There is this horrid idea that once you become a mother, all your heart now desires is gift-wrapped up with your child and your new role as Mom.

We all know this isn't true, so the first caveat to any mother's Christmas wish list would be that those around us remember that we are still, well, open for business on the general gift front.
That said of course, there are some gift ideas which are a little more mother specific. Here are a few, some large and some not so large...

• A bigger bed. I don't care what size you already have, if you have children, it isn't big enough.
• Knock out drops that actually work. Preferably with 'Homeopathic' emblazoned in huge letters on the side, to sidestep that nasty guilt issue.
• And when I say work, I don't mean make your kid woozy enough to start knocking into furniture, I mean actually make them sleep an eight-hour stretch with one application.
• A totally waterproof, completely indestructible portable phone. If it can't survive a night in the toilet, it doesn't count.
• A truly sexy nightie, that is clingy enough to make you feel good, without, god forbid, actually being clingy. And (this is the tricky bit) in a breast-milk resistant fabric that can be machine-washed. Black is good.
• A weekend for two in a nice quiet B & B, far from home. Enough with the promises... I want confirmed reservations accompanied by written and notarised commitments from properly vetted babysitters.
• A day pass to the movies, for one, with all the popcorn money manageable. (Remember the MOVIES? Remember being ALONE?)
• A fabulous full body massage. Preferably from someone who doesn't have small, sticky hands.
• A deadbolt for the bathroom door.
  A small laminated list of phone numbers. Not doctors and stuff... but the other important ones: a birthday cake woman who delivers for example, or a fancy dress person who can sew a hump a jumpsuit overnight (what is it with preschools and their complicated concerts? Anyone out there these days who can sew well enough to make a CAMEL costume? I ask you.)
• An Internet grocery-shopping list, already laboriously entered into your computer, covering all the basics, so that you can just press 'bing', and get the whole lot delivered.
• A useful wodge of boarding school brochures, which can be used not only as light, escapist reading of an evening, but can also (if you kids are a little older) be scattered around the home in a pleasingly little people behaviour-enhancing way.
• A huge stack of the latest and greatest novels. I don't care if I don't have time to read them now, I just want to know that other people also believe that I can and will... in the not too distant future.
• Seriously good jewellery. I have built other people, almost completely by myself... and as such, have garnered the brownie points required for some really fabulous shiny stuff.
• A Government Proclamation banning the practice of barricading all supermarket checkouts with sweets.
• And lastly, a better bottle of Scotch. I don't care what kind of scotch you are drinking now, if you are a mother, it isn’t good enough.

Happy Christmas Sam - I hope your wishes come true.