22 Feb 2012
by Tamsinin Little Diva Tags: Cute Girl's Hair, Hair, School, Squidge
This was NOT the right hairdo to try on the third day. No. Uh uh. You see, it was 6am. I was tired. Squidge was demanding this hairstyle with a terrifying insistence and I was determined to get it right. Not a great combination…
You see, our strategy is simple. We amble on over to our favourite cute girl’s hairstyle websites, peek at the ones we like, see how long they take and then base our choice on that. If there is only 20 minutes before she has to leave for school, well, the more complex dos are abandoned.
Today we had plenty of time. Loads. You did see the 6am comment, right? I was sooooo grumpy. How I have a child that wakes at Stupid O’Clock when the mere idea of that makes my bones ache, is beyond me.
Anyway. This do had me redoing her hair over and over again. The twists wouldn’t hold, the bands stuck out and yada yada. Her hair is just a bit too fine and whispy for these hairstyles. On Adopt A Do (yes, them again. I heart her) the little girl’s hair looks amazing because her hair (I am guessing here) is a lot thicker than Squidge’s.
My hair was fine when I was little and now is like thick, floppy, frizzy, mane of !*(“&(!*&”. As you can see I have no resentment about my hair’s failure to look like a shampoo advert, ever. Noooo.
So, if your little one has thin, fine, curly, frizzy hair the trick here is to use spray (I used detangler and then hairspray) to get the hair nice and pliable and to use your fingers instead of the topsy tail tool. I can’t find one in the UK so I slip my fingers underneath (or over the top, depending on the look) and keep the elastic loose. It isn’t a great compromise, as you can see in the pic her bands are loose and not hidden by her hair. I’ve become far more adept at that now, though.
21 Feb 2012
by Tamsinin Little Diva Tags: Cute Girl's Hair, Hair, School, Squidge
The Corkscrew Twist
The second hairdo we went for, also courtesy of Adopt A Do, was another rather simple affair. It looks amazing, though, as if I spent hours on it! Actually, it was really easy to do and the instructions on the site are brilliant, she has a video for almost every hairstyle.
I really do recommend that you get see-through bands. In this hairstyle (and in some of the others coming up) you can see the black bands very clearly against her hair. I’m on the prowl for these at the moment so hopefully will find them at some point.
What you probably won’t believe is that most of the hairdos that Squidge and I tackle are in the 15-10 minute categories. While ours often take a bit longer (I’m just NOT as adept as my new found mentoress) and rarely look the same, we have SO much fun.
At first Squidge got really antsy. It does take ages to do things and she has to keep still, move her head, tilt this way and so on, and so forth. I discovered that by asking her advice and by giving her things to do while I did her hair, she would be an utter angel. She keeps so still! So why is this cute girls hairstyle a Corkscrew Twist with a Dash of Whine?
Well, firstly I couldn’t resist the alcohol reference and secondly, this was our second “do” and boy was there complaining about the brushing, the holding, the time it took, the colour of the hairband, and, and, and…
20 Feb 2012
by Tamsinin Little Diva Tags: Child, Cute Hairstyles, Hair, School, Squidge
Have you read The Hunger Games yet? Oh man, if you enjoy a fast paced, sci-fi-esque read, then this book should be in your paws right now. I didn’t want to read it, I thought it was too close to Battle Royale for it to be original, but I ended up eating my socks. Similar idea, completely different implementation with superb imagery.
So, for our first Little Diva post, we decided (Squidge and I) to do the hairstyle from the Hunger Games. I cannot claim credit for this, though. I have become a faithful follower of Adopt A Do and love this woman’s incredible talent. None of our hairstyles match hers but Squidge and I keep trying, one day ours will look as good!
We decided that we are going to try and do a funky, crazy, exciting hairstyle every school day for a year. Sometimes they will be repeated so we won’t show those, we will just show off the hairstyles that made it onto the school yard.
Our Katniss braid went the wrong way...
Some will come with instructions specifically suited to Squidge’s curly, fine hair. Others will simply direct you to the place where I was guided, expertly, by these amazing mums who create cute hairstyles for girls…
This particular hairstyle works really well with curly hair but I do advise you to spray it with a bit of water or detangler first. I use the Vosene detangler as it comes with built-in anti-nit stuff and it is really, really good at its job.
04 Oct 2011
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum Tags: Anniversary, Child, Husband, Mommy, School, School Run, Squidge
I have come to the conclusion that the School Run is not suited to a wedding anniversary. This is why…
7am: BLEEP BLEEP BLEEEP. The Husband’s built-in iPhone alarm wakes me up from a deep snore sleep. I realise I am still sick. I go back to sleep.
7:30am: Meep Meep Meep, WOOF. Meep Meep Meep WOOF. Squidge’s Animagic puppies (she got these for her birthday) are eeping at each other while she manages her doggy zoo on her bed. I place pillow over head. At this point the fact that it is a) our anniversary and b) my morning shift has not been remembered.
7:45am: “Mooooooommmeeeeee” The adorable voice howls, I mean, calls at me from the bottom of the stairs. I smell coffee. I rise, like a zombie (seriously, if you saw The Hair you would totally think I had been dragged out of a grave backwards) and head for the smell.
7:47 am: “Happy Anniversary darling,” says The Husband, looking annoyingly perky and talking to me before I have caffeine. I can get off on a technicality for that. He hands me a lovely card with blood on it, “Look,” he says, “I bled for you.” Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in my head. OH. My. Holy. Knickers. I have his card, but I haven’t written in it. I have his present, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I have his gift voucher, but I didn’t print it.
8am: I have shut the lounge door and am frantically writing in The Husband’s card. I pause for a moment to praise myself for its amusing joke involving the Kama Sutra. All the cards I buy him are rude. It’s important. I am also juggling a child who is not interested in remaining in the same room. She is like a cat. If the door is shut she has to go through it. I am trying to print Amazon voucher at the same time but screen faces kitchen and the door has glass panels so is blindingly obvious I have not prepared his present. The Husband is being rather sweet about pretending not to notice his Crap Wife.
8:01am: Fastest card writing and printing in the West. Duly handed over and I’m making French Toast for breakfast. We got some Manuka honey yesterday and, along with the Olbas oil tissues, the cough mixture, the Beechams, the honey and lemon tea, the rooibos tea and the echinacea it has been added to my “eff off you effing cold” armoury.
8:05am: Am frantically juggling hot spitty pan, temper is frazzling as coffee machine on a go slow and STILL no caffeine, and child has come into kitchen for the fourth time to argue about getting ready for school. “Mom, how am I supposed to get ready if I don’t have any school clothes to wear?” she asks. I snap. I pick her up and carry her into her room, dump her on floor, yank shirt, knickers, socks, and pinafore out of cupboard (all of which are in plain sight) while yelling (not REALLY yelling), “It is all here so stop coming up with excuses. WHY we have to go through this EVERY morning when *blah blah blah*”
8:15am: Sulky child sitting at table with French Toast. Husband glaring at Sulky Wife who knows she should not have gotten cross but is refusing to back down in spite of having now had some coffee. The Husband is also grumpy about being undermined by aforementioned wife when he weighed into Getting Dressed Argument. The Husband is tad sulky too. I attempt to lighten mood by going, “Ooooh, look, Manuka Honey!” The Husband responds with, “Bet it is just a marketing scam.” Child responds with, “It tastes funny! I don’t want it! Ack! Ack! It makes my throat burn.” I try to drown self in coffee mug.
8:25am: Child sits like angel while I brush her hair. She is, stubbornly, refusing to offer hugs and to make friends. She is a master manipulator and knows how to push her mother’s buttons. I am so pathetic.
8:30am: The Husband hurtles downstairs screaming, “TIME TO GO!!! We are late!!!” He insists Squidge goes as she is, sock-free, as she was told ages ago to get ready. He relents as he walks out the door, half carrying her and half putting her socks on. Silence reigns over the house.
8:55am: Email: Dear Husband, thank you for my lovely anniversary present. I love you. Not sure we should have our anniversary on a weekday anymore.
Reply: Well, quite.
15 Aug 2011
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum Tags: Husband, Mommy, School, Squidge
On Friday morning I was running around the house like a blue-arsed fly, trying to get all my ducks in a row before I went to meet up with other mums in the park. This whole “juggle a full time workload with a school holiday” thing is rather tough. I am so tired I may need a holiday off on my own when Squidge goes back to school. Am SUCH a lightweight…
ANYWAY
I am pootling this way and beetling that when I suddenly realise that I’ve failed to call my poor father in two weeks. “Shit,” I say, believing it to be a barely heard mutter. I should know by now that I am incapable of anything quiet. I was born without volume control…
Squidge looks up at me in horror.
“Mummy!” she says, “Did you just say ‘shit‘?”
I look at her guiltily.
She shakes her head and says, “Daddy is supposed to say that, not you.”
I am NOT kidding…
I laughed so hard I sneezed.
05 Aug 2011
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum, Fascinating Things Tags: Mommy, School, Squidge, The Naked Dream
Picture of hot naked men. There isn't a valid reason for including this.
I have spent my entire life listening to people talk about that dream. You know, the one where you are walking into work/school/family get together and suddenly realise that you are completely naked. You are horrified. You suddenly panic about your wibbly bits.
I have listened with rapt attention, riveted by the idea, wondering when I will get my turn.
Finally I have.
Although I wasn’t naked.
Instead my dream had me rushing Squidge and her best friend, G, to school. It was definitely a panic morning with mad dashes to get the lunchboxes packed, hair brushed, sun lotion on, clothes in decent array. We are running to school, late as late can be, and barrel into the playground where everyone gathers before the bell rings.
I am panting (both with relief and total unfitness), the kids are laughing and running behind me. We did it. We arrived on time. Suddenly I realise that all the other parents are staring at me. Some in wide-eyed horror, some with their hands over their mouths as they try not to laugh, others look away and cover their children’s eyes.
Why?
Because I have rocked up at school in my ancient tatty pyjamas that have holes in bad places and show off bits they definitely should not. My hair is in disarray (well, more so than usual) and I have slippers on my feet. I am completely and utterly mortified.
I woke up sweating. I was panting. I was DELIGHTED!
At last I have had the dream! YES!
P.S. Those PJs are no longer in use. They have become scruffy cloths and floor cleaners. Just so you know…
P.P.S Did you know that people do naked yoga? NAKED YOGA? I found this out while trying to find a funny pic to go with this post. NAKED YOGA?? Wtf
23 Apr 2011
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum, Parenthood Tags: Child, Husband, School, Squidge
When Squidge hit school I realised that it was time for me to broach the concept of The Sleepover. Now, I am hardly the fainting violet type but the entire idea put the fear of god into me. What if the other offspring cried for its parent? What if it was naughty and I made it cry? What if my child made it cry? What if it made my child cry? What if I lost it somewhere? Oh, dear heavens…
And, quite frankly, the horror stories from other parents hardly helped.
“Oh I had to take the other child home after a few hours,” said one mum, “She told my daughter that she hated her and that she wanted to go home.”
“The other child was so badly behaved and rude,” said another, “that I honestly cannot face her coming around ever again, not even for an afternoon.”
As you can see, the sleepover is a minefield peppered with social mores, high risk interactions, terror of error, and possibly parental alcoholism.
The Husband, obviously, didn’t see any of this. He merely shrugged and said, “It will be fine.”
Yeah. Right. He only comes home at 6pm. Bastard.
Luckily for me Squidge’s first sleepover (both the child coming here and her going there) set was a breeze. They enjoyed every minute and no tears or drama accompanied them.
Then came THIS holiday a.k.a. The Sleepover Week Of Doom.
I had been lulled into a false sense of security. I had been gulled. For the second round with another child was a highway littered with explosives.
It also started out alright. They played happily for an hour or two and then, THEN, began the pain. The other child (OC) went quiet. Ominously so.
“I am hungry,” she said, staring at me with the kind of face you see on an NSPCC ad. Oh god. It was 5:30pm and I hadn’t made supper yet. I’d been distracted by that dratted Kindle.
Immediately I raced into the kitchen to make my tried and trusted playdate favourite – homemade mini pizzas with sundried tomato paste, cheese, viennas, peppers and carrots. Delicious and faintly healthy.
I presented these to the kids with pride. I had salvaged my reputation. All would be well.
“This is,” said OC, “Disgusting.” My child, copying every mannerism of her guest, pushed her plate away too with the same expression of revulsion. (Traitorous creature, she loves these pizzas!)
Um. Shit?
It was at this point that I think I realised that my parenting skills were a bit crap. I tend to love people and want them to love me, a bit like a Labrador puppy. This is not a suitable characteristic for a parent. No. A parent must be firm and wise, must dispense authority with calm assurance. Must be patient and kind.
I am not these things. I am the panicked human who sidled desperately into the kitchen and stuffed a plate with breadsticks, wobbly cheese (Cheesestrings), grapes, and cold meat in an attempt to placate the OC.
It’s her eyes, I tell you. They bored straight through me and filled me with terror. She could smell my growing fear.
The offering was met with disinterest as was the movie, the games I suggested, and playing with Squidge.
Squidge, in the meantime, was retaliating to the fact that her friend considered her boring, by crying about everything and hunching into a grumpy ball at the end of the sofa. By the time The Husband got home I had my head in the drinks cabinet searching for a beverage that wouldn’t make me smell like a mad woman with a shopping trolley full of shoes.
The Husband casually took over with the aforementioned parental wisdom and calm that apparently has skipped my genetic structure altogether, and soon the two were asleep in bed. I was upstairs rocking back and forth with drool forming a rainbow to the floor.
The next morning was (BIG surpise) my morning shift so I was up with the two small humans at 6am. Yes, you read that correctly, SIX A.M. That is no normal time to be awake, unless you are about to travel to an exotic destination and need to be at the airport.
“I want my moooommy,” wailed OC, as I desperately tried to persuade her that the chocolate Wheetos were the same as Coc0 Pops and to stop Squidge from once again forming a ball-like huddle at the end of the sofa.
It was also when I discovered that fake tattoos (the ones you put on with a damp cloth and wash off after a bath) were the solution to all ills. With one flourish of a tattoo filled page smiles were returned to the faces of the two tots and I could once again return to worshipping my coffee mug.
While the rest of the sleepover was uneventful and painless I was struck with such sadness as to how the two children interacted. The OC is older than Squidge by a good six months and it shows. My little girl was born late July and is one of the youngest in her school. At a time when development can be measured in weeks, is this going to make her life harder? Would it have been better if she had been held back a year and been the oldest in her class? There are pluses and minuses for each decision but there is no going back now.
Still, it is hard to see other children boss her and roll their eyes at her because she isn’t at the same place as they are just yet. In fact it breaks my heart.
12 Apr 2011
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum Tags: Child, School, Squidge
It started out as any normal afternoon. I ambled up to the school in the brand new and warm sunshine to fetch my delectable offspring from the clutches of The System. After the rugby scrum style madness that is any after school collection, Squidge and I were walking home hand in hand.
“Mummy,” she says, her little face scrunched up in what I have come to recognise as deep thought, “Did you know that one day the universe is going to crack and that we are all going to die?”
I was uncertain as to my next move. There isn’t any handbook for this. Do I acknowledge that she is likely right and possibly instil in her the kind of fear that Obelix always had for the sky? Do I laugh manically and change the subject? I went with my first instinct which was to ask how on Earth she came up with this…
“Squidge,” I said, nervously, “Where did you get this idea from?”
“OH,” said she who amazes me, “G and I were talking about it today and WE think that if the universe cracks we are in a lot of trouble. Except the space men. They have special suits so they’ll be ok. Can we get special suits, mummy?”
I saw my opening and went for it. Happily avoiding the concept of mortality and how fragile our lives actually were I asked her which space men we were talking about. After about five minutes of lengthy discussion about space stations, designer pink space suits, and Doctor Who, she says…
“Look mummy, these are the different positions people die in.”
And she proceeded to put her arms and head and body in a variety of seriously disturbing positions.
Honestly, I have no idea what they teach them at school.
I think I need therapy. And a handbook.
12 Jan 2011
by Tamsinin Fascinating Things, Get Fit For Charity, Saffa Tags: Charity, Child, Exercise, Get Fit For Charity, Husband, Saffa, School
Photo stolen from The Husband
As you all know I started a Get Fit For Charity theme last year which, sadly, fell by the wayside as the month in South Africa, illness and work overload put it to the side. I’m not very good at exercising and dieting when I’m tired and under pressure so I failed to raise a cent for LearnAsOne.
However, a few months ago I had an extraordinary experience that defined 2010 for me – a woman working for a company I used to work for, contacted me via Facebook and told me that the aforementioned company owed me money. This was due to some law that was passed in SA and I ended up with an unexpected windfall of R24,000. A lot of money!
I swore that a portion of this money was to go to a charity. But I didn’t want to just donate to an organisation, I wanted to see my money actively change a life. So, I gave the money to The Husband as he was venturing back to Zambia and to the LearnAsOne project, and I asked him to give it to the school.
After buying some shoes for the kids, he also ended up donating the remaining money towards building and maintaining a nursery on the land. I honestly could not have asked for a more amazing investment. What an utter honour and privilege to be able to change young lives. It is incredible.
You can read the whole story on The Husbands blog, he reveals the ins and outs of the nursery and how it came about.
If you would like to help me keep this nursery going and these children educated, then please do donate to LearnAsOne. It doesn’t matter how much you donate, it really doesnn’t. Every teeny bit helps. The nursery is a part of the school project so any money donated will ensure that these kids keep on learning.
22 Nov 2010
by Tamsinin Bedraggled Mum, Review Tags: Exercise, Face, Free, Husband, Review, School, South Africa, Squidge
I did. It was all inspired by the post entitled “My Face Fell Off“. Someone from the Modern Herbals offices got in touch with me and recommended I try out their Syno-Vital Hyaluronan product which is made from….the same stuff that you find in the vitreous humor of the eye. Awesome.
Eye- juice. How could I resist?
The box arrived all nice and shiny and I whipped it open to find lots of little silver packages lurking inside. I was instructed to rip off the top, tip the contents into some water, and chug it down. All before food!
Now, I am rubbish at remembering to take pills of any kind. You should see how crap I am at remembering my echinacea so I don’t get sick in SA. I had to put these guys right next to the bread bin so that I wouldn’t miss them when I went to make breakfast every morning.
It actually worked! I took the sachets every single day for 30 days. The taste was, ahem, unusual. It’s an almost faintly salty, flat flavour that doesn’t offend the palate but does kind of make you feel like you really are drinking eye-juice.
So what is it? Hyaluronic Acid is a natural part of the body found in the joints for lubrication and it binds 1000 times its weight in water, making it the ultimate natural moisturiser and nutrient carrier. Oooh.
As we age our bodies produce less of the stuff (stupid aging) so theoretically if you use this every day you will be keeping your body nice and moisturised and your nutrients will be wonderfully transported.
This particular product is made from premium grade Hyaluronan with a molecular weight of between 2.1 and 2.5 million Daltons. Sadly this is NOT Timothy Daltons. Not even in his heyday. Sorry. I still don’t know what a Dalton is but it looks important here and these guys apparently have far more Daltons than some competing brands.
At first I didn’t notice a difference at all. And I honestly did peer into the mirror a lot, an experience I don’t particularly relish anymore.
It was a hellish month – these 30 days that I took the product – with The Husband and I getting about 4-5 hours sleep a night. Squidge was struggling to settle into school and had bizarre sleep patterns, we were both manic with ridiculous amounts of work, and I started my diet (that hasn’t been going to well. Am very ashamed. More on that tomorrow).
Needless to say, the Syno-Vital had one montrous task ahead of it. I monitored my skin and I have to say that, in spite of no sleep and lots of work, I wasn’t looking as haggard as I usually do after a month like this. It looks like this stuff really works. I’d be interested to know how well it would do when I am well rested! So I have plans to buy a box for South Africa holiday and do another check.
I waited for another three weeks after the product finished to see if my skin reflected any changes. Again, it was a tough few weeks with me getting about 3-5 hours sleep a night and, let me tell you, this was a period of definite Face Falling Off.
As I am not a scientist I can’t say that I discovered any miracle results as my tests were not entirely scientific in nature. However, I can say that a month ON the sachets vs. three weeks OFF the sachets shows a difference. Not a massive difference, I only took it for 30 days, but a difference nonetheless.
Considering the cost of creams and other such things, I am inclined to make this my new beauty regime treat. I like the fact that it does more than just make me “appear” younger, that it also promotes health and well being. I didn’t get a cold while I was taking it, but am suffering from a monster one today.
Connected? Maybe…
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