London mum, aspiring writer and amateur illustrator. Hopes to navigate through motherhood without losing herself. More...
It all started rather harmless. When my friend Monique* handed me a tattered, pink paperback, I was a tad bit surprised by the cover. The photograph of a girl and a boy in a tight embrace, apparently joyful smooching away, made my cheeks burn with embarrassment. And desire. Desire to open the book and plunge right into the story of love, pre-pubertal lust and longing. Read the rest of this entry »
My dirty little secret
Stockholm always has a soothing effect on me. Surrounded by clean water and crisp air, decorated with beautiful buildings and healthy looking people who smile at you with their big, straight white teeth, beach blond hair waving in the wind – Sweden is reliably fulfilling its clichés.
Sweden gives me an instant holiday feeling. And it pleasantly reminds on the very beginnings of Big M’s and my relationship, when he was still living in the city on the waterfront. Fortunately, one of my best friends is still living there, giving me the best reason to go back again and again. Read the rest of this entry »
StockholmEvery time I picked up the phone to call my grandma during the past months, I dreaded that she’d fall asleep on the phone again, that she’d again confuse names, that her speech again was slurred and that again, I would feel her health and her spirits deteriorating. I found excuses not to visit her – after all it is an eight hours drive away. But you can’t avoid your demons forever.
I took the red-eye to Dusseldorf yesterday in the wee hours to get to my grandma’s care home in the morning. What I found was devastating. My grandma, the woman who has cared for her daughters her whole life long, who accommodated both my brothers in her home when my mother couldn’t have cared less, who gave literally everything, is alone, left in an environment unfamiliar to her, a filthy, hot and horrible room, and she is slowly and painfully dying.
Holding her hand yesterday, I couldn’t help but wish she would have died there and then. I know that this is an awful thing to think, but at least she wouldn’t have been so alone. 96 years of sacrifice for nothing?
I am so angry and unbelievably sad that my mother and her sister have taken everything when there was something to take and now don’t give back. At all. I would love to move my grandma to a home in London, but then she wouldn’t understand a word of what’s going on around her.
What shall I do? What shall I do? What shall I do???
The birthday battle field
Go shawty, it’s your birthday
We gonna party like it’s your birthday
We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday
And you know we don’t give a f***, it’s not your birthday
Well, darling Fiddy, it IS my birthday.
Adding to the chaos - the tiny birthday soldier
About three months after I handed in my complaint, I received a letter from the UCLH Trust Headquarters, telling me that they had completed the investigation and informing me about their findings. Without further ado, here is what they said: Read the rest of this entry »
Complaining against an NHS midwife… result!
The one and only child?
Already as a child I was sure about wanting to become a mother one day. I always had a very distinct wish to become pregnant, give birth, care and love for the fruit of my loins. Even if that would have meant sleeping with my gay best friend or buying some Papa Frost sperm.
Aged 32, I became pregnant with little L in June 2008 – surprisingly and against all odds. Despite my almost lifelong and very sincere wish to become a mother, I was scared, overjoyed and shocked in equal measures. My life was going to be turned upside down and round and round.
The most shocking bit: the sudden end to a lifelong longing for babies. Almost as sure about wanting to have a baby, I used to be sure about wanting to have at least two children. However, my urge to add to the world population has completely evaporated since little L was born. Read the rest of this entry »
The end of broodinessThe unthinkable happened. I have been asked to write something. And I have been paid for it. My first piece of paid writing in almost ten years. And my first ever piece of paid writing in English. Of course I am proud. Proud enough to have spent the cheque three times, to be exact.
An Isabelle Marant silk top, a pale pink double-row pearl necklace and a pair of leopard print Reiss sandals will remind me forever on this glorious stint into financial independence, honour and glory. Read the rest of this entry »
Occupation: Mum?!?And plenty of things have been going on…
There’s been lots of driving. Read the rest of this entry »
Four weeks in Saint-Tropez
Dear friends, mes amis, liebe Freunde. When you read this I will hopefully be on my way to the beautiful South of France. Big M had mercy with our frozen toes and sent little L and me to a place where the sun is a constant and reliable companion. Read the rest of this entry »
