Mummy on the Edge, Jan/ Feb 09

Mini-me goes historical while her mother is simply hysterical.

Mini-Me’s specialist subject may turn out to be History. Her class has been studying The Great Fire of London and she has, more than once, at various random times - but never when actually asked - recounted the whole story, from where and how it started, to its eventual containment. In her classroom, I read first-person imagined accounts of the Fire. I was not a little freaked out. All the “crackles” and “screams” and “smoke”. Can our little 7 year olds cope with all that? Evidently, yes. Can I? Nope.

Year 2 also went on an exciting expedition to the Florence Nightingale Museum, opposite the Houses of Parliament (- so far away from home!) where an actress playing the lady herself answered questions and brought the whole period to life. Mini-Me was ill at home the following week, so during one of her paracetamolic highs, I made her write a report (being evil Mummy on the edge) on her trip using a sunshine diagram. Looks more like a spider, with the main theme in the blobby middle bit, and any disparate details she could remember scrawled around it like legs. Genius idea, I have to say. Here is the resulting closing paragraph: “We saw pictures of soldiers being dragged to a hospital on a hill that was 3D. I loved it because we had fun!”

One recent TV news item featured the story of a woman who came to this country from Germany as child evacuee during World War 2 and it made me sob hysterically over my lunch as she described how she waved goodbye to her mother and father from the train alongside so many other little children, watching their parents getting smaller and smaller as they waved their handkerchiefs; not knowing then that she would never ever see them again. Even now, as I close my eyes and imagine living through the horror of that situation, it makes my stomach lurch and my heart hurt, and I feel like running upstairs and planting yet another goodnight kiss on Mini-me’s forehead while she sleeps. The subject of the interview never forgot how difficult it was growing up in an alien environment and her unique perspective has brought her to work with non-English speaking children of families who have sought asylum in Brent. That made me cry, even when I was telling Mini-Me about it.

TV’s “Evacuees Reunited”, all about the children evacuated from South East England (not really knowing why or what was going on) and the effect it had on their later lives, was also extremely moving and heart wrenching. I have saved it on my freeview box to watch with Mini-Me in the next few weeks. Hopefully, I won’t sob again having prepared myself. If you missed it, you can catch it online until the second week of January on www.itv.com/catchup. It’s a source of first-hand accounts and feelings that brings this relatively recent history alive for our kids and somehow I think it will help Mini-Me when she comes to learn about this period at school.

This next couple of months we plan to explore the local museum scene. There is so much quality stuff a stone’s throw (or a 20 minute car ride) away. There are few sights as fascinating as looking at photograph of an area you know well taken decades and decades and even a century ago, but that simply scrapes the surface of what’s available to our info-hungry Minis.

Following our historical/ hysterical theme, the 1940’s house based in the Lincolnsfield Centre, in Bushey (www.fortiesexperience.co.uk), is our first stop. Not only is it perfectly furnished in painstaking period detail, but they also feature re-enactors to animate what life was really like at that time. We are looking forward to discovering 40s food, toys, and even the fearsome sound of air raid sirens! Check the website for details on The Forties Family Experience Weekend in April – it looks like good fun.

The RAF Museum in Colindale puts a spin on the usual smaltz we are bombarded with at Valentine’s Day by focusing on love letters sent between soldiers and their sweethearts during WW2. I’m expecting a mix of tragic and uplifting stories. There are make and do activities for kids to tie in with the exhibition.

Don’t worry, I’ll bring extra tissues.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge Families NW Magazine Nov/Dec 2008

November/ December 08

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina and Mini-Me are seasonally confused and spiritually renewed.

Something is weird in the state of Angelina and it pleases me to blame the Large Hadron Collider.

We’ve obviously all jumped to a parallel universe. I began sleeping in a thick woollen cardigan in August so by now it’s actually springtime in my head. Therefore I have been gripped with a new-found zeal for cleanliness and have been industriously nuking my sponges in the microwave, scanning the fridge for any whiff-emitting pathogens and devising mnemonics to help Mini-Me avoid the fate of turning out just like her mother. The latest? ABCDE. This is to help her keep her room tidy and I’m pleased to report that it has worked. “No way!!” I hear you cry. Way. We tell our children to go tidy their rooms – but they don’t know how. It is a mammoth task and it is overwhelming when you don’t know where to begin – especially if you are small and have lots of Stuff. So, this is how it goes: A- Animals (cuddly toys), B-Books and make Bed, C-Clothes, D-Dust – E-Everything Else! (Okay, I got sidetracked with an article on Sarah Palin by the time I got to E – those maverick hockey mums, dontcha jus’ love ‘em). I explained this method, Mini-Me executed it 3 days in a row and then the House Fairy paid her a visit leaving a note and a shiny blue hoola hoop on her bed! Such a bedimpled grin you never did see! “Thank you for buying me a hoola hoop, Mummy!” “Me??” “House Fairy can’t go shopping, Mummy, she’s a fairy!” Duh!

If you want to do it properly, go to www.housefairy.org. I’m just improvising but I intend on subscribing soon. Just waiting for these couple of months to pass until it’s the Summer Holidays again. Doh! I also got hold of some proper ostrich-feather dusters in me and Mini-Me sizes and they actually work and make dusting fun. Yes, really! We dust and then shake them outside to release the dust. For Mini-Me’s added amusement I favour singing the head-banging bit from Bohemian Rhapsody while doing this; it’s really very effective. (For stockists visit www.ofdc.co.uk)

So I have yet to think of something memorable for myself to keep the place tidy and anyway, the alphabet is not long enough for my list of things to do. See, the aim every year has been to Clean And Tidy My House And My Accounts Before Diwali which is traditionally a time when you invite the Goddess of prosperity into your pristine home for a Hindu high-five in recognition of your salutary efforts. My own efforts appear to have solicited simply a single finger rather than a whole hand and I wasn’t sure I could do any better this year. I needed extra credit; spiritual insurance if you will.

So I packaged Mini-Me in her Sai School of Harrow uniform and dispatched her onto the stage of Trafalgar Square no less, to participate in the Mayor of London’s Diwali Celebration in front of squillions of people. This free Saturday school (www.saischool.com) staffed entirely by volunteers, serves 550 children and promotes values such as truth, non-violence, right conduct, love and peace as well as an appreciation and respect of all faiths. Its pupils are a yearly feature at the Diwali Celebrations in Trafalgar Square and its students have won many accolades and even performed in front of her Maj the Queen herself! Initially, Mini-Me was unsure about the prospect of standing on a stage in front of a thronging crowd singing a Diwali song. But I had spent 5 Saturdays watching the endearingly shambolic rehearsals and the morning of the performance I had played the cd of the song her group was going to perform 20 times (I am still singing it as I write this!) I had also fleetingly daydreamed about posting pictures on Facebook of her sharing a joke with Boris Johnson. As we approached the artiste’s entrance to the stage which was located beneath Nelson’s Column, Mini-Me looked skyward, eyebrows knitted, and made her warbling oo-er noises. I assured her that Nelson’s Column was not wobbling as she thought it was, it was just the clouds flying past really fast because they were excited. In the end, all it took was a minor mishap to dispel nerves and induce fitfull giggle-singing, with a prop falling to the floor in the middle of the performance. All was well and I leeched some spiritual credit from Mini-Me.

High-Five and Merry Christmas! I’m off to dust the baubles to the tune of St Elmo’s Fire.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge. Families NW Magazine Sep/ Oct 2008

September/ October 08

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina and Mini-Me get green-fingered.

The job of preventing six-year-old Mini-Me from picking up my environmental and financial neuroses is getting increasingly trickier. She is, after all, actually a mini version of me and when I was her age I was very seriously worried about the ice-age that was about to envelope our planet. I had become aware of this impending doom after viewing an adult documentary thanks to complete non-vetting of television viewing by my parents. (Don’t ask about the long-term effects of watching the Nostradamus predictions when I was 9 – that man has a whole childhood of anxiety to answer for!) Nowadays, in the media, it is virtually impossible to avoid the vacuous and lazy discussions tenuously linked to the “Credit Crunch”. “What’s that, mummy?” “It’s a brand new cereal filled with a tasty blend of oatflakes hazelnuts and sultanas,” I answer without batting an eyelid. “Are you being sarcastic, mummy?” “Yes, Darling”.

So, in the shadow of global ecological disaster and the energy crisis, and cowering under my overdraft (all fun and games isn’t it?) I have morphed into some sort of Noughties’ single-parent version of Barbara Goode. No, I’m not keeping pigs in the shed (yet). Mini-Me and I went to Jacques Amand Nurseries in Clamp Hill, Stanmore. They support the Shaw Trust (a national charity that provides training and work opportunities for disadvantaged people) so you find that many of the plants on site have been planted and looked after by someone who has really needed the opportunity to learn a new skill and achieve something. They also have really good sales periodically and all the bulbs etc are provided by Jacques Amand who are world-renowned bulb specialists. (call The Shaw Trust at Clamp Hill Nursery on 020 8954 4287 to find out when the next sale is). Overladen, staggering to and from the car to the house like some gold-sandaled tree nymph, Mini-Me helped me carry armfuls of tomato, hostas and bedding plants, then helped me fill our hanging baskets. At time of writing, they are not quite the dizzying cascade of vivid hues that I promised her. But they will do.

We also picked up many cheap packets of seeds from Lidl - where they are cheap-cheap-cheap but it is perhaps a false economy because I haven’t yet curbed my addiction to purchasing random items of pseudo-usefulness (example: over-door hooks that fit not one door in my house). There’s little I can think of that’s more joyful to a six year old (apart from an “Intendo DS”, of course) than the sight of little green shoots pointing up from seemingly barren soil after plonking some seeds in and forgetting about them. Especially when she has been reading Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden” (highly recommended). As well as tomatoes, we planted cucumber, courgettes, onions, beans and broccoli and I’m sure it’s the wrong time for most of them but hopefully there will be some sort of baby vegetable to slap between two slices of bread before too long. After we had planted everything, Mini-Me getting really excited and mucky, I found this website, thegardenerscalendar.co.uk which details what you should be doing in the garden at any given time of the year. It appears that it’s never too late to start your own little pot or patch of flowers and edibles and right now is great for sowing spring bulbs, some types of oriental leaves, garlic and onions.

It’s September already but hopefully, we still have some late autumnal days of sunshiney enjoyment left, surveying the fruits of our haphazard labour, as we breakfast on our lovely teak patio dining set, (bought for £20 second-hand via the net – worra satisfying bargain). We pretend we are on holiday beneath the red parasol, ignoring the sound of next door’s rotweiller snarling at us from the other side of the fence (peace be with them). And then we gather our towels (Mini-Me’s book bag) and take a leisurely stroll to the beach (walk to school). This term, in another attempt to help save the world and get fit at the same time, I have vowed to drag Mini-Me up the hill by walk when possible. Mini-Me is inspired by the beautiful gardens of the bungalows along our route and I tell her the elderly have so much time for watering and weeding.

Well, it’s time for this latter-day Barbara Goode (-no Tom in sight, unfortunately -) to pour herself a satisfying bowl of Credit Crunch and plan her own Harvest Festival. Happy sowing.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge Families NW Magazine July August 2008

July August 08

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina Melwani and Mini-Me find themselves inside a figurative box of choccies and set their own boot sale challenge.

Each production at the The Little Angel Puppet Theatre is like a small box of exquisite, handmade chocolates that, once you start munching, you do not want to end. The theatre is so dark, intimate and bijou that it actually feels as though you are inside a box of chocolates! The tiered seats allow you to see how detailed and lovingly crafted the set and props are. Recently, we visited the LAPT to watch their interpretation of The Elves and the Shoemaker which is Mini-Me’s favourite fairy tale (probably because she sympathises with the impoverished Shoemaker as I’m always telling her “No, we can’t afford that!” - whatever it is). The superbly earnest and enthusiastic shoemaker acted and sweated his way through the entire hour and a half single-handedly (- well two-handedly) controlling 4 puppets plus an audience full of participating children whilst, at one point simultaneously playing about 3 musical instruments! And I thought men couldn’t multi-task… Mini-Me is still singing “Cobbler, Cobbler Mend my Shoe” word-perfectly which is great for her tightwad mother because it’s reinforcing the concept of fixing old stuff.

After the puppets, we walked down Essex Road to Giraffe, a chain restaurant whose motto is Love, Eat, Live. (Synergistic with my own: Eat, Eat, Eat.) We ate rubbery, expensive food that, heartbreakingly, I could have prepared at home for a fraction of the price (I’m such an Indian). But I’m not giving the place enough credit; the ambience inside was good and the world music truly uplifting; to the point where we barely noticed we were sitting opposite a dingy block of council flats, nor the drunken vagrants staggering past the window, waving. Mini-Me also will now never forget how to spell “giraffe”.

We ventured further, investigating the chi-chi boutiques and market stalls of Camden passage and surrounding area which looked as though someone had taken the entire contents of my mother’s, sisters’ and my wardrobes, jewellery boxes and toy chests from birth to ooh, about five years ago and transported them to these streets. It was delightfully sick-making! When we entered a shop selling period clothing from the Victorian (I think) age, it made my tummy go a little more funny and I’m not sure if it was because of the thought of real people going about their business wearing these very clothes or the stress of having to remind Mini-Me that it was okay to Look but not to Touch. After all, if something gets damaged we would have to pay for it and, as I’ve said before, “No, we can’t afford that!” Hmm. Note to self: Apply for next series of Dragon’s Den with child-sized straightjackets idea – perfect for chi-chi shopping.

***

How does that old song go? If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with, right? Well, unfortunately, it’s looking decreasingly likely that we’ll be moving into my 3-floor dream house in Maida Vale so we have entrenched ourselves in the house that we had previously decided to sell and decided to make more of an effort to love it. Yes, it is less tidy now that people aren’t coming to inspect it at random times of the day but Mini-Me and I are continuing with the disposal of Stuff at a steady rate and we will soon have enough of a pile to do another Car Boot Sale. The last one I did was scary and stressful in a netherworldly, parallel universe kind of way. Think pitch black, bleak mid-winter; 5.30 in the morning; strange alien-like beings with torches crowding around; interrogating you and fighting over stuff that you have not yet unloaded from your car as you riverdance in your wellies to keep warm. Anyway, I am cannier now. I recorded about 15 different Antique-Boot-Sale-Challenge-Anneka- type programmes and forced Mini-Me to take notes (good handwriting practise) while watching them with me. So, after the last boot sale debacle, I am prepared and will never again make the mistake of not having a table to display my wares on, not having decided prices and answering probing questions like, “What is?” and “How much?” with a panicked, “I don’t know, I’ve got a headache!!” Also, it’s Summer, man. I can take the child with me and her cute face will surely help me shift our stuff. If not, I can always poke her with a used curtain rod and make her riverdance.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge - Families Mag May/June 2008

May June 08

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina Melwani treads the boards and discovers Newton’s 2^nd Law.

It’s been a very busy few months for our household of two. Two weeks before my end of term and the performances of the musical I had been rehearsing for the past year or so, I lost my voice. Completely. I resorted to using a whistle to grab Mini-Me’s attention. “WHOOOOOOO!!!!! Breakfast time. WHOOOOOOO!!!! Brush your teeth WHOOOOOO!!! Pick up these books right now please.” In the absence of the ability to raise my voice, I raised my eyebrows and sometimes Mini-Me’s hair, when my eyes popped out of their sockets; I tell you, the non-verbal communication I’m always preaching to my Sing and Sign mummies and daddies reached whole new level. As did the fatigue of daily teaching, evening rehearsals and high-anxiety nights. Muteness gave way to Mariella Frostrup-like huskiness and the full use of my vocal chords eventually prevailed.

Mini-Me was insistent about coming to watch her mother on stage but the performance was very long and very late. So I took her to Willow’s Farm in St Albans in the mistaken belief that it would tire her out enough for her to want a late afternoon nap. We saw lazy piglets, little lambs, baby hamsters and fluffy chicklets. We participated in the external Easter Bunny Hunt in the freezing and biting wind and watched in disbelief as nutty parents allowed their children to dip their hands get wet, panning for gold. When my ears, nose and fingers had completely lost all sensation (Mini-me was warmly mummified), we took cover in the arena to watch a show where a woman with a West Country accent animated some farm animal puppets with her hand and made every one sing (apart from me). I wasn’t really concentrating because I was watching the flapping tent-like roof and cosmically ordering it to stay attached to the building. We ate an adequate lunch in the café and I let her run around in “Woolly Jumpers”, Willow Farm’s Piccadilly Circus-like soft play area, while I downed a coffee and watched those brave enough to freefall down the vertical slide. By the time we came back home, it was time for me to leave, utterly knackered, for the theatre. Mini-me did not actually have a nap in the end which meant that the trip to Willow’s Farm had totally defeated its purpose. The feat of staying up till 11 without grumpiness was therefore even more miraculous! Mini-me told me the next day, “Mummy when I saw you singing on stage I had happy tears.” And that gave me happy tears, too. Although treading the boards felt more like walking the plank, I wanted to do it to inspire Mini-me and make her proud of her mum. I think it worked.

***

On a rare, mild day, we ventured to the Science Museum (3 six-year olds and 2 grown-ups) to experience the recently re-vamped Launch Pad. The website’s suggested 60 minutes wasn’t enough at all. Like a camel, carrying my banana-laden handbag, 2 kiddie backpacks, 2 puffy coats, my coat and a plastic bag full of drinks and sandwiches, I marshalled them from exhibit to exhibit, methodically trying to explain how, why and what we were looking at. All the while our charges spun wheels, pressed buttons, picked up lentils from the floor of the pulley demonstration and stuffed them in their pockets, waved their hands in front of heat-sensitive cameras and vied over giant bubble wands, not listening to me AT ALL. I gave myself a headache trying to get them to imbibe some knowledge to accompany all these experiences and it felt as futile as trying to stuff a tissue into a drinking straw. That was a lesson for me and giving up (which I did, about half an hour in) was the right thing to do. After all, the whole point of the Launch Pad is to get kids involved with science, enjoy it, have fun with it and encourage them to question it; not necessarily there and then, but somewhere and at some point. We watched a twenty minute show about rockets led by a dryly comical “Explainer” (that’s what the staff are called) who exploded a tube of Pringles and dabbled with a naked flame. Exciting stuff. I whispered the answers to the questions to the children and poked them to raise their hands and answer; and volunteered to be pushed on a wheeled chair to demonstrate Newton’s 2^nd Law. The things I do for Mini-Me and her friends. What’s Newton’s 2^nd Law, I hear you ask. I’m not going to tell you, you’ll have to whiz down to Kensington with your own Mini-yous and find out yourself.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge - Families Magazine March / April 2008

March April 08

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina Melwani goes head to head with Mary Poppins

I took Mini-Me to Lauderdale House set in the exquisite gardens of Waterlow Park in super-aspirational Highgate (perhaps I could afford a box-room there if I sold my house) to experience a Family Cabaret with well-known modern poet John Hegley who, in his inimitably grumpy-funny way played guitar and performed his rib-tickling poems about glasses which were so amusing that I actually regretted wearing my contact lenses. It’s quite uplifting to get away to a new area sometimes and I felt quite at ease dressed in my latest donation from Best Friend Fashion Buyer – a brown kimono-sleeved tunic which usually makes me feel like a medieval peasant girl when I wear it in Bushey. Yes, the bohemian air suited us and the atmosphere was wonderful but I have to admit it can still be a bit lonely when there are just two of you. For example, mini-me barely batted an eyelid when I whispered excitedly, “Look, look, that’s Mckenzie Crook in the audience!”

**

It seems Mini-Me cannot handle much scariness in the cinema. Happy Feet? Frightening. Mr Bean? Buried her face in my shoulder when he left his wallet at a phone box. “Ooh, mummy, I can’t watch this,” she warbled.

One movie she recently enjoyed on the telly is Mary Poppins, “Mummy, I LOVE Mary Poppins”. She said this so earnestly, with such passion and enthusiasm that I almost felt jealous. I took to singing songs in a semi-operatic way while loading the dishwasher, and saying “Come on, spit spot” instead of “WILL you hurry up and get your coat on for gawds sake!?” I asked her if she thought I was a bit like Mary Poppins and she said “No, but Mummy I would love to have Mary Poppins on DVD for my birthday”. So I went online and ordered it from Asda because it was the only thing she had asked me for. Whilst I was at it, I also ordered the Singalong version of the Sound of Music, and as a special treat for myself for being such a good mother (more Edina Monsoon – without mood enhancers - than Joan Crawford, anyway) the Amy Winehouse deluxe double CD.

Wouldn’t you know it, everything came before her birthday except Mary Poppins which arrived exactly two weeks after. Luckily I hadn’t mentioned it so it was a huge source of post-birthday delight when it finally came. In the mean time, the Sound of Music provided an equally gratifying way to spend 2 hours (I am definitely Maria) and I’ll be looking into booking theatre tickets for that show during the August kids week when selected West End shows offer a kids go free promotion (www.kidsweek.co.uk).

So old really is gold but there’s plenty of new stuff out this Easter to keep ‘em entertained. I need to plan an itinerary of rewardage for Mini-Me’s patience as I have somehow got myself involved in a musical myself and she has been helping me learn my lines and songs. She’s too good at reading all the other parts and is turning into a nightmare of a stage daughter. It’s quite terrifying hearing a six year old say, “Mummy, you haven’t practiced for a LONG TIME; you need to do your song EVERY DAY otherwise you’ll FORGET EVERYTHING” and most unnervingly hearing her provide cues like “Please, let me get you a drink”. I think I will definitely need one, when the performances are over - and I’m not talking Innocent Smoothie.

So, we’ll do movies (Horton Hears a Who looks like a good bet if I can manage to extract Mini-Me’s face from my cardigan for long enough). Many cinemas lay on special activities at the weekend kids shows. At the moment Mini-me loves Lazy Town so we’ll try to catch the live show at the Hackney Empire 9^th & 10^th April. Ha! That’ll put me waaaay ahead of Mary Poppins. And we can’t forget the obligatory Easter-themed festivities. Beautiful Kenwood House in Hampstead has an Easter Trail (www.english-heritage.org.uk) and yey! it’s £1 per child! And Lauderdale house, is holding an Eggstravaganza on Easter Sunday at 11am (www.lauderdalehouse.co.uk). Although, to be honest I have a feeling I’ll just about manage to stagger to the Egg Hunt at King George Recreation Ground, Bushey around the corner from where we live.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing classes in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge Families Magazine Jan/ Feb 2008

Mummy waaaaay back from the edge, positively inland.

Angelina Melwani visits the volcanic island of Lanzarote in search of some fun in the sun for Mini-Me… and finds a skill she thought she had lost forever.

What a difference a week of winter sun makes to someone who had resigned herself to never going on holiday until and unless she won one in a competition (thus negating the need to pay for it; the agonising over where to go; and the burden of being blamed should it turn out to be disastrous.)

We were in dire need of a proper break in the sun away from it all. (“It” being a euphemism for so many things, impossible to list within the confines of this column. Just think about your own worst “its” and substitute them.) The truth is, this need had been waxing for about a year, reaching an apex in the middle of our sopping summer, when it seemed every one Mini-Me and I knew was buggering off to climes hotter and more exotic than Bushey. She would come home from school sometimes sullen after her little pals had spent the entire duration of wet play regaling her with magical tales of sun, fun and kiddi-clubs.

“Mummy, one day I would like to go to Mooltah and Disneyworld and Doob-eyed.”

So, for many nights after tucking her into bed (when I should have been doing Sing and Sign admin or writing this column), I would trawl the web until the early hours, drooling over last minute offers, fingers hovering over but never quite hitting the “book now” button. I became quite doob-eyed! This went on for months until my holiday-booking and decision-making muscles were verily flexed and toned. I investigated where would be hot (The Canaries) and I looked on www.tripadvisor.co.uk (where you can read real reviews by real people) for a hotel recommended for children. I decided on H10 Lanzarote Gardens in Costa Teguise which had won an award for family-friendliness (I hoped it included single-parent family friendliness). And then I booked it! Justlikethat. I prepared a treasure hunt of rhyming clues for Mini-Me and trailed them about the house (in the washing machine and under the bathroom mat) ending at our packed suitcase which had been hiding in my bedroom for 2 days. (I had thus far managed to keep her out by telling her I had seen a huge spider in there). And then we left on our big adventure, just she (superb company, I have to say) and I.

Mini-Me spent the first few minutes of the four-hour plane journey to Lanzarote asking if we were there yet until I told her that the more she asked, the longer it would take. She soon settled in with a dogeared copy of Pippi Longstocking which I had picked up for 30p at the School Christmas Fair - bargain. I spent the entire plane journey worrying that the hotel would deny all knowledge of the very reasonable booking which I had made direct with them after meticulously consulting all the price-comparison sites mentioned on moneysavingexperts.com. We arrived without hitch, my face constricted with the maniacal rictus of someone who has decided that they ARE in control and WILL have a good time, NO MATTER WHAT. I sought validation from my five year old (“See, babe? We can do this! It’s gonna be great!” “Yes, mummy, we didn’t miss the plane, we haven’t got lost…”)

The apartment in the hotel was big and clean and lovely and the people were friendly, welcoming and most importantly looked like they were enjoying themselves. The entertainment team seemed to be made up of Cameron Diaz, Cat Deely, Enrique Iglesias and Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Mini-Me and I excelled at daily poolside yoga classes alongside 3 pensioners who happily discussed life, the universe and everything with my chatty little daughter. And I discovered a skill I never knew I had: relaxation, which I now practice at Olympic level.

Holiday. Mentioned that word to us last month and you would have received a pained look of yearning and desperation (or a thump). Mention it to us today however, and you will see us jumping up and down singing “We gonna ring reng dong for a holiday. (Put your arms in the air lemme hear you say!)” I’m going to start saving for the next one. Unless I win one first.

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing courses in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge Families NW Magazine Nov/ Dec 2007

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina Melwani sits, mouth agape, in a television induced stupor.

It’s impossible to avoid the onslaught of Christmas advertising everywhere, from shops to television. I try to remind myself that it’s the time I spend with Mini-Me that she remembers, not the money (thank goodness because, let’s face it, there’s not always much of that around). It’s the welly-time dodging cow pats in Bentley Priory in Stanmore on our way to feed Rudolph and the other deer. Or pretend spaceship time under the duvet dodging the “astronoids” on our way to her various imaginary worlds where non-fruit objects grow on trees. Or simply doing the Pyjama Rhumba before breakfast in our own version of Strictly Come Dancing.

Apart from Saturday night competition telly (the ideal accompaniment to after dinner cuddles on the sofa – not counting when I start blubbing when a woe-ridden single mother gets through to the next round of X Factor looked on in adoration by her heart-meltingly proud little daughter – this will surely change their lives), Mini-me doesn’t watch too much TV. Ours is wonkily nailed to the wall at neck-ache-inducing height which means that unless I deign it otherwise, the standby button remains off. I ration out kids TV - with our Freeview box a choice of either Cbeebies, (mostly too babyish) or CBBC and CITV (mostly too grown up). Draconian? Yes, but it means I have the ultimate remote control (geddit?) Also, I have recently discovered that in the day time on CBBC they show Schools Programmes which I now record and pass off as “kids tv”. After all, for a five and a half year old, learning how important coconuts are to the lives of children in Kerala is infinitely more useful than watching the Ninky Nonk’s nocturnal habits in the Night Garden.

The good thing about the BBC is that there are no advertisements corrupting our children and supplanting their innocence, creativity and enthusiasm for fresh air with unworldly desires for fantastic plastic tat. Mini-Me has been told that generally it’s not wise to ask for toys advertised on television because they are almost never as much fun as they look on TV and will surely only ever disappoint. She has since digested, assimilated and churned back this sensible advice, but unfortunately not in time for me to cancel my order for TV’s best selling “Rocket Blender” (as seen on a reliable infomercial) which now occupies an inordinate amount of space at the back of my least-frequented kitchen cupboard.

In terms of pure evil I don’t think it is too harsh to say that it comes in the form of shoes. First it was LED lights on shoes; but okay, they were a bit of harmless fun for trainers. Then came wheels in shoes with all their resultant fractures. Now, as you read this, tens of thousands of children are collectively yanking off their Clarks school shoes in the freezing wet playground to peel back their insoles and fight over their identical “secret” toys (shockingly sexist – dolls for girls and cars for boys) and, no doubt, raising feelings of inadequacy and anxiety in those whose parents and carers did not succumb. There already exist secret compartments in children’s clothes; they are called pockets and, having spent 10 minutes emptying the crevices of the washing machine drum of re-hydrated raisins I am prepared to argue that even these are extraneous to needs! Toys in shoes is marketing at its most manipulative. I concede that a colourful piece of junk makes hydrogenated fat-filled fast food infinitely more appealing at the golden arches. But since when did children need an incentive not to leave the house barefoot? Who was the inspiration behind this product’s development? The shoe-bomber? And whatever is next? Probably secret TVs in shoes so they don’t have to play together at break time at all.

If you need help with cutting spending or just sorting your finances out a bit, it’s really worth checking out the moneysavingexpert.com website run by Martin Lewis and signing up for the free money-saving newsletters. It’s not for profit, it’s not annoying and it’s where I found out about a super free laptop offer which I’ve now applied for and which will enable me to work from bed – whilst zooming through space on my way to Cream Slice World!

Angelina Melwani runs Sing and Sign baby signing courses in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com.

Mummy on the Edge - Families NW Magazine Sept Oct 2007

Mummy on the Edge

Angelina Melwani goes back to school

When I was little, the words “Back to school” held an exciting cache of anticipation. They heralded the close of the yawning chasm between summer and autumn term and an end to the relentless boredom of staying at home and later on, working in my parents’ shop. They also were a signal that it was time to “Buy Stuff”. Mmm, the feel of pristine paper and the smell of fresh crayons.

Now, however, even before the holidays start, we are attacked with visions of smiley, cheeky, immaculate children in school uniform; annoying inserts on a covert mission to jump out of the local paper, when least expected, reminding us (ok, just me) that we are useless and disorganised and need to start buying NOW. Me? I ignore them, of course; after all there’s still six week’s growing time to consider. I followed that tack that last year and vaguely remember coming back from the Watford Harlequin with only two pairs of plimsolls and a migraine just a week before mini-me was due to start school - having found no other correct item of uniform to speak of.

But there’s no point panicking. Gaaaaaah! Stop. No. Calm down. At the last minute, you stick an order with M&S and then run to BHS and furiously rip off the rack anything marked reduced in the right size and colour (even if it’s for the opposite sex – who’ll notice if little Billy is wearing a skirt instead of trousers?) And, somehow, if you believe hard enough, it all works out in the end. On her first day at school, Mini-Me looked like one of those cheeky, happy advert children, resplendent in shiny patent shoes, tie and book bag. All that was missing was a bowler hat and umbrella and she could have gone off to work in the City.

***

It’s not just uniform you have to consider. Clubs, activities, classes. Every thing needs to be booked in advance and coordinated with military precision. Logistically it very much helps if you have a friend whose child does the same activity. I transport five year old Mini-Me and her Best Friend to weekly drama lessons in term time and appreciate this for the cultural opportunity that it is. For during the forty minutes it takes to get there and back, they unwittingly transform into their alter-egos, pensioners Ethel and Enid, bickering all the way to Bingo and back. It really is a most amusing form of performance art and something they don’t enjoy me pointing out, which makes it even more fun when I do.

For Mini-Me, having attended for over a year, ballet is out. Her ballet teacher says she “talks too much about subjects unrelated to ballet, and doesn’t listen to instructions”. Of course, I hear instead, “the class is too constrictive of her creativity and imagination and she is better suited to a less regimental activity”. At time of writing, Mini-Me is on a two year waiting list for gymnastics and I’m still waiting to hear whether she has a place at swimming which, by all accounts, I should have booked before she was conceived.

Don’t forget to check out the Clubs and Classes Feature on page ___.

Angelina Mapara runs Sing and Sign baby signing courses in Harrow, Bushey, Stanmore and Rickmansworth. More info at www.singandsign.com

Mummy on the Edge - Families NW Magazine Jul/Aug 2007

Mummy on the Edge (of the Universe)

Angelina Melwani boldly goes to the Circus and the Planetarium

It is the start of a wet half term. Mini-Me and her menagerie of imaginary siblings crave excitement and are enquiring about plans, mainly due to my own deliberately vague assertions that, “We are going to have such fun!”

Mini-Me is obsessed with Earth, “astronoids” and aliens. “How do aliens get born?” My insufficient answers elicit similar questioning of every adult she meets, from her grandmother to the checkout lady in Sainsbury’s. I got her a fantastic pop-up book from my friend Charmaine who sells Mini-IQ called My Wonderful Earth from which she has learnt loads. However, it’s not enough. Being a guilt ridden single mother of the noughties, I am gripped with the desperate desire to quench every thirst for knowledge I detect, any way I physically can.

With this in mind, I take her in the pouring rain on the epic journey from Bushey via National Rail, Tube and Docklands Light Railway to the Royal Observatory, suitably based at “The Other End of the Earth” (AKA Greenwich). Their website (www.nmm.ac.uk) details a new show at the Peter Harrison Planetarium where they “take you on a journey through time and space… providing a magnificent introduction to the wonders of the universe” with a question time at the end. Mini-Me is hopping with excitement.

In no time at all we are climbing aboard the milk-float-type vehicle that runs us to the top of the hill to the Planetarium. Mini-Me grows pensive as she considers again my non-committal answer to her repeated question, “Mummy, are there aliens?”

“Well, you can have a chat with an Astronomer and get all your answers today.”

At the end of the show which Mini-Me has enjoyed, utterly absorbed, lying horizontal on top of me in order for her eyes to reach the images (we didn’t book so are sitting on the very edge of the universe), I yawn and glance at her, wondering if she heard me snoring. Mini-Me takes her place at the front of the theatre to monopolize Dr Claire Thomas Phd., a friendly, real live Astronomer, there for the very purpose of answering those burning questions. Allowing limited input from Dr Thomas, Mini-Me expounds on Life, the Universe and Everything, covering How Aliens Get Born; the order of the planets from the sun; meditation; our full postal address; her array of imaginary siblings and various unrepeatable details about my personal life. I gasp and cover her mouth and in a muffled voice she says, “But it’s true!” Mortified? Absolutely. But at least she hasn’t asked me about aliens since then.

***

The only circus I had ever been to before now was Cirque du Soleil, and I didn’t get it. It was surreal, bordering on creepy watching a giant man with no head walk around holding an umbrella. How the hell would I have explained that to Mini-Me? So when Zippos Circus came to town in Watford I discovered what I had been missing all these years.

If you think spending an afternoon catching flying spaghetti in your up-do is not the ideal afternoon out, you are wrong. This was a show packed with interactive fun; Henri the handsome Clown as a rude waiter, chucking water and bits and bobs into the audience during a well-choreographed restaurant vignette; heartbreakingly beautiful dancing horses; the stunningly rubberlicious Ena hanging artfully from the silk rope (and serving tea in the interval – circus life, eh!); Zaya performing breathtaking twirls from the trapeze; muscled gymnastic brothers balancing in gravitationally impossible formation; daring tightrope walking family, the Ayalas in spangly white suits; a husband and wife knife-throwing act (-I’m not saying anything!-); their daughter the football and tennis racquet-juggling dynamo and much, much more, from all over the world. This is family entertainment in both senses, performed to and by families. And, in the surprisingly intimate setting of the big top, up-close and personal, it is utterly enthralling and not in the least bit naff. In fact, the most disappointing thing to behold was that many seats were empty - a sheer waste, for such good value and satisfaction - but this did nothing to dull the sparkle in the blue, blue eyes of Norman Barrett, the suave and immaculately turned out “world’s greatest ringmaster” who also entertained us with his talented band of ice-cream coloured budgies.

“Remember,” he said, “if you’ve enjoyed yourself, tell your friends!” So I’ve turned into a circus evangelist and am telling everyone I know to go. (www.zipposcircus.co.uk) I’ll definitely go again and next time I’m going to take my parents, too!