"If you can't be one, marry one," and other terribly wrong examples to set for your daughter.

Mummy on the Edge
Families North West London
July/ August 2016

Midi-Me has a few inset days coming up so I very cleverly booked a break the Cote d’Azure for she and me. Sorting that assuaged my guilt about taking a two week grown-ups’ holiday in the Yucatan and Havana with Mr Angelina (there are some pictures on my Instagram account @mynotesfromtheedge and posts about this epic trip on my blog).

Mr A sent his own Midi-him a picture of a black and gold sombrero as a joke, saying he had bought it for her. She replied back words to the effect of “Cool!” So he was faced with a dilemma: not to buy the sombrero because his fifteen year old daughter was probably being sarcastic or to buy the sombrero because she actually thought it was ironically cool. My advice? “Don’t buy it.”

We worked the market in 100F heat, stall by stall, looking for nick-nacks and paddy-wacks for the three (in total) Midis (two his, one mine). I stopped to handle some maracas which I thought a wonderful idea as Midi-Me is so musical. “What’s she gonna do with those?” asked Mr A. “Play them!” I countered, helpfully demonstrating with a cheeky 10-second shimmy. I realised I was buying them for myself. Upon his advice I instead chose a cute wooden spinning top and a white top of the wearing kind (one I could borrow...)

At the airport we had time to kill. As we walked around, the normally laid-back Mr A encountered a vast heap of overpriced synthetic velour sombreros in assorted sizes and hues and became somewhat crazed, flinging sombreros around. “Which one shall I get her? The red one? The yellow one? The green one?” “Get a small one,” I reasoned. “No I think I should get a bigger one; how about this, or this?” There was nothing I could do but shake my head and walk away. I became momentarily sidetracked with some maracas and two shakes later I returned to find him clutching a turquoise monstrosity with gold braiding, too heavy for anyone but the butchest Mexican to carry on his head for more than 30 seconds. (Number of people we saw wearing a sombrero in Mexico: zero.) “I’m not carrying that for you,” I remarked.

The book!

I also brought home a pretty painted octopus which Midi-Me loved because there is an
Octopus named after her in Mr Angelina’s children’s book which is being published this summer by Penguin Random House in India. Ayeshaand the Firefish is about a brave 10-year-old who accepts a mission to save the world while travelling it. It’s a bit like a kids’ version of the Da Vinci Code but cleverer, funnier and more unputdownable. Our heroine embarks on this adventure with the help of a sarcastic snail on a surfboard, and under the radar of her hedge-fund-manager-mother and her househusband-father. The story was born out of so many bedtime stories that Mr A made up for his Midi-girls when they were Mini-girls.

The last few months has been an education for all of us. Midi-Me and I have watched as Mr A has skilfully edited and honed his manuscript and now…  it is ready for launch! Inside are cute illustrations and the cover is colourful and sparkly with a beautiful Puffin logo in the corner… just like what we read when we were kids! I am beyond thrilled for him, and I get to see my name in print, on the thank you page. I was his self-proclaimed muse of course (– a very important job which luckily could be carried out alongside my three favourite activities, i.e. eating, thinking about writing and watching Real Housewives.)

So the moral of this story is: if you want to write a book but for whatever reason are not doing it, marry someone that will and experience the glory vicariously. I realise that’s not a very good life lesson for one’s Midi-Me but heck, no one’s perfect.

Oh and if you are wondering, Midi-Me loved the spinning top as much as she loved the octopus and was glad I didn’t buy the maracas. And yes, Mr A’s Midi loved the monstrous blue sombrero too!  Shows how much I know about teenagers… I’ll stick to Housewives.

mynotesfromtheedge.blogspot.com * facebook.com/angelinamelwani * twitter @appleina *Instagram @mynotesfromtheedge *

Angelina and Midi-Me change their mindsets.

Mummy on the Edge

Families North West London Magazine
May June 2016

As a kid watching telly, I would get very excited whenever I saw an Asian person on the television. I’d make a quick lap to the foot of the stairs and back to shout, “Indian person on the telly!” so that my sisters and parents could share the thrill.

On BBC 2 on Sunday mornings they used to show an English language teaching programme. One day they featured an Indian lady learning to drive; hitting the breaks suddenly, nearly whiplashing herself and her instructor in the process, she learned the invaluable phrase “Oof! Vut vent rung?” (Nope, not offensive when I do it.)

With the achingly cringeworthy Desi Rascals enjoying 2 primetime seasons, you would think that I’d be over it by now. But no. Seeing an Asian on the telly STILL manages to press my novelty button and I now subject Midi-Me to my compulsion. If we are zapping channels on a Saturday night and an Asian name appears at the bottom of the screen in the XFactor programme info, are you kidding? Of course, we HAVE to watch it.

Same went for a Ted talk that flashed up on my facebook feed. Teach girls bravery, not perfection says the founder of Girls Who Code, Reshma Saujani Everything in the description made me want to watch this immediately.  Also… INDIAN!!! I have put a link to this talk on my facebook page; it’s well worth a watch. It came at a timely moment because Midi-Me and I had just been to a talk by Robin Launder (behaviourbuddy.co.uk) all about Mindset Theory which stems from the research work of psychologist Carol Dweck. It’s about prioritising bravery over perfection when it comes to the education of our kids.

Dweck’s work has highlighted the difference in achievements between those with a growth mindset and those with a fixed mindset. If you have a fixed mindset, you believe that people are born with a certain level of intelligence that cannot be changed. If you have a growth mindset, you believe that intelligence can increase. When we praise children for being clever, this fosters in them a fixed mindset which discourages them from taking risks (eg harder work) because of the fear that they will fail and show themselves to be not so clever after all. By contrast, when we praise children for their efforts, it encourages a growth mindset which makes them want to work harder and improve themselves for the joy of learning things that they haven’t mastered YET. I have tried to synthesize this HUGE subject into a single paragraph. There’s a lot more to it. I will put up some other links on my facebook page that explain more about Mindset Theory for it is not an overstatement to say that this talk has changed my life. I now believe I can create new neural paths in my brain by using the Italian in a Month app on my phone every day. I now understand better why I am the way I am and how the way I am affects Midi-Me…

She is loving learning to code at school and of course I’m hoping she’ll design some amazing app that will make us her rich and pre-pay her way through university. In the mean time, she’s providing feedback on someone else’s really useful app. Isn’t it strange how things appear just when you need them? I was encouraging Midi-Me to create a revision timetable for her forthcoming exams when up popped a facebook status update from someone I went to primary school with, announcing her creation of a free app called Study M8 that does just that. You enter the subjects, topics, time available and priorities and it works it all out for you. Genius! Midi-Me and I suggested scheduling reward activities too. While we were downloading Study M8, we found another free app called Gojimo that provides self-tests for loads of subjects covering 11+, 13+, GCSE and A Levels. It even covers different examination boards.

IF I had not spent so much time in front of the box scanning for Indians; IF I had known about growth mindsets; IF there were such things as apps to help me study; IF. I might at this point in my life be giving a Ted Talk myself, instead of sitting here saying “IF”. With my new growth mindset however, I know it’s not too late; there’s still time to learn to be brave.

More at mynotesfromtheedge.blogspot.com and facebook.com/angelinamelwani and twitter @appleina.

Out with the old and in with the new (-ish)

Mummy on the edge 

Families NW London Magazine

March/April 2016

At the end of January, still feeling the loss of David Bowie, (the man who gave this ten-year-old the twin lifelong gifts of her favourite song and a love of red shoes (my happy shoes!)) we experienced torment closer to home. Our beloved Chico, faithful companion to Midi-Me and I, unexpectedly gave up after 8 and a half years of service.

Was he man, was he dog? No, he was Supercar. There I was on the A1M, driving back from returning a jumper to the M&S Outlet in Hatfield Galleria and the car started to feel a bit funny when I put my foot on the accelerator. As I drove through Elstree, up and down that hill near The Fisheries, some hidden, noise-making part of the car started to complain.

I drove all the way home and, half parked outside my house, Chico gave up there and then. No amount of coaxing forward or backwards would make him move. I can’t imagine what I would have done if he would have given up on the motorway. I might not even be here to write this. Faithful to the last, Chico did not leave me vulnerable in the middle of Barnet Bypass, like a ball in a pinball machine, but dutifully delivered me to my home before exhausting his last breath and shuffling off his mortal ignition coil.

Upon arriving home on foot from the bus stop, Midi-Me was faced with the sight of our old friend being trussed up to the AA man’s van to be towed to my mechanic. Deep inside I knew it was the end but I had to try; I owed him that at the very least. Trembling with emotion, Midi-me and I poured a cup of tea and indulged in the verbal equivalent of a Friends flashback, stringing together scenes from “The one where we drove to Southend at two in the afternoon,” “The one where we got lost in Shakespeareland,” “The one where we named our car after a terrible X Factor contestant” and many other notable episodes of Mummy on the Edge. Poor Midi-Me was quite sad as it felt like the end of an era but I resolved to find another car and think of another non-English singer to name it after. My old computer and phone were Julio and Enrique. I think my next car will be called Serge. One thing is for certain: Chico-Time is over.  

***

I recently got my kitchen a bit fixed. Both Midi-Me and I had grown perfectly used to having an area of open shelving (-cupboard door fell off many years ago and I stashed it in the shed) and even an open-fronted drawer (-there is nothing I can insert here to explain this). We were also fully used to a mismatched painted kitchen, as I never finished painting it green. But y’know, eclectic, innit. Anyway, I bought tester paint pots and sought opinions from Midi-Me and Mr Angelina. I was quite sure I wanted two contrasting colours as I’d seen on Houzz and Pinterest: one for the top and one for the bottom. We settled on Frosted Fondant for the bottom. Sounds delicious doesn’t it? I was thinking we would end up with a warm, putty colour. Well… my kitchen now has the cadaverous pallor of a mauve My Little Pony that has trotted off a cliff and been found 4 days later. But it’s okay. We’ll get used to it.

***

Have you been to Planet Ice in Hemel Hempstead? It sounds like the other end of the universe but it’s actually just 25 minutes from Brent Cross on the M1 if you have use of a Chico. For her birthday, I took Midi-Me and her friends skating. I was cutting shapes on the ice, pretending to be a graceful Russian figure-skater (just with my arms, obviously; my bottom half concentrated very hard on remaining upright) and Midi-Me wasn’t embarrassed at all. Although her best friend (my second daughter) did skate off and pretend not to know me briefly. Despite the disgusting what they call “food” served in what they call “The Café” it was a lot of fun! Much better than Wembley Outlet Centre in December, where the rink was like a bowl of soup. We will definitely return to Planet Ice once I have found Serge.

More at mynotesfromtheedge.blogspot.com and facebook.com/angelinamelwani and twitter @appleina.