Posts (page 2)

Conversations with Fatima

F: (cuddling 18 month old son) Ugh!  Fais really smells.

Me: I've got a changing mat somewhere...
F: No, it's not his nappy, he just smells.
Me: Oh.  Why?
F: Well he banged his head on Saturday evening.
Me:  Right...
F:  So!  We just have to put up with it I'm afraid.
Me:  I don't follow.
F:  He banged his head on Saturday evening, so I can't do anything about the smell!
Me:  Has gangrene set in?
F: What?  Gangrene?  Are you mad?
Me:  Maybe.  Why does banging his head make him smell?
F:  Because I couldn't give him a bath yet, obviously!
Me:  Oh!  
F:  So, anyway...
Me: No, hang on.  Why can't you give him a bath?
F:  Norah!  And you have 2 kids too.
Me:  ...
F:  Surely you know that you're not supposed to bath your children after they have banged their head?!
Me:  I've never heard that.
F:  God!  It's REALLY dangerous.
Me:  Why?
F:  I don't know why.  I'm not a doctor.
Me:  That makes no sense.
F:  All I know is you're not supposed to.
Me:  Fatima, it's Wednesday.
F:  Yah!  I know yah?!  That's why he smells!
Me:  Was it a bad bang?
F:  No, he didn't even cry.
Me:  So, just to be clear, you have not bathed your 18 month old for 5 days in 40 degree heat because he had a gentle knock to the head?
F:  I know!  No wonder he smells.
Me:  Fatima that's insane.
F:  Norah, I told you when we first met I am a nervous parent.

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Here's what I cooked

We had some friends over for a barbeque last night.  Three families plus us.  A total of 8 adults, 2 teens and 8 under fours.


I put a couple of camemberts in their wooden boxes on the barbeque and the grown-ups had g&ts and dipped  green apple and garlic bread into hot runny cheese while the children munched sausages in buns with corn on the cob and crudites.

I got some Cream Dory (fish) steaks and marinated half of them in a chili plum sauce and the other half in lemon and garlic.  Then I chopped them into chunks and skewered them with green peppers and courgettes (which had been started in the oven with oil and herbs).  I put the whole cloves of garlic from the marinade onto the lemon fish skewers.

I marinated chunks of butternut squash in red chili and coconut milk and skewed them too.  They barbequed really well but took longer than I would have thought.

I did veggie skewers of halloumi wrapped in aubergine, with cherry tomatoes and whole garlic cloves.  Mmmmmm.

A tomato and red onion salad.  This is never very popular but it is Mr S's favourite so I always do it.

A very hot lettuce, feta, roasted red capsicum and cherry tomato salad with chili and garlic dressing.

Whipped Labeneh with sweet chili dipping sauce glooped over it.

Humous (bought - out here the bought is better than I can make it).

A big bowl of rice (I have recently bought a rice cooker and it is AWESOME and I will continue to serve rice with everything until the excitement wears off).

Arab bread.

Throwing sausages at the children as soon as they arrived was a stroke of genius because most of them still tucked in to fish and rice later but it meant no one had to track down and nag the ones who were whipped to a state of frenzied excitement and rendered incapable of eating after an hour of playing princesses on the trampoline.

Pudding was pineapple in muscavado sugar and date syrup, roasted in what was left of the bbq heat.  All bubbly and caremelised.  And a chocolate sauce that I can't replicate because I was three sheets to the wind by the time I made it - dark chocolate, bailies and coconut cream I think, but no idea what else.  And fresh pineapple.  And ice cream cones.  

And far, far, FAR too much to drink.

Oh god.  We'd spent the day at the aquapark so probably an evening sipping water would have been more sensible.

I woke up this morning fully dressed in bed with absolutely no recollection of saying goodbye to anyone.  Oh god, the mortification.  Mr Splog assures me that I did say goodbye to everyone, and was perfectly polite and pleasant.  Although I did wear a bridesmaid's dress for a part of the evening.

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Sprog is having trouble declining the verb 'to copy'

I copy you me.

You copy you me.
He copied her him.
We copied we them.
Stop copying you me.
I copy youed her.

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Eid Mubarak

Ramadan has ended.  Boooooo that Mr S will be back to normal office hours so no more spending all afternoon in the pool.  But hooray that all the shops and cafes will be open again and I'll no longer have to sneak sips of water in a public lavatory while out and about.


We've had four days off.

Friday we went to the aquapark and managed to all get a bit burned.  Bad, bad parents.  Then we came home, fired up the bbq and a couple of friends came over for some impromptu kebabs.

Saturday we took the monorail up the palm to the Lost Chambers aquarium.  Went out with friends to an Iftar that evening, which is a sundown feast to break fast.  Dubai really is very pretty at night and Sprog was thrilled with the billions of twinkly lights wrapped around hundreds of palm trees.  Our restaurant overlooked the dancing fountains which spring to life every 15 minutes.  Very impressive, and handy for keeping children entertained.

Sunday morning we celebrated the reopening of the cafes with a hot chocolate and a muffin at Africafe, an african themed cafe where the children play the decorative drums for the enjoyment of the other customers.  I took Sprog ice skating.  She has been saying for some time now that she intends to be an ice skating dancer when she grows up.  I had some difficulty persuading her that she couldn't make her debut on ice in a tutu.  Oh to have the self assurance of a three-year-old.  While Sprog and I wibbled bambi-like around the ice, Mr S and Wilfi sat sensibly enjoying a coffee and a tomato salad in a cafe overlooking the rink.  A nice lady gave Wilf a large plush seal, short and fat with an adorable face, rather like W himself.  We have christened him Agent Sealy Boothe.  On Sunday evening we went to friends for supper.  Friends are Indian vegetarians.  Oh!  I was in heaven.  The pakora!  The matter paneer!  The cook brought fresh chapatti as he made them throughout the meal.  We put the children to sleep in their spare room and drank and argued and ate and ate and ate until the small hours.

Feeling a bit, ahem, poorly today.  A gentle trip to the Lamcy Plaza to potter around the Japanese $6 store (Wilfie was sick in the cookie cutter aisle) and lunch at Chowpattie.  God I love Chowpattie.  It is a Southern Indian vegetarian fast food chain.  The menu is entirely in Hindi and there are no reassuring "aloo" or "sag" or "bhaji" to hazzard guesses at what you're ordering.  Today we managed to end up with some very good  potato dhosa (Mr S: This is good, what is it?  Me:  No idea), some sort of naan pizza thing (Mr S:  What's this then?  Me:  Really, no idea), One of the giant pancakes we rather liked the first time we went (Mr S: Oh, you worked out what the giant pancakes were called then? Me:  Seriously, not a clue), and, joy of joy, I managed to order idli for the children, little steamed rice batter thingies that they adore and I never remember what they are called.

This afternoon we shall do nothing more strenuous than fill the paddling pool.  I am going running later.  I may crack the paving slabs, the amount I have eaten the last few days.  Yum.

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Slight misunderstanding

Me:  Do not tell your brother to bugger off please!


Her:  Don't worry mummy!  I didn't mean he had to bugger off for ages or all day; I am going to play a game with him as soon as I've finished my colouring.

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A hugba.

Her:  Look what I drawed.

Me:  Very good.  I like the, um, lines.
Her:  Do you know what it is?
Me:  Well, is it a... I'm not sure.  It's very good though.  What is it?
Her:  It's a hugba.
Me:  Oh!  A hugba.  I was going to guess that.
Her:  I drawed a hugba.
Me:  And remind me, what is a hugba?
Her: A hugba is a pile of dead geese.  In a stack.
Me:  ...Right
Her:  Sometimes it's a trapped swan.

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Popping back

So.  5am tomorrow morning I am off to the airport.  Mr S will bid the children and I a fond farewell and we fly to London.  Seven hours later, at Heathrow, I will claim our two suitcases, two large car seats and pushchair, and along with our various hand luggage and my two small children I will get a BUS to a nearby car hire outlet.  A BUS. 

Once I have hired a car I will load it up and set off up the motorway to Wales.  All being well I will arrive at my granny's house a little under 6 hours later.

I will stay with Granny for a few days before once again loading up our car and driving down to Cornwall.  Seven hours with a bit of luck and a following wind.

Whilst in Cornwall I will make an excursion to Warminster to visit Mr S's granny.  Two hours there and two hours back.  Mr S's granny is very frail and cannot cope with a visit of more than 30 minutes.

From Cornwall I planned to drive back to the hire car depot, take my two children, two car seats, two suitcases and various hand luggage back on the bus to Heathrow, and fly back to Dubai.  However, a misunderstanding with my mother-in-law means that I am now driving up to central London the day before we fly, where I will attempt to park on Kings Road, stay the night with mother-in-law (who believes she is doing us a favour putting us up for the night) and then drive out to the hire car depot, get the bus, get a plane and fly back to Dubai.

The above will take me 10 days.

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Loop

Have tweeted.

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A linky post

On Wednesday night I went with a couple of girlfriends to a cheese and wine evening Nineteen at The Montgomerie.  I like cheese.  I like wine too.  We mostly talked about books.

On Thursday night I went to The Buddha Bar.  It was without a doubt the coolest place I have ever been.  It was achingly trendy, but totally non-threatening.  Valet parking.  Massive red lantern chandeliers.  Enormous Buddha statues.  Sushi bar menu.  Drank lots of mojitos. 

Friday is weekend here, and we were back at The Montgomerie, but this time to The Academy which is the more casual restaurant.  Friday brunch with friends who conveniently have children the same age as ours.  Friday brunch is a bit of a thing in Dubai.  Everywhere does a brunch special, and pretty much everyone goes out to brunch on Friday. 

Saturday morning I went to the beautician while Mr S took the kidlings around the Mall of the Emirates.  When we first moved to Dubai we lived very close to MoE so it was a second home for us for a while.  It's fun to sit on a bench eating ice cream and watching the skiers through the three story viewing window.

It is now Saturday evening and we're just back from the Madinat where we had great noodles overlooking the Burj Al Arab, which Sprog recently announced to be her favourite burj.  Then we had a little trip around the Madinat on a tourist Abra, just for funsies.

Home now.  Children sleeping.  Sunday morning tomorrow.  The week begins again, and I'm running a playgroup at the Ibn Battuta Mall in the morning - the mall is themed around Ibn Battuta, a 14th Century Arabic Explorer. 

One week to get organised and then a sneaky quick trip back to UK.

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Wilf says

Mama

Dada

More

No

Hello

Book ("buh")

Nin-nin

That ("da?")

Towel

Maisy Mouse (once)

Pussycat (twice)

Tweetweet ('bird')

RAHHHHHHHHHHH (the noise that cows, dogs, dinosaurs and miscellanious other animals make)

He also signs 'hungry', 'water', 'milk' and 'bird'.

 

Edit:  And he says "poo".  How could I forget poo?

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