MOTHERHOOD zine for cool mamas
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index hello.....................................................................................01 dear diary.............................................................................02 thumbs up to: the magic box...............................................04 self-help: the real cool mum™, a guide...............................06 quiz: are you a real cool mum™?.........................................05 editorial: fuck yeah celeb mums in national geographic landscapes..........................................................................10 people’s reviews: favourite mum characters.....................14 playlist: twilight ..................................................................16 a letter to O....................................................................... .17
hello. SO. Lots of super mums these days, specially bloggers, like to say that motherhood hasn’t CHANGED them at all, that it doesn’t DEFINE who they are, that their IDENTITY, that fundamental essence of their being which was firmly established back in their early-adulthood-pre-baby phase, is still INTACT. And yet, every bloody single thing they do is mum-related. They launch magazines for mums, clothing ranges for babies, food services for toddlers, kid-friendly businesses, and only make friends and go out with other mums. And yet, they say being a mum DOESN’T DEFINE THEM. Oh, really? WELL, I’M NOT ONE OF THEM, OBVIOUSLY. “But, wait” you say, concerned. “This zine IS about motherhood.” Alright, smart-arse. This zine, written during those ungodly days called Xmas Break in December 2012, is a [failed] attempt to get rid of this whole mum-thing out of my system. Because it has indeed engulfed every side, every aspect, every hidden corner of my previously selfish self - THUS, changing my IDENTITY - so what can I do? Might as well do something with it. Like tell myself that whatever I’m doing is right, and whatever other people are doing is not, make some silly collages around it, print it and sell it for a quid. Then after this I can go out into the world and write about sex, or something (didn’t that 50-Shades woman get the UK out of the recession, after all?). Not sure this is going to win me any friends out there, specially in the mummy circle, but then I’m not #winning anything these days other than extra pounds and wrinkles anyway (It’s a Charlie Sheen joke, get it? Ugh.) So the following (badly designed) pages are full of rants (OBVS), stupid collages, random lists, unwanted advice, and stolen pictures, ideas, and references (and lots of words in CAPSLOCK. I HAVE A THING FOR CAPSLOCK). We’re not responsible in any way for the authenticity and veracity of absolutely anything you see here. Nobody said becoming a mum turned you into a better human being. Oh wait, I DID say that sometime ago. Well, I lied. Sorry. x Thais.
thanks to Robinson Barbosa, partly responsible for all of this
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real-life fiction
dear diary
THE LIFE AND HARDSHIPS OF AN ANONYMOUS MCHCSBBSAHM (MIDDLE CLASS HIP COOL STYLISH BUT BORED STAY AT HOME MUM) Another exhausting day. The black circles under my eyes are deepening by the minute, and I’m worried that no Mac Studio Pro concealer or Instagram filter will be powerful enough to hide them. Might have to quit posting #selfies for a while and focus on pictures of Baby instead. But all the baby’s cool Scandinavian outfits are either in the wash or stained with tomato sauce, and all that’s left are the boring, trashy Mothercare suits with Peppa Pig prints on them. There must be a way to stop people with unreliable taste to give us presents. You can’t trust them to go hunting for unique little things in obscurely nostalgic shops like I do, they always pick up the first monstrosity screaming out of the latest Argos tome, or bring “souvenirs” from their regular trips to the Westfield. That place is indeed useful on rainy days, but I’d rather be clubbed over the head with a Tommee Tippee sippy cup than be seen scavenging the discount rails of Primark. That reminds me I must hide all those plastic toys scattered all over the house before that blogger mama brings her toddler for a play date tomorrow. She would be horrified to see Baby mesmerised by the vulgar lights and sounds coming out of all those Fisher Price tat - Baby’s favourite toys of course, but no one needs to know. Her kid surely must only play with gorgeous wooden blocks and Brio’s trinkets, stuff that we have plenty of but never
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come out the shelves. I find it deeply satisfying to see them just sitting up there, or artfully distributed across the living room floor, as Baby can’t find any use for them. Specially if one of our iPhones or iPads or MacBooks is within reach of her tiny fingers. They’re a blessing when I’m trying to colour code her expensive collection of pop-up books (bought for halfprice on Amazon, but I like to say they were snapped at Foyles). Those illustrations are beautifully crafted and captivating, a far cry from the crass graphics of Baby’s favourite apps - I don’t suppose Baby would appreciate them anyway, but at least Other People (specially other #MCHCSBBSAHM) will know I’m exposing her to the arts. Oh, how I’d like to expose myself to the arts more often too, even make some, but God knows how much energy goes into carefully editing and curating our own lives so that it exudes effortless creativity and sophistication. It takes so much of my time that I can’t be possibly creating anything else myself. Thank god I can count the number of “likes” and “RTs” everyday on social networks at the end of everyday and feel at peace. They certainly validate it all, as I sure ain’t receiving any gratification from Baby. The little brat refuses to comply with my rules of stylishness and dares to be herself. One day she’ll understand how hard parenting is.
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thumbs up to
To The Magic Box ENOUGH with the “dirty medium” talk about TV for babies and toddlers. All newspapers seem hell-bent on telling parents that screens of any kind are terrible for under-3s. That it’ll damage their brains, that will stop them developing, that will basically turn them into drooling, retarded, bogger-eating monsters. We at “MotherHood” refuse to label the magic box as the goggled eyed monster that will rotten the brains and corrupt the souls of our kids.
Let me tell you something: when I was 3 years-old, I’d turn the TV on myself and damage my retina by watching a ridiculous amount of programmes that wouldn’t pass the watchful eye of the PC-brigade even if it was covered in chocolate sauce. It included a Brazilian blonde presenter called Xuxa that liked to wear outfits more appropriate to perform on a stage of a strip-club than a children’s breakfast show. Knee-high boots and hot pants aside, I actually learned to recite my ABCs through one of her hit songs, and every morning made sure to brush my teeth and eat a proper breakfast because she would tell us so (or sing us into mechanical, yet AWED, oblivion till we performed those tasks without further questioning.) She also had a man and a midget dressed as giant disease-spreading insects called “Prague” and “Dengue” acting as stage helpers, but I wasn’t afraid of them – au contraire, I’d put them in the same cute league starred by My Little Pony (inclusion lessons?). And at one point a rumour spread around the country that Xuxa dolls were being possessed by the devil, causing all superstitious mums of the country – including mine – to collectively throw away the evil toys, Exorcist-style. I’m sure that episode has contributed to turn my adult self into a fierce atheist (which is not a bad outcome at all). The fact that later on Xuxa’s immodest dress sense inspired some of my pre-puberty wardrobe mistakes is just a small counterproductive bump on the road to enlightened adulthood. What can I say? I certainly learned a lot from watching Xuxa. OBVS that now I’m the parent, things are different - like you, I’ve read too many newspapers and been brainwashed into thinking that my daughter is in DANGER all the time and it’ll be all my fault. But there a glimpse of hope: 20-odd years of acquaintance with pop culture has made me develop a thing called TASTE, and BOY, will I use this to my advantage now. The formula is simple: in the same manner we don’t watch ITV or Jeremy Kyle or re-runs of “Embarrassing Fat Bodies”, we won’t expose our children to shitty programmes. There’s a thing called “STREAMING” these days, and as much as cBeebies has its merits, we don’t need to let our own brains rot by listening to annoying Mr Tumble sing that “hello hello” song yet another time (is it just me that gets creepy vibes from the clown?), or be patronised into submission by the “useful” values of Thomas and Friends (every time I hear the theme’s song I feel the back of my neck immediately stiffen). I’ve watched plenty of Looney Tunes (remember Road Runner and Coyote? They were VIOLENT) and believe me or nor, it never inspired me to push my brother off a cliff (at the most, I’ve threw one of my shoes at him when I was at the end of my tether, but that’s all). Give me retro bashing anytime over the fluffy boringness of Angelina Ballerina.
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In fact, we’d like to actually use this space to list and recommend good TV, for parents and kids to watch together (or at least to play in the background and drive you crazy). If you have any tips yourself, send us our way: thais@ mamadalston.com Here’s what we watch most mornings now (as in early 2013): - Small Potatoes and Wonder Pets: 2-d moving collages with great tunes. Small Potatoes sing punk and new wave tunes and you’ll find yourself singing along while making breakfast. - Mio Mao: an Italian “Claymation” from the 70s, two cats made of play dough get scared every time they find a new animal. It’s short and cute, like Small Potatoes, and perfect for toddler’s fly-like attention span. - Peppa Pig and Little Princess: say what you will, I like little girls who manage to be creative and fun without being “prissy”. I love the simplicity of Peppa Pig and the fact that her parents are constantly laughing and joining in the silliness, like jumping in muddy puddles. And Little Princess’ world, full of loony, idiosyncratic family members and tomboy-ish attitudes, is how sometimes I wish my own childhood was. - Fairly Odd Parents and Jelly Jam: Like Sponge Bob Square Pants, I can watch this kind of fairies and bubbles anytime. Pure quick-witted madness and really funny jokes that my toddler surely doesn’t get yet. I hope that exposing her to these early on will coax her into developing a sharp sense of humour. - Phineas and Ferb: like the ones above, these brothers (and their platypus, of course) lead a mad life: their mum leaves them alone while they fight boredom by creating things in the backyard like rollecoasters and modified cars, much to their sister’s Candace annoyance. Reminds me of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I love people that can get away with their crazy shenanigans.
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self-help
THE REAL COOL MUM™ a guide
(or how to stop feeling guilty about everything, and look like you’re in control while also looking effortlessly good) Okay, there’s some real misguidedness out there going on about what it means to be a cool mum. You hear “creative” here, “hot” there, not to say the, ahm, uncivil “MILF” (SHUDDER) thrown in for good measure, and in ALL SERIOUSNESS, that sum does not really equals COOL. Being REAL COOL™ is not about having trendy hair or buying cool toys that you kid doesn’t even look at or choosing the latest special edition Bugaboo or Instagram the shit out of yourself and your kid looking immaculately curated. And it definitely - and we would like to emphasize the DEFINITELY here - it DOES NOT have to do with one’s FUCKABILITY status. You don’t want to mix things up, ladies. Unless, of course you are actually looking for a new father figure for you little one and must, therefore, advertise whatever is left of your pre-baby assets. But other than that, IT AIN’T COOL. Understanding what cool means is hard, and while we’re still working at it, we came up with a list of things that we believe could transform anyone into a REAL COOL MUM™. Feel free to ignore them all at your own peril - because the RCM™ doesn’t give a shit. Have a sense of humour. We all get desperate, more often than not, specially when a concept such as “having control of your own life” becomes this elusive, dreamy idea, instead of a thing you used to have. Moaning is good sometimes, but being negative just makes everything seem worse than it is, and it turns you into a bore at the best of times and a total wanker at the worst. Self-deprecation is probably one of the best facets of the British character, one that’s perfectly suitable for hard times: it makes people lighten up, empathise and relate to each other. Go on, have a laugh and move on. Get a life. New mums that didn’t have a strong sense of identity before having kids tend to let their children take over completely, and can’t have a single conversation that doesn’t involve mummyhood. Have a life that’s got nothing to do with your kids.You don’t have to go back to work to earn money if you don’t need to (but if you do, then off you go - and stop feeling guilty about leaving the child behind, they’ll be fine) but do get involved with whatever you’re interested in, even if it seems silly or meaningless or a waste of time and money, like, say, making a zine like this (this one doesn’t count, because this zine is about motherhood, of course. But we have other interests). As cliché as it sounds, you’re more than just a mum. Stop feeling guilty. That’s what the media has drilled into every mum’s consciousness: you’re not doing the right thing, therefore you must feel guilty. Eating, sleeping, quality time, tv, books, education… there’s a million ways to deal with these things, and they will always, ALWAYS be wrong in the eyes of someone who is dealing in a different way than you. The Great Parenthood Paradox. Trust me, you will NEVER do the right thing, even if you think you are (you most certainly will know once your kids hit early adulthood), so you might as well stop feeling guilty now. If you do think some areas of your life are in need of work, than by all means, do something about it. As Woody Allen would say, whatever works. That’s the biggest, most underrated secret of parenthood.
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Stop trying hard -> at everything<That includes outfits (yours and the kid), the pouting selfies on social networks, the organic menus, the mad cleanliness, the lavish birthday parties, the “know-it-all” and “do-it-all” and “got-it-all”. We know these are the times of “Myself as a Brand” and people are making careers out of it, but treating every coffee meet-up and playground trip as a marketing opportunity is not REAL COOL™. Stop attending so many mama-and-babies classes, and just leave the kid alone. Forget about your iPhone for half-hour and pay attention to where you are and whoever is around you (including your child). Let it go. Let THE FUCK Go. Posers, mums or not, aren’t cool. And tiger mums are not cool either, they’re HITLER. And last time we checked, Hitler was definitely NOT COOL. But do have some principles, for god sake. Even if that principle is “I refuse to learn to cook properly because it will eat up precious book-reading time” or “I’ll rather spend my savings in childcare, even if I’m not going back to work yet.” Doubting yourself and your chosen path is not cool. Do what you have to do not to go insane, or burst with frustration, or feel like shit, even if in principle it goes again with being REAL COOL™. Being true to yourself is always cool and it’ll make your life easier in the long run.
Be nice. Don’t diss other mums in public, even if you think she’s a wanker. Keep it to yourself. Unless she’s a celeb who writes dimwitted articles for the Daily Mail promoting Victorian values in the 21st century. She’ll get dissed anyway all over the internet, so you might as well go for it. Don’t try to fit in. A lesson you probably learned back in high school and will have to pass it on to your kid once she hits puberty. Of course you have tastes and habits that will invariably place you into a class of your own, but other than that, it’s all meaningless peer pressure. Be suspicious of “formulas” to fix things up. You have a child, not a robot, and whatever works for someone might be your personal nightmare (that goes for every parenting book you read). People will judge you no matter what you do, so you might as well get over it now and be yourself - and specially, do whatever brings you and the kid peace of mind. Another amazing and highly valued British characteristic is idiosyncrasy, and why not take advantage of that? Being unique, mum or not, is REAL COOL™. And when it comes to clothes… This is not a fashion feature - style is what you make of it, and specially, make it your own. But if you ask us what to wear, then borrow some pieces from your man’s wardrobe. We think girls in boys clothes always look extremely cool. Relax. Stop taking things seriously. If you’re reading this, you’re probably worried already that you might not be a REAL COOL MUM™. Let me tell you something: a REAL COOL MUM™ will read lists of rules like this one and ignore them completely. So again, feel free to ignore everything said previously and have a laugh at our expense. Because REAL COOL MUMS™ don’t tell other people what to do, unless you gave birth to them.
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quiz
ARE YOU A REAL COOL MUM™?
1) Hurray, It’s your child’s first birthday. A) You throw an expensive Disney themed party for 150 guests, including designer cake & decorations, and that lady from the local baby music class to play cello for the kids. B) You get together with another friend who has a baby the same age, share the costs of a bunch of booze (for you) and cupcakes (for you as well, and the maybe the kids), and ask close friends & family to join you at the park. C) You buy a massive doll’s house and a scooter and a Brio doll’s kitchen to compensate the lack of homemade sweets and decorations in your get-together for really close friends. D) You go on holiday by yourself to celebrate the fact you’ve been on the grind stone for a bloody whole YEAR. The kid won’t remember her first birthday anyway. 2) You find out there’s a mum meet-up group full of what looks like a bunch of interesting women with the same, well, interests as yours. A) You make a full-on research of everyone’s Instagrams/blogs/twitter feeds for clues of what to wear. You can’t be seen in last years trends. B) You feel relieved that finally you found people that won’t mind being interrupted while discussing ideas for future projects, like making films and zines. C) You panic that you don’t look cool enough or have anything else to talk about other than nappy rash and sleep training because you haven’t gone back to work yet. D) You go straight to whoever looks like the “leader” of the group and demand WHY hasn’t she replied to your emails. Even after you’ve sent the same one twice. 3) You’re invited to a dinner at your coolest and childless friend’s house, where there’ll be loads of cool AND childless people. A) You throw on some bodycon, retrieve those super high heels from the back of the closet and pretend this whole mummy thing was just a dream. B) Ace! You can’t wait to talk about the latest rock’n’roll biography you read while sipping double JD and coke and dancing to Major Lazer, like in the good ol’ days. You’ll be back home before midnight, though. C) You can’t pay attention to what anyone says or what you eating because you’re too worried everyone thinks you - a MOTHER, YOU - don’t belong there. D) You fall out with half of the party because WHO do they think they are being so, like, YOUNG AND FREE, and end up leaving early at your friend’s request. 4) After 8 months of giving birth, you finally look at the mirror and like you what you see. You then: A) Lift your t-shirt, suck your stomach in, arrange the lighting in the room, and Instagram your hot new figure. Using the right filter, of course. B) Take your child to your favourite café and order a massive slice of Red Velvet cake to celebrate - it’s a special occasion, after all. C) Try on your favourite pre-baby dress, and gets a kick out of seeing how well it fits - before putting it back in the closet. You’re a mum now, can’t wear these things anymore. D) You tell your mum friends that you don’t understand how some women can’t loose weight quickly, surely they must have stopped breastfeeding too early
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5) It’s almost dinner time, your toddler is throwing a tantrum and you have no idea what’s your own name, let alone what’s gonna be on the menu. A) You check the freezer for frozen tubs of celeriac soup. You’re sure you told your personal cook to make extra for these panicky moments. B) You put TLC on the speakers, grab the last can of baked beans and some nearly stale bread, and do some break dance moves to entertain the kid while the microwave is on. C) You call a cab to drive you and your starving child to the Organic grocer to grab a decent frozen meal and some organic rice cakes. You can’t trust the rubbish sold at the local off-license. D) You have a go at your man for not PROVIDING - it’s HIS FAULT that you had to order Chinese take-away for the child. RESULTS: MOSTLY A’s Yummy mummy You LOOK GOOD! Your child looks GOOD! The food you eat (but rarely prepares) LOOKS GOOD! Your whole life is PICTURE PERFECT! And we’re tired now just by thinking about the amount of effort it takes to live in a constant photoshoot… MOSTLY B’s REAL COOL MUM™ You’re chilled, you’re fun, you love your child as much as you love having a life full of friends and creative pursuits, which you both share. We want to be you. MOSTLY C’s Guilty mummy Chillax, GURL! You put too much pressure on yourself and you end up doing nothing but making sure you’re the perfect mummy. You’re a HUMAN BEING with a life of your own too, so repeat after me: JUST LET IT GO! MOSTLY D’s Uncool mama Admit it: you’re a self-centered bitch. You should feel extremely lucky to be a mum now, because no one else wants to be your friend. Poor child.
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editorial
FUCK YEAH CELEB MUMS IN NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC LANDSCAPES
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people’s reviews
(A section stolen from a teen’s mag. Our
favourite mum characters.) The Iranian Mum at the Playground: She is a super devoted mother who will nurse her kid until he’s 4, and will stay in the playground with him for 5 hours, patiently following him around toy after toy - but not out of option. Brought to the UK by a much older husband without speaking any English, she rarely makes any friends for fear of not being understood, but will tell you her whole life in 5 minutes if you so much as say hello. Including her sex life (or the lack of it, as she explains with a grateful expression, saying “THANK GOD it doesn’t happen anymore, sex is for making kids, no fun”), her favourite recipes (she makes elaborate dishes from scratch, and her spoken english, until then precarious, is suddenly infused with sophisticated words like “” Thyme“” as she explains 3 recipes step-by-steps), and family troubles (“Don’t like his other daughters. They HATE ME,”) She gets 5 stars for the sheer honesty, sense of humour and devotion to her kid. If only we met her more often. *****
The Down-to-Earth Rich Mum: Money is not a problem. FAR FROM IT, in fact, as we all learn during dinner at the Islington half-posh restaurant (chosen by her for the menu everyone can afford) that the basement is going through a third renovation (“SO STRESSFUL, I don’t know why I keep doing this”) so little posho can have enough space to ride his 8 tricycles indoors. She will ask to split the bill evenly and complain how expensive that organic nappy cream was (“£12 !!! INSANE, I know, but it’s the only one that worked on his bum”), not to mention childcare is eating away all her wages, but she will refrain from mentioning the night nurse (£13/hr, 12 hours/night) she’s had since baby was 7 weeks old (“We’re all SO exhausted, aren’t we?? Sometimes I can’t barely reply to emails…”). She would get 3 stars for the effort to come down to our mere mortals’ levels and RELATE, but ends up losing one for inviting everyone back to hers for a “quick post-dinner drink”, a well disguised opportunity to show off the results of said stressful renovations. **
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The Enslaved Middle-Class Mum: “Aw, middle-class-ness is, like, a CONDITION, isn’t it? It’s so hard to maintain standards these days on a 50k-a-year budget: a clean house, spotless baby clothes, a fridge full of organic veg and meals made from scratch by a decent cook, a nice decoration. I end up having to do a A LOT of it MYSELF, because the staff can only come once a week each, isn’t it? It gives me no time whatsoever to even THINK about going back to work, because everything runs like clockwork in here - and I’m not even counting all the music lessons and educational play I attend with the kid on the days he’s not in nursery, because it’s important for his development, isn’t it? He’s in a good, well-recommended expensive private nursery full of messy play (which I can’t stand to do at home, that’s what I pay them for) and we still need to supply biodegradable nappies, otherwise our kids come back in horrors, like, I don’t know, HUGGIES. Life is so HARD. I’m only going to have another kid when we’re rich enough to have live-in help. I give myself 10 stars for being so PERFECT.” ********** The Social-Network Whore Mum: Oversharing is her motto. “EDITING is for the WEAK” is ALSO her motto, and her growing number of followers just comes to prove that another motto proffered by 19th Century low-life writers and much used by contemporary celebs rings truer than expected: “There is no such thing as bad publicity.” Pictures of her offspring, however, do not take centre-stage in her newsfeed, even though they tend to pop in every single day accompanied by hashtags stating the obvious (#cuteoverload or #burberrykid comes to mind). SHE is the star of her own show, and posts are full of exclamations points and pouty selfies. Because she is hell-bent on getting more followers, she replies to EVERY single tweet, Instagram and Facebook comment written to her, no matter the hour of the day or night. Her excuse? Her iPhone keeps her SANE while she deals with insomnia and tantrums, which makes us wonder what “sane” actually means in her world. Until you meet her in person and you realise that her definition of the word does not correspond AT ALL to the one provided by the dictionary. Although this Look-At-Me attitude would make her a truly hateable figure, she gets 4 stars for being really NICE to everyone, online and offline, a rare attitude in these “haters will hate” days. Even if her motive is to get you to press the “like” button. **** The Cooler than Cool Mum: East-London based, OF COURSE - you can’t even think about calling yourself COOL if you don’t get DOWN WITH THE KIDS at the Alibi, dude. Who babysits? Whoever is AVAILABLE and says so when she asks on Facebook, that’s who! She likes to CURATE her universe, because STYLING IS LIFE: from the baby’s outfits (vintage Osh Kosh and Jordans, no less) to her own get-ups (whatever’s everyone is reposting on tumblr) to the Pendleton blankets casually draped on top of the vintage sofa. Her husband occasionally gets suffocated and wants to run away to a place where they can just be, like, a NORMAL FAMILY, but he knows that there’s no way out: after all, that’s what keep the hottest invitations coming, innit? No point in being in LONDON if you don’t have ACCESS to stuff. She just needs to keep avoiding the baby poo talk whenever the cool kids are around and pretend she listens to Brooke Candy and wear Nasir Mazhar or something. She gets 4 stars for putting so much effort into looking effortless. ****
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playlist
TWILIGHT
Not the film, kids. That’s what we call the hours between 5:30 and 7:30pm, that tricky, DARK hours when you just CAN’T WAIT for bedtime. I don’t know about you, but I need some inspiration to keep me going other than cBeebies theme songs. LISTEN ONLINE: HTTP://8TRACKS.COM/GLITTAH/ TWILIGHT
1) Haim - Falling : upbeat track, feels like it came straight from a John Hughes teen comedy. The line “Never look back, never give up” is perfect for desperate times. 2) B52s - Private Idaho perfect to get you both jumping around the kitchen like you’re nuts, while you wait for dinner to get ready 3) Jay-Z - (Always Be My) Sunshine I can’t really justify this track here, other than it has an awesome beat, you can breakdance while feeding the beast, and there’s not a single “Bitch” on the lyrics. 4) PJ Harvey - C’mon Billy at this stage you’re already wondering where the hell is Daddy, who’s supposed to come home & take over. Added drama with the lines “Come Home/ It’s My Plea” 5) Angie Stone - Wish I Didn’t Miss You but of course he doesn’t come home in time, and you start singing the title line extra loud. 6) Neneh Cherry - Woman By now you decided you don’t anyone to fucking help you. Neneh Cherry comes over for extra-reeinforcement. 7) The Smiths - Panic You must remember every mum in the UK and the world is going through the same right now. This track will remind you of that. 8) Blind Melon - No Rain Dinner, bath and tantrums out the way, you come to the conclusion that “All I Can Say/ Is That My Life is Pretty Plain” 9) Massive Attack - Protection Bedtime. You remember you actually love every bit of this, and “I’ll stand in front of you/ take the force of the blow”, no matter what. 10) A Tribe Called Quest - Can I Kick It Kid is in bed, you can totally kick it now, and “if you really feel the urge the freak/ do the jitterbug/come and spread your arms if you really need a hug”
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A Letter To O Dear O. Minha linda. At the time of writing this, you’re one and a half. You’re in the process of learning to speak, and it’s fascinating to see you becoming effortlessly bilingual by trying different words from both languages every day. I can’t help but imagine the conversations we’re going to have in the future. Daddy and I have this silly habit of acting like each other’s therapist, and every once in a while we have long, soul-searching discussions about things like our lives as Brazilian immigrants, the state of pop culture, and what it means to be creative in this day and age. This last one is possibly the topic that torments mummy the most. You surely have no idea what it even means to be creative, because you naturally are - and mummy envies your innocence and lack of self-consciousness, in the best possible way. I remember loving being on my own as a 6-yearold, with my books, dolls, and trusty dog Duquesa, and spend entire afternoons pretending to be a character in a fairy tale (that didn’t involve princesses, that’s for sure. I’ve always wanted to be the witch). That evolved in my teens, in which I like to pretend to be my favourite film characters, like Acid Burn in Hackers and Mallory Knox in Natural Born Killers (you’re definitely too young to understand this, but my alter-ego has always been extremely badass). I used to think that when I grew up I would be living a life full of crazy adventures, all of which I would use as inspiration for my art - be that novels, feature films or who knows, entire staged musicals! I envisioned having all that done before you arrived, of course, because adventures and the act of creation takes time and effort and a little bit of selfishness. It wasn’t to happen, though. Not in this particular chronological way, that is. Mummy has indeed had lots, LOTS of crazy adventures throughout her teens and 20s, possibly enough to inspire an artist’s entire body of work. I’ve travelled the world, made friends with interesting, creative, a little bit cuckoo people, worked in weird, out of this world jobs, developed obsessions, and danced all night, countless times. But it seemed there never was enough time or money or self-confidence available for Mummy to sit and write it all down. Looking back, Mummy probably had plenty of time and energy and self-confidence and maybe even creativity, everything she needed to create whatever she wanted, but one thing we only come to understand later in life is this: when we’re young, we think we have all the time in the world. If it doesn’t happen today, it’s fine; one day, as if by magic, it will. But the magic happens only if you truly believe in it, and mummy never really believed in magic. Too many adventures sometimes make you question the importance of things and if magic even exists - and that includes your capacity for making it happen. And while you do, time goes by, like it does for everyone. One day, you arrived and of course, you became Mummy’s life and soul; suddenly there really wasn’t enough time or energy at all for Mummy to think about all those things - and for a while, they weren’t that important anyway. But then, something funny happened: as you started becoming a little person, as if by magic, you made Mummy see the world in a different light. You’re teaching me, every day, that nothing else exists apart from right here, right now. And to truly master anything, there’s nothing like time: just give it enough, and magic does indeed happen. It’s all a matter of perspective. And seeing life through your eyes now, Mummy feels constantly, endlessly inspired, energised, bursting with creativity. I can’t wait to go on lots of adventures with you - until you’re ready to go on those adventures by yourself. And maybe use them, as Mummy will, to create a world of your own.
send all complains, rants, and swearing to: thais@mamadalston.com