Confessions of a bad mother

How time flies

Hello stranger.
Pressure is a terrible thing. Having to do justice in conveying Saffron's wonderful personality and mischievous loveliness is all at once the easiest and most difficult thing I've ever had to write. And I did what any other ordinary person would do under pressure; I froze. I could make my excuses in detail but I'm sure you'd much rather I get with the programme; we have much catching up to do.

In the month that has passed since Saffron celebrated her second birthday, half the time I was busy with work. The other half I spent:
(a) pushing Saffron around on her training bicycle;
(b) building colour-coded lego skyscrapers;
(c) eating pretend toast and sipping pretend tea ("Very hot, very hot. Be careful" she says as she brings me a cuppa);
(d) sifting through the laundry pile to make sure Saffron hadn't snuck dolly's socks into the wash yet again;
(e) tending to the herd of elephants - stuffed, plush, battery-operated, you name it - she seems to have amassed;
(f) trying on the lovely dresses and clothes she got for her birthday, to see if they yet fit (most of them got the elusive "Princess dress!" stamp of approval too, I'm pleased to report);
(g) reading and answering an endless stream of questions on her new collection of books;
(h) watching Monsters Inc and Sesame Street alternately (no she hasn't moved on);
(i) getting really stressed as I let her try her hand (literally, as it turns out) at poster painting, ensuring they end up on the canvas and not the floor/bedlinen/my clothes/all of the above; and
(j) basically, not blogging.

She's also turned her attentions from Robert to Aqeel; London won the bid for the 2012 Olympics (Saffron celebrated by chanting "Eng-urland, Eng-urland, Eng-urland" with her Daddy); Saffron went on her very first school field trip to Bollywood Veggies - an organic farm (I almost cried when I dropped her off. According to her teachers she entertained her class by singing all the way there on the bus); London got bombed (with our telly permanently tuned into the news coverage on BBC World, Saffron is now able to recognise and say "Tony Blair"); the lower shelves in our fridge have been overrun by hairclips, pretend toast and toy plates; and we found out that she knows my name (One night she just decided to call me "Natalie" when I didn't answer to her repeated calls. I may not have blogged about it but I did make several international phonecalls to share my excitement. First time mother. You understand.)

So you can see that my plate's been quite full. And if you're still slightly miffed at how long it's taken for me to post an entry, might it help if I tell you I'm fighting through a lot of phlegm to bring this blog to you?