Jon & Angie

My little brother is getting married today. Unfortunately, with Rosie being so small we were unable to make the trip so I'm sitting here wondering how it's going, what everyone is doing, what I'm missing.

I was very lucky to meet his fiancee, Angie, in May when we were in Texas. She's a tiny little red-headed thing and from what I hear she's been a huge blessing to Jon and Dyllin. I so wish I could've been there to throw her a bridal shower but hopefully I can make up for it with a baby shower within a few years. They're getting married in about an hour. I wonder how they're feeling. I'd love to see my family all dressed up. It's so rare that we do these kinds of things. Nikki has promised me lots of photos and all the details. I hope it's going well.

It suddenly hit me last week that Angie won't just be Jon's wife and Dyl's stepmom, she'll be my sister-in-law and aunt to Tobes and Rosie. I've been showing Toby her photo and telling him about his new Aunt Angie. It's so exciting to have a new member of the family.

I hope they're enjoying their day.

Christmas highlights

• A few days before Christmas I was in the kitchen preparing Toby's lunch, Rosie was in her bouncy chair in the living room and Tobes was pottering about. I put his lunch on the table and went in to get Rosie to find her wide-eyed and covered head to toe in gold glitter. "TOBY!! Did you put glitter on your sister?!" "Mommy, I wanted to make her sparkly." Rosie sparkled for days afterward because getting the glitter out of the fuzz on her head was virtually impossible.

• A few days later and Tobes is refusing to eat his lunch. "I'm going to save my lunch for Santa." "Toby, I don't think Santa wants your lunch. Mrs Claus will make Santa's lunch for him." "But Mommy, he's very fat. He needs to eat a lot so he can eat my lunch too."

• On Christmas Eve Rosie laughs for the first time when Elizabeth says in a silly Southern accent "Pass the hairspray, Rosie Rae." That little detail will definitely be going into the baby book.

• 3.15am on Christmas morning. "MOMMY! DADDY! SANTA"S BEEN HERE!! GET UP!" Yes, we got up.

• 6.00am the day after Christmas. "Has Santa been here again??"

• The day after Christmas and Tobes is not eating his lunch again (do you see a theme here?). I try to encourage him to eat and he gets a sly look and says "Santa's not watching me now. I can be naughty again." Oh dear.

Another quick update

The days are so full right now. Quick updates are about all I can manage. I've got a bunch of photos I want to add to the blog too including one of Rosie's rare smiles. Actually, she's smiling a lot more now and is becoming a real Daddy's girl. When J starts talking to her she lights up and she gives her biggest and best smiles to him. It's so lovely to see that stern little face break into a big cheesy grin... and Rosie's smiles are pretty cute too.

J and I did our supermodel bit on Saturday and had a great time. They did my hair really curly which was fun but reminded me of my bouffant highschool hair. Everyone at the shoot was so nice. I was nervous that they would all be supercool and pity us for being so old and parental. In fact, the opposite was true. It was like stumbling into a Bridget Jones movie. I finally understand the true meaning of Smug Marrieds and it was very strange being one of them for the day.

As J and I were getting ready to leave I overheard them discussing whose hands to use for the next shoot. I volunteered my services and, since I had 'fewer bones' in my hands than the others, they accepted! So I did a bit of hand modelling too. I had to hold various bits of tacky lingerie over a garbage bin. Very glamourous.

AND now I'm doing an article in a pregnancy magazine! I'm being interviewed about my pregnancy witn Rosie and I'll be doing another shoot. I'm going to have to start charging for my services. Cindy Crawford watch out.

Now we're building up to Christmas. I've been spending far too much on presents for the kiddos and J and I are treating ourselves a bit too. I bought some lovely boots today that remind me of the episode of Friends where Monica buys the boots. Hopefully these won't make my feet bleed like hers did but I feel just as excited about them.

Toby has his school Christmas party tomorrow. They've got Father Christmas coming to see the children and Tobes is really excited. On Christmas Eve we're meeting up with the lovely Mary Catherine and her parents at Canary Wharf for morning coffee. In the evening we're going to the Christmas Eve procession here in Blackheath. They have Mary, Joseph and the donkey walk through the village. The procession ends at All Saints church on the heath where everyone sings carols. Christmas day is just the four of us here at home and I do the whole turkey, sprouts and parsnips lunch. On Boxing Day we're going up to see J's family and see Jenny & Kieran. The day after Boxing Day we're planning to do a walk for charity through Greenwich Park but we may stay in Cambridge instead. We'll just play it by ear.

And I think that's all for now. Time for bed.

Quick update

Well, still ill. We all trouped down to the doctors today and are now all on antibiotics. Hopefully this will finally get us over being sick. Poor little Rosie, she's six weeks old tomorrow and has spent five weeks ill. She hasn't had any fever but is a snotty little thing. The doc said she had some fluid on her lungs too but that it was nothing to worry about and the antibiotics would clear it right up. J and I have bronchitis and Tobes has a chest infection. So exhausting.

In more exciting news, J and I are being featured in a British magazine! I'm going to wait and see how it turns out before I broadcast the details but it's a glossy monthly women's magazine and the article is about lasting love (ah bless). We answered various questions and a specialist gave her feedback on our relationship. It was actually all very positive but some of the questions were about s-e-x so we want to see exactly what makes it into the article before we tell everyone to go and look for it. We've got the photo shoot on Friday and I spoke to the magazine's art director today and gave her our clothing sizes. They're doing hair, make-up, styling, the whole bit. Lord knows what we're going to look like. I still feel like a heffalump after the pregnancy but I'm hoping they can work their magic and make me look svelte.

Last Friday Tobes had his nativity play at school. Toby was in the Male Choir and wore red trousers, a white shirt and a Santa hat. He did very well though about halfway through the production he stood on stage, looked at us out in the audience and said very loudly 'I'm tired!' He had had a big morning. Of course, I made a complete idiot of myself and cried my way through a stack of tissues. It was just so amazing to be watching my little boy in a school play while my little girl slept in her Daddy's arms next to me. In that moment all my dreams had come true. So, so happy right now.

Navel gazing

Three things have happened in the last week that have made me stop and think.

The first one was last week as I was finishing French Women Don't Get Fat (thinking about losing the baby weight). At the end of the book the author talks about life stages and breaks them down into age groups that include 17-34 and 35-55. It suddenly hit me that in about six weeks I'll be moving into the latter category. When I read that section it struck terror into my heart. It's all about metabolism slowing down, loss of bone density and even discusses menopause! Good heavens.

Then on Friday Toby's school hired a little theatre company to come and do Puss in Boots for the children. I went to pick Tobes up just as the actors were loading the van. Tobes was a bit starstruck so we stopped to chat and tell them how much Toby had enjoyed the show. The group was made up of about half a dozen guys and girls in their early twenties. As Tobes and I were walking home with Rosie in the stroller I realised something that really frightened me - to those fresh young people I was virtually invisible. I was a Mother and I wasn't 'young'. If they had been forced to call me by name they would've called me Mrs Futers. The girls could not imagine being friends with me and the boys, god forbid, could not imagine sleeping with me.

Now, I'm not hankering for my youth but this was the first time that I felt older than other people who would be considered adults themselves. It's one thing to feel the differences between yourself and a group of grotty teenagers, quite another to feel so far from something that still seems so close.

Then yesterday, another disconcerting experience. I finally got around to taking the bottle of champagne that's been knocking around the trunk of our car for weeks to our estate agent. It's a thank you present for all of her hard work with the buying of the flat. The agent is named Miranda . She's in her mid-late twenties and in the raging insanity of pregnancy I was convinced that J was either having an affair with her or hoping to. Now, I didn't really think that J was having an affair but I did, and still do, think that if he was going to have an affair the person would be someone like Miranda.

She's very London. Very well-dressed but not uptight. Quite pretty and very well groomed. Business-like to the point of being curt at times but can turn on the charm when necessary. If I'm being honest, she reminds me of myself at the same age... or at least my hopeful perception of myself at that age. Yesterday I was much more struck by our differences. Miranda had her hair highlighted since the last time I saw her and it had obviously been blow-dried that morning because it looked soft and smooth. This was in stark contrast to my own hair. I too had washed my hair that morning but had then quickly shoved it into a ponytail while it was still wet so that I could wipe Toby's bottom and get Rosie her bottle. As I stood in the real estate office in Miranda's glow I suddenly realised that I hadn't even looked in the mirror before leaving the house. Ugh. I had at least remembered to brush my teeth. Yay.

Miranda asked how we were doing and I said that we were fine but that we all had this awful cold that's been going around. She replied that she had it too and wasn't it dreadful. Again, the differences stood out in stark relief. She was poised, groomed and had her make up on. I, on the other hand, knew from experience that my face would be bright red from the cold and I could actually see the dry flakes on the end of my nose from blowing it constantly and I knew that I looked as knackered as I felt. Add to this picture Miranda's chic little skirt and my sweatpants with dirty hems because they're too long without the bump to hold them up and you can understand my discomfort.

As I stood talking to her, trying to maintain my composure while I became increasingly concerned as each difference made itself obvious to me, I saw Rosie spit up out of the corner of my eye. I quickly wiped the sick off her mouth and the snot from her nose before saying goodbye. I awkwardly backed the stroller out of the office door, laden like a packhorse with the nappy bag and my bulging handbag. As I waved goodbye I noticed Miranda pick up a tiny elegant handbag and virtually glide into the next office. Ugh again.

Now what does all of this mean? Do I want to be twenty again? No. Do I want to be Miranda? Absolutely not. Do I have a new position and identity to which I need to adjust? Definitely. Being 31 with one child is a far cry from being 35 with two children. It's getting serious now. I may just have to grow up.

Hopefully not too much though.