New Dogs on the Blog

Who is Boo?

Boo has over 1.7 million facebook fans.

Boo has a hairy face and a blog.

Boo is a Pomeranian who is cute as hell.

And Boo is also a hit with the ladies. Khloe Kardashian posted a picture of the dog on her blog last year and singer Ke$ha tweeted that Boo was her 'new boyfriend.'

So what's all the brouhaha about Boo? Well, I'll let him take it from here:

"My name is Boo and I am a Pomeranian who’s energetic and loves attention.

What I’m doing with my life:

Sleeping, eating and just looking absolutely adorable.

I’m really good at:

Staring for hours on end, running away from human and eating grass

The first thing people usually notice about me:

I have amazing style and a thick head of hair

Favorite shows, music and food:

Favorite show is Opera, musician Jason Mraz and food is a toss up between chicken and dirt…"

He has also made forays into fashion with mixed results:

Now I absolutely love Boo and my kids really want a Pomeranian.

But now it seems there's a new Dog on the Blogging Block. His name is Menswear Dog.

Who is Menswear Dog, you may well ask...

Well on his blog he tells me that "I am a 3 year old shiba inu living in NYC with a panache for all things style. His interests include never washing his selvage denim, lurking around Soho for someone to notice his steez, and sniffing fine a$$ bitches."

He looks absolutely lovely in his designer outfits I must say:

But what's truly unique about him is that he wants to answer your questions.

Very intriguing.

Well I didn't need asking. This looks like one clever stylish dude so I just asked him:

"What do you think of Boo the famous Pomeranian? Do you think he has a unique sense of style? Are you a fan of his or what?"

I'll let you know what Menswear Dog says.

I just hope I haven't put the cat amongst the pigeons between Boo and Menswear Dog....or the fur will really start to fly.

What would you like to ask Menswear Dog?

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Gifts for New Mums are Full of Folly

Gifts for new mums are full of folly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season to grin stiffly while presented with crap,
Fa la la la la, la la la la. 
 

Don we now our baby high heels,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
It's never too early be a Lady Gaga,
Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

 

See the baby poop scooper bags before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
For the baby who won't wear nappies.
Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
While I receive the gift of Baby Tee-Pee,
Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Germophobics love the Potty Mitts,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
But I don't think the Baby Toupee is a suitable gift,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

If you really want to make a new mum's Christmas,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Stuff a copy of Cocktails at Naptime in her stocking!,
Fa la la la la, la la la la. 

Merry Christmas to you all and have a fabulous New Year! Now we're off to sample some liqueur chocolates and maybe a Cocktail or two.

Hugs

Emma and Gillian

xxxx

Mick Jagger becomes world's oldest dad

Yes! Jumpin Jack Flash has done it again. Not content with getting his name in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most lucrative tour ever, Sir Mick now struts into the record books to become the world's oldest dad. Sporting rock hard pecs, a somewhat unkempt appearance and without his characteristic skin tight trousers, Mick yesterday cradled his son and said he was 'the happiest guy in the world.' See video below......

Actually hang on, no, on closer inspection I find that this is just a Jagger lookalike called Ramjeet Raghav. This guy is not a pop superstar but a 96-year-old Indian farmer (who was kneehigh to a grasshopper when Ghandi was 35) and who now holds the record for being the oldest guy in the world to become a father after his wife (age 52) gave birth to his second son earlier this month. Raghav actually beat his own record—his first son was born two years ago, when he was only 94.

And you know how some of you girls might have had trouble persuading your menfolk to give you babies? Well Ramjeet - bless his cotton socks - was celibate until 86, when he met his wife and decided to give fatherhood a go. So it took a while for him to meet the right woman and make that commitment. So what? He made sure he was ready so kudos to him!

Another question: for a 96 year old man and a 52 year old woman to have two sons you've got to ask yourself is there something in the water in the state of Haryana, 31 miles northwest of Delhi, where this couple live? Will the couple's back yard now become the Lourdes for the infertile? Will childless women pilgrim to Haryana to sniff the air or shake hands with Ramjeet Raghav? You read it here first!

In the meantime a copy of Cocktails at Naptime is winging its way to the happy dad in India. We hope he gets some top tips on handling his sanity while bringing up two young boys while approaching his hundredth birthday. Cheers mate!

There's no one quite like Grandpa (or Grandma)

Alas, I don't have any grandparents left. My English granddad once made a tape for a history class I had at school about his experiences during his twenties, and what was interesting about what he said was less that he had been in the Second World War than that he had 'dated a girl who worked in a Guinness factory whose hair was as glossy as a chestnut.' It was all those lovely personal details that made his past spring to life for me and our class.

Alas, in these frantic times, while we are racing around bringing up kids and commuting to work we might forget what it important: to record family history, to delve into our parents' lives for posterity, for history, and just for fun. For if we don't record the lives of our parents (and our kids' grandparents) now, then all too soon all the important details of their lives might be lost forever.

That's why I was thrilled to find the beautifully illustrated For My Grandchild memory book published by the lovely people at Fill and Tell. The book is designed for grandparents to share the story of their lives with their grandchildren. Each chapter focuses on a different time of life, so grandparents can share memories of their own childhood and upbringing as well as stories about their grandchild’s parents and the mischief they got up to when they were young. I loved that it included chapters on all manner of things like: How my parents met, When I was little, On the dinner, Household chores as well as Falling in love and Having our children.

For My Grandchild is a high quality, spiral bound book that makes a wonderful gift – either buy it for grandparents to fill in with all the intriguing and quirky details from their lives or alternatively, grandparents can buy it as a gift for their grandchild. It costs £24.99 and shipping worldwide can be arranged directly through Fill and Tell.

Grab a Cocktail on your Kindle!

Hot and exciting news! Cocktails at Naptime is now available as a Kindle in the US and the UK - so grab your copy today!

Fab NZ blogger Catching the Magic has this to say about the book:

"When I had my first baby, seven years ago, I had a sea of books on either side of my breastfeeding chair. Let’s just say I had the yin and the yang of parenting books. It took me six months to listen to my instincts, ditch the books and go with what felt right. I’d been told before motherhood that babies don’t come with manuals. It took me a while to realise how true that was. The only way forward was to piece together a mix of advice to come up with the best fit for baby and I.

If only Cocktails at Naptime had been around back then I might have managed to get through the first year of parenthood without requiring prozac.

This is no manual or ‘how to’ book.

‘Cocktails at Naptime is a laugh-out-loud, utterly realistic examination of all the things that can happen to your mind, your body, your partner and your relatives after the birth of a new baby.’

It is refreshingly honest, hilarious and probably the best contraceptive for teenage girls. I obviously could have done with this book a few years ago as I’m now a mother to three, with the youngest being only 8 months old."

Read more of this review at Catching the Magic's blog over here

Weekly Wifle: Air Con is my drug of choice



Sales of air conditioning units in the UK remained flat for 2011


England, oh England.

England is a place so damp and wet I once found mushrooms growing in the corners of our carpet in a particularly grim student residence. It is a place where sodden holidays by the sea are either accompanied by pacamacs, windbreakers or large flasks of whisky. So, I never as a whippersnapper, thought I would ever live in a place where I would crave the cool sweet synthetic air of an air conditioning system like a junkie craving his fix.

Indeed, I wonder now, looking back, had I ever seen an air conditioning unit in the UK? Do they exist? Or are they like the Loch Ness monster, simply something that is part of urban myth? Something no one has ever actually seen, although they think, you know, a friend of theirs might have one, although they've only seen a grainy photo of it.

No, the idea of anyone in the UK paying to be blasted with cold air is frankly, ludicrous.

But life is governed by Fate and not reason. Fate is a wily, duplicitous woman. And so, twelve years ago, I found myself moving to Baltimore, where the summers are so hot the only place you can possibly find respite is in a pool. And in the interim I have become a slave to air conditioning. In fact, none of us here knew how much of a slave we had become, until we had a massive storm recently and large areas of Baltimore lost power.

A tree also got struck by lighting in front of my house and crashed across the road during that storm, but I digress. My husband had to go out in the storm, get the generator out of the garage and attach it to the sub pump in the lighting and thunder, otherwise our basement would have flooded, (as it did last September) but I digress.

The day after this massive storm no one had any power because trees had pulled many electric wires to the ground. It was also 100 degrees F so people were in very bad moods.

If you know any people who are obsessed with drugs, you know how they are all friends with each other only so they can supply each other with drugs.

Well that's how it went after the storm. Cell phones were crashing all over the shop as overheated people called anyone they'd ever met to see if they had power and an air conditioning unit they could gain access to.

Everywhere air con addicts were phoning each other:

"Do you, you know have any...?"

"Any what?"

"Any power?"

"Yeah I might have."

"You mean you have AIR CONDITIONING ....hang on I'm coming over!!!!"

In fact, that first day after we lost power, I felt like someone in a Hieronymus Bosch painting, roasting in hell. As luck would have it, I happened upon some chums of mine who were lying under some trees in a park panting like dogs, croaking about the heat.

Hurrah! Thank God one of them HAD AIR CONDITIONING in their office. So we all went there and hung out there all day, including the kids. It was absolute heaven on earth!! The office also had a large supply of wine. But I digress.

Those friends of mine saved my life.

We got power back a few days later, but many people went without power for a whole week in brutally hot temperatures. It was mostly fun though, because all the neighbours chatted together and shared their generators for those without power.

But one thing I realised was that I am a slave to air conditioning. Sometimes a move back to Blighty seems like a good idea. If there's a power cut there...the one thing you would be able to live without would be air conditioning.

What do you think you couldn't live without if there was a power cut?

And if you want to join in with the Weekly Wifle please go here:

The Perils of Petting

Choosing a pet is not just an opportunity to have your house stink of pee or algae. It can also be an opportunity to teach your children some lively life lessons. Our first pets were goldfish bought from an eccentric lady who had a glowing neon fishtank filled with fish out on her yard for sale dirt cheap. The goldfish lived fairly peaceful lives with us until the purchase of some african cichlids by a certain husband who did not read the notice in the pet shop that they should not be mixed with slow witted goldfish or anarchy would occur. The result of his purchase, suffice to say, ended in the GOLDFISH MASSACRE OF 2009 in which certain goggle eyed goldfish, let us say, never regained the power of sight.

This led to outrage from the kids who loved the goldfish dearly, about how the cichlids were 'bad boys' and should be put in a 'time out', that they should receive severe corporal punishment with small sticks (don't worry this didn't happen) and in order to stay in the tank should be equipped with small muzzles (!) After I explained that it was not practical to make muzzles for fish and both dead goldfish and live cichlids were flushed (well what would you have done with them?) the life lesson learnt basicially amounted to 'always read labels in pet shops before purchasing new pets.'

Marshmallow, it's for you!



Essentially, we learnt that birds of a feather stick together, or in our case, guinea pigs. An easier time of it has been had after the recent purchase of two female guinea pigs called Peanut and Marshmallow. Marshmallow is now twice the size of Peanut and we have had discussions with the nippers about whether Marshmallow is pregnant. We have decided no she is not, partly because both are females and partly because it is obvious from observing her that she eats three quarters of the food and thus simply looks pregnant.

We have also had discussions about whether it is suitable to have Peanut live in a dolls house.

The answer being no unless we can equip it with a flushing guinea pig toilet (patent pending).

Further investigation on the internet for critter fashions has indicated that there are certain guinea pig fashion designers who take things a tad too far. It has been explained to the girls that guinea pigs should not be fashion plates, partly because I do not wish to shell out for such outfits (all fashions posed by models):

One unfortunate side effect is that I have become obsessed with Peanut and Marshmallow and am very concerned with their welfare. Their nails have become too long now and I must either cut them myself or take them to the vet and I am worried they will get hurt - you know, how you are worried about your child hurting from having a shot at the paediatrician. I will only get more and more attached to the animals I call my 'grandpigs' and as they live about eight years I fear I will only get more obsessed with them.

So, do tell, is it normal to think of your pets as children and what has your pet taught you?

Cocktails at Naptime - A Woefully Inadequate Guide to Early Motherhood is available for download at the ibookstore here or in paperback here.