They actually left me!

So, one day Mammaa woke me up early. She usually lets me sleep till I want to, but that particular day was different.

It was different in so many ways. She kept cooing things to me. Went on rambling about going “bye-bye” and “having fun” as she prepped my milk.

Pappaa was ironing my clothes and Mammaa was frantically searching for a particular pair of socks of mine. (What is it with Mamaa and lost socks!)

I didn’t know what all the fuss and hurry was about. I couldn’t quite lay my finger on it, but something was different. And I sensed something wrong was about to happen. Something very wrong.

My parents were palpably tensed. I could smell their anxiety in the air. Their fake smiles, and high, pretend- happy voices. The phony excitement. I saw right through them.

If you do not know, let me enlighten you- babies are born with an extremely potent gut instinct. It fades away with age, but it is paramount to our survival. We can sense fear, danger, anxiety, deceit and falsity. And that morning, there was a nasty cocktail of all these things thick in the air.

Was is a “pokey- appointment”, where they stick a needle into me again. Oh no! No way are they going to get me this time. No. NO.

I tried to delay the inevitable. Whatever it was.

I stalled. I refused milk and spit up breakfast. I ran away when Mammaa took me to the loo for a clean up, and I threw a fit when they tried to get a diaper on me.

But at the end, they got the better of me. I was dressed and ready. And Mammaa pulled out about half a dozen bags from no where. What were in them, I wondered. And where did they come from?

They strapped me into my seat and tried to say some reassuring words. We love you. You are fantastic. You are so smart. You will have sooo much fun. Yada yada yada….

I tried to tune them out, and concentrate on my favorite song which was on loop on the car stereo. It played about 4 times, and we stopped. Pappaa got me outside, and Mammaa got all the bags.

We went in. I vaguely remembered the place from before. I was sure we’d been there before, not exactly sure for what though.

It was bright and airy. And there were loads of pretty. smiley people walking around. It smelled fresh, but a sort of artificial fresh. Smelled like the stuff Mammaa sometimes rubs her hands with.

And there was an eerily disproportionate number of little people there. In short, I did not like or trust the place one bit.

I was curious though. What was this about? And maybe if we hung around there, I could explore the myriad colored, attractive stuff that was lying around.

My parents and the lady at the entrance spoke for a while. They all exchanged smiles and pleasantries. We were then taken to a room inside. It was then that the unthinkable happened.

Pappaa handed me to the strange lady with the cap on, Mammaa deposited all the bags and they said bye. I wailed and screamed with all my breath and might. I fought. They hung around for a bit and then….. THEY LEFT! They actually left me there!!!! Just like that.

Thereafter, I refused everything. Cool water, delicious strawberries, tasty treats, the most magical looking toys, the smiley people, the cool little people, the enticing bed; I did not care for any of them.

Would they ever come back I wondered. Is this where I’m going to live from now on. With these weird, smiley, big people and the multi-hued small people.

I ultimately did fall asleep that day and “they” (as in my untrustworthy parents) did come back in a bit. But I woke up in that strange, new place with a new perspective. And a plan.

If they ever try this stunt on me again…ever…. they would have hell to pay. I will see to that!

Till next time.

A determined, stoic and world- wise Zoe.

An entire generation of confused women.

Each passing day, makes me realize how hard it must have been for my Mum. To be a homemaker. Day in, day out. Every single day. Without a break.

On Sundays, when the kids wanted their favorite fried treats, and Pappaa wanted to lie in and watch cricket and read the news.

On Eid and holidays when we’d entertain guests and she’d cook up elaborate, lavish spreads of authentic albeit incredibly time and energy sapping Malabari delicacies. At the end of it, we’d be almost thankless, and would instead nit- pick over dessert choices or the table-ware.

She’s always up at the crack of dawn. Cleaning, organizing, clearing away our mess, cooking, washing, ironing; she was perennially busy. And I wondered why she was always occupied. How utterly foolish of me, I now realize!

Eating out was an uncommon affair, one reserved for special occasions and for times when out of town relatives were visiting. I never once wondered how incredibly hard it must have been to put together three (or four!) ‘full- on’ meals a day, and have it piping hot for people who strolled into the home at different times of the day. Somebody comes in after hockey practice, someone comes in even later because they had their debate club meet; and another person walks in close to midnight because it’s audit season. All want hot, comforting food, on clean, dry, homey plates. And yes, most Indian dishes involve a lot of soaking, kneading, mixing, blending, grinding, cutting; in short they can be complicated and arduous. And this was a time, when mixes and pre- packed, frozen or “short- cut” (e.g.store- bought batter) foods were just coming into the market and were generally looked- down or frowned upon.

She did it all, with hardly a sour face. With no aspirations of a high- flying career (which she laments about now) or wishes for freedom from the chores and mores of domestic life; she lived out her young adult life dedicated to her family.

And here I am. Every time I do the dishes at night, I’m squeamish to admit, I feel a twinge of resentment. A smidgen of self- importance creeps in, and I feel “above” doing dishes. That I’m too qualified, too refined; that doing measly domestic chores is beneath my high and mighty self!  I quickly clamp the feeling down and seal them shut. After all, I do it out of love, and not force or coercion I tell myself.

Why does an otherwise family- oriented, well- rounded (hopefully!) family girl/ woman have such feelings of resentment toward homely duties and obligations? When did washing one’s own bathroom, or doing the family dishes become lowly. When does one become too lofty to fold their own underwear?

The fault, probably lies in our upbringing. Equal opportunities and equal treatment of male and female children, in a society where gender stereotypes are rife and real creates a whole generation of well- meaning but confused young adults. The woman wonders if it’s demeaning to be so educated and yet lead the the life of a stay-at- home homemaker. The man wonders if he will be judged by his family, relatives and peers if he decides to take a year off and be a hands on daddy at home.

In our current generation, we like to believe that there are no clear- cut gender definitions or gender- determined roles. We’d like to believe that there are perfectly content and happy families out there with stay- at-home dads and mothers who despise the stove. My generation of Indian women, not all, but at least my friends, acquaintances and peers, growing up, hardly ever spent a moment in the kitchen. We were never really taught to cook, sew, or fold laundry. I never washed a single item of clothing until I moved out of the home to pursue my residency in another city. I never cooked a meal, until I married, and moved to another country.

We’d like to believe that we have truly evolved into a gender- neutral family system and have left our “woman equals gatherer/ nurturer and men equals hunter/ provider” days behind.  Yet, ask any man and he will tell you that he feels obliged to bring in the dough every month, to be the primary bread- winner/ provider. And most women I speak to (including myself) admit to feeling the pressure to put some food on the table everyday.

No matter how much I try, every time we eat out or order take away, I feel a sense of failure. Failure to nurture my little family with lovely, home- cooked meals; meals that provide a warmth and homey comfort that no pricey, gourmet meal or cheap, tasty take- away can provide.

And there is this other aspect of gender stereotypes that we cannot seem to be rid off. Even if the woman slogs outside the home and brings in a big, fat paycheck, she is still obligated almost to make sure the home is tidy and organized. That the laundry is sorted, washed, folded and put away. That the sheets are fresh. The surfaces and kitchen counters are clean. That the fridge is stocked. The toys put away. A man doing these chores is a requested exception; most likely a one- off, emergency- dictated occurrence. At best they would make the effort but still leave enough for the woman to re-do or undo and at worst it would lead to a silly tiff!

Maybe the men are not to blame. Mostly likely, they are not inherently programmed to do all of the above. Maybe they do not perceive the mess and chaos as women do. Maybe perceived gender- roles are more ingrained in our psyche than we realize or care to admit.

Even with all the juggling and multi- tasking we do, we are not the superstars. The true superstars are the women before us. Who sacrificed their dreams, aspirations, desires and lives. Who devoted their lives to our upbringing and well being. Who were selfless and giving. Who have worked tirelessly for us to be where we are. We can never be them, sadly, but we can learn great lessons from them. Of patience. Of kindness. Of contentment. Of life.

I have no idea, where we women are heading to. We are not sure what we want from life. We are humans who were no different from our male- peers and competed with them in all aspects, and had similar aspirations; all until the day we got married of course. Thrown blind into the deep end of the new- age family structure, we are unsure of our role and place in this society and its family systems. Our dreams often collide with the future of our families’ and we almost always have to scale back the proportions of the vision our own selfish- future, to accommodate all the new entrants into our life. No matter how differently we think and behave as opposed to the women before us, we still have to do many of the same things they did. Most important of those- bear and nurture progeny. It is a fate we can neither fight nor change, for the continuation of the human race dictates we perform that role. And therefore, we are lost and confused.

Marital roles and motherly feelings are not often conducive to worldly conquests and scientific pursuit. The harsh truth is that, women will always have to work harder, faster, better, smarter; mainly because we just have more to do. And we almost certainly will have to step back a few times, slow down and then rejoin the race and run harder than ever before. We just have to. Or we could opt out and hope to flourish in roles that have been traditionally set out for us. It is a choice, one no more better than the other. Both hard. Both fulfilling.

Amidst all the inner- conflicts, mood- swings, decision swaps and womanly chaos, we must also thank our long- suffering, ever- supportive, eternally understanding partners. After all they are the other wheel of the proverbial bicycle of life, whether we like to admit it or not!

Till next time.

Dr J.

Bad Shawarma Karma :-(

A Ramadan Friday at the HJ household.

Sleep in.

Then wallow in bed, till you can push it no further. The baby’s breakfast that is.

You might be fasting, but you better drag your arse off the bed and get some breakfast going for the tiny human. Feeding the tiny human is paramount.

Prep the food. And then hope the baby eats it. At least a quarter of it.

In short, hope for a miracle.

Laze around.

Do some customary spot cleaning. A smidgen of laundry here, some dishes there.

You want to conquer the home and world. Not today though.

Play silly games with the tiny human.

Contemplate what to make for iftar.

Clean the baby up. Pat it dry, clothe it and let it loose.

Discuss dinner options.

The Woman has no intention of slogging over the stove this day. Not today.

Baby wreaks havoc while the adults while away their time on the internet.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you are randomly struck by Shawarma craving.

The Shawarma Fiend strikes when you least expect it. And he strikes hard.  As always.

Your every fiber and breath craves the meaty, succulent, gooey treat.

More discussions follow, regarding iftar and dinner choices.

A ton of leftovers from previous  hearthy escapades languish forlorn in the fridge. You decide to give them all a chance. And thus, Iftar’s sorted.

Dinner is a no brainer. Shawarma it shall be. From this place that you have never been to, but one that everyone keeps telling you about.

To kill the draggy intervening hours, you will yourself to brave the blistering afternoon heat and perform a weekly exercise that is irksome but mandatory. The weekly LuLu jaunt/ grocery trip.

That done, you quickly get through the motions at Iftar and prayers; and even manage to squeeze in a “guilt-run” (aka quick 45 minute run in anticipation of further gastronomic indulgence) at the Corniche.

All done. It’s time.

10:30 PM. 16.4 km from home. Excited woman. Stoically duteous man. Tired, sleepy baby.

You look outside the car window. You are there. Almost. You have never been there before. But you know exactly where it is supposed to be.

And it is closed. Closed!

For renovation. By the municipality. For change of location. Forever. Who knows.

Who would have thought!

Plan A :-(
Plan A 😦

Aah! The anticipation. The long ride. All the talk. And the planning.

On this day, at this time; your craving shall not be satiated.

You are crestfallen.

The man’s secretly smiling. The woman’s belligerently “hangry”. The baby has given up and dozed off.

And this is life folks. There are no sureties. No givens. Plans are never fail-proof.  Desires often remain unfulfilled.

Hence the need to always have Plan B.

As in Plan Biriyani!

Plan B!
Plan B!

Till next time.

Dr J.

P.S. Gotta love a town where you can get steaming biriyani at 12AM. And gotta love Ramadan!

A year on.

I’m often accused of being a person with nigh zero sense of occasion. Anniversaries and birthdays are like water off a duck’s back to me. If not for social media and reminders from humans and gadgets alike, I would probably never remember any of them.

I therefore stand out like sore thumb in an era where ‘1 week meeting’ anniversaries are celebrated with more gusto than I would be able to muster if I won the Nobel Prize.

I am neither proud, nor embarrassed by this trait of mine. But I do wonder sometimes, if I’m letting life sneak by. Slink away slowly, while I while away each day. Maybe I am the fool here, not the couple who threw a huge party for their newborn’s one month ‘birthday’.

Maybe life is about these “special” occasions and celebrations. Maybe my daughter will someday wonder why her first birthday was a tiny, family affair while her peers had fancy do’s at fancy places with loads of fancy people attending.

This 4 AM ramble was brought on by a small little message that popped up on my WordPress page.

Whoa!
Whoa!
Whoa! Has a year passed already. When? How?

I went on to check some statistics. Humble though they might be, they are still significant to me, especially considering my content here is nothing out of the ordinary.

I do not have any particular area of expertise, nor do I post fashionable Instagram worthy selfies. I promise nothing exciting really. And I’m prone to fickle and erratic behavior, and it often reflects on the blog. I also did not know (when I started) if I’d have the commitment to see this through to even a month!

And yet, here we are. Over 300 posts, almost 50,000 views, over 1000 comments; and most importantly a small community of folks who remain faceless but are a part of my everyday life. Folks who do not know me personally, but who mostly likely ended up here looking up information about everyday life in Qatar. A vast majority are here thanks to RP processing dilemmas and conundrums, and another bunch are here because they were/ or are pregnant and clueless in Qatar!

The RP seeking folks....
The RP seeking folks….
Regardless of what got you here, thank you for sticking around friend. Truly. It’s been a pleasure, and I look forward to sharing so much more with you folks!

Till next time.

Dr J.

P.S. Today is the day you “silent folks” speak up. Come on. Don’t be shy, I promise not to bite! 

Suggestions are welcome too.

Ma Wednesday- Off she goes!

There is a sense of foreboding as the day approaches. I try to appear nonchalant and in control. I portray an air of preparedness, and try to prove to The Grammys/ Grampys and The Mister that I can keep my sh&* together.

The research has been done, the footwork performed and the ground laid. The endless trips to potential “places” are over, the questions answered.

The registrations have been made, and the fees paid. The welcome letters have been read and the information packets devoured. The guidelines memorized.

The paraphernalia has been purchased and special trips to the supermarket have been planned. The menus are posted on the refrigerator and penciled into the Filofaxes.

All set we suppose?

Like hell!

She’s so tiny. She doesn’t eat. Nobody else gets her cues. What about nap times?

There is this buzzing in my head that I cannot get rid of. I dread the day.I look forward to it too (so that it can finally be over with!).

I worry, though every rational part of me says it will be perfectly alright. I go around hypothetical scenarios in my head like a secret service agent on a no-holds barred international mission of life or death. I am a blubbering, emotional worrywart and the old, non-mum me would have found the current me to be utterly uncool and laughably daft.

I cannot help myself. I guess this is what happens when your very essence walks around, unprotected outside of your body!

Hundreds, and thousands have been here before. And yet, that fact provides no solace, instills no confidence.

The Tiny One is off to nursery folks.

And I feel like I am about to face the guillotine on LSD!

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Till next time.

Dr J.

Runday Monday- Ramadan fitness.

Here goes.

Is it possible to fit in a workout whilst fasting during the day, and juggling everything else a working mother has to do during such a month?

Shall give it a go, I suppose. Have done it before (conveniently forget facts- was then a surgical trainee, living alone, with no responsibilities to speak of outside the hospital), haven’t I?

Only two time slots available. Pre- dawn/ suhoor. Post sunset/ iftar.

Considering dawn/ suhoor is at around 3:10 AM, guess option number one is a no go.

Tried option two last evening. Reworked the little one’s schedule, packed up after her dinner and hit the road.

‘Twas gusty and dusty, but the sea air was surprisingly fresh and invigorating. Thought we’d be close to dead by the time we were done, but in reality it turned out to be a tonic for the glycaemically confused body.

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The sea-spray on my left and the city- lights on the right.

Let’s take it up a notch today, shall we?

The only overriding point being, there should be some fuel in the tank to burn, and I should be able to eat almost immediately after 🙂

And considering SOME people cannot purge their gastronomic demons, and are often guilty of eating one too many (rather ‘ten too many”) fried delights; this seems to be the only way!

Till next time.

Dr J.

The Ladies Lounge- Foundation query?

Holla Ladies!

A couple of folks have pinged yours truly on Facebook and some have posted questions on the blog- What foundation shades do I use? Since I don’t really put up any pictures, I never thought it would matter to you ladies. I obviously thought wrong! Apologies.

Now that you folks have asked, I do see the point of it. Foundation purchases can be worse than buying real estate. You are never quite sure, and things can go wrong even after we’ve bought them. They sometimes oxidize, some exacerbate dry patches, some get super shiny in a couple of hours and others just don’t last. Color matching is a whole another story and every suggestion, reference and review matters. Sales assistants at the counters cannot always be relied upon either. So henceforth I shall mention the shade names/ numbers of all the foundations/ powders and concealers I feature on the blog.

For starters, here are a few that I have used recently.

The Body Shop Tea Tree Flawless BB Cream– 02 (Decent match)

MAC Face and Body Foundation C3 (Excellent match)

MAC Matchmaster 4.0 (Darker/ more yellow- best after a good tan, beach vacation or marathon)

Chanel Vitalumiere 30 Cendre (Good match. I’m not sure this is available anymore though)

Chanel Perfection Lumiere 40 Beige (The counter was badly stocked :-(, hence could not try 30)

NARS Sheer Glow Stromboli (A tad too yellow perhaps, might go for a different shade next time)

NARS Radiant Creamy Concealor Medium 2 Ginger

I used Revlon ColorStay for the longest time. Excellent foundation, but sadly I don’t remember the shade. Will update this page as we go along.

Till next time.

Dr J.

The Ladies Lounge- Ramadan makeup?

Ramadan is supposed to be a time of piety, charity, self-control, reflection and introspection. A time of detachment from all that is materialistic and worldly and a time to rediscover yourselves, get closer to your maker and reflect inwards.

True.

Ramadan is also a time when you are going about life on full throttle with a fuel tank that is empty. Ramadan brings with it a whole new level of errands, chores, family commitments and engagements. All while you also get along with the mundane matters such as going to work and taking care of your little ones.

In short, even with the shortened working hours (which itself is a luxury that few enjoy), some of us survive on a measly three or four hours of sleep.

All said though, it’s great to spend Ramadan here in Qatar; of course it is subject to having your family around to enjoy it with. There is an unmistakable air of festivity and cheer in the air, even with the searing heat. It reminds us of the UK during the holiday/ Christmas season or the fall/ Dussera- Diwali season in India. There aren’t many places in the world where you’d find entire families, with babies in tow too, out and about at 2 AM!

The late nights ultimately take it’s toll though. Sleep deprivation and food withdrawal, combined with exhaustion wrecks havoc on your skin and most days you look like a zombie on amphetamine. Few of us are unfortunate enough to be ‘blessed’ with hereditary dark circles that are compounded by the sleep deprivation and exhaustion.

In short, even though “make-up” is supposed to be the last thing on your mind this month, one still has to look presentable enough to show up at work and should clean-up enough to go to an iftar party or host friends and family at home.

So, how does one look like they have nothing on (in order to not look vain and made-up) and yet look fresh and respectable enough to be in human company. And yes, the overriding point being- it should not take more than ten minutes at the maximum.

Here goes.

Prepping the skin

This includes sunscreen (for daytime) and a mattyfying primer. If you intend to get out of the air- conditioning for even a split second (like getting into the car) or spend any amount of your time in the kitchen over boiling soups and spluttering oils (while you worry over when the guests will actually arrive), the primer is a must in my book. You could of course skip this step if your have very, very shy sebaceous glands (aka dry skin) or you don’t mind if you look like you fell face down into your oil- filled saucepan.


A good sunscreen is a good place to start
A good sunscreen is a good place to start

An oil- control primer is an almost- must.
An oil- control primer is an almost- must.

A corrective base

Most foundations are too heavy and cakey for this kind of summer. Also, you wouldn’t want to look like you are attending a high-fashion photo-shoot during Ramadan. The key, as mentioned before, is to look fresh- faced; not ‘model- stunning’ or flawless. A BB cream, or a light foundation will suffice.

My personal favorite for this type of look is the MAC Face & Body. It always looks like “my-skin- but-better” and never looks cakey. It can be worked up to medium coverage as well


Light, non-cakey bases
Light, non-cakey bases are the way to go

Concealer is queen

For those horrendous dark- circles and huge breakouts (thanks to all the delicious fried food!), you absolutely need a heavy- duty concealer.

The NARS Radiant Creamy Concealer is my pick. This little fella is a tricky one though. Learning to make it work takes a a bit of effort. But at the end of the day it does do some serious damage to my dark- circle situation.

When it works, it’s a miracle- worker otherwise it is cakey, creasy crap!


Work- horse!
Work- horse!

For serious dark circles and hyperpigmention, you might also need a color- corrector. But I wouldn’t bother unless I’m attending a wedding or other such events of ‘significance’.


Tackling brows

If there is one step I wouldn’t skip, it would be this. For those ladies who have full, jet- black, archy brows- I detest you! And of course YOU could skip this step entirely.

My favorite brow product of all time is the Benefit Brow Zings (in DARK). Review here


The best yet
The best yet

Has everything s brow needs.
Has everything a brow needs.

Blush- to tackle the sallow, dead look.

This step takes less than five seconds and looks like a natural, lovely flush when you use a product like the Benefit Benetint or The Body Shop Lip and Cheek Stain.


Blush bets.
Blush bets.

As an alternative, you could also use a powder blush if you so wish. MAC Pinch Me is my most natural looking blush. I sadly don’t have the time to fiddle around with brushes and blending. I’d rather fry some chicken for the evening.


Pinch Me!
Pinch Me!

Waking up the eyes

Even if you don’t curl your lashes, applying mascara definitely helps with looking awake and fresh. Some ladies like their black kohl, I was one a while back, but now I prefer muted browns and greys for the daytime. Even better, when you want that “I- have- nothing-on-my-face-I-look-this-fresh-everyday” look, apply a flesh- toned liner to your water line (white looks odd on us olive/ brown skinned ladies).


Don't have a flesh- toned liner, so a lip liner will do for now.
Don’t have a flesh- toned liner, so a lip liner will do for now.

Finally…

I would just apply some lip- balm or a very natural looking matte lipstick.

My picks for olive/ light- brown/ brown skin this summer- MAC Twig & Cosmo, Chanel Rouge Allure Velvet ‘La Romanesque’ (a dab!), Revlon Soft Rose and YSL Rouge Pur Couture 09. All lovely pink- toned neutral lipsticks. With such muted make-up, for me personally, a nude- lipstick is a bad idea, it makes me look ill and sallow, which is not my most- preferred look!


Understated pink chic
Understated pink chic

Tip= Dab!
Tip= Dab!

That’s about it ladies. Now go on, greet your guests, kill that presentation at work or hit the iftar buffet. You might be hypoglycemic, tired and drowsy, but folks around you will be none the wiser!

Till next time.

Dr J.

Human limits.

It’s amazing how you can have a full- fledged meal smack- bang in the middle of the night one day. At a time when you are usually in the throes of the deepest slumber. You can then wake up and ignore your oddly bereft feeling, and yet- grumbling tummy in the morning, and leave to wherever and whatever awaits you in the name of ‘work’.

Then, without a thought, you refrain from even a single drop of water or a morsel of sustenance and casually get through the day. Or so it seems.

In reality, hunger is irrepressible. It constantly nags your thought and action. You are left irritable and vulnerable. It leaves you bare to the hostilities of nature and environment that you did not even know existed.

And yet, you conquer it. Albeit for 10, 15 or 20 hours a day; you bravely face man’s greatest nemesis – HUNGER.

It’s amazing what the human mind and body is capable of. We can hardly predict where it’s terminus ad quem lies. So push yourselves a little harder than usual today folks. Go a bit further away from your comfort zones. Go faster, higher, longer, better if possible. In all endeavors.

Irrespective of what motivates your actions; blind faith, superstition, culture, tradition, science, belief systems, emotions, instinct- do whatever it is you are doing better than you did before.

We are so much more capable than we think we are, apparently.

Till next time..

Dr J.

P.S. I am not sure what brought it on. Nor do I know where I intended to go with this post 🙂 I always ramble incoherently if woken at anytime between 2 and 3 am….

Currently Crushing- Zoe’s Summer Edition!

Aah my lovely adult folks, it’s so wonderful to write to y’all again! Hope little ‘ol life has been treating you folks well.

I have been quite busy (pah! like always) recently and I have also changed a lot since we last met/ corresponded. I’m a big girl now you see!

I have had several tumbles of note, a bruised temple, a partial black eye and even a split lip! Still, I don’t seem to learn my lessons fast enough, and do some really silly things that end up hurting. I have also made some new friends and picked up a few hobbies along the way.

Anyhoo, so that’s what I’ve been up to. Let’s get to business now, shall we?

I shall not be like Mammaa and ramble on endlessly about products and knick- knacks. I shall also not digress unnecessarily. I have therefore decided to categorize my favorites into food, fashion and frolic. It will hopefully keep the post organised and stop it from veering away into uncharted territory.

FOOD

Y’all know I’m not particularly fond of the chore called ‘eating’.  It just ain’t my thing people. But there are a few things that I can now stomach; and maybe, just MAYBE, even enjoy.This discovery is all thanks to Mammaa who has been tirelessly trying new things everyday. All in the hope of getting me to eat.

I have always spat eggs out, especially the yellow stuff in the center. And unlike most of my peers I positively detest scrambled eggs. (I tell you, they just smell wrong, those things.) And then suddenly one day, out of nowhere, Mammaa keeps these miniature egg-like things in front of me. I gave them the cold shoulder for a long time, but curiosity finally got the better of me. I had to try one. These really aren’t so bad. Really!

Can you guess what they are?
Can you guess what they are?

Next, we come to fruits. Strawberries are so passé folks. I love me some peaches and cherries at the moment.

Succulent, sweet and sour peaches and cherries (above).
Succulent, sweet and sour peaches and cherries (above)

And yes, I also like these-

Not bad these little fellas.
Not bad, these little fellas.

So, for now breakfast seems sorted. For now..

FASHION

Fashion-wise, I’m really loving the faded- denim dungaree and football tee look at the moment.

baby dungarees! Source-www.joules.com
baby dungarees!
Source-www.joules.com

To be honest, I think I might have been inspired by none other than the chunky mister Prince George himself. Still looking for these pink ones though 🙂

Source-  dailymail.co.uk
Source- dailymail.co.uk

I’m certainly a mixed bag when it comes to inheritance of parent traits. But two things I have surely picked up from Mammaa- tiny feet and an intense love for shoes! I can still easily fit into six month shoes and am digging the whole canvas- like shoe vibe at the moment.

They are never enough!
They are never enough!

And ooh! I have almost mastered the skill of wearing flip- flops! It’s too hot for boots anyway.

FROLIC

This is probably the most most difficult category. I honestly do not know where to begin.

Okay. After considerable inner- deliberation and deep reflection I have whittled this possibly long list to four. Here are the four things I absolutely love at the moment.

1. Baths and beaches (ETERNAL FAV!)

Sorry, I'm too shy to post a pic in my bathing suit!
Sorry, I’m too shy to post a pic in my bathing suit!

2. Grocery shopping

If only I’m allowing to sit ‘inside’ the cart and arrange the stuff as Mammaa ans Pappaa pile them on. Otherwise I give them hell 😉

3. Football

All day, every day!
All day, every day!

4 & 5. Pocoyo and Singing

I’m cheating slightly, but I cannot stop at four! I’m OBSESSED with POCOYO and singing (type of music and language don’t matter one bit).

If only I could watch this all day, and not ONLY when someone has something very important or urgent to do :-(
If only I could watch this all day, and not ONLY when someone has something very important or urgent to do 😦

Alright folks! I’m done I suppose. I really have to rush and get changed- it’s park/ football time!!

Till next time.

Zoe.