Iris' big day out

Having avoided public transport and the hubbub of London for the past 4 months, the time had finally come last Friday for Iris to discover the world outside East Dulwich.

Slightly dazed from a night of sleeplessness spent foreseeing the many beartraps awaiting us, I got us ready.

New dress for Iris, new top for Mummy - check;
New 'about town' buggy for Iris - check;
New, more urban, changing bag for Mummy - check;

This was turning out to be an expensive adventure.

Our first date with the real world was at the Ritzy in Brixton for a nice soothing knit flicks session. As it happened, the Bourne Ultimatum at full volume may not have been the best choice. On the plus side, I actually got there on time; it was so loud the babies' wailing was reduced to a pitiful mime; hubby was VERY jealous.

On the downside, no breakfast and crucial cinematic moments missed due to wiping Iris' biggest poo ever off her, me and the seat (err, second row middle-ish in case you're wondering, and sorry if you didn't read this in time!).

Soothing session over, we attempted a trial run on the escalators at the Department store over the road, in search of a much deserved caffeine fix. Important lesson in not travelling up escalators backwards learnt, and also that Iris isn't keen on Cafe Nero.

At this point I'm feeling like the woman from the Sure ad, only without the Sure. My promise to visit hubby's work place in Euston now feels like a mad hormonal gesture. Nonetheless, my NCT pals see me onto the underground lift and we're off again. Having learnt not to travel UP the escalators backwards, I try out my luck going down. I now know anything backwards is definitely a bad idea. Several vertiginous and sweaty minutes later we're on the tube and off to Euston.

And actually it's not that bad - once familiar stations flash by while Iris snoozes and I try and remember what it was like to be carefree.

Before long we are at my husband's work reception. By now Iris and I are somewhat dishevelled, smelly, overtired and hungry. But we made it, and that makes me strangely proud. Our urban debut now over, my husband beams as he introduces our daughter to his workmates, and I realise what a privilege it is to be her mother and his wife.

Ode to a shoe

Gleaming silver, sharp and high
you carried my weary limbs
in fine form, detracting even from my eye,
red and shrunken as it then was.

Resplendent shoe, how I love you...

Every girl's best friend, I was
lucky to call you mine, and shirk
awhile the dirty nappies and weight
of motherhood angst.

Resplendent shoe, how I love you...

Job done, you now reside back
in your cardboard home,
awaiting your next calling
to bring instant glamour and joy.

Resplendent shoe, how I love you...

[Sorry, couldn't resist a quick dip at the altar of my lovely new silver stilettos, and prose just didn't seem lyrical enough - sigh - right, as you were...]