Silently stealing luggage space

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My DH took the children away last week. I couldn’t go because of work, so I (rather forlornly) waved them off to Beirut, where their grandparents live.

It was the first time I’d had to ‘let the boys go’, and I felt strangely untethered, as though gravity had disappeared – until I rediscovered how much extra time there is when you’re the only person in the house (things stay exactly where you leave them, it’s crazy!)

Our nanny did the children’s packing, but when I got home from work, DH was doing some pruning.

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Don’t forget their toothbrushes – and the class gorilla! (hehe)

Now, when I pack the cases, I’m pretty thorough. If we got stuck on a desert island, we could be self-sufficient thanks to my packing (which is sometimes, I admit, excessive – but then I’ve got nearly nine years’ of experience of travelling with children who create laundry like nobody’s business).

Men, I’ve realised, view packing quite differently. DH had thrown out several T-shirts; when I tried to put baseball caps in, I had to argue their case; and as for taking suntan lotion, you’d think I was attempting to sneak a brick into the suitcase. (“There’ll be some there,” was DH’s viewpoint. “Just take it, in case,” I replied.)

So I did have to secretly smile when DH’s hand-luggage only plans were stymied by the class bear. The mascot is actually a gorilla – at least a foot tall. As Son2 left school clutching the stuffed toy – hardly able to believe his luck that he was the first to take him away – DH must have groaned inwardly at the gorilla’s surprisingly large size.

At the back to school night, another dad had quipped, “If he’s excess baggage, he’s not going.” But, given the jet set life of a travelling toy in an international school, you just know that the class gorilla has probably scuba-dived in the Maldives; made it to Hong Kong Disneyland; not to mention enjoyed weekend trips to Oman and Turkey.

The birthday party conveyor belt

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Son2 turned six over Eid and, being at the age where he still wants huge birthday parties attended by his whole class, I did what any self-respecting, time-poor mum would do: outsourced the whole thing.

All I had to do was send the invites and manage the guest list, but, of course, when the day dawned, I still felt that sense of trepidation that accompanies hosting a children’s party for 20, especially the first one of the school year when the mums aren’t yet jaded by sugar-fuelled class parties.

The birthday bounce: An adrenaline rush with a soft landing. What not to love?

The birthday bounce: An adrenaline rush with a soft landing. What’s not to love?

The venue was Bounce. The urban, trampoline playground loaded with springs and circus-grade sponge, in Al Quoz. Despite the Eid holiday, it seemed almost everyone could come – after all, what five year old doesn’t jump (excuse the pun) at the chance to don rainbow-coloured gripper socks and bounce off the walls?

As Son2’s classmates turned up, I literally lost count, and with three parties running simultaneously, the place was getting crowded. Fair play to Bounce though, it was organised chaos. A young, energetic bounce master took the children round all the different areas: the freestyle trampolines; the airbag-fitted section; the 45-degree trampolines; and the dodge-ball court. Not that I saw any of this: I was too busy chasing sandwich platters and persuading the venue not to give the kids coca-cola (on top of all the bouncing, ice cream cake and lolly bags, the mums would have killed me!)

Talking of the mums, it’s a new crop this year as the classes have been mixed up, so I also did my best to mingle with the ones who stayed to watch.

Thankfully, there were no injuries, and all the children safely made it to the half-hour-long food and cake part of the party, where they were rushed through a meal of chicken nuggets (I know, the healthy option, for 20, was too expensive), the singing Happy Birthday bit, and the chocolate Baskin Robbins cake.

“We’ve got about five minutes, then everyone will need to vacate,” the party master told me towards the end, eyeing his watch. And you should have seen how fast he got the children to clear the decks in preparation for the next onslaught, and how experienced he was at hurriedly sweeping everything, including the left-over cake, into black bin bags.

“How many of these parties do you have today?” I asked, out of interest, as we were shuffled out.

“22,” he replied. (I’ll repeat that, 22!) Honestly, come up with a cool new idea for children’s parties here in Dubai, and you can make a FORTUNE!

Enjoy it while it lasts kiddos: there's another 21 parties to cram in!

Big business: Enjoy it while it lasts kiddos – there’s another 21 parties to cram in!

LEGOLAND DUBAI: Plastic fantastic

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It’s no secret that Dubai has long wanted to add Florida-style theme parks to its mix of entertainment offerings. There will be many who remember the plans for Dubailand – the emirate’s original scheme to build the biggest collection of theme parks assembled anywhere in the word.

The plans included a Warner Bros Movie World, Legoland Dubai, Tiger Woods Dubai and FalconCity of Wonders, but work on most of the developments was put on hold in 2008 because of the financial crisis, and Dubailand succumbed to the aspirations of real estate developers looking to make a quick buck. I’m reminded of what was meant to be every time I drive to our local supermarket and see the towering space shuttle and roller coaster models that stand as giant monoliths to these flamboyant plans, and my children certainly appreciated the dinosaur heads that peeked out above the hoardings along the highway.

Contractors have started work on Legoland Dubai

Contractors have started work on Legoland Dubai

But while Dubailand may have become the amoeba of real estate, the theme park plans are now back on the table again. The first phase of Meraas Holding’s $2.7bn Dubai Parks & Resorts development in Jebel Ali will comprise three theme parks: Motiongate Dubai; Bollywood Parks Dubai; and Legoland Dubai.

The development will also feature an entrance plaza known as Riverpark and a family-themed hotel known as Lapita.

So, with Legoland Dubai expected to be completed in 2016, what can we expect from this family favourite? Here, my guest columnist, Amanda Reid, gives us some clues, based on her trip to Legoland Windsor this summer. Those of you wanting massive cranes, terrifying loopy-rollers or virtual reality shooting games, look away now.

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London in miniature

The world has six Legolands, beginning of course with the original in Billund, Denmark (the home of Kirk Ole Christiansen, the inventor of Lego in the 1930s). We visited the largest of the Lego parks – Legoland Windsor in the UK. It is so close to Windsor Castle, second home of Queen Elizabeth II, you can stand at the entrance and enjoy a marvellous view of the castle (and Heathrow airport, also surprisingly near).

At the heart of each of the Lego parks is Miniature World, comprising constructions of famous landmarks and landscapes from around the world. They are intricately detailed and impressive in their faithfulness. On France’s Reims cathedral there are buttresses and gargoyles. London’s Tower Bridge is mechanically raised to allow a large Lego clipper to pass through. You can see Amsterdam-style houses, the Leaning Tower of you-know-where, and so much more.

If you’re looking for themed rides, you’ll find them in Pirate Land (you get wet on this one), Land of the Vikings and Adventure Land. The Atlantis submarine ride offers viewing of real-life and Lego sea creatures (likewise a Lego safari).

Driving test
But our children’s favourite area of the park was the Traffic section. It allowed them to drive real little electric cars on roads with stop signs and roundabouts, and no tracks to keep them, well, on track. Ah, the freedom of international children to work out which side of the road they should be on, and how to interpret those funny signs – could they mean Give Way, or maybe Stop?

The Traffic section also has a boating school, a helicopter school and hot-air balloons (pull ropes to raise your Lego balloon on poles) and fire engine racing. All transport tastes are catered for! It’s a busy place – use your Q-Bot here (an expensive extra that allows you to jump queues). Little ones are well catered for, too, with Duplo Valley’s splash park, a gentle hill train and lots to goggle at.

The main entrance to Legoland is a super busy assault course of Lego shops and eating options. They even have Lego-brick-shaped fries! When my six-year-old noticed Lego Star Wars and Angry Birds stuffed toys, I forgot where I was for a moment. But other than Lego and Star Wars having become virtually inseparable brands, Legoland is generally free from cross-promotion. I didn’t see a famous cola brand anywhere.

Legoland holiday
The Legoland Hotel is great fun. The entrance is made from primary coloured blocks with super-sized Lego figurines. Inside there are many sculptures of satisfyingly normal-sized lego. And the odd human dressed as a Lego figure walks by. I even saw a little girl hugging a mum-sized pink Lego brick. I think the padded costume was quite soft. And there were arms and legs sticking out.

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Welcome to the Legoland hotel

The Legoland Hotel has a feature that I commend to all busy resorts – a pit of Lego bricks in the middle of the reception, with coloured shelves for the children to display their creations on. In fact, there were times in the park when our children were heard asking to go back to the hotel for a few hours so they could build, build, build.

The restaurant and bar area is really a big playground. Staffed by cheery teenagers, the hotel is a fun place to be, although it can be slightly chaotic. Need a fork? Best get it yourself. Need advice on your next Lego build? Ask anyone. The solidarity between the parents is great. We enjoyed the weirdness of this Lego world, and seeing our children so happy. Go before the kids are too old, so they never ask ‘Why did we never visit?’.

What I’ll be wearing Wednesday

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When I got home from work tonight, I did the first thing I always do when transitioning from the peaceful buzz of the office to the happy, barely contained chaos of homelife: I went upstairs to get changed.

Usually this is a non-event. I take off whatever smartish outfit I happen to be wearing and throw on my Dubai staples: shorts and a lightweight top. Then I can relax, and lounge on the sofa for a bit, before the homework / reading / bedtime triathalon.

Not an accurate representation of the blogger (i.e., modelled by someone far skinnier than me). But here's the purple dress I had to promise Son2 I'll wear tomorrow

Not an accurate representation of the blogger (i.e., modelled by someone far skinnier than me). But here’s the purple, embroidered shift dress I had to promise Son2 I’ll wear tomorrow – with red lipstick

Tonight, if you’d been standing outside our villa, you’d have heard all hell break loose in our home.

“Mummy, why did you get changed?” demanded Son2, his voice rocketing up several octaves.

“I had to take off my work clothes, sweetie.”

“WHhhhyyyy?? Put your skirt back on!”

Two fat tears slid snail paths down his pink, powdery cheeks and I knew I had approximately 5 seconds to avert an oncoming tantrum.

“Mummy, PUT.A.DRESS.ON, PLEEASE.”

A thought then dropped into his head with a thud: “And red lipstick!”

It took me off guard – he’s 5 and I have no idea how he knows about this stuff. Seriously. I can only imagine the kind of girls he might bring home when he’s 18.

WIN! Flowers to give away

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Today, I came home to a lovely surprise: these beautiful, fragrant blooms from Flowers.ae! I can honestly say that their sweet scent has made the whole room smell like a florist. And there’s a gorgeous bouquet for one (UAE-based) reader too!

Entry is easy: Just leave your name, email address and a few words saying why you’d love to receive flowers in a comment below. The deadline for entries is midnight, Thursday 2nd October, and the person with the best reason will be treated to a delivery shortly after. You could also leave a response on my Facebook page here, if that’s quicker. Good luck! (and sorry it’s only open to UAE readers!)

Go on, drop me a line! I’d love to make you smile this Eid.

Go on, drop me a line! I’d love to make you smile this Eid.

Thank you to Flowers.ae for running this giveaway through the blog. The online florist’s arrangements contain fresh-cut, hand-tied flowers, with a bouquet for every occasion and delivery throughout the UAE and worldwide.

The (elusive) part-time job in Dubai

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I recently read on one of my favourite websites – Expat Telegraph – that serious part-time jobs in Dubai (which pay pro-rata) are rarer than a lion in a Landcruiser – that is, you do see them from time to time, but you’ll have to really look.

Before I went back to work, I attended a coffee morning for the mums in Son1’s class. As we took turns telling everyone a little bit about ourselves, including what we ‘used to be’, I learnt that among our very chatty group – who’d moved to Dubai from places such as Germany, Australia, Jordan and South Africa – there was a lawyer, a banker, a child-protection officer and a social worker.

Not one of them was working, because they’d all given up their careers to become a ‘trailing spouse’ (husband gets well-paid job overseas, wife and family pack their bags to follow). I dislike the term, imagining myself trailing after DH with a multi-tentacled, octopus-like grip. Instead, the mothers I met were setting up home in an alien environment, caring for children full-time and protecting their young like tigresses.

I nodded in agreement when everyone promised to not outdo each other when it comes to our children’s birthday parties; entered a debate about what kind of cupcakes to send in for the bake sales; discussed organising a BBQ, a Christmas party, fundraisers and playdates for younger siblings, and found myself thinking, “I don’t know how she does it!” Life in an office sounded less complicated, and not long after, my fledgling writing/editing business was born.

Hats off to mums trying this!

Hats off to mums trying this!

But, as all those who’ve been alarmed by the ‘housewife’ status stamped on our visas (along with the words Not allowed to work) know, it’s not that easy to ‘have it all’ in the Middle East.

For a start, a quick scan of job websites reveals that advertised part-time opportunities are limited (it’s all, or nothing). The unspoken rule many workplaces abide by is “If you don’t have a maid, don’t bother applying”. There are few full-time nurseries; the school day finishes early; and then there’s the elephant in the room: the Dubai summer – those long, impossibly hot months with no school, when most families leave. A good friend of mine in full-time employment tells me she always feels down when the summer rolls around and her children leave for cooler climes while she continues to work.

But moving out here doesn’t have to be professional hari-kari. I advertised myself on Dubizzle, and, by complete coincidence, got hired by the Dubai office of a company I used to work for in London. Four years later, I’m still there – mostly happily, but now wishing I could back-pedal to fewer hours, having been sucked into an almost full-time work vortex (I do, however, get the whole summer off, and know not to look a gift horse in the mouth).

There are so many new schools opening here, and if you click on ExpatWoman.com you’ll find numerous ads for jobs with palatable hours, and holidays.

Then there are the limitless chances to reinvent yourself. I’ve watched in admiration as friends of mine have done this: the nurse, who couldn’t take a hospital job as the pay was too low and became a chocolate taster; the (female) pilot who now works for a radio station and photography studio; the toxicologist who last year helped pull off a fabulous ball for the school parents; and the blogger who gave up a management career and has transformed herself twice in eight years into a Montessori teacher and then a writer and actress.

Even if the job you used to do doesn’t exist here, the UAE is the land of opportunity, especially now the economy is booming again. Career chameleon is a much better term than trailing spouse, don’t you think?

And, anyway, for many, the decision to move out here is a lifestyle one. The chance to stay at home with the children, while the husband works his socks off. With year-round sunshine, so many travel destinations within easy reach, and the fact that both parents working can make life feel like a wobbling Jenga tower, one extracted brick away from toppling over, and you might decide not to rush jumping back into a job. After all, when you look back on your expat experience, you’ll never wish you’d worked more.

Good luck, either way. Circles x

Living near the Middle East’s hot spots

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I’m sure I’m not the only person who was taken aback by the recent news that the UAE (along with Egypt) had secretly bombed Libyan militias. There we were settling back in from the summer, dusting off the Lilo after six weeks in cooler climes, when it hit the press that the two countries were responsible for airstrikes against Libya.

Every now and then, someone back home asks me if it’s safe where we live. And I always reply: Yes! Absolutely. Apart from the roads, I feel safer in Dubai than I ever did in London. But, I’ll admit, the UAE’s decision to deploy its air force in Libya left me wondering if the intervention would escalate hostilities in the region.

The air strikes were hugely significant in heralding a more muscular foreign policy out of Abu Dhabi (which has traditionally always taken a conciliatory, mediating role). It was a new, more assertive – and as yet untested – position for the UAE.

Then I got sidetracked by the children starting school and forgot all about it.
Until the other night, when, at precisely 4.40am, it sounded like World War 3 was breaking out right above us.

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Fright in the night: Buzzed (into oblivion, it felt)

Stirred from a deep slumber, I heard the most almighty noise – the deafening drone of jet engines surely heading straight for the house. DH was away, there was no one to grab in terror. All I could do was listen to the crazy loud noise and wonder if I was about to hear (or experience) a terrible crash.

The next day, there was a thread about the low-flying plane on our community’s forum, and I learned that the disturbance had woken hundreds of people up. One mum, who was feeding her baby, said she held on to her infant for dear life; another described her baby as wide-eyed with fear. A two-year-old woke up screaming. (See! To all those who slept right through it, I’m not exaggerating – it really did sound like a plane about to screech into the ground.)

Or was it a fighter jet? On a mission? Of course, the speculation started: “The Australian air force is now based at the military airfield behind our compound. They’re flying to north Iraq to attack Isis,” one post declared.

I carried on reading with baited breath. And finally got to the bottom of it: it was an old Russian cargo aircraft. We hear them frequently in our patch of the desert, but this one sounded even louder than usual because it was becoming airborne very cumbersomely in our direction.

Just the Russians rattling our villas, then. Phew!

A growing boy’s insatiable appetite

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Screen Shot 2014-09-18 at 17.04.54

 

 

 

 

 

It happens almost overnight. One day, he’s licking pureed food off a plastic spoon; the next he’s wolfing down the contents of the fridge, and gnawing at the fridge door if you momentarily take your eye off the grocery shopping.

And quite frankly, it’s terrifying. Not to mention expensive. While I watch what I eat and try to be healthy, my eldest son has developed an appetite so huge, I feel as though I’m responsible for feeding the ten thousand. It’s been the equivalent of watching a picky lapdog reinvent itself into a hungry elephant with hollow legs.

This afternoon, I unexpectedly finished work early, and had rose-tinted visions of happily spending the afternoon with the children, while catching up on some chores. Son 1’s school bus pulls up outside, the front door bursts open, and a ravenous Great Dane bounds into the house.

And that's just breakfast: Does it cost £12,000 more to bring up a boy than a girl because they eat more?

And that’s just breakfast! Does it cost £12,000 more to bring up a boy than a girl because they eat more?

“MUM, I’m HUNGRY!” Son 1 yells. This, I expected. And I’m ready. Those after-school hunger pangs require an immediate carb-injection or we all suffer. But, then, less than an hour later:

“Mum, can we have dinner now? I’m soooo hungry!” It was 4.30pm, and while I did try to tell him to wait (and provided fresh fruit in addition to the after-school snack), it was clear our household wouldn’t be a happy place until he was drip-fed more calories.

It’s not that I mind preparing dinner so early, it’s just that I know he’ll forget he’s already eaten it by 7.30pm, and start circling again in hunt of another meal.

There was a telling prelude years ago, when Son1 was little and one afternoon desperately wanted bananas. He threw a tantrum so bad it left me with little choice but to head straight to the fruit stall at our local market. To my astonishment, he demolished seven bananas. That’s when I realised that feeding boys is all about quantity and planning.

A survey by Halifax bank on the cost of bringing up children showed parents shell out over £12,000 more to raise a boy to the age of 11 than a girl. This difference was put down to extra sports kits, even wear and tear of furniture caused by rambunctious behaviour. But I think the reason for the higher price tag is obvious: the grocery bill.

Since my son’s appetite became so monstrous, I’ve had to take all sorts of extra measures. We have a truck deliver us food. The grocery shopping was becoming too burdensome, too frequent. So, now, I order online and Geant brings everything to the door. If our nanny or I cook pasta, we no longer make enough for one meal. We cook the whole packet and send the leftovers into school (sandwiches weren’t cutting it). Cereals are continually replenished (a small victory being he prefers Weetabix, even Bran Flakes, over the sugar-and-marshmallow-filled varieties). Milk is now bought in 3-litre cartons, and bread restocked nearly daily so I can throw them toast.

Motivating overweight families to lose weight, Dubai style

Motivating families to lose weight, Dubai style

But I worry about it. I had insulin-dependent diabetes during both pregnancies. Could something be wrong? We live in a country where obesity is a big problem – so much so that the government runs weight-loss campaigns in which gold is handed out to successful ‘losers’. Controversially, this year’s initiative, Your Child in Gold, includes all family members, even chubby toddlers. (It’s very Dubai, isn’t it? Register, shed kilos and get gold.)

Friends with boys report a similar unstemmed tide of carbs, calories and cash, so I’m hoping Son1’s appetite is normal for a child growing so fast. DH is tall, and I think Son 1 – who’s already nearly up to my chin – is heading for great heights too. Like a very hungry caterpillar, he appears to fill up on food, grow plumper, then suddenly shoot up two inches. The growing pains, however, are mine.

So how was school? Lethal

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If you know and love the author Liane Moriarty, you’ll be pleased to hear she’s nailed it yet again. I recently finished her latest book, Big Little Lies, and it’s a brilliant story about parents behaving badly. It’s also the funniest book about murder and domestic abuse you’ll ever read.

Moriarty has a knack for creating characters who are so believable they could easily be people you know at the school gates: there’s Madeline, a force to be reckoned with; the beautiful Celeste; and Jane, who’s young, single and struggling to make ends meet. Then we meet the hot-shot mums with high-powered jobs; the yogi mum; and the “Blond Bobs” – the ‘Mum prefects’ who rule the school like it’s their religion.

If this book had been written by Agatha Christie, it would have been called “The Kindergarten Murder”

If this book had been written by Agatha Christie, it would have been called “The Kindergarten Murder”

What all these women have in common is that they drive truck-like cars, and take their mothering very seriously: “Their frantic little faces. Their busy little bottoms strutting into the school in their tight gym gear … Eyes fixed on the mobile phones held in the palms of their hands like compasses.”

The cover art for the book (called Little Lies in the UK) depicts a large, multicoloured lollipop exploding into a thousand pieces, and it illustrates perfectly how the sugar-coated lies that people hide behind are smashed into smithereens.

The story centres around Pirriwee Public, a beautiful little beachside primary school where children are taught that ‘sharing is caring.’ So how has the annual School Trivia Night ended in a full-blown riot? Sirens are wailing. People are screaming. The principal is mortified. And one parent is dead.

But who? And who was responsible for this terrible deed?

The book then jumps back six months and cuts back and forth between the characters, revealing complex family problems and putting friendships and marriage under the microscope. Written with impeccable comic timing, the narrative is peppered with parents’ voices commenting cryptically on the root cause of the ‘tragedy’: the French nanny? An erotic book club? Head lice?

Considering everything that is tackled in this book (bullying, domestic violence, date rape, dealing with ex-husbands and more), the plot should not have worked as well as it does. Moriarty pulls it off brilliantly, and I finished the novel wishing I could instantly forget it so I could immediately read about the misbehaving inhabitants of Pirriwee all over again.

Silent Sunday: The A-Level tutors

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With a double misspelling in the text, I get the feeling these people wouldn’t be the best tutors to call … (Thanks K for spotting this!)

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And just when you think you’ve seen all the funny notices you could possible see: Should you decide to get changed on your balcony, be warned…ah, no wait! You’ll be fine …
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