Learning to be a ballet mum

When I was small, dancing lessons weren't an option for me. I remember asking when I was small but my parents couldn't afford it - for a start, I'm one of four girls -  so it was off the agenda. I never got to experience classes, exams and preparing for shows.

So, when Missy Woo wanted to start doing dance classes, I was a bit lost. We are very lucky in that there is a lovely, small dance school that meets just around the corner from home. It's run by a lovely lady who is not pushy but great with the children and is universally known as "Miss Lizzie" (yes, even the parents seem to call her that!). Missy Woo started at class and I really didn't know where to start, but somehow, a spare uniform became available and we found ballet shoes so she was all kitted out. A few weeks in, we found out they were doing a show, and we bought her costume.

On the day of the dress rehearsal and show, I was asked to put her hair in a bun. Now, my hair currently is about the longest it has been since I was around Missy's age. I don't do things like that - I just about manage to put her hair in a ponytail of a morning for school and even then I struggle because she has a double crown. Thankfully, Lizzie - being a lifelong dancer - is an expert in doing buns and put her hair in a bun for me. Problem solved.

This year, the annual show rolled around and this time, Missy is in two numbers because she now does  modern classes as well as ballet. Costumes have been bought again and I was asked to put her hair in a bun once more.

I could have chickened out and asked someone else to do it this time, but figuring this is not going to go away, I thought I had better learn how to do it myself. In order to do my training, I did what I always do. I turned to the Internet! I spent Friday evening looking through several different videos on YouTube of people doing  a "ballet bun". What struck me was that the basic method was the same, but everyone had their own little ways.

This time, I figured I had better be prepared. A quick trip to the supermarket yielded some 79p hairspray and some grips that match her hair colour, to add to the bun net I'd kept from last year. I decided to do her hair at home so we weren't in a rush and there were no smug parents around doing theirs in 5 seconds flat. I went for the twist the ponytail then pin it like mad as it twists in on itself method. It actually took me much less time than I thought, and my first attempt stayed in place for the whole afternoon and the first half of the show until she had to take it out for her second number (which needed a ponytail.) So, I'm quite proud of that, given how ham-fisted I am.

And, in case you missed them - I've tweeted these twice - here is Missy Woo in her costumes ready to perform at dress rehearsals. First, her ballet costume for "Zip A Dee Doo Dah".

And second, her funky 70s costume for "Carwash".

I still haven't seen the full show as we're going today, but she was very excited to discover when she went to get ready for her first show that some of the mums that they were putting make up on the girls.

She's a proper little ballerina now. And me? I'm not quite a ballet mum, but I'm getting there.

Missy Woo's Spring makeover

I never realised how much Missy Woo considered that her long hair was part of her identity, until it was suggested to her that it be cut off (not by me). A case of lice that wouldn't go because of all that hair - lots of fine hair that hid the little beggars.

Missy Woo was horrified by the thought of being short-haired. "That's for boys," she declared and was visibly upset. I checked with my hairdresser who confirmed that cutting it short wouldn't solve the problem anyway. She also has a double crown which needs longer hair to stop her having the cute but babyish quiff she had in the first year of her life. I got uber-thorough with the head lice treatment and finally got rid.

Still, her hair was becoming a nuisance to manage. She was forever getting food in it and it was a nuisance to look after. I managed to convince her that cutting a good couple of inches off wouldn't make her look like a boy, and it would be easier to keep tidy. So, the first day of the holidays, off we trotted to the salon, something Missy Woo considers a big treat. Nothing to do with the drink and sweets she gets. Oh no.

Someone looks rather pleased with her new haircut, doesn't she? Long enough to look girly, but easier to manage.

Don't tell her the stylist actually took nearer 3 inches off the length. Funnily enough, her head feels lighter. 

And then, just to up the cute factor, the second of her two top front teeth came out.

A smile that says "Yay, the tooth fairy is coming!" 

Stopping the scratch

Missy Woo doesn't like headlice either

Apologies now if this post makes you itch. (Also, apologies this is another review but I'm on a bit of a catch up this week!) But it's time to talk about the one subject that the minute you start thinking about it, you just have to scratch. Headlice.

I got through my school years without headlice but I grew up in the time of the nit nurse, who would regularly check hair for signs of infestations. Strangely enough, there wasn't a huge problem with them then. Things are very different now.

We got lucky in Monkey's first year and weren't bothered by them, even tho we had a couple of notes sent home to warn us to check. Nada. The fact he has quite short hair probably is a factor here.

Then Missy Woo started school. Her hair is much longer, but we've always made sure it's tied back or in a plait. Then, one day, she came out of school with her hair down and I knew we were in for trouble. Her "bobble" had come out and she hadn't asked the teachers to put it back in. Within a week, I found headlice on her. At the time, I just had one of those combs and then spent half an hour combing through her hair to rid her of them. Now, her hair is like mine - fine but lots of it and it's a nightmare to comb through with those damned combs. I did my best but I wasn't sure that I had indeed got them all.

A week later, I collected Monkey from school and was waiting for her to come out when I spotted something on the crown of Monkey's head and I knew he'd got them. Probably from her. I'd been scratching all this time too, but I have to say, I never actually found them in my hair. I resorted to a shampoo that got rid of everything but oh boy, it was hard to use. Just to make sure, I put it on everyone in the house so that we were sure that we weren't passing it between each other.

Since then, (touch wood) we have remained louse free. I explained to the children how headlice can pass between children so they know that putting heads together can transfer headlice and I check as often as I can.

However, I've been trying out a product that could be a useful weapon to keep them "nit" free (I know that is not the right term, but it sounds better that way. It's called Linicin Prevent Spray which you just apply to dry hair in the mornings, and - although I don't understand how - it makes your hair invisible to head lice for up to 7 hours, so pretty much the length of a school day. I've been applying it to Missy Woo's hair and so far, so good. The spray is colourless and doesn't have a strong smell, plus it's completely non-toxic and insecticide free. The only problem I had is it made Missy Woo's hair look a touch on the greasy side, which I guess comes from the castor oil in the spray.

We've certainly not had any problems with headlice but then, we have not had any dreaded notes in the school bags, warning of further infestations. Yet. They are as inevitable as requests for donations for school events. Let's hope it stays that way. If you do get unlucky, Linicin have a 10 minute shampo and a 15 minute lotion that will rid you of the little blighters.

Right, I'm done now. You can stop scratching.

(I was sent a bottle of Linicin Prevent Spray to review and I have not been paid any other compensation. All words and opinions are my own and I have not been told what to write.)

The Gallery - Hair

I love Missy Woo's hair. She was actually born with quite dark hair which has gradually lightened and is now a gorgeous dark golden blonde. Her hair, usually straight as a poker without extra help, looks like millions of fine golden threads are falling from her scalp, glossy and shining like they have almost been polished. Other mothers have told me that they would give anything for hair like hers.

When she was very little, her hair on the top of her head would stick up because she has a double crown. The only way to make it lie flat is to keep it long. It's reached her waist now, a budding Rapunzel.

Having long hair is a double-edged sword. It looks pretty and she loves that it makes her look almost princess-like, but combing it is a task of Herculean proportions and is bound to elicit tears when tangles are  reached. And that's just me. Even the special tangle combs hurt her occasionally. At least tying it up for school means that it gets less tangled but even then, she manages to get food in her hair all the time.

And yes, school has exposed her to that ever-present menace, headlice. She got them earlier in the term when her hair came out of her ponytail one day at school. Attempting to get them out with a comb took hours but the masses of golden threads were a perfect hiding place for the nasty little critters and it took resorting to some nasty liquid which turned her hair greasy to exterminate them all for good.

When I was her age, my hair was almost as long. I had it all cut off when I was a few years older than her. My choice. Looking back, it was a mistake. I hope that she keeps it for a lot longer than I did but she knows her mind and I wouldn't stand in her way if that's what she wanted.

She is a beautiful child in spirit as well as appearance, but nothing defines her more than her burnished blonde hair.

My brief career as a model, aged 45

Last week, I noticed a press request on Twitter for 45 year old women . It seemed odd - after all, why did you have to be exactly 45? But as I am (45, that is), I replied and was asked to email my details to an address.

Soon, my mobile was ringing. The person calling asked if I could go to London for a photoshoot the following day. I had to say no because I had no childcare. That was that, I thought. Oh well. But then, I got another email explaining they could arrange to send a photographer out to me instead. I said that would be OK and they said they would be in touch.

The phone soon went again when I was out shopping at a local retail park. After a 10 minute chat/interview (me sat in my car) about my attitudes to ageing, my beauty regime, how I kept fit and so on, the lady promised to arrange the photographer. She rang off and a feeling of mild panic set in. It turned out the piece was going to appear in the Daily Mail; not my favourite paper, but there you go.

A photographer was arranged for Friday morning. I panicked about what to wear but I needn't have bothered. When the photographer arrived on Friday, he told me a make up and hair lady was on her way, that the shot was head and bare shoulders and I'd have to wrap myself in a towel to get the shot they needed. The make up lady started doing a natural make up look when she arrived, which pleased me as I don't really wear lots. It did however seem to involve a lot of make up; about twice what I'd put on. Then she set about my hair with straighteners. By the time we'd finished, the photographer had turned my lounge into a studio with lights, background, the lot.

Sat on one of my dining chairs made up to the nines with a towel wrapped around me having my photo taken probably ranks as one of the more surreal moments of my life.  The photographer took 3 sets of shots - one with my hair back from my face, one with my hair forward and one sort of half way. The photographer was lovely and seemed to take some nice shots. The whole thing took about an hour longer than I had expected, having thought the photographer would turn up, sit me on a chair, take a couple of shots and go again. 

I loved my make up and hair and took lots of pictures of my new look with my mobile after they'd gone. This is my favourite, and it's now looking at you from my every tweet. Lucky you. I have chosen this picture as "A photo I'm proud of" for Week 24 of The Gallery. I was struggling to find something else in my archives that you haven't seen already and you already know I'm proud of Monkey and Missy Woo. I feel a bit arrogant (some may say brave, others stupid) putting a photo of me here but I wanted to tell the story at some point. I do like how I look in this picture and as you will know if you read my blog regularly, I've been losing weight and am making good progress so I'm getting used to a new me. 

Anyhow, that was that. I'll let you know when the article is published and link to it here if it's online so keep checking  this post. It should be later this week. My life as a model is over. Not that I ever had one, but it was a fun couple of hours - and I didn't even have to leave home! 

I must away now to get my beauty sleep. I don't get out of bed for less than 10p, you know.

Update: The article has now been published on the Daily Mail website and you can read it here - argh!!


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I never actually said some of those things in the article and the journalist in the by line accepts that - she says the Daily Mail have edited/changed it but mine is least changed. I DO use moisturiser for God's sake, I'm not that much of a slummy mummy; I just don't wear a lot of make up and mascara is not my favourite thing. Nor did I ever refer to them as trivialities! And I didn't say I'd lost two stone - I don't weigh myself, how can I? Finally, I never said I was "phobic" about operations; I'd just rather avoid unnecessary ones, thank you very much.