Cool penguins! – JD, 4
Here’s me looking strange with the gorgeous Purple Mum. Got a caption? Can you beat JD’s?
(Thanks to Cybher for giving me permission to use this photo)
Super pampering with Neom Luxury Organics’ Real Luxury Organic Body Scrub
You smell nice, mummy – JD, 4
Oh, I like this product. It smells gorgeous, it’s a joy to use and it feels amazing. Plus it’s all natural and so far hasn’t caused me any eczema issues despite being scented.
Only problem? I like to slather this kind of scrub on with gay abandon, so if you’re like me it won’t last long. If you’re sensible and use it as intended, it’s probably not bad value at £30 a pot, given the luxury tag.
Disclosure: I was sent Neom Luxury Organics’ Real Luxury Organic Body Scrub for the purposes of this review. No payment was received. All reviews are 100% honest.
London. Morning.
… – Me
It’s a beautiful city. Breathtaking in places. I miss it terribly.
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Mama et Bebe Thistle and Dragonfly changing bag from Pink Lining
Another bag, mummy? – JD, 4
Yes, another bag. I am a bag fiend. But this one is so pretty!
It’s a cream coloured messenger style changing bag, patterned with purple flowers and green dragonflies, and laminated so that it can be wiped clean.
Pretty details
The handles are made of a sturdy, woven fabric with purple stripe detail. There’s also a matching detachable shoulder strap.
There are two pockets on the outside, each stitched with a pram image, while the phrase “Mama et Bebe” is stitched on each flap.
Lots of storage
The bag comes with a dark pink lining, divided into all manner of sections, including two thermo-insulated bottle pockets and a place for nappies.
Handy accessories
It also comes with large plastic “wet bag”, padded changing mat, and a mirrored luggage tag. The mat and wet bag are patterned with a cupcake design sporting the phrase “yummy mummy” – quite cute.
Overall
I think this changing bag from Pink Lining is rather special – and so it should be with a rather designer price tag of £75, but if you want a fully functional change bag that looks gorgeous, this does the job.
Disclosure: I was sent a Mama et Bebe Thistle and Dragonfly changing bag free-of-charge for the purposes of this review. No payment was received and all reviews are 100% honest.
Eczema rule #1: don’t wash your hands in washing up liquid
We can’t go to bed yet, mummy, we haven’t put our cream on! – JD, 4
Eczema is a nasty little condition. JD and I suffer noticeably.
The skin on our cheeks gets scaly at the slightest neglect and our hands are worst affected, often flaring up and becoming dry, rough and whitened. Mine sometimes crack and bleed – it’s not pretty.
Hormones are a causal factor for me, so two pregnancies won’t have helped, and dairy is a known cause for both of us, but I think the main problem is all the flippin’ hand washing.
Wash before eating or preparing food/snacks/bottles, wash after eating, wash after going to the toilet/changing Little Miss J. Sneeze? Wash your hands. Use a cashpoint? Wash your hands. Ok, I admit it, we possibly wash our hands too much. And recently we ran out of soap in the kitchen so I used washing up liquid for two days. WHAT WAS I THINKING?
And then there’s antibacterial gel, used as an alternative to hand washing when we’re out and about. It’s a great invention but rubbing alcohol onto already angry hands does not healthy skin make, although we’ve recently switched to a Vaseline hand cream we were sent, which contains an anti-bacterial action, so that’s one less thing destroying our skin.
We’re also trying to drink more water, rub in E45 before bed and generally be kinder to our poor hands. Now the ice cold weather has passed, JD’s are looking good, but mine still look like the hands of a much older person (the pic above is flattering).
Please internet, do you have a magic cure?
Disclosure: the Vaseline hand cream mentioned was sent to us free to try. No payments was received. All posts are 100% honest.
Hey SJP, being a working parent sucks sometimes, huh?
I know! Let’s put work in the bin – JD, 4
Friday evening. In the morning I’d be in London at a conference.
I put the kids to bed, tidied the house with Mark, caught up on emails, booked a taxi for 5am, packed my bag, found my Oyster card, lost my Oyster card, found my Oyster card, did Little Miss J’s midnight feed and flopped into bed, reluctantly setting my alarm for 4am.
I slept badly, as I always do when I have that got-to-be-up-soon feeling, crawled out of bed at 4am, chomped down some cornflakes, showered, sterilised the express pump, freshly boiled the kettle, answered some emails, dressed, brushed, made up, hugged Mark, kissed a sleeping JD goodbye, and stood at the foot of Little Miss J’s cot, wondering if she’d wake up in time for a last feed.
With minutes to spare until the taxi arrived, she woke up. No time to breastfeed, Mark made up a bottle. As I stood by door I could see her refusing the formula, turning her head, looking for me. What if she refused her feeds all day?
As I went downstairs and saw the taxi pull up, I could feel my boobs tingling – like a maternal spider-sense.
I went outside, paid the taxi, came back inside and got undressed. I texted the event organiser, lifted Little Miss J into bed with us and cuddled her in, feeding her until JD woke up.
If I’d gone to London, I’d have been away from the kids for 15 hours. I’d have had to “pump & dump” and Little Miss J would have had her first full day on formula only. I just couldn’t do it, despite that fact that in reality, both kids would have been absolutely fine – Mark’s a fantastic dad.
All morning as I watched the conference hashtag fly around, I thought about how lucky I am. At this moment, I’m on self-imposed maternity leave. Save for the odd project, I’m not working. I don’t *have* to work – we are very lucky that we can afford for me to take a break for a little while longer.
I watched I Don’t Know How She Does It starring Sarah Jessica Parker recently and found it entertaining but dire. It glamourises work and undersells parenting in cliches of equal measure. It panders to the glossy contradiction that women are simultaneously shallow and better than men. It fails to communicate parenting beyond milestone moments. And it underestimates just how painful leaving to go to work can be.
In the film, SJP leaves her kids in daylight, standing at the door, saying goodbye. In reality, a busy jet-set job often means leaving before they even wake up. It means you have to kiss them goodbye knowing that they’re unaware. Climb into a taxi in the dark, hair brushed and styled, make up on, when your heart says you should be the other side of the cliche, curled up with your kids, make-up-less, covered in baby sick and spilled cornflakes.
I love working, I will continue to work – I don’t just want to, I need to. I don’t just need to, I want to.
I’m not saying that being a stay-at-home parent is all morning cuddles and walks in the park, it really isn’t, but being a working parent is frankly awful sometimes and after Saturday, where I had the luxury of being able to choose to stay home, I’m savouring this time more than ever before.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with U
Agh, my presentation! I know it was in my bag somewhere – Me
A super quick one…here’s my #ISpy and it’s something beginning with U. Whaddyafink?
Win £150 of stunning ‘by Brilliant’ jewellery
Fine jewellery, created by master craftsmen, using non traditional diamonds – by Brilliant
Oh you lucky people. I do try to feature the very best of prizes on here and this month’s prize is lovely.
Up for grabs is £150 to spend with ‘by Brilliant‘, a fine jewellery boutique that specialises in lab-made diamonds. These stones have all the cut, clarity and sparkle of traditional diamonds but cost just a fraction of the price, so £150 could get you not only a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings, but a gorgeous pair of white gold diamond earrings.
With over 21 collections to choose from, by Brilliant has jewellery for every occasion, whether you’re walking down the red carpet in their Lady Fabulous range or dancing at a festival in the summer in the Boho collection. I’m actually a bit jealous of whoever wins.
How to enter
To enter you must:
- Tweet about this competition: “Win £150 of stunning @ByBrilliant jewellery from @AMummyToo http://su.pr/2tM5cc“
- AND leave a comment below telling me that you’ve done it.
For up to six bonus entries, you can also:
- Like A Mummy Too on Facebook
- Like by Brilliant on Facebook
- Follow @AMummyToo on Twitter
- Follow @byBrilliant on Twitter
- Subscribe by email to the A Mummy Too blog
- Sign up for the by Brilliant newsletter
Please leave a separate comment for each entry.
The giveaway will close at 8pm UK time on 30th April 2012 and a winner will be selected at random.
See the prize draw T&Cs - Disclosure: By Brilliant is providing this prize for the purposes of the giveaway. No payment was received by A Mummy Too. Please see my review/disclosure policy for more information. Listed on ThePrizeFinder – UK Competitions and Competition Hunter.
Why I’ll never shop with Tesco again
Every little helps [but the customer is always wrong] – Tesco [my addition]
I’ve shopped with them a million times. I’ve even taken part in a Mother’s Day promotion with them, but as of today I can say with absolutely certainty that I will never, ever shop with, or work with Tesco again.
This is how it goes. This is how they let me down, wasted my time, left my kids hungry, called me a liar, made me cry and then ignored me…
10.00am Monday: I placed an order for delivery today (Tuesday) between 8am and 10am today
10.03am Monday: I get my confirmation email, including confirmation of the correct delivery time, address and both mine and my husband’s mobile numbers (ignore that it’s Cagle – I haven’t got around to changing my name everywhere).
08.12am Tuesday: I receive a text to my mobile, confirming that the order will be here between 8am and 9am.
09.50am Tuesday: Nothing. I call customer services, go through the automated options, wait on hold. The lady I get through to looks up the order, then tries to call the driver. I’m told his line is engaged and she’ll call me right back.
10.50am Tuesday: This is where it gets interesting. I call customer services again. Go through the automated options again. Wait on hold again.
I’m told that the computers aren’t working at the Lincoln store so the order was cancelled first thing this morning. Before my previous call. I’m a bit miffed.
I ask why they didn’t tell me.
“We called but the line was disconnected, so we emailed,” the lady says.
“Um, no,” I say. “Definitely no calls or emails here. I’m checking again as we speak.”
“Yes, we definitely did.”
I’m getting upset. She quotes the number back at me. I don’t take it in entirely, but it sounds like a number I had about five years ago – I’ve been a Tesco customer for a long time.
Little Miss J senses the agitation in my voice and starts crying.
“That’s not my number,” I say.
“It’s the only number we have for you,” the lady insists, reading it out again.
“No,” I say, “It’s not. I have the order confirmation in front of me and I can see my correct number, and my husband’s. And there’s definitely no email.”
“It’s the only number you’ve given us, I’m afraid.”
“But I have a text from Tesco this morning on the correct number,” I plead. But no, she’s not budging. It’s my problem.
“Look,” I say, “I can’t drive, we’ve stayed in all morning, my baby is hungry and I only have enough formula for one more feed [ed: I give breast, then bottle each feed under GP's advice]. My son hasn’t had a proper breakfast, my husband is 40 miles away at work, I’m really upset.”
“Well we did try to call you,” she says.
I’m getting really frustrated . Little Miss J is really crying now and JD is mercifully out of earshot – he doesn’t like hearing me upset.
“Look, can I please speak to a manager?” I ask.
I’m put on hold for a while. A manager comes on. He has a “what do you want me to do about it?” attitude, like it’s a negotiation. In my head I’m thinking, “I’m not trying to get a free f***ing loaf of bread here!” but I try to stay reasonable. I just want recognition that they’ve messed up.
He seems unconcerned, so I start to related my story again. He too is convinced I’ve made the mistake – perhaps it’s my baby brain, eh?
And then, mid-recap, I’m cut off.
Was it him, was it me? I wasn’t shouting, I wasn’t swearing, I did sound distressed. I can’t say for certain who ended the call, but ended it has been. And of course, no one will call me back, because they supposedly only hold the wrong number for me. (Now I recall I’ve even had calls from delivery drivers to THIS number in recent weeks – yet supposedly they don’t have it…riiiiight!)
11.10am Tuesday: I dial again. Go through the automated options again. Wait on hold again. I get a different lady this time. I suspect some of their operators work from home because this lady doesn’t sound like she’s in a call centre. I quickly explain my problem and that I need to be put back through to the manager I was speaking to, but she just tries to explain the Tesco version of events again. Slowly. Like I’m a fool.
I think to give her the correct mobile number this time, even though I know they must have it, somewhere. Not that they’ll admit the error could possibly be with them.
I have to ask to speak to a manager three times. Each time I’m ‘reasoned with’. I feel like they don’t care. I’m a breastfeeding mum, my baby’s hungry, my son has been promised a morning at the park that hasn’t happened, and now I’m basically being called a liar by every Tesco person I speak to.
There’s not an ounce of sympathy, not from a single one of the people I speak to. Call me weak, but I start sobbing. I may use a minor swearword while desperately relating my story once again, but not as an insult.
Eventually, she offers to ‘try’ to get through to the Lincoln store.
“No, please. I want to speak to the call centre manager I was speaking to before.” My voice is shaking but I’m trying not to sound like a loon. “I’m just really upset and absolutely furious.” I remember to use my pleases and thank yous – what the flip is going on?!
“Ah,” she says, “I can’t do that. I’ll have to get him to call you back”
“Please,” I say, “I need this sorting, I have no food, my husband has our payment card, I need you to just sort this out. Please. Please have him call me straight back.” She sounds unconvinced so I mention pathetically that I’ve got a fairly large Twitter following. She remains unmoved, the call is over, a manager will call me.
12.00pm Monday Tuesday: Nothing. Zip. Nada. They just haven’t bothered to call back. And if I were you, I would never shop with Tesco again. And you can quote me on that.
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Update added 01.19pm Monday Tuesday: The social media team just called and apologised. My correct details WERE on the system. The Lincoln store have offered to bring me some bread, ham and baby milk at 4pm. I have declined. They’re calling me back later.
I have sorted some cash out so we’re going out to get milk and food – thanks for all your kind messages and sorry if you couldn’t comment on here earlier, comments should be loading ok now.
[ed: to those concerned, by this point I had sorted things so that Little Miss J never missed a feed and JD and I got our lunches - obviously I didn't let anyone starve :) my point above is that Tesco left us without food, not that I let is stay that way]
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Update added 03.30pm-04.30pm Tuesday: A Tesco Van arrived. I wan’t sure whether to open the door or not. I did. The man handed over 10 cartons of milk (the wrong kind, it turns out), two loaves of bread and some ham. I panicked and signed for it. I’m not entirely sure, but I assume it was without charge.
The social media lady hasn’t called back, but the thing is, I don’t want an apology from a social media bod and a handful of groceries, I want a proper apology from the people responsible for such a poor system. And really, £10 of goods some six hours after a £188 order was expected? No Tesco, that doesn’t make it ok.
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Update added 07.00pm Tuesday: The nice social media lady called back. She asked me what I would like by way of apology and good will. It transpired that vouchers were on the table, which I declined since I never intend to shop there ever again.
I said all I want is:
- a written apology from somebody senior, which I can publish on this page to put an end to the whole sorry affair, and
- the total value of the original order (£188.26) donated to Action Aid UK
She told me that a letter will take 7-10 days (speedy!) and that she couldn’t be sure that the whole amount could be donated (really, Tesco? You can’t afford it, huh?) She’s a nice enough person, though – I don’t envy her job today.
Let’s wait and see, shall we? I hope Tesco come good, but something tells me not to hold my breath.
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Update added 11.00am Saturday: So, here you have it, Tesco’s apology.
And they do say sorry, although I’d argue that their implication that standards are usually high is rather refuted by all the other stories of extremely poor customer service in the comments below and elsewhere on the web.
More significantly for me, they’ve declined to donate anything to Action Aid UK and instead given me a £50 Tesco voucher “to donate to the charity of your choice”. I think that’s utterly laughable for a multitude of reasons, but I’ll leave you to decide.
For me, the story’s over, I’ll never shop with them again, but 10,000 people have read this story. It’s been shared over 1,000 times across social networks. It was marked on Twitter as a “top tweet” and discussed on the panel at The Social Customer conference earlier this week.
Tesco, you’ve still got a lot to learn.
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Update added 10.30am Tuesday (a week later): I got a call from the CEO’s office at Tesco. It was Ewan Small, Customer Service Executive (I emailed him last week). He was perfectly nice and apologised.
We talked about what had happened and I reiterated that the issue for customers isn’t usually when a mistake is made, or even when a staff member if rude, it’s being repeatedly ignored – it’s about not feeling heard because staff don’t feel empowered to look beyond the computer screen and use their humanity.It’s about being promised a call back and forgotten.
He assures me that this isn’t the Tesco way and that where mistakes are being made, things will change. Be nice if they did, wouldn’t it?
Five reasons I know I’m a geek
<?php $title = the_title(”,”,FALSE); echo substr($title, 0, 75); – Me
I think it’s time I admitted something. You probably know this already. You probably won’t be surprised.
I, Emily Leary, am a geek.
How do I know this? Well, since you’re asking (and since Kate is asking) here are five reasons:
- I’m the person that everyone I know calls with any and every techy question. (Ah, go on, ask away.)
- I like to listen to heavy metal music while coding in PHP. (Hot right? Oh.)
- I met my husband online. (That’s another story – pry all you like.)
- I lust after gadgets like most women lust after shoes. (iPad 3? Oh God, yes please.)
- I have a web analytics screen open on my laptop that makes a ping sound every time someone new visits my site. (Yeah, yeah, Mammasaurus – laugh it up.)
I could go on, but then Kate would beat me with sticks. Are you a geek?
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