Five signs you need a Dubai detox

I don’t know about you, but every two months or so I have what I call ‘a Dubai wobble’. Much like when I need my hair cut and decide one morning that I must have my fringe chopped IMMEDIATELY, the Dubai wobble sneaks up on you, then suddenly you realise you gotta get out of this place before you have a Michael Douglas-style 'Falling Down' moment.

Even if it’s a last-minute mini-break to RAK, a change of scene can improve your mood immeasurably, and stop you making any rash decisions e.g. quitting your job, selling your car and calling your mum to tell her to make up the spare room because you’re moving home. Tonight.

Here are five ways to spot the impending Dubai-induced meltdown so you can get on booking.com before writing that resignation letter.

1. Road rage. Let’s face it, the drivers here are consistently appalling, but when it’s all getting a bit much every tail-gating, non-indicating moron who doesn’t know how to use a roundabout is a personal affront. You may find yourself giving people the finger under the dashboard or screaming at volume from the safety of your car. 

2. Technology is against you. The internet is on the blink, your phone is a piece of tat that runs out of battery by 10am, there’s nothing on television apart from 'Say Yes To The Dress' and you’ve seen the one with the basketball-playing bride who needs an extra-long dress three times this week. Enough, Dubai, enough! 

3. Everyone else is away. Oh, look at those lovely photos of Santorini/the non-chav side of Ibiza/vineyards/another damn water villa in the Maldives. How fantastic. It’s still 45 degrees here in Dubai, you’ve already been on your ‘holiday’ back home and have nothing to look forward to until Christmas. When you’re going home again. 

4. Money. DEWA is costing you the same as a small nation’s GDP, school fees are going up, rent is laughable, and a supermarket shop is the same as your car payment. When a Dubai wobble is on the way, you seemingly haemorrhage money with no sign of that cash influx Susan Miller from Astrology Zone promised you at the beginning of the month. 

5. Weather. Is it just me, or has this been The Longest, Hottest Summer In The History Of Summers? First we had Ramadan, then another two months of temperatures hotter than the sun. And everyone tells each other to cling to the fact the weather ‘will be just amaaaaaazing soon’, while hopefully claiming that ‘it felt a bit fresher this morning’. It didn’t. And if one more person posts a photo of their car thermometer or over-heated iPhone…

Do yourself (and your family) a favour and head to a hotel if you nodded along to the above. I hear Fujairah is lovely at this time of year. 

How Oprah saved my sanity

Before our daughter was born I hadn't been around babies much. This was a major worry for me. Many of my friends have big families with yards of cousins, nieces and nephews, but we're a smaller clan. And while friends at home have started breeding, they're thousands of miles away. I was, in short, clueless. 

We did antenatal classes for two reasons.

1. We knew nothing. NOTHING. I tried numerous times to read 'What To Expect...' but found it hard to relate to, and very boring. My motto became 'Ignorance is bliss' but decided that a small amount of knowledge might be a little useful. Something about a placenta...?

2. I wanted my husband to understand the magnitude of what my body was going through. He could be somewhat, umm, blasé about it all and him hearing just how bloody awful (literally) it might be/would definitely be, scored me a little extra sympathy.

The classes covered lots of pregnancy information and a fair bit about the birth (we opted not the watch the 1970's style water delivery video when both of us went a peculiar shade of green as it started) and the break time snacks were AWESOME, but there wasn't much on what to expect once the tiny human had arrived. 

In the beginning there was crying from the tiny human. Lots of crying. And this would have been a very, very dark time if it wasn't for Oprah Winfrey. Stay with me, folks. Towards the end of my pregnancy, a friend told me about a clip she'd seen on YouTube of an old Oprah show where a guest expert claimed to know how to decode the cries of babies. Priscilla Dunstan has a photographic memory for sounds, and quickly realised after the birth of her child that there are five distinct cries that all babies, regardless of language or nationality, use to communicate their basic needs. 

Seriously. Watch the video. It's 17 minutes, but well worth it. I'll leave you to it.

See? 

Couldn't be bothered to watch the video? Here are the five cries, taken from What To Expect's less boring blog:

Neh – This means "I'm hungry". Apparently as a baby's sucking reflex kicks in and the tongue is pushed to the roof of the mouth the sound that comes out is a "neh" sound.

Owh – The "owh" sound is made in the reflex of a yawn which means "I'm sleepy".

Heh – the "heh" sounds (similar to "neh" so be careful that you hear the beginning 'h' sound) means discomfort. This particular cry is to let you know that the baby is uncomfortable – cold, itchy, needs changing etc.

Eair – The "eair" sound means lower gas. It's a deeper sound that comes from the abdomen. It is a bit more difficult to distinguish than the rest but is usually accompanied by a newborn pulling his/her knees up or pushing down and out with his/her legs.

Eh – The "eh" sound means that a baby needs to burp. It is similar, again, to "neh" and "heh" but remember that you are listening for those beginning sounds, not the ending sounds. When you hear, "Eh, ehhhhh" your newborn is telling you "Burp me, please".

Maybe we were lucky, but for the vast majority of the time, the newborn Phoebe was easy to read with the five cries, allowing me to anticipate what she needed (food, burping, sleep etc) before a full meltdown ensued. The key is cracking the code early on e.g. in the first month.

If this fails, Twisted Doodles has you covered (the website is blocked in the UAE, but you can follow on Twitter here). 

I'm increasingly familiar with the last one. 

Ahhh, the silent judging and the raise of a mini eyebrow. 

What really happens on a newborn photoshoot

Whether you have had photos taken of your own freshly born offspring or just seen the results via facebook (all the darn time), perhaps we should lift the lid on what actually happens behind the scenes.

1. The timing. There is a very, very small window of opportunity for having the ‘optimum’ images of the baby - when they are between 7 and 10 days old. This is to make sure they are suitably bendy and sleepy, I believe. And early morning is best.
2. The reality. At this time, mere days after giving birth, mums are likely to be having a pretty bleak time with feeding, sleeping and generally coping with life - a tangle of muslin cloths, tears and uncertainty. Driving alone to an unknown location? Not recommended. I cried after missing the exit. 
3. The room must be warm. Hotter than the sun, ideally. This is for maximum sleepiness of the sprog, though new mums are not excluded from the snooze-fest. Thankfully sofas are provided.
4. The look. I specified my preference (no pink, no headbands, no themes) and you’ll probably find that the photographer has a Carrie Bradshaw-esque wardrobe full of teeny, tiny clothes to suit. 
5. The props. Buckets, bowls, baskets. Babies can fit anywhere, it seems. And remember, someone out there has a photo of their child in a pot plant, otherwise it wouldn’t be an option.
6. Socks. Lots and lots of socks. This is the key to propping a miniature person up long enough to take their photo. 
7. Nakedness. Theirs, not yours. This is probably when a bowel evacuation of epic proportions will happen. All over a sheepskin rug.
8. The belly button will most likely still have that disconcerting plastic clip on it. I get chills just thinking about that. Your photographer will be well-practiced in hiding the offending item.
9. The close up. Our daughter was nicknamed The Monkey Princess for the first few months of her life on account of the dark down that covered her shoulders and back. And forehead. Let the photographer know if you don’t want to capture the fact your baby is the missing link so they can avoid the fur. 
10. The results. You’ll love them. 

Our daughter photographed at 8 days old, monkey fur and all, by the lovely Nicky McLean. 

Welcome to the mothership

Necessity is the mother of invention, and Dubai is in need of a voice that tells mums that it's ok if you're: 

• Not wearing a bikini, heels and jewellery at a beach club a fortnight after giving birth (I'm still enthusiastically enjoying maternity leggings and the sprog is 6 months old). 
• Back at work and (whisper it) bloody loving it. 
• Unsure when or how you should wean/potty train/apply for schools. I haven't read a single book apart from Baby Secrets since giving birth. If you haven't read Baby Secrets, I can't recommend it enough. Get it from Amazon here. 
• Not signed up to Baby Sensory, Baby Swimming, Baby Massage, Baby Gymnastics, Mummy & Me coffee mornings, breastfeeding clinics, baby-led weaning workshops, baby wearing sessions etc etc etc until you've spent the rent on 'education' before the child is 2 months old.

In short, this blog is for you if you're a busy, active mum who can't stand small talk, crap information and twee mummy blogs who make out that mothering is all unicorns, candy floss and rose petals, instead of admitting that you can love your child so much it terrifies you, while still wanting a night in alone watching The Great British Bake Off with a double G&T or night out pretending you don't have children.

Being a mum can be amazing, but it's also a pain in your (newly expanded) backside sometimes.