The birthday week

It’s DH’s birthday – a big one! The actual day was on Tuesday, but as it’s a nice round number it’s turned into something of a birthday extravaganza.

Last year, the day passed in a bit of a blur, because of a medical drama in our family. DH’s lovely brother, who also lives in Dubai, returned from Africa with flu-like symptoms that turned out to be malaria. He came to stay with us while he recovered, so while all this was going on – and I was busy swatting gnats just in case (despite being assured by the hospital there was no risk to the boys) – my attention wasn’t really on birthday celebrations.

This year, I promised myself I’d make up for it, so in dutiful wifely fashion, I’ve been busy organising a birthday DH won’t forget. I think I’ve just about managed to pull off a three-part celebration that’s taking up most of the week:

PART 1: (the day) Presents at silly o clock, before school and work. Then Bab Al Shams, a desert resort located in the middle of absolutely nowhere, for a late-afternoon swim and dinner. We’ve done our fair share of camel riding in the Middle East, so we lounged in the pool and watched tourists clambering on the camels, shrieking as they were pitched forwards at the start (camels use their knees to get up and down). It was quite comedic.

Bab Al Shams Desert Resort & Spa – not too far from where we live and very, very nice

PART 2: (the weekend) We’re taking the kids away, to Ras Al Khaimah, one of the seven emirates of the UAE, for more swimming and more desert. The resort, the Banyan Tree, looks amazing and we’re staying in a ‘Bedouin-style tented villa’. It’s not a tent, I did study the website photos carefully to check, and I suspect it won’t be the ‘oasis of serenity’ it’s advertised as once we arrive. I also just found out my boss is going there this weekend.

PART 3: (the piece de resistance) Using a ‘buy one, get one free’ voucher in the Entertainer, I’ve booked a ride on a seaplane. I may yet bottle out.

Of course, no birthday is complete without cake. Baking is not my forte so I ordered one from Bakemart. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out and fully expected something like exhibit A. So was very pleased with exhibit B, despite the squashedupwriting!

Exhibit A (in fact, not made in the UAE, but at Walmart in the US)

Exhibit B: Happy Birthday DH!

Blowing the diet (spectacularly)

Admittedly, when the climate turns hostile and you have small children, there are times when you feel like you’re in an endless spin cycle of soft play and swimming – with a turbo-charged tumble dryer blasting hot air at you the moment you step outside.

But the truth is, there’s always something new or different to do in this part of the world – you just have to get creative and keep an open mind.

Fashionistas in hats, heels and posh frocks strut their stuff at the Dubai World Cup

Dubai is renowned for pulling out the stops, and I was reminded of this again this weekend at the Meydan racecourse – a megastructure rising out of the desert, overlooking a carpet of lush green grass on which the Dubai World Cup – the “world’s richest horse race” – is held each year. With a purse of $10 million, and a dazzling array of hats, fascinators and feathers, the focus is as much on the fashion as on the horses.

We weren’t there for the races though. We were there to eat, at the Meydan Hotel’s Friday brunch – kind of like Sunday lunch transferred to a Friday, but with a lot more excess. Think gastronomic marathon with buffet stations laden with lobster, crabs, roasted meats (even Yorkshire puddings!), sushi, salads and a smorgasboard of mouth-watering desserts. To say the tables were straining under the weight of so much food isn’t far from the truth.

Sea food – and eat it! (my kind of diet)

“You don’t have to eat it all,” DH told me, as I wondered round, my eyes larger than my stomach and my brain doing a quick calculation to figure out just how much damage I could do to the diet in one meal .

But, whilst the food was amazing, there were a few other things that stood out. On pulling up outside, the sheer scale of the place is breathtaking. The mile-long building is a veritable land-scraper and, even when racing isn’t taking place, you can almost imagine the sound of pounding hooves echoing off the grandstand.

The rooftop swimming pool above the state-of-the-art grandstand and racetrack

Guests can look on from track-side, bar-side, pool-side – or from the bathroom tub in the five-star hotel. I don’t think watching the ponies could get any plusher.

Perhaps the most memorable thing, though, was the attentiveness of the staff who work there. Valet parking is common in Dubai, but at Meydan there’s an attendant for every door of your car – even to open the boot. Kids are treated like royalty (with kids’ entertainment laid on) and the waitstaff are so quick to clear your dishes (so you can move on to your seventh course) that you practically have to put your bag on your plate if you want it to still be there when you get back to your table.

So our experience was more about eating than racing, as there wasn’t a horse in sight at the $1.25 billion racecourse.

Why? Because they’ve all gone to Europe to escape the summer heat.

Midas touch for mothers

I’ve mentioned before that Mother’s Day can get a little confusing when you’re a bi-national family living overseas – and when Sunday is the first day of the working week.

What’s more, last weekend, we managed to take this confusion to a whole new level.

The Body Analyser scales – your fat-ratio revealed, and not gold plated

On Sunday, last week, I rushed home from work, and was greeted with flowers, chocolates – and, drum-roll, a set of digital bathroom scales! (not only do they tell me my weight to the exact decimal place, they also give information that honestly should be censored, such as BMI, fat-ratio and water (wine?) content – needless to say, I never hop on after eating and sometimes don’t drink a drop of liquid for two hours beforehand).

I digress. Last Sunday, we gave chocolates to our nanny, and made a phone call to my American DH’s (surprised) mother in Lebanon. I even wished everyone a happy Mother’s Day on my blog. It was one of those ‘feel-good’ days and we just assumed we hadn’t heard much about it because we were in the UAE and the British expatriate contingent here is larger than the American.

Then, at bedtime, the penny dropped, when a friend I’d sent a greeting to told me it was next Sunday. We’d got the day totally wrong. We were a week early – how embarrassing!

So today, it’ll be a quiet Mother’s Day for us. I’m still feeling wonderfully spoilt by last weekend’s treats and can’t eat too much with *those* scales sitting upstairs. By chance, I have the day off work and BB’s school is also closed. I may see if he’ll join me at Starbucks before going to the supermarket, then I’ve promised I’ll take him swimming.

To all my American mom friends – Happy Mother’s day, again! And, to any US moms in the UAE reading this, I have a little idea for a glamourous Mother’s day gift you could suggest if you happen to walk past the Damas jewelers store at the Dubai mall.

Matching gold iPhones and BlackBerries are also available

Yes, it really is – the world’s first 24-carat gold iPad 3, launched in Dubai and so far only shown to VIPs. But you’d better be quick – there’s only 250 of them. Your DH just has to come up with a cool $5,499!

Our ‘snow day’ in the Middle East

Within hours of my first son’s birth in Minneapolis, the ground started glistening as though a fairy had sprinkled dust over the entire city.

No, I wasn’t still high on the cocktail of drugs. It was the end of November and a blizzard had set in, covering everything with a blanket of thick white snow and turning the houses, with their undisturbed snowy roofs, into works of art.

We drove BB home from the hospital – very gingerly – in a snow storm and during the first two years of his life in the midwest of America, there was snow and ice on the ground for at least four months each winter.

Yet, of all this, BB remembers nothing! Despite my valiant efforts to bundle a wriggling, obstinate toddler into an all-in-one snow suit (I honestly think it would have been easier to dress an octopus) and drag him along on a sled, he has no recollection of the fluffy, white stuff.

LB has never seen real snow and so it was with great excitement that we set off last week to the top of a mountain range in Lebanon. Our goal was to build LB’s first ever snowman and so carrots were grabbed from the kitchen, jumpers stuffed into the back of the car.

I have to admit I was sceptical: it was so hot in Beirut. How could there possibly still be snow, I wondered? The temperature remained warm even as we climbed higher – our slow ascent through 1850 metres monitored by my DH and his Dad who, being pilots, checked the altitude on the car’s GPS at every opportunity.

Songs were sung, wrong turns taken, then, low and behold, we suddenly saw snowy peaks! Real snow pasted on the already-stunning scenery like icing sugar.

In Lebanon, you can surf the sea and ski all in one day! Snowballs were thrown, of course – despite the lack of gloves

The winding mountain road led us to a ski resort called Faraya, closed now for the season but beautiful nevertheless. Beautiful and cold.

Straight out of the desert in Crocs and with a constitution that means they shiver in the refrigerated section of the supermarket, the boys whined at first – but after wrapping LB in a pashmina and donating DH’s socks to BB (who knew we’d need winter clothes in the Middle East?) we set about building our snowman with cold wet hands.

A glamorous Lebanese lass climbed on a snowmobile – driven to the very edge of the snow so she wouldn’t get her bejewelled black-suede boots wet – and set off at speed clinging to her boyfriend. If she can do it, I can too, I thought – and so I hopped on the back when the boys went for a spin.

Precious memories were made, but I have to admit one of the most memorable moments was a conversation in the car on the way up:

“Have you ever seen snow before?” my mother-in-law asked the boys.

“Yes,” they replied, nodding their heads earnestly.

“Where? In England? America?” she prompted.

“Nooo. Dubai,” corrected BB, as though it was the most obvious answer and you’d be a ninny to think otherwise.

And then, “Will we see penguins on the mountain Grannie Jane?”

Ski Dubai (our ski slope in a shopping mall and home to the most-pampered penguins in the world) has a lot to answer for!

Overheard after flying (with kids)

Last week I was listening in on my two sons and LB’s best friend D, the cutest boy with the most beautiful white-blonde curls.

“Just look at those gorgeous curls,” I always say to his mother, as though she hasn’t noticed!

D’s dad is also a pilot and D had just returned from a trip home to see family in South Africa. We’d just got back from visiting my in-laws in Lebanon and LB and D were over the moon to see each other again.

In between discussing D’s new pirate ship, the three boys started talking about their trip. Obviously, being expat children, seeing family involves an airplane ride and it made me smile how small boys, who know no other way, view the mode of transport that takes them *home*.

BB: “I just got back from Leb-alon.”

LB: “And meeee!”

BB: “What country did you go to D?”

D: “Af-rika!”

BB: “Is that a long way?”

D: “Yes. But my daddy’s airplane went fast! Like this….whoooooosh”, pretending his fingers were an airplane and whizzing them through the air.

LB: “Whooooosh,” for effect.

BB: “But my daddy’s airplane went faster than yours,” his hand turning into a blur of motion as he illustrated high speed.

D: “No, it didn’t! My daddy’s airplane went super-fast!”

Followed by a detailed explanation from BB of the games he played on the in-flight entertainment system.

It’s a funny ole’ lifestyle sometimes, but never seems to phase little boys.

With a ‘need for speed’ already ingrained, heaven help us when they’re 16!

Wishing all my American mom friends a very happy Mother’s Day next weekend!

What I saw Wednesday

I’m back at work – which feels good and it pays for the kids’ snacks, sometimes even the loo roll.

The view from the office is rather magnificent – blue sea, sandy beaches and the Palm on one side, and the city’s gleaming skyscrapers on the other side. On a really clear day, when we’re not peering through sand, we can even see as far as the next emirate.

As being back at work means I actually get to have adult conversations, I thought that for my Wednesday meme this week, I could also do ‘What I said’ (not much, as it turned out, but slightly more interesting than telling the kids off all day).

Keep in mind that, being freelance, I’ve just had a fairly long period of work famine, so I’m not normally the office idiot. Here goes…

“Umm, how do I switch this computer on?”

“It’s 111 degrees, really? But it’s only the beginning of May!”

“No, I haven’t been sun bathing, honestly. Just running after the kids outside.”

“Could someone please tell me the password again?”

“I know, I haven’t been in the office for ages. I’ve been, erm…” [tried to not talk about the kids too much, or my burst of housewifely spring cleaning, clearing out cupboards, drawers, etc, and being quite proud of the results!]

“Oh, the company’s got a new name. Top Right Drawer? No, Top Right Group. Wow. And L became the editor – in January. I’m really behind.”

“YES, I’d LOVE to do lunch!”

[Via text to DH]: “Sad I’m missing BB’s school assembly. He never told us it was a play they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. Will he know his lines, d’you think?” [*really* wished I was there. Turned out he was a tree and didn’t have much to say!]

[On my way home, to myself]: “Omg, what have they done to this roundabout! It’s completely changed. Where the hell’s my exit???” [while spinning round the intersection like a Weeble with an inner-ear infection]

[At home, to my 6yo]: “Right, BB, time to do homework. Spellings, reading.” [I’m sure I didn’t have homework until my teens]

And so to bed. Because, as much as I’m delighted to be working again, the thing is you not only have to stay all day, but you have to turn up the next day too.

Why every mum should go to Beirut

I came to the conclusion this weekend that every self-deprecating housewife of a certain age needs to take a trip to Lebanon.

Lebanon combines world-famous cuisine, legendary nightlife and beautiful scenery

If nothing else, the stunning mountainous scenery, views of the sparkling Med, mind-blowing history, laid-back atmosphere – and, I should add, standing in the shadow of buildings peppered with bullet holes – will make any household worries feel a million miles away.

A night out in vibrant Beirut – fast becoming the region’s party central – mingling with friendly Lebanese locals will knock 10 years off your age (until the next morning at least). You might even come away thinking you’ve discovered the Paris of the Orient – enough to put the spring back in anyone’s step.

But there’s more. If, like me, you can’t put your finger on the exact moment, but you know that the wolf whistles started petering out a while ago – probably shortly after taking up the mantle of motherhood and just before you realised you wake up with a crease across your face that’s there till noon. If, like me, you’re a little bit worried about a big birthday just round the corner, then you really need to experience what I did this weekend in south Beirut.

We’d driven there, dodging maniac drivers, from my in-laws’ home in the mountains above Beirut to buy the kids bikes. I knew we were entering Hezbollah-land – a part of Beirut where if there’s a problem, you don’t call the police, you call the militia. And I knew we’d arrived when we spotted a missile by the side of the road.

Which I decided to go and take a photo of for my blog.

Honks from Hezbollah: I'll take my honks where I can!

So, while my father-in-law, DH and the boys looked at bikes, I went a very short way up the road to get a good picture – and realised that the background noise of car honking had suddenly become even louder. Not only that, but the men driving the vehicles were grinning at me, motioning to me and one driver, at the wheel of a tyre truck, even pulled over and tried to catch my eye.

Feeling a little unnerved – and more than a tiny-bit pleased (it’s been a while, as I said!!) – I went back to the bike shop and told DH what had just happened.

“I got honked – at least 10 times! Did you hear?”

“Really?” said DH, looking up from adjusting the handle bars on a Spider-Man bike. “Are you sure they weren’t taxis?” he laughed.

True love, eh!

Okay, so some of them were clapped out, smoke-billowing taxis looking for business, but in a part of town where anything goes – where there’s not much you can do to attract attention – I’m pretty sure I proved that a shapely blonde housewife taking photos of a missile is a traffic stopper!