Alpine Mummy

A new life in the middle of nowhere


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Spreading the Alpine Mummy Word

This lovely blogger is sharing the Alpine Mummy love and is worth a read. Basically, to sum up, she lists many fabulous tips on how to get hiking with kids, and then links to the wonderful Alpine Mummy to demonstrate how HILARIOUS it is when it all goes wrong.

I appear to be getting myself a reputation for oh-so-amusing mountainous cock-ups (and not the mountain Mummy/goddess that I want to be in my mind).  I’m just gonna roll with that…

Check this out; very useful (unlike my posts!):

Family Hikes – tips for hiking with small children

 


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Only as Good as Your Latest Success (or: Alpine Mummy Learns Not to be Smug)

A couple of months ago, nearly three years to the day since we took our first hike as a family of five, we finally saw a tiny glimmer of light at the end of that baby-carrying tunnel.

Since moving to the mountains five years ago, we had never gone for a hike without at least one child on at least one of our backs. And a bag (or few) full of STUFF.

Climbing every mountain, fording every stream… the hills were alive but the going was slow, what with the increasing number of kilos strapped to us.

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Bag ‘n’ Baby – Apline Mummy the Packhorse

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All New Boots and No Trousers

When Alpine Boy was born I was starry-eyed and naive. It was only months and even years later that I started to realise I’d missed a trick, when other mums would casually query what present Alpine Papa had got me for giving birth.

“Eh?!” I’d respond, before finally noticing those enormous hunks of diamonds  painfully weighing down their earlobes. Apparently that’s what other husbands buy you for harbouring an ever-growing being inside you for nine months and then pushing it out of somewhere delicate (and never-quite-stretchy-enough).

I got bugger all.

(Apart from this little beauty…)

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Introducing… “Alpine Mummy’s Hikes With Kids”

When we moved to The Middle of Nowhere in 2012, it didn’t take me long to work out there wasn’t much in the way of ‘entertainment’ for the kids (Alpine Boy then aged three and a half; Alpine Girl six weeks).

No soft play centres?!? No baby cinema?!? Bugger, now what?!

Answer?  Hills.  Lots of ’em.

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Broken…

I’m going to have to keep this short (hush there, with your loud sighs of relief, please), as I’m typing one-handed.

This is not because I’m changing a nappy or wiping noses at the same time (for once). Nor is it because I’m shoveling snow or chopping logs or training wild boars to pull a sledge full of children (all of which form daily part of my Alpine life. Honest).

Not even because I’m stuffing my face with chocolate. Even though I am.

No, I’m writing this post with only five of the ten typing fingers I am usually blessed with, because I’ve only gone and broken my bloody wrist.

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Alpine Mummy’s Motherhood Challenge

I must say, I have been very surprised not to have been nominated by ANY of my Facebook friends for the pervasive yet insidious Motherhood Challenge.

I’m hoping this is because they know I despise any ‘challenge’  which involves smug mummies insensitively posting impossibly beautiful photos of impossibly beautiful offspring – the kids smiling happily and throwing neither tantrums nor knives at each other; the photos skillfully Instagram-filtered so you can’t see snot on sleeves or bags under eyes.

I suspect that’s not the reason. But hey, let’s not delve too deeply into whether people think I’m a great mother or not…

Instead, I’ve given-the-hell-up waiting, and have nominated myself. So here are the five photos that make me proud to be a mum.

Alpine Boy is always willing to help out

Alpine Boy is always willing to help out, isn’t he just adorable?!

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The Traumatic Incident of the Tooth in Daytime

I popped into the dentist for a quick root canal this morning. And was in the chair for TWO AND A HALF HOURS.

If you need a lesson for your kids to get them to brush their teeth, let this be it. I have been left traumatised, abused, and depressed. And my mouth is still so sore, 8 hours after the event, that I can hardly force my wine down. Exactly. It is BAD.

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(Photo credit Little Shop of Horrors)

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Alpine Mummy’s celebrity interview

Ever wondered why Alpine Mummy is actually in the middle of nowhere, and not working her way up the corporate ladder in good old London…?

Ever wondered what she’s thinking when signing off yet more orders for paperclips?

Ever wonder what life is really like as an expat in the French mountains, with dog poo and bureaucracy galore?

Wonder no more!

For all the juicy details (kind of), check out this candid and exclusive interview for the fantastic Multicoolty.com.  Forget Hello, Vogue, or Paris Match – this is where it’s at!

The perfect combination

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Alpine Mummy’s (Totally Expert and Not At All Negligent) Guide to Parenting

Alpine Mummy should be a parenting guru. Not because she’s an expert in parenting. But because she categorically is not.

My parenting technique may send shivers down the spines of Gina Ford groupies, and cause panic in Mumsnet forums but, really, it’s all for your benefit.

I should write a parenting manual in fact. It would be a sell-out, simply rolling off the shelves, like squishy poo escaping from an unchanged nappy (more about that later). By sharing terrible screw-ups in Alpine Mummy’s usual ‘aren’t-you-glad-your-life’s-not-like-this?!’ style, this new handy reference manual would produce perfect parents everywhere, as they rush to do exactly the opposite of what Alpine Mummy does.

Our new babysitter...

Our new babysitter…

Don’t believe me? Perhaps a little taster of my terrible parenting would assist. Here are my top 10 recent parenting failures:

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10 things I wish someone had told me before I had three kids

I have three children.  Three whole, noisy, screaming, snotty, beautiful, amazing, still snotty, children.

Life has certainly changed since Christmas 2008, when Alpine Boy made his angelic appearance on this earth.  I arrogantly and naively promised myself, and others, that this new addition to our world wouldn’t change anything – that life would continue as before; that the new baby would fit around us rather than the other way round.

Ha.  So much for that.

Six and a half years and two more kids later, I’ve practically forgotten what life was like pre-sprogs.  But if one kid is life-changing, and two are chaos-inducing, having three kids is akin to crashing a bus full of monkeys into a lorry full of cats and then trying to round them all up and put them in shoeboxes.  Without strangling any of them.

I wouldn’t change my life for anything, but there are a few things I wish someone had told me about having three kids, just so I could have had fair warning….

Such as:

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