Another slightly belated post, sorry!
So it's now almost mid-January, but I'm still optimistic enough to think of hopes for the new year, and indeed the new decade. They are not resolutions, because my resolve is weak, especially when confronted by chocolate biscuits, but simply hopes that I would like to become reality.
I hope to find some sort of work/life balance that works for me, my job and my family this year. I don't expect it to be the same balance that works for others, and I'm sure it will seem precariously perched to many, but I want a ratio that allows me time to pursue my professional ambitions (that sounds grander than they are!) and to play with glitter as well. If I get time to do a bit of housework and even some cooking, that would be a bonus. Probably. Although actually, I did both at the weekend and really quite enjoyed it.
I hope to be the best I can be. The best mum, the best wife, the best friend, the best sister etc etc (fill in as appropriate to you - if you don't know me, then I hope to be the best blogger I can be for you!). Note the disclaimer - the best I can be. I hope to finally be able to totally let go of my quest for perfection and accept that my best is good enough. And there's nothing wrong with good enough.
I hope to have fun. Maybe with glitter, maybe by indulging in a bit of office practical joking, maybe over wine with friends, but I hope to remember to make room in my life for things that are just for fun.
I hope to be healthy. We all know this means more exercise and less chocolate so enough said.
That's probably it. There are other, smaller goals, and other, bigger ones, but they can all be slotted in to the above hopes. And after hearing that an old school friend of mine died from cancer on New Year's Eve aged just 30, I hope to remember that sometimes just being here and remembering to be grateful for it is enough.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Monday, 28 December 2009
Three years, and counting
It's a frantic time of year, but Miss T's third birthday seemed a good opportunity for a reflective blog post. Of course, that's not necessarily how this will turn out...
It was actually her birthday a few days ago, but work and Christmas got in the way!
So let's look back over the last three years.
That's easy to do simply by scrolling through these blog entries, where the journey from mad mummy to today's saner version is clear to see, via happy pills and the lovely therapist.
But there have been lots of changes to the lovely three-year-old Miss T over those years as well, of course. And in many ways that is the more incredible journey. I still find it hard to work out how this chatty, funny, clever, stubborn child grew from the helpless and passive infant. Although, to be fair, she was desperate to talk almost from day one.
We have some lovely days together, although bizarrely most of those are when we are alone. I still find it difficult to fully immerse myself in mum mode when there are people around (by people I mean family - of course I don't ignore her in crowded shopping centres!). Part of that is because she has such fun with other people that I like to hang back and let her get on with it rather than interjecting with "mummy moments" like "Please say pardon, not what," or "Try to use your nice voice when you are asking for something, and don't forget to say please,". But if we have a whole day to ourselves it is often a real joy - something I never would have imagined three years ago. Whatever we do, from cooking to painting or even shopping, we share some very special moments.
Perhaps some of that is because whole days of just mummy and Miss T are quite rare because of work.
Actually, not that rare - we have Wednesdays and most weekends. It's fine. It's just different from what I expected. But that's okay too.
That's one of the biggest changes of all in these three years - I can go with the flow a lot more. I don't have any long-term career plan, any long-term family plan, not even a plan for the rest of this week (besides work and Christmas!).
But that's okay. And that's the best bit of all, from someone who used to have to-do lists for every single day that often started with "Get up, have a shower, have breakfast...." and continued right through to "Clean teeth, go to bed".
It's amazing how I have changed, and amazing how she has changed, and she still surprises me every day. I hope I can continue to surprise myself as well.
It was actually her birthday a few days ago, but work and Christmas got in the way!
So let's look back over the last three years.
That's easy to do simply by scrolling through these blog entries, where the journey from mad mummy to today's saner version is clear to see, via happy pills and the lovely therapist.
But there have been lots of changes to the lovely three-year-old Miss T over those years as well, of course. And in many ways that is the more incredible journey. I still find it hard to work out how this chatty, funny, clever, stubborn child grew from the helpless and passive infant. Although, to be fair, she was desperate to talk almost from day one.
We have some lovely days together, although bizarrely most of those are when we are alone. I still find it difficult to fully immerse myself in mum mode when there are people around (by people I mean family - of course I don't ignore her in crowded shopping centres!). Part of that is because she has such fun with other people that I like to hang back and let her get on with it rather than interjecting with "mummy moments" like "Please say pardon, not what," or "Try to use your nice voice when you are asking for something, and don't forget to say please,". But if we have a whole day to ourselves it is often a real joy - something I never would have imagined three years ago. Whatever we do, from cooking to painting or even shopping, we share some very special moments.
Perhaps some of that is because whole days of just mummy and Miss T are quite rare because of work.
Actually, not that rare - we have Wednesdays and most weekends. It's fine. It's just different from what I expected. But that's okay too.
That's one of the biggest changes of all in these three years - I can go with the flow a lot more. I don't have any long-term career plan, any long-term family plan, not even a plan for the rest of this week (besides work and Christmas!).
But that's okay. And that's the best bit of all, from someone who used to have to-do lists for every single day that often started with "Get up, have a shower, have breakfast...." and continued right through to "Clean teeth, go to bed".
It's amazing how I have changed, and amazing how she has changed, and she still surprises me every day. I hope I can continue to surprise myself as well.
Friday, 18 December 2009
(((hug)))
This post was nearly all sorts of things. It started as a report of my first experience of a birthday party for one of Miss T's school friends - we survived even though I had to text her mum first to ask how old she was, and I didn't know anyone's name.
Then it was a pensive post about health issues, or the lack of them, after news that yet another friend has spent time in hospital with their child - there have been admissions for pneumonia, swine flu and minor operations but we are yet to set foot inside a hospital with Miss T.
Then I considered updating you all the latest challenging behaviours she has come up with and how we are dealing with them.
But then I got this hug.
And suddenly none of that mattered.
It's things like this that make me realise just how far we've come. When I come home from work and a minute later am engrossed in a conversation about school and her friends, or she has grabbed her farm set for some special snuggle time (don't ask me why we need the farm to snuggle, but it's become a tradition) I realise it doesn't matter that some things don't go to plan. What's so great about planning anyway?
So we haven't managed to ride the Santa train this year even though I wanted it to be our special family tradition. We've been for a snowy walk to look at Christmas lights instead and made a unique Christmas cake featuring marshmallows. Yes, marshmallows. Again, don't ask.
So there are still times when I am so frustrated I could cry (and sometimes I do) and I forget she is not behaving badly on purpose (most of the time). A good cuddle fixes it all.
It's something I'm going to try to remember in future.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
The pursuit of perfection
Why is it so hard for me when things don't go to plan?
Don't answer that question!
Actually, although today has been a challenge, hence this rare midweek post, it could have been a lot worse.
But I do find it difficult when I don't live up to my own expectations. I know I can do things so much better, and be so much better, and when things largely outside my control intervene it's hugely frustrating.
On the positive side: I can recognise that it's my own expectations that lead to the feeling of pressure and disappointment when something goes wrong. I know that if they do go wrong it's not because I am a bad person or useless or stupid.
On the negative side: I still need to work on handling that disappointment and pressure in the moment. And avoiding it in the future. And it is still a battle to prevent it becoming an all-consuming, crushing emotion.
But tomorrow is another day, and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for this blog as an outlet for these self-indulgent ramblings, and to you, my long-suffering readers!
Don't answer that question!
Actually, although today has been a challenge, hence this rare midweek post, it could have been a lot worse.
But I do find it difficult when I don't live up to my own expectations. I know I can do things so much better, and be so much better, and when things largely outside my control intervene it's hugely frustrating.
On the positive side: I can recognise that it's my own expectations that lead to the feeling of pressure and disappointment when something goes wrong. I know that if they do go wrong it's not because I am a bad person or useless or stupid.
On the negative side: I still need to work on handling that disappointment and pressure in the moment. And avoiding it in the future. And it is still a battle to prevent it becoming an all-consuming, crushing emotion.
But tomorrow is another day, and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for this blog as an outlet for these self-indulgent ramblings, and to you, my long-suffering readers!
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
"I didn't realise you were a mum...."
That's a comment I've heard quite a few times lately and I'm puzzled by it.
Mostly it's at my new place of work and I can think of several reasons for it, when I think logically:
1) We're so busy we don't really have time to get into deep personal conversations.
2) There's no room on my desk for photos, although Miss T is my screensaver - but I've always got programmes open on the screen.
3) I often stay late, so people assume I have no nursery pick-up etc to do (when the truth is that the ever-helpful grandparents are on duty, again...)
But it does bother me, if I'm in a tired and emotional state. Do I not seem motherly? And when they find out I do have a daughter, and a small one at that, their shocked expressions seem to indicate that I should be at home rather than pursuing a career.
It's a fact that the industry I work in can be male-dominated, perhaps because it demands unsocial hours that are difficult to do with children if there are no ever-helpful grandparents on hand, but one of my new colleagues has two small children and no one seems to express surprise to her.
Perhaps part of it is my fault - in the same way I saw my pregnancy as irrelevant to my work and was irritated by the constant questions whenever I was out trying to do my job, Miss T is not part of my working day, although I often miss being with her.
But I simply don't have time to engage the office in fascinating discussions about her latest achievements, and nor does anyone else.
That may sound harsh and I'm sure my work-life balance would not work for everyone. Nor do I think it will necessarily work for me for the next 20 years. But for now, working hard and playing hard (with Miss T on my days off) is an approach that works for me.
When I'm at work, I'm totally at work. Hours can whizz by with no thoughts of lost shoes, the school run or bedtime battles popping into my head. Of course, this is only possible because I know she's 100 per cent safe and happy with Mark, my parents, or our chidminder and I'm incredibly grateful for all of them for allowing me to concentrate on work.
But when I'm at home, and Tasha is awake, I'm totally at home. Since signing the contract for my new role, meaning I could give up most of my freelance commitments, I don't let work intrude on my days off and I try to give her my full attention, which means we have had some lovely days together.
It also means that there are few evenings out with Mark and weekends away are a rare luxury. Actually, not a luxury - almost a trial. I don't want time away from her. I want to spend time with her.
How bizarre it feels to be writing those words, on this blog!
Mostly it's at my new place of work and I can think of several reasons for it, when I think logically:
1) We're so busy we don't really have time to get into deep personal conversations.
2) There's no room on my desk for photos, although Miss T is my screensaver - but I've always got programmes open on the screen.
3) I often stay late, so people assume I have no nursery pick-up etc to do (when the truth is that the ever-helpful grandparents are on duty, again...)
But it does bother me, if I'm in a tired and emotional state. Do I not seem motherly? And when they find out I do have a daughter, and a small one at that, their shocked expressions seem to indicate that I should be at home rather than pursuing a career.
It's a fact that the industry I work in can be male-dominated, perhaps because it demands unsocial hours that are difficult to do with children if there are no ever-helpful grandparents on hand, but one of my new colleagues has two small children and no one seems to express surprise to her.
Perhaps part of it is my fault - in the same way I saw my pregnancy as irrelevant to my work and was irritated by the constant questions whenever I was out trying to do my job, Miss T is not part of my working day, although I often miss being with her.
But I simply don't have time to engage the office in fascinating discussions about her latest achievements, and nor does anyone else.
That may sound harsh and I'm sure my work-life balance would not work for everyone. Nor do I think it will necessarily work for me for the next 20 years. But for now, working hard and playing hard (with Miss T on my days off) is an approach that works for me.
When I'm at work, I'm totally at work. Hours can whizz by with no thoughts of lost shoes, the school run or bedtime battles popping into my head. Of course, this is only possible because I know she's 100 per cent safe and happy with Mark, my parents, or our chidminder and I'm incredibly grateful for all of them for allowing me to concentrate on work.
But when I'm at home, and Tasha is awake, I'm totally at home. Since signing the contract for my new role, meaning I could give up most of my freelance commitments, I don't let work intrude on my days off and I try to give her my full attention, which means we have had some lovely days together.
It also means that there are few evenings out with Mark and weekends away are a rare luxury. Actually, not a luxury - almost a trial. I don't want time away from her. I want to spend time with her.
How bizarre it feels to be writing those words, on this blog!
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Something to share...
Here's a little something I wrote for elsewhere that I thought some of you might like to read. Some of you, I fear, will be horrified....
I was prompted to share it after another puddle-splashing session by Miss T that ended with her sitting in the aforementioned puddle. Thank goodness for the ever-present emergency spare clothes!
WE'VE had swine flu - not literally in my case - so the latest headline-grabbing health scare seems to be E-coli.
Of course it is a serious illness and the tales of toddlers with organ failure are enough to strike terror into the hearts of parents everywhere, but the hysteria does seem to me to be another symptom of the germ-phobia sweeping this country.
While I don't encourage my own small daughter to eat her lunch in the toilet or to ignore basic hygiene, I also don't disinfect her toys or insist she washes her hands every time she strokes one of our two hairy hounds.
I'm sure there are some people reading that with a shudder and a squirt of anti-bacterial hand spray, but I don't want her life to be restricted by fears that are blown out of all proportion.
It's impossible to visit a farm now without dire warnings about risks to your health, and the handwashing police lurk by every pen.
When we stopped at a motorway service station last week I was astounded to discover people are now encouraged to disinfect toilet seats before using them - and before using the "wave to activate" no-contact flush system to ensure there is absolutely no chance of touching anything yukky. Apart from on the door handles and locks, of course...but there's always a wad of toilet roll and that ever-present anti-bacterial hand rub...
In our house, the 10-second rule is still in force: drop a piece of food or cutlery on the floor and as long as it's been there less than 10 seconds it's fine to pick up.
And when we go to the park or the beach we pick up all sorts of treasures to bring home without a moment's thought about all the nasties that could be lurking on them.
My sisters and I grew up literally eating mud pies (and worms, and drinking strange concoctions made using chalk and water) and survived to adulthood without any major episodes of illness.
And we had a lot of fun along the way, unlike the children I see who find their playtimes interupted every few minutes for a spray of this or a squirt of that to keep them squeaky clean.
Children get dirty; it's a fact of life and another of those quickly-discovered parental lessons.
But clothes can be washed, babies are bathed and it's amazing what you can achieve with hot water and soap.
So we'll keep on stroking animals, playing on the floor and creating masterpieces from mud and I hope my daughter will remember a childhood of fun instead of fear.
I was prompted to share it after another puddle-splashing session by Miss T that ended with her sitting in the aforementioned puddle. Thank goodness for the ever-present emergency spare clothes!
WE'VE had swine flu - not literally in my case - so the latest headline-grabbing health scare seems to be E-coli.
Of course it is a serious illness and the tales of toddlers with organ failure are enough to strike terror into the hearts of parents everywhere, but the hysteria does seem to me to be another symptom of the germ-phobia sweeping this country.
While I don't encourage my own small daughter to eat her lunch in the toilet or to ignore basic hygiene, I also don't disinfect her toys or insist she washes her hands every time she strokes one of our two hairy hounds.
I'm sure there are some people reading that with a shudder and a squirt of anti-bacterial hand spray, but I don't want her life to be restricted by fears that are blown out of all proportion.
It's impossible to visit a farm now without dire warnings about risks to your health, and the handwashing police lurk by every pen.
When we stopped at a motorway service station last week I was astounded to discover people are now encouraged to disinfect toilet seats before using them - and before using the "wave to activate" no-contact flush system to ensure there is absolutely no chance of touching anything yukky. Apart from on the door handles and locks, of course...but there's always a wad of toilet roll and that ever-present anti-bacterial hand rub...
In our house, the 10-second rule is still in force: drop a piece of food or cutlery on the floor and as long as it's been there less than 10 seconds it's fine to pick up.
And when we go to the park or the beach we pick up all sorts of treasures to bring home without a moment's thought about all the nasties that could be lurking on them.
My sisters and I grew up literally eating mud pies (and worms, and drinking strange concoctions made using chalk and water) and survived to adulthood without any major episodes of illness.
And we had a lot of fun along the way, unlike the children I see who find their playtimes interupted every few minutes for a spray of this or a squirt of that to keep them squeaky clean.
Children get dirty; it's a fact of life and another of those quickly-discovered parental lessons.
But clothes can be washed, babies are bathed and it's amazing what you can achieve with hot water and soap.
So we'll keep on stroking animals, playing on the floor and creating masterpieces from mud and I hope my daughter will remember a childhood of fun instead of fear.
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Guess what? A new post!
Don't all fall off your chairs, but I'm back!
As usual, life has got in the way of blogging and as usual I've sat down to do this many times but never quite made it.
This time I'm determined!
You'll be glad to know there are no disasters or traumas to report - of course I would have been here before if there were.
I had a "review session" with my life-saving therapist a while ago and that prompted me to thinking about a review on here.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm still 'in therapy', albeit only every six months or so. I think it's healthy to recognise that I still need some support. It's probably more about exernal validation and my need for that is a part of my character that I have come to accept. I don't believe things are good until someone else tells me!
But it's also great to have an hour just to talk about everything and just to think about me. Not about aged dogs, cranky cats or troublesome two year olds.
Which brings me to Miss T, who is of course not actually that troublesome. She's fantastic. She's loving preschool, despite my well-documented fears, has mastered toilet-training (pretty much) and is learning and growing every day. Best of all she now has moments where she'll play happily by herself while I wash up or cook dinner or - shock horror - read a magazine!
What else?
Well, I have a permanent job! It's similar but different to my old job, a bit of a promotion, a lot more fun. And it means less stress about income and bills, if a bit more about other things. The hours are longer than I'd like but it's four days a week so I try to make sure my Tasha days are truly dedicated to her. No more skulking upstairs on the computer while she and her daddy play downstairs or go out.
Other stuff?
Not much. Life goes on, there are ups and downs, trials and tribulations. But we are a strong family unit and I love nothing more than when we are all at home together, snuggled up on the sofa reading a book or - shock horror part two - watching TV!
See? I can admit to less-than-perfection...there was a time when I would have insisted Tasha not watched TV and instead organised an educational activity. But actually, she needs chill out time too and when we watch it together and talk about what we see, or if it gives us ideas about craft activities or teaches us new songs then there's nothing wrong with that.
But do you know what? I don't care if anyone disagrees with that. It works for us and that's the main thing.
That's about all there is to report - as usual I'll end with a vow to try and update more regularly, but who knows if I'll keep it? If you check back and are disappointed at the lack of waffle or ranting, just know it means my life is crisis-free!
As usual, life has got in the way of blogging and as usual I've sat down to do this many times but never quite made it.
This time I'm determined!
You'll be glad to know there are no disasters or traumas to report - of course I would have been here before if there were.
I had a "review session" with my life-saving therapist a while ago and that prompted me to thinking about a review on here.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm still 'in therapy', albeit only every six months or so. I think it's healthy to recognise that I still need some support. It's probably more about exernal validation and my need for that is a part of my character that I have come to accept. I don't believe things are good until someone else tells me!
But it's also great to have an hour just to talk about everything and just to think about me. Not about aged dogs, cranky cats or troublesome two year olds.
Which brings me to Miss T, who is of course not actually that troublesome. She's fantastic. She's loving preschool, despite my well-documented fears, has mastered toilet-training (pretty much) and is learning and growing every day. Best of all she now has moments where she'll play happily by herself while I wash up or cook dinner or - shock horror - read a magazine!
What else?
Well, I have a permanent job! It's similar but different to my old job, a bit of a promotion, a lot more fun. And it means less stress about income and bills, if a bit more about other things. The hours are longer than I'd like but it's four days a week so I try to make sure my Tasha days are truly dedicated to her. No more skulking upstairs on the computer while she and her daddy play downstairs or go out.
Other stuff?
Not much. Life goes on, there are ups and downs, trials and tribulations. But we are a strong family unit and I love nothing more than when we are all at home together, snuggled up on the sofa reading a book or - shock horror part two - watching TV!
See? I can admit to less-than-perfection...there was a time when I would have insisted Tasha not watched TV and instead organised an educational activity. But actually, she needs chill out time too and when we watch it together and talk about what we see, or if it gives us ideas about craft activities or teaches us new songs then there's nothing wrong with that.
But do you know what? I don't care if anyone disagrees with that. It works for us and that's the main thing.
That's about all there is to report - as usual I'll end with a vow to try and update more regularly, but who knows if I'll keep it? If you check back and are disappointed at the lack of waffle or ranting, just know it means my life is crisis-free!
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