I wanted to do this a while ago, but life got in the way. Better late than never...
To my beautiful daughter,
You have dealt with a lot in your four short years with our family, from a mummy who didn't know how to love you to the arrival of your baby brother. But you haven't let it faze you and I'm so proud of the person you are becoming.
Your cheeky grin brightens even the darkest days, and you'll never know how important that is to me. And when your face lights up and you rush over as I walk in the door I'm always glad I came home.
We waited a long time before deciding to expand our family partly because we were worried about the effect it might have on you. We've had such fun in the last year and I had to be sure it was worth risking that to give you a brother or a sister.
I hope, in time, you'll agree that it was. I didn't always get on with my sisters when we all lived together but now they are some of the most important people in my life. I hope you and Daniel will experience the same thing. Maybe with a bit less fighting in between...
I know it feels like the fun has been on hold lately, but I promise it won't always be this way. We'll still have our special times together and they'll be even more precious as your brother grows and inflicts boyness on our household.
I promise to always make time for you and your pinkness, and to use the dreaded "in a minute" phrase as little as possible.
I promise to do my best to make sure he leaves your shoe collection, hair pretties and other special things alone, and to spare you from football and dinosaurs - unless you want to join in with him.
You've taught me all I know about being a parent, and I'm doing the best job I can for you. I know I get it wrong sometimes but I do try to learn from my mistakes and to make decisions with your welfare in mind, even though you may not always agree.
I know we'll have more clashes as you grow, and I remember how traumatic those teenage years can be. But I also know that our relationship is strong enough to weather those storms.
I promise to always hear what you say and I promise you will always be my best girl. Forever.
All my love,
Mum.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Monday, 10 January 2011
Monday, 15 November 2010
And now for something a bit different...
I wanted to do this, and here seemed like as good a place as any! Hope you can all indulge me...normal service will be resumed soon!
Dear baby boy,
You will be here soon, and things could get a bit hectic for a while. So I wanted to take advantage of the peace and quiet of these last few days to write my hopes and fears for you - and for me.
I'm so excited about meeting you. I know things won't always be perfect (and believe me, that's been a hard lesson to learn!) but I'm working on being the best mum I can be to you and your big sister.
I want things to be different to when she was born. But that doesn't mean I want things to be perfect. I don't care if the house isn't spotless when the health visitor or your relatives come - in fact, as I sit here typing this I can see clutter that needs putting away, dust that needs sweeping and a rug that needs vacuuming.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is getting to know you, and adjusting to our new lives as a family of four.
It will be hard for all of us in different ways. Your dad has a lot of pressure as well as he worries about all of us, and your sister is very excited but will have a lot of hard lessons of her own to learn.
You've already taught me a lot and although it hasn't always been fun (I could have done without the gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia!) it's been useful. Before you've even arrived you've let me know in no uncertain terms that you are not the same as your sister.
And that means things will not necessarily be the same as they were when she was born.
I'm sure you'll let us know if things are not quite to your liking, just as your sister will, but I hope we can all learn to compromise together and build a loving family unit. Actually, that should be "build a bigger family unit" - the three of us are already a strong unit and we have plenty of love for you too.
I promise to try to remember that you are different to your sister. You will have different tastes, likes and dislikes, and a different personality. That's okay - just look at me and your aunts!
I also promise to try not to compare the two of you - I know how annoying that can be. And I promise not to take sides - and to make sure you know that you will always be my best boy, while your sister will always be my best girl. There's a special place in the family for both of you.
It's no secret that I find it hard to be a mum, and I won't pretend that's changed.
But your sister has done a great job in training me and I will be able to use the skills she taught me for you. And while you may not be as appreciative of glitter and pinkness as she is, I promise to try to embrace boy noise and boy energy as I learn to be your mum too.
I hope I can teach you things too, and I know your sister will try to impart her wisdom and knowledge. Please be patient with her - she means well!
We're all eagerly awaiting your arrival, and I hope when things get tough that you can remember how much you are loved and wanted, just like your sister.
With love,
Mum.
Dear baby boy,
You will be here soon, and things could get a bit hectic for a while. So I wanted to take advantage of the peace and quiet of these last few days to write my hopes and fears for you - and for me.
I'm so excited about meeting you. I know things won't always be perfect (and believe me, that's been a hard lesson to learn!) but I'm working on being the best mum I can be to you and your big sister.
I want things to be different to when she was born. But that doesn't mean I want things to be perfect. I don't care if the house isn't spotless when the health visitor or your relatives come - in fact, as I sit here typing this I can see clutter that needs putting away, dust that needs sweeping and a rug that needs vacuuming.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is getting to know you, and adjusting to our new lives as a family of four.
It will be hard for all of us in different ways. Your dad has a lot of pressure as well as he worries about all of us, and your sister is very excited but will have a lot of hard lessons of her own to learn.
You've already taught me a lot and although it hasn't always been fun (I could have done without the gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia!) it's been useful. Before you've even arrived you've let me know in no uncertain terms that you are not the same as your sister.
And that means things will not necessarily be the same as they were when she was born.
I'm sure you'll let us know if things are not quite to your liking, just as your sister will, but I hope we can all learn to compromise together and build a loving family unit. Actually, that should be "build a bigger family unit" - the three of us are already a strong unit and we have plenty of love for you too.
I promise to try to remember that you are different to your sister. You will have different tastes, likes and dislikes, and a different personality. That's okay - just look at me and your aunts!
I also promise to try not to compare the two of you - I know how annoying that can be. And I promise not to take sides - and to make sure you know that you will always be my best boy, while your sister will always be my best girl. There's a special place in the family for both of you.
It's no secret that I find it hard to be a mum, and I won't pretend that's changed.
But your sister has done a great job in training me and I will be able to use the skills she taught me for you. And while you may not be as appreciative of glitter and pinkness as she is, I promise to try to embrace boy noise and boy energy as I learn to be your mum too.
I hope I can teach you things too, and I know your sister will try to impart her wisdom and knowledge. Please be patient with her - she means well!
We're all eagerly awaiting your arrival, and I hope when things get tough that you can remember how much you are loved and wanted, just like your sister.
With love,
Mum.
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, 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, 14 June 2009
thoughts
I had a bit of a significant moment last night.
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...
Friday, 8 May 2009
Phew!
So we survived, naturally. And it's another of those situations where I'm not that sure why I was so worried.
We scrubbed the house from top to bottom, although I did resist coaching Miss T and am very proud of myself for that.
It did feel like an impending inspection of parenthood rather than a routine check and opportunity to ask advice from a health professional, and if I'm honest, I feared my parenting skills were about to be found lacking.
That fear was not allayed when Miss T decided to spend the morning in a rare grumpy mood where nothing was right and there was much pouting and foot-stamping.
But the sun came out when the health visitor arrived (not literally, sadly - my hairy hound from hell, who had to be shut in the garden while she crossed the threshold before being brought in for a proper introduction, ended up all soggy and forlorn) and she amazed me with her confidence and inclination to be sociable.
The checks themselves were ridiculously easy for her and she demonstrated a range of things that weren't being checked, like imaginative play (making mummy be a dog and leading me round on the aforementioned hound's lead), language development (talking constantly!) and kindness (giving said hound a cuddle when she accidentally stood on his foot).
And as a result, the official verdict is "excellent communication and development" and "very sociable" with "no concerns".
I can't describe how proud that makes me, which is actually a strange feeling. Not for the obvious reasons, including the fact that our once non-existent bond is now so strong, but because it is coupled with a sort of dread of the future.
I'm desperate not to heap the kind of pressure on her to be perfect that I experienced but am already slipping into dangerous territory - who knows how I would have reacted if the conclusionss had not been so overwhelmingly positive today?
But as usual, the positive of this situation is that I'm aware of it and will try to keep myself in check. Because if I can't, god help us all when it's time for her GCSEs!
We scrubbed the house from top to bottom, although I did resist coaching Miss T and am very proud of myself for that.
It did feel like an impending inspection of parenthood rather than a routine check and opportunity to ask advice from a health professional, and if I'm honest, I feared my parenting skills were about to be found lacking.
That fear was not allayed when Miss T decided to spend the morning in a rare grumpy mood where nothing was right and there was much pouting and foot-stamping.
But the sun came out when the health visitor arrived (not literally, sadly - my hairy hound from hell, who had to be shut in the garden while she crossed the threshold before being brought in for a proper introduction, ended up all soggy and forlorn) and she amazed me with her confidence and inclination to be sociable.
The checks themselves were ridiculously easy for her and she demonstrated a range of things that weren't being checked, like imaginative play (making mummy be a dog and leading me round on the aforementioned hound's lead), language development (talking constantly!) and kindness (giving said hound a cuddle when she accidentally stood on his foot).
And as a result, the official verdict is "excellent communication and development" and "very sociable" with "no concerns".
I can't describe how proud that makes me, which is actually a strange feeling. Not for the obvious reasons, including the fact that our once non-existent bond is now so strong, but because it is coupled with a sort of dread of the future.
I'm desperate not to heap the kind of pressure on her to be perfect that I experienced but am already slipping into dangerous territory - who knows how I would have reacted if the conclusionss had not been so overwhelmingly positive today?
But as usual, the positive of this situation is that I'm aware of it and will try to keep myself in check. Because if I can't, god help us all when it's time for her GCSEs!
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Oh dear...
Don't let the title fool you - there has been no crisis and in fact this is a very rare self-aware post...I hope!
Miss T has her two to three year developmental check on Friday and it's something that has had a strange effect on me.
When the health visitor rang to make the appointment, my first instinct after putting down the phone was to Google the check to find out what it involved.
I have so far resisted.
Which is a good thing. Because I wasn't going to Google for my own interest, I planned to then tutor my two-year-old to make sure she "passed".
Luckily, I recognised this as a completely ridiculous response. According to a parent friend of mine, "everyone" has tutors now for the 11+ (which is an archaic Kent test to stream people for grammar schools if you're not from round here!) and loads of people also have tutors for SATS but for two year olds? Really??? Even I could tell that would be a bit over the top.
However, it's not all good news. I have resisted the Googling, and resisted the tutoring, but I can't shake the feeling that if she fails (which she can't - it's not a pass/fail situation!) then I'm a BAD PARENT.
And I have had a few sneaky conversations with people who have told me some of what it involves, and I'm fairly confident she'll be fine, but even if she's not that should be fine. If that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't - it's been a long day!
My point is - why can't I just accept her as she is? Why is there this constant quest for perfection? If I'm this bad now, what will I be like at SATs time? Or the 11+? And let's not even think about GCSEs and beyond! (although please note how I phrased that - deliberately leaving out the assumption that she'll stay on for sixth form and then go to a top university before becoming prime minister...)
Oh dear.
There's not really much else to say, is there? But of course I'll let you know how she gets on - I wonder if there'll be a score? I wonder how to find out what the highest score ever achieved is??? ; )
Miss T has her two to three year developmental check on Friday and it's something that has had a strange effect on me.
When the health visitor rang to make the appointment, my first instinct after putting down the phone was to Google the check to find out what it involved.
I have so far resisted.
Which is a good thing. Because I wasn't going to Google for my own interest, I planned to then tutor my two-year-old to make sure she "passed".
Luckily, I recognised this as a completely ridiculous response. According to a parent friend of mine, "everyone" has tutors now for the 11+ (which is an archaic Kent test to stream people for grammar schools if you're not from round here!) and loads of people also have tutors for SATS but for two year olds? Really??? Even I could tell that would be a bit over the top.
However, it's not all good news. I have resisted the Googling, and resisted the tutoring, but I can't shake the feeling that if she fails (which she can't - it's not a pass/fail situation!) then I'm a BAD PARENT.
And I have had a few sneaky conversations with people who have told me some of what it involves, and I'm fairly confident she'll be fine, but even if she's not that should be fine. If that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn't - it's been a long day!
My point is - why can't I just accept her as she is? Why is there this constant quest for perfection? If I'm this bad now, what will I be like at SATs time? Or the 11+? And let's not even think about GCSEs and beyond! (although please note how I phrased that - deliberately leaving out the assumption that she'll stay on for sixth form and then go to a top university before becoming prime minister...)
Oh dear.
There's not really much else to say, is there? But of course I'll let you know how she gets on - I wonder if there'll be a score? I wonder how to find out what the highest score ever achieved is??? ; )
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
What would it take to make you believe you're a good mum?
That's the question a friend asked me the other day.
And it's a good one.
My immediate answer was that I won't believe it until Miss T is an adult, or at least almost adult and I can see what sort of person she is; and how messed up, or not, she is.
That was the wrong answer, apparently!
And as I'm home (in a caravan!) alone with a sleeping child, now seems as good a time as any to consider alternative answers.
Of course, when I think about it, I can recognise some positive signs already. Tasha is very gentle, mostly, better than a lot of other children her age at saying please and thank you, is confident, funny and clever. In fact, she's very clever!
But how much of that is down to me, really? And surely there's more to being a good mum than having a well-mannered child? After all, we are not living in Victorian times...
There are other aspects - we do a LOT together (not always through choice, I confess!) so our days are very stimulating and educational, which must be a mark of good parenting? Maybe not...I mean, obviously there's more to it than that but at least we don't spend every day at home in front of the television.
Her speech and communication is fantastic and today she even wrote an N and told me she'd written Natasha - aged two and four months! But that's just intelligence again and that's probably genetic anyway. Or maybe it's not even that fantastic and I'm just being an annoying proud parent...
How about the fact that I care desperately about what her life is like, now and in the future and strive to do my best to make it as good as possible? Note how I wrote "strive to do my best"...maybe that's a mark of a bad mum? I know I don't always do my best - some days it's just too hard.
Or that I care about what she eats and what she does? But that's just normal, not anything special.
I honestly have no idea how to answer that question beyond my initial, wrong, answer. Anyone else got suggestions? How do you quantify good parenting? Help!
And it's a good one.
My immediate answer was that I won't believe it until Miss T is an adult, or at least almost adult and I can see what sort of person she is; and how messed up, or not, she is.
That was the wrong answer, apparently!
And as I'm home (in a caravan!) alone with a sleeping child, now seems as good a time as any to consider alternative answers.
Of course, when I think about it, I can recognise some positive signs already. Tasha is very gentle, mostly, better than a lot of other children her age at saying please and thank you, is confident, funny and clever. In fact, she's very clever!
But how much of that is down to me, really? And surely there's more to being a good mum than having a well-mannered child? After all, we are not living in Victorian times...
There are other aspects - we do a LOT together (not always through choice, I confess!) so our days are very stimulating and educational, which must be a mark of good parenting? Maybe not...I mean, obviously there's more to it than that but at least we don't spend every day at home in front of the television.
Her speech and communication is fantastic and today she even wrote an N and told me she'd written Natasha - aged two and four months! But that's just intelligence again and that's probably genetic anyway. Or maybe it's not even that fantastic and I'm just being an annoying proud parent...
How about the fact that I care desperately about what her life is like, now and in the future and strive to do my best to make it as good as possible? Note how I wrote "strive to do my best"...maybe that's a mark of a bad mum? I know I don't always do my best - some days it's just too hard.
Or that I care about what she eats and what she does? But that's just normal, not anything special.
I honestly have no idea how to answer that question beyond my initial, wrong, answer. Anyone else got suggestions? How do you quantify good parenting? Help!
Monday, 2 March 2009
Spring is in the air...
....and that should gladden the heart, but it doesn't, for some reason. Sigh.
Maybe it's because those evil weather people are already predicting that it won't last.
Maybe it's because I have a week ahead with not much on. That's not as much of a problem as it used to be, but it is still a daunting thought. Actually, it's more the thought of the energy I need to keep motivating myself to do things with Miss T instead of humphing around feeling sorry for myself that is daunting.
I'm afraid I was rather lacking in that energy this weekend. It should have been great, as I had my review with my lovely therapist on Saturday and as predicted, she was mightily impressed - although not surprised - with my progress and how I have dealt with things since we last met.
Then we had a lovely afternoon, with Miss T chosing some beautiful new hot pink shoes and a catch-up dinner with old friends.
But on Sunday we had to attend an event I had been dreading, a toddler's birthday party. Now, as I have a toddler of my own there is no reason why this should fill me with dread. And indeed, it wasn't really the toddlers who were the problem, but the parents.
Actually, to be completely frank, it wasn't even the parents, it was me. I felt judged and observed, just like the bad old days, and also like those days, people seemed to want to discuss nothing but their children. Which often included statements about how fulfilled they felt or how wonderful it was. And I lost count of how many times I was asked about having another one.
But of course, we survived, and all was fine. And the sun is shining, and we had a lovely time at playgym this morning. And I have one more hour of her sleep left so had best get on with some work!
Maybe it's because those evil weather people are already predicting that it won't last.
Maybe it's because I have a week ahead with not much on. That's not as much of a problem as it used to be, but it is still a daunting thought. Actually, it's more the thought of the energy I need to keep motivating myself to do things with Miss T instead of humphing around feeling sorry for myself that is daunting.
I'm afraid I was rather lacking in that energy this weekend. It should have been great, as I had my review with my lovely therapist on Saturday and as predicted, she was mightily impressed - although not surprised - with my progress and how I have dealt with things since we last met.
Then we had a lovely afternoon, with Miss T chosing some beautiful new hot pink shoes and a catch-up dinner with old friends.
But on Sunday we had to attend an event I had been dreading, a toddler's birthday party. Now, as I have a toddler of my own there is no reason why this should fill me with dread. And indeed, it wasn't really the toddlers who were the problem, but the parents.
Actually, to be completely frank, it wasn't even the parents, it was me. I felt judged and observed, just like the bad old days, and also like those days, people seemed to want to discuss nothing but their children. Which often included statements about how fulfilled they felt or how wonderful it was. And I lost count of how many times I was asked about having another one.
But of course, we survived, and all was fine. And the sun is shining, and we had a lovely time at playgym this morning. And I have one more hour of her sleep left so had best get on with some work!
Friday, 2 January 2009
New year thoughts
Okay, I know I'm a day late but we were busy yesterday, introducing another new family tradition - a visit to the New Year's Day parade in London. I can highly recommend it. But I'd also recommend you wear at least three pairs of socks and take a flask - two simply weren't enough!
Another tradition at this time of year is to get all thoughtful and reflective about the year just ended, and share hopes and aspirations for the next one.
I'm sure many of you who trawl this blog regularly don't share my next thought, but I wish it had been in existence for more than six months. It would then be much easier to reflect on the days and months gone by. A bit like those newspaper reviews of the year that are used over the festive period to fill space....
Oops, nearly got off topic again...
Unfortunately I don't have a year's worth of blog posts to refer to (did I just hear a collective sigh of relief?!) so I'll have to rely on my memory.
Some things are simple. Last year I had a job I loved and one that I thought I would be doing forever.
But forever is a very long time, and I'm no longer sure that would have been the best option.
Of course, as we all know, it didn't work out that way anyway and I am working on lots of different options for this year, some very exciting indeed. It may all be things I want to do forever, but actually, at the moment, for now will do me just as well.
One thing I can refer to is my old diaries. Not as in Anne Frank, or even Adrian Mole, but bog-standard appointment ones. And last year's was crammed full. So was the year before. If it wasn't doctors' appointments it was my lovely therapist, and if not them then my life-saving friends. I literally relied on them to keep me going and in one piece. All of them.
Things may be different this year. That's not to say I don't want to see people any more - I still need a weekly dose of coffee and cake to keep me sane - but I no longer need them in the same way.
Take today; the first day Mark's been back at work since before Christmas. Tash and I went to play gym this morning (again with no make-up on, and I even forgot to put on my necklace and earrings which was going to be my token attempt at making an effort!), then came home, then walked the dogs, then had lunch and now she's asleep. I have no plans for this afternoon. We may go shopping, we may do some painting (particularly with some of the mess-free water painting kits her aunts got her!), we may just read some books and chill out.
That simply wouldn't have been possible a year ago. Every hour of my day had to be filled with more than just her and I was petrified of being alone with her. Now I even enjoy it - sometimes!
Of course I still get moments - no longer whole days, but sometimes hours - when I wonder what the hell I am doing, and wish it would all go away. But as she grows up and more of her personality emerges, most vociferously at times, I can actually see myself doing this parenting thing for ever.
That may sound strange, but during the really dark times I did think it was all only temporary - any minute now someone would come and take her away, or take me away; I didn't really care which.
Perhaps the most important change as we start 2009 is that I can see more of the old Liz returning - or maybe a new, updated version.
PND Liz is still around, but more shadowy and a lot quieter. It's easy to shut her up with a good dose of common sense, most of the time.
I don't think I'll ever get all of old Liz back, or get rid of PND Liz completely, but maybe new Liz can be a good combination of the two.
I'm sure you'll all let me know if she's not!
Another tradition at this time of year is to get all thoughtful and reflective about the year just ended, and share hopes and aspirations for the next one.
I'm sure many of you who trawl this blog regularly don't share my next thought, but I wish it had been in existence for more than six months. It would then be much easier to reflect on the days and months gone by. A bit like those newspaper reviews of the year that are used over the festive period to fill space....
Oops, nearly got off topic again...
Unfortunately I don't have a year's worth of blog posts to refer to (did I just hear a collective sigh of relief?!) so I'll have to rely on my memory.
Some things are simple. Last year I had a job I loved and one that I thought I would be doing forever.
But forever is a very long time, and I'm no longer sure that would have been the best option.
Of course, as we all know, it didn't work out that way anyway and I am working on lots of different options for this year, some very exciting indeed. It may all be things I want to do forever, but actually, at the moment, for now will do me just as well.
One thing I can refer to is my old diaries. Not as in Anne Frank, or even Adrian Mole, but bog-standard appointment ones. And last year's was crammed full. So was the year before. If it wasn't doctors' appointments it was my lovely therapist, and if not them then my life-saving friends. I literally relied on them to keep me going and in one piece. All of them.
Things may be different this year. That's not to say I don't want to see people any more - I still need a weekly dose of coffee and cake to keep me sane - but I no longer need them in the same way.
Take today; the first day Mark's been back at work since before Christmas. Tash and I went to play gym this morning (again with no make-up on, and I even forgot to put on my necklace and earrings which was going to be my token attempt at making an effort!), then came home, then walked the dogs, then had lunch and now she's asleep. I have no plans for this afternoon. We may go shopping, we may do some painting (particularly with some of the mess-free water painting kits her aunts got her!), we may just read some books and chill out.
That simply wouldn't have been possible a year ago. Every hour of my day had to be filled with more than just her and I was petrified of being alone with her. Now I even enjoy it - sometimes!
Of course I still get moments - no longer whole days, but sometimes hours - when I wonder what the hell I am doing, and wish it would all go away. But as she grows up and more of her personality emerges, most vociferously at times, I can actually see myself doing this parenting thing for ever.
That may sound strange, but during the really dark times I did think it was all only temporary - any minute now someone would come and take her away, or take me away; I didn't really care which.
Perhaps the most important change as we start 2009 is that I can see more of the old Liz returning - or maybe a new, updated version.
PND Liz is still around, but more shadowy and a lot quieter. It's easy to shut her up with a good dose of common sense, most of the time.
I don't think I'll ever get all of old Liz back, or get rid of PND Liz completely, but maybe new Liz can be a good combination of the two.
I'm sure you'll all let me know if she's not!
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Terrible twos - or two's company?
So as I mentioned, Miss T has reached that milestone of her second birthday.
And so have we, relatively unscathed. At the moment, at least...
And as well as a turning point in her life, the seemingly random date of December 24, 2008, was earmarked as the time to discuss the next steps in our lives.
Namely, the question of more children.
Life being what it is, we haven't actually had that conversation yet but we both know it's waiting to be had.
So in a bid to be more prepared I thought I would attempt to sort out some of my thoughts - I'm always up for a challenge...
I've said before that we've always seen ourselves as a family of four. And that doesn't include any furry additions!
So the next step for us would of course be another baby.
But is our blueprint for our lives a good enough reason for such an upheaval?
Why do people have more children? Would it be for Miss T, for us, or something else? And is it fair to her, or us?
Some of my friends who are on their second are coming out of those early months of chaos and seem to be reaping the benefits - their children can entertain each other and provide company for each other.
But trips out for coffee and cake are becoming more of a rarity!
It is perhaps testimony to how well they have managed that I have been able to think about having my fantastic contraceptive implant removed without breaking into a cold sweat. But of course that isn't the same as thinking about being the parent of two...
And I can see that my work situation at the moment, which is leaning towards the freelance/self-employed route, is very flexible and so perhaps ideal for adding to our family.
But at the same time the thought of the reality of another baby is frankly terrifying.
If I am completely honest, I am not sure our relationship would survive another bout of PND with the added pressure of a pre-schooler to look after. Or that I would.
Of course, there is no guarantee that it would all happen again. And of course there would be a support network in place already.
So is it fair to deprive Miss t of a sibling, and Mark of another child because I'm scared of something that may not even happen?
I don't know yet. I'll let you know if I work it out!
And so have we, relatively unscathed. At the moment, at least...
And as well as a turning point in her life, the seemingly random date of December 24, 2008, was earmarked as the time to discuss the next steps in our lives.
Namely, the question of more children.
Life being what it is, we haven't actually had that conversation yet but we both know it's waiting to be had.
So in a bid to be more prepared I thought I would attempt to sort out some of my thoughts - I'm always up for a challenge...
I've said before that we've always seen ourselves as a family of four. And that doesn't include any furry additions!
So the next step for us would of course be another baby.
But is our blueprint for our lives a good enough reason for such an upheaval?
Why do people have more children? Would it be for Miss T, for us, or something else? And is it fair to her, or us?
Some of my friends who are on their second are coming out of those early months of chaos and seem to be reaping the benefits - their children can entertain each other and provide company for each other.
But trips out for coffee and cake are becoming more of a rarity!
It is perhaps testimony to how well they have managed that I have been able to think about having my fantastic contraceptive implant removed without breaking into a cold sweat. But of course that isn't the same as thinking about being the parent of two...
And I can see that my work situation at the moment, which is leaning towards the freelance/self-employed route, is very flexible and so perhaps ideal for adding to our family.
But at the same time the thought of the reality of another baby is frankly terrifying.
If I am completely honest, I am not sure our relationship would survive another bout of PND with the added pressure of a pre-schooler to look after. Or that I would.
Of course, there is no guarantee that it would all happen again. And of course there would be a support network in place already.
So is it fair to deprive Miss t of a sibling, and Mark of another child because I'm scared of something that may not even happen?
I don't know yet. I'll let you know if I work it out!
Monday, 15 December 2008
Progress?
Lucky people - two posts in two days! Although it took me three days to write the last one, so technically it should be two posts in a week...
Anyway!
I feel the need to record tonight's happenings because I am proud of how I handled it. And who knows, tomorrow I might need something to refer back to!
It was another bedtime which didn't go exactly to plan, although it started very well. Miss T asked to go up for her bath, we had lots of fun, got ready for bed with no problems.
Things began to go awry during story time when instead of listening intently to the tale of a little rabbit who is looking for the moon she began chatting animatedly about her day.
And the situation deteriorated when I tucked her up and went downstairs - the usual 30 second complaint was stretched out more and more and interspersed with plaintive "mummy come up" and "mummy cuddle" requests.
Typically, it just happened to be one of those nights when I have a to-do list that could keep me busy for weeks and Mark is at work till late.
So what did I do? Well option 1 was to hope she would settle by herself, and steel myself for up to half an hour of misery.
I did that for 10 minutes, and became more and more stressed with the thought of all the things I needed to be doing, and the possibility that she might keep this up all evening.
I even sent a few miserable texts out in the hope some magical fairy would come up with a solution.
None was forthcoming, of course so I made a decision. Shocking, I know!
I went upstairs, gave her lots of kisses, resisted her pleas to pick her up, told her it was bedtime and went back down.
And guess what? It worked! By the time I had got back down to my lengthy list, peace had settled on the house (apart from the hungry cats wailing for their tea...but that's a whole other blog!).
It may not sound that significant - after all, parents across the land get their children to sleep every day. And so do I, mostly.
But this incident had the potential to turn into one of those wallowing moments where we both end up in tears and no one is in control.
I am proud I took the decision to take control, and that I was able to go upstairs calmly and confidently - it isn't always so, believe me!
So - there you go. Little steps on the road back to sanity...and further away from the happy pills.
Anyway!
I feel the need to record tonight's happenings because I am proud of how I handled it. And who knows, tomorrow I might need something to refer back to!
It was another bedtime which didn't go exactly to plan, although it started very well. Miss T asked to go up for her bath, we had lots of fun, got ready for bed with no problems.
Things began to go awry during story time when instead of listening intently to the tale of a little rabbit who is looking for the moon she began chatting animatedly about her day.
And the situation deteriorated when I tucked her up and went downstairs - the usual 30 second complaint was stretched out more and more and interspersed with plaintive "mummy come up" and "mummy cuddle" requests.
Typically, it just happened to be one of those nights when I have a to-do list that could keep me busy for weeks and Mark is at work till late.
So what did I do? Well option 1 was to hope she would settle by herself, and steel myself for up to half an hour of misery.
I did that for 10 minutes, and became more and more stressed with the thought of all the things I needed to be doing, and the possibility that she might keep this up all evening.
I even sent a few miserable texts out in the hope some magical fairy would come up with a solution.
None was forthcoming, of course so I made a decision. Shocking, I know!
I went upstairs, gave her lots of kisses, resisted her pleas to pick her up, told her it was bedtime and went back down.
And guess what? It worked! By the time I had got back down to my lengthy list, peace had settled on the house (apart from the hungry cats wailing for their tea...but that's a whole other blog!).
It may not sound that significant - after all, parents across the land get their children to sleep every day. And so do I, mostly.
But this incident had the potential to turn into one of those wallowing moments where we both end up in tears and no one is in control.
I am proud I took the decision to take control, and that I was able to go upstairs calmly and confidently - it isn't always so, believe me!
So - there you go. Little steps on the road back to sanity...and further away from the happy pills.
Saturday, 13 December 2008
Someone give me a slap!
You never know, it might shake things up a bit!
I've been working this week but don't get too excited, it's basically just temping.
And it's been good to be dealing with the different challenges that office life brings compared to toddler life. But (whisper it!) I wanted to be at home!
Yes, you read that right. I, who have spent the last two months bleating about wanting to work, wanted to be at home.
And not just at home by myself, although that would have been bliss. I wanted to be at home with Miss T, or more specifically out at the dreaded play gym with the painted ladies, out feeding the ducks, out meeting friends or home reading books and baking cakes.
In a way, that's a good thing. It shows that we do have some kind of bond because I wanted to be with her, and it makes me appreciate the time we have spent together during this blip in my career, and the time we will spend together in future.
And it also helps make my future a little clearer - maybe a regimented 9-5, even if it's only for three days a week, just isn't for me any more, at this stage in my life. That doesn't mean I'll be returning to a life of leisure for this week, or indeed for a while - my temporary colleagues want me back and I need the money.
But I will be investigating the freelance/self-employed route with vigour!
Now, that was the good news. The less good news is that despite my new-found, and long-awaited clarity, I have been struggling at home recently.
I'm hoping it's down to my much-documented inner turmoil, which like many other things, will soon pass. Because if it doesn't then I'm afraid I will be taking another vote on the good old happy pills/therapy route. It is something that has been mentioned by others several times lately and as I'm sure you all know, I have so far stubbornly resisted. I can't help feeling it would be a backwards step - nay, giant leap.
But I also can't help feeling that it's not fair on Miss T, or Mark, or others around me, to continue as I am.
Maybe Father Christmas can bring me a sprinkling of perfect parent potion along with a host of freelance opportunities...
I've been working this week but don't get too excited, it's basically just temping.
And it's been good to be dealing with the different challenges that office life brings compared to toddler life. But (whisper it!) I wanted to be at home!
Yes, you read that right. I, who have spent the last two months bleating about wanting to work, wanted to be at home.
And not just at home by myself, although that would have been bliss. I wanted to be at home with Miss T, or more specifically out at the dreaded play gym with the painted ladies, out feeding the ducks, out meeting friends or home reading books and baking cakes.
In a way, that's a good thing. It shows that we do have some kind of bond because I wanted to be with her, and it makes me appreciate the time we have spent together during this blip in my career, and the time we will spend together in future.
And it also helps make my future a little clearer - maybe a regimented 9-5, even if it's only for three days a week, just isn't for me any more, at this stage in my life. That doesn't mean I'll be returning to a life of leisure for this week, or indeed for a while - my temporary colleagues want me back and I need the money.
But I will be investigating the freelance/self-employed route with vigour!
Now, that was the good news. The less good news is that despite my new-found, and long-awaited clarity, I have been struggling at home recently.
I'm hoping it's down to my much-documented inner turmoil, which like many other things, will soon pass. Because if it doesn't then I'm afraid I will be taking another vote on the good old happy pills/therapy route. It is something that has been mentioned by others several times lately and as I'm sure you all know, I have so far stubbornly resisted. I can't help feeling it would be a backwards step - nay, giant leap.
But I also can't help feeling that it's not fair on Miss T, or Mark, or others around me, to continue as I am.
Maybe Father Christmas can bring me a sprinkling of perfect parent potion along with a host of freelance opportunities...
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
humph
I think humph is a much under-used word - it perfectly describes how I'm feeling today.
There have been ups and downs and I can't work out which was prevalent, so I'm not sure if I'm angry, excited, jealous, ashamed....
Explain? Of course....
This morning I was pondering the phenomenon of confidence and how flimsy it can be. Personally, mine has never been great but professionally I got by with a cheery facade and managed to convince myself sometimes - it's amazing what simply adopting my "work persona" can do.
But obviously, with no work, the work persona has been fading away. And today I realised I needed it back as I had some calls to make and questions to ask. It was enough to send me into a panic - what was I thinking? I would never be able to do this! I should never have agreed to it, I should scrap the whole thing - you get the picture.
Luckily the shards of the old work me that remained were able to take myself in hand and of course I enjoyed my brief taste of how things were. So I was excited about the days ahead and the work I have to do (unpaid, frustratingly, but there's more to life than money - isn't there?!).
Another down followed when I found out that my friend who was interviewed as the other half of a job share for one of the jobs I had an interview for has accepted another post. Are you still with me?! Of course it's fantastic news for her, and in a way it serves the other organisation right for being so tardy with their recruitment process, but it feels like one strike for me - one of the three interviews I am awaiting outcomes for will now almost definitely be a no. Two left...
And of course I then felt angry with myself for being so selfish. And negative. There's still every chance that one of the other two will snap me up.
I can't stress enough how much I hope they do - Tash and I went to play gym again this morning, and I'm proud we went alone and she had a great time but I just hate the whole 'mummy world' that exists out there. There are people who turn up dressed for a night out, with full make-up, designer clothes and ridiculously high heels and spend the whole time chatting with their friends, equally impressively dressed, and drinking coffee.
I am not a big make-up fan at the best of times and really would rather spend that extra time in the mornings in bed instead of applying it if I have nothing more exciting to do than play gym. And when I think about it rationally, I know I would hate to be one of those people who seem so shallow, and I am pleased that Tash has my full attention instead of having to cry for five minutes after falling off something in the hope I will interrupt my conversation to help her.
But the whole experience does make me feel hopelessly inadequate and out of place and just humphy.
I know there is a school of thought that says you should make an effort every day, for your loved ones if no one else, but at the moment it feels like there is not much to make an effort for.
That isn't meant to sound as bad as it does, but I just feel there should be more to my life than play dates and toddler activities. Hopefully one of the other two interviewing panels will agree soon...
There have been ups and downs and I can't work out which was prevalent, so I'm not sure if I'm angry, excited, jealous, ashamed....
Explain? Of course....
This morning I was pondering the phenomenon of confidence and how flimsy it can be. Personally, mine has never been great but professionally I got by with a cheery facade and managed to convince myself sometimes - it's amazing what simply adopting my "work persona" can do.
But obviously, with no work, the work persona has been fading away. And today I realised I needed it back as I had some calls to make and questions to ask. It was enough to send me into a panic - what was I thinking? I would never be able to do this! I should never have agreed to it, I should scrap the whole thing - you get the picture.
Luckily the shards of the old work me that remained were able to take myself in hand and of course I enjoyed my brief taste of how things were. So I was excited about the days ahead and the work I have to do (unpaid, frustratingly, but there's more to life than money - isn't there?!).
Another down followed when I found out that my friend who was interviewed as the other half of a job share for one of the jobs I had an interview for has accepted another post. Are you still with me?! Of course it's fantastic news for her, and in a way it serves the other organisation right for being so tardy with their recruitment process, but it feels like one strike for me - one of the three interviews I am awaiting outcomes for will now almost definitely be a no. Two left...
And of course I then felt angry with myself for being so selfish. And negative. There's still every chance that one of the other two will snap me up.
I can't stress enough how much I hope they do - Tash and I went to play gym again this morning, and I'm proud we went alone and she had a great time but I just hate the whole 'mummy world' that exists out there. There are people who turn up dressed for a night out, with full make-up, designer clothes and ridiculously high heels and spend the whole time chatting with their friends, equally impressively dressed, and drinking coffee.
I am not a big make-up fan at the best of times and really would rather spend that extra time in the mornings in bed instead of applying it if I have nothing more exciting to do than play gym. And when I think about it rationally, I know I would hate to be one of those people who seem so shallow, and I am pleased that Tash has my full attention instead of having to cry for five minutes after falling off something in the hope I will interrupt my conversation to help her.
But the whole experience does make me feel hopelessly inadequate and out of place and just humphy.
I know there is a school of thought that says you should make an effort every day, for your loved ones if no one else, but at the moment it feels like there is not much to make an effort for.
That isn't meant to sound as bad as it does, but I just feel there should be more to my life than play dates and toddler activities. Hopefully one of the other two interviewing panels will agree soon...
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
more thoughts, but some of them are positive!
I know it's shocking, but I'm feeling positive today. Don't get too excited; there has been no fantastic job offer, although some things are bubbling away and I'm really hoping they work out. I can't put my finger on the reason for my good mood this evening, and actually I think that's a fantastic thing - in the same way that one of the worst bits about depression is not being able to explain why things look so bleak, it's wonderful to feel good and know it's not due to a specific external factor.
Of course, there are still things for me to brood on, and I thought I would share one of those with you here. It's another of those dreaded reaction-to-comment type moments and I can't work out how I feel about it.
So here goes.
Miss T has been in her "big girl bed" for a few weeks now and mostly it's okay. But there were a few extra bedtime traumas for a while as she learned to go to sleep on her own in a new environment.
I've always been a bit strict about her sleeping patterns because I've heard and read so much about parents who struggle to change bad habits, like babies who will only go to sleep if they are being held/rocked/driven round the block. Anything for an easy life! So right from the beginning she was put in her cot awake and the result was that bedtime was miraculously easy - we put her in her cot, she went to sleep.
Understandably, that didn't happen with her new bed and she needed some extra reassurance. But I believe it's still important she goes to sleep on her own, without someone sitting on the bed or in the room - the consequence of that happening is that each time she opens her eyes during the night and realises whoever was there has gone she starts screaming and insists they return.
Unfortunately, a consequence of that belief is that she cries when whoever is doing bedtime leaves the room.
Mark finds that incredibly difficult and is desperate to go back in and stay until she is asleep and when we were discussing it he said he just couldn't bear to hear her crying.
I can understand that, sort of, and I recognise a physiological response in myself when she is crying - I feel anxious, increased heartrate, etc - but despite that it doesn't actually bother me that much.
I bet you can guess what's coming next! I'm wondering if that makes me a terrible parent, if I'm too detached, if I'm hard and unfeeling. Shouldn't I be rushing in there too, or sitting downstairs in tears as I've seen parents on Supernanny etc do in similar situations?
I know that's ridiculous - and Shoulds are banned in my new post-therapy life - but it's something to think about. I'm tempted to say - and did - that she's not really crying at those times, she's just expressing her anger, which is different to genuine distress, and of course I hate it when there are real tears. And it's never for more than a few minutes, and it's not constant screaming, just intermittent roaring, which does all suggest to me that she is just trying it on to get her on way.
But maybe all of this means I am an extremely harsh parent and she will grow up feeling unloved.
Does anyone else wish there were clear instructions on the right thing to do, or multiple choice options with the choices being the long-term consequences of the actions?
Of course, there are still things for me to brood on, and I thought I would share one of those with you here. It's another of those dreaded reaction-to-comment type moments and I can't work out how I feel about it.
So here goes.
Miss T has been in her "big girl bed" for a few weeks now and mostly it's okay. But there were a few extra bedtime traumas for a while as she learned to go to sleep on her own in a new environment.
I've always been a bit strict about her sleeping patterns because I've heard and read so much about parents who struggle to change bad habits, like babies who will only go to sleep if they are being held/rocked/driven round the block. Anything for an easy life! So right from the beginning she was put in her cot awake and the result was that bedtime was miraculously easy - we put her in her cot, she went to sleep.
Understandably, that didn't happen with her new bed and she needed some extra reassurance. But I believe it's still important she goes to sleep on her own, without someone sitting on the bed or in the room - the consequence of that happening is that each time she opens her eyes during the night and realises whoever was there has gone she starts screaming and insists they return.
Unfortunately, a consequence of that belief is that she cries when whoever is doing bedtime leaves the room.
Mark finds that incredibly difficult and is desperate to go back in and stay until she is asleep and when we were discussing it he said he just couldn't bear to hear her crying.
I can understand that, sort of, and I recognise a physiological response in myself when she is crying - I feel anxious, increased heartrate, etc - but despite that it doesn't actually bother me that much.
I bet you can guess what's coming next! I'm wondering if that makes me a terrible parent, if I'm too detached, if I'm hard and unfeeling. Shouldn't I be rushing in there too, or sitting downstairs in tears as I've seen parents on Supernanny etc do in similar situations?
I know that's ridiculous - and Shoulds are banned in my new post-therapy life - but it's something to think about. I'm tempted to say - and did - that she's not really crying at those times, she's just expressing her anger, which is different to genuine distress, and of course I hate it when there are real tears. And it's never for more than a few minutes, and it's not constant screaming, just intermittent roaring, which does all suggest to me that she is just trying it on to get her on way.
But maybe all of this means I am an extremely harsh parent and she will grow up feeling unloved.
Does anyone else wish there were clear instructions on the right thing to do, or multiple choice options with the choices being the long-term consequences of the actions?
Monday, 6 October 2008
Saving the world one small step at a time
So I have this stupid self-sacrifice schema, which I've mentioned before (and which if I had half a brain tonight I could provide a link to but it's not hard to find...)....
Anyway, in very simple terms it means I tend to do things for other people rather than myself and even at the expense of myself, which is when it becomes a problem.
I know I keep going on about it, but it's genuinely something which I still struggle with, despite months of very good therapy-ing.
Plus I do try to keep it at the forefront of my mind so that when I agree to something which is clearly stupid I can question myself and challenge this schema.
Anyway! It's been well and truly challenged over the last few days. I've seen lots of things going on that I feel the need to "fix" or "help with" and sometimes I have even tried to get involved.
Sometimes that works, and it's not too detrimental to me - after all, a counselling and coffee session with a friend is good for me as well (and part payback for the all the counselling and coffee I've had from them in the past!) - but sometimes I just need to accept I can't do it all.
I can't make everyone happy, no matter how unhappy I make myself in the process.
I can't fix everyone's dodgy relationships, no matter how much I jeopardise mine trying to do so.
And I can't take away everyone's problems, no matter how many I create for myself while I try.
So, for today at least, I've decided on a new strategy. I've decided that if I am as happy as I can be, perhaps in turn some of that will rub off on other people.
So tonight after I picked Miss T up from the childminder (where she had one of her best days ever despite a bad cold and being a poorly person) we had the dinner I had cunningly prepared yesterday (and tomorrow's is waiting in the freezer - please be impressed!) and then we sat on the floor together and just talked and played and sang.
I never thought I would say this but I absolutely love spending time with her like this. Her speech is improving all the time so we can have real conversations (okay, a lot of them involve my imagination, as follows: Me: Did you have fun today? Her: Alex. Me: You played with Alex? Fantastic! And you also went to collect the big boys from school, didn't you? Her: Shapes. Me: You are very good at your shape-sorter now, that's right. - I think you get the picture!) and she can tell me what she wants, and it's wonderful when I can provide it.
And that makes me happy. Okay, we could have spent that time working on saving the world somewhere but I think what we did has just as many benefits.
She went to bed happy, after more singing and playing in the bath, and I felt chilled out and relaxed even after washing up, cleaning the kitchen, medicating the dog, feeding the cats, de-Tashing the living room, etc etc etc.
So from that one little step I hope we can take more giant leaps and our good times will spread around.....and all the fluff can also help insulate us from some of the harsher realities of life away from our happy home as well.
Anyway, in very simple terms it means I tend to do things for other people rather than myself and even at the expense of myself, which is when it becomes a problem.
I know I keep going on about it, but it's genuinely something which I still struggle with, despite months of very good therapy-ing.
Plus I do try to keep it at the forefront of my mind so that when I agree to something which is clearly stupid I can question myself and challenge this schema.
Anyway! It's been well and truly challenged over the last few days. I've seen lots of things going on that I feel the need to "fix" or "help with" and sometimes I have even tried to get involved.
Sometimes that works, and it's not too detrimental to me - after all, a counselling and coffee session with a friend is good for me as well (and part payback for the all the counselling and coffee I've had from them in the past!) - but sometimes I just need to accept I can't do it all.
I can't make everyone happy, no matter how unhappy I make myself in the process.
I can't fix everyone's dodgy relationships, no matter how much I jeopardise mine trying to do so.
And I can't take away everyone's problems, no matter how many I create for myself while I try.
So, for today at least, I've decided on a new strategy. I've decided that if I am as happy as I can be, perhaps in turn some of that will rub off on other people.
So tonight after I picked Miss T up from the childminder (where she had one of her best days ever despite a bad cold and being a poorly person) we had the dinner I had cunningly prepared yesterday (and tomorrow's is waiting in the freezer - please be impressed!) and then we sat on the floor together and just talked and played and sang.
I never thought I would say this but I absolutely love spending time with her like this. Her speech is improving all the time so we can have real conversations (okay, a lot of them involve my imagination, as follows: Me: Did you have fun today? Her: Alex. Me: You played with Alex? Fantastic! And you also went to collect the big boys from school, didn't you? Her: Shapes. Me: You are very good at your shape-sorter now, that's right. - I think you get the picture!) and she can tell me what she wants, and it's wonderful when I can provide it.
And that makes me happy. Okay, we could have spent that time working on saving the world somewhere but I think what we did has just as many benefits.
She went to bed happy, after more singing and playing in the bath, and I felt chilled out and relaxed even after washing up, cleaning the kitchen, medicating the dog, feeding the cats, de-Tashing the living room, etc etc etc.
So from that one little step I hope we can take more giant leaps and our good times will spread around.....and all the fluff can also help insulate us from some of the harsher realities of life away from our happy home as well.
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Bad day blues
So today was not so good.
But what is good is that I know why, and by identifying that was able to turn it around for the afternoon. That is good, surely?
It was another case of letting those "shoulds" get in the way of everything else. There's so much non-Tasha stuff going on that I felt I should be sorting out that I wasn't giving her my full attention, which is not something that goes down too well with an almost two-year-old.
So she decided to try lots of tactics to get my attention, most of which involved being as troublesome as possible.
Add a bad cold for both of us to the mix and you don't exactly get off to the best start.
So after several attempts at stopping her fiddling with the cooker switches, a few discussions about why we shouldn't pull dogs' hair and a reminder about drawing on the paper rather than the carpet I'm afraid I rather lost the plot.
It was 11.30am and she'd been up since 6.30am and she had been yawning anyway so I put her in bed. But it was entirely for my benefit not hers.
Actually, not entirely, as after 10 minutes of singing she was asleep which gave me the respite I needed to think things through a bit away from the chaos and pressure so I could work out where it had all gone wrong.
And when she woke we started again and it was much better second time around - but then I only had to manage for an hour until Mark got in so I can't take all the credit.
And in fact, when I say I lost the plot, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I shouted at her, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It didn't work of course, and she just laughed, which is when I decided bed was the next thing to try.
So - a bad day, but we both survived and lessons have been learnt. Tomorrow I'm thinking about braving the health visitor....eek!
But what is good is that I know why, and by identifying that was able to turn it around for the afternoon. That is good, surely?
It was another case of letting those "shoulds" get in the way of everything else. There's so much non-Tasha stuff going on that I felt I should be sorting out that I wasn't giving her my full attention, which is not something that goes down too well with an almost two-year-old.
So she decided to try lots of tactics to get my attention, most of which involved being as troublesome as possible.
Add a bad cold for both of us to the mix and you don't exactly get off to the best start.
So after several attempts at stopping her fiddling with the cooker switches, a few discussions about why we shouldn't pull dogs' hair and a reminder about drawing on the paper rather than the carpet I'm afraid I rather lost the plot.
It was 11.30am and she'd been up since 6.30am and she had been yawning anyway so I put her in bed. But it was entirely for my benefit not hers.
Actually, not entirely, as after 10 minutes of singing she was asleep which gave me the respite I needed to think things through a bit away from the chaos and pressure so I could work out where it had all gone wrong.
And when she woke we started again and it was much better second time around - but then I only had to manage for an hour until Mark got in so I can't take all the credit.
And in fact, when I say I lost the plot, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I shouted at her, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It didn't work of course, and she just laughed, which is when I decided bed was the next thing to try.
So - a bad day, but we both survived and lessons have been learnt. Tomorrow I'm thinking about braving the health visitor....eek!
Monday, 29 September 2008
I'm back!
...after a busy week and a weekend away without internet access - eek! But I survived both....
And I have a week off work now which is a welcome break from some of the tougher aspects of life right now and a chance to enjoy our little family without any external pressure.
So what's new since last time?
Well, there are still piles of poo to be negotiated and I'm still watching my step.
But there is also quite a lot of fluff going around which is a relief.
The weekend away was a family fest which could have been a nightmare but strangely wasn't too bad.
And I think part of that is down to the changes I have seen in myself and my parenting. If I had been in that situation a year ago it would have ended in tears and possibly tantrums, and not just from Tasha.
Last time I attended a big family gathering like that I felt under constant scrutiny and as though my every decision and action was being judged for discussion by others later.
Which of course was rubbish and just my perception thanks to some of my skewed schemas.
This time, I wasn't that bothered if everyone thought I was doing everything wrong because I know it works for us. And if other people do things differently that's their decision.
And a by-product of that was that I wasn't constantly comparing myself to others. Of course I was a bit - this is me, after all! But my default conclusion wasn't that everyone else was perfect and I was somehow faulty or deficient in every way. In fact, there were a few situations that I think I handled quite well....and others that I know I could have handled better, but that's life.
It was a good break though, and did remind me of some of the more important things in life like laughter, love and other things beginning with L that I can't think of right now!
But it's good to be home - and Mark's off tomorrow so the holiday continues!
And I have a week off work now which is a welcome break from some of the tougher aspects of life right now and a chance to enjoy our little family without any external pressure.
So what's new since last time?
Well, there are still piles of poo to be negotiated and I'm still watching my step.
But there is also quite a lot of fluff going around which is a relief.
The weekend away was a family fest which could have been a nightmare but strangely wasn't too bad.
And I think part of that is down to the changes I have seen in myself and my parenting. If I had been in that situation a year ago it would have ended in tears and possibly tantrums, and not just from Tasha.
Last time I attended a big family gathering like that I felt under constant scrutiny and as though my every decision and action was being judged for discussion by others later.
Which of course was rubbish and just my perception thanks to some of my skewed schemas.
This time, I wasn't that bothered if everyone thought I was doing everything wrong because I know it works for us. And if other people do things differently that's their decision.
And a by-product of that was that I wasn't constantly comparing myself to others. Of course I was a bit - this is me, after all! But my default conclusion wasn't that everyone else was perfect and I was somehow faulty or deficient in every way. In fact, there were a few situations that I think I handled quite well....and others that I know I could have handled better, but that's life.
It was a good break though, and did remind me of some of the more important things in life like laughter, love and other things beginning with L that I can't think of right now!
But it's good to be home - and Mark's off tomorrow so the holiday continues!
Monday, 22 September 2008
Shit happens sometimes
and when it does there's not always much you can do about it but keep going and watch your step!
It would be really easy, after a difficult and demoralising day, to sink backwards down into the gloom but at this stage it's something I have a choice about doing, and I'm choosing to hang on.
Tough times are also an ideal opportunity to reflect on how far I've come. There was a time not that long ago when I thought everything that was not quite right in my life was a direct consequence of having Miss T.
And if you follow that warped logic to its conclusion, as I did, the next step is to believe that if she wasn't here all would be sunny and warm.
It sounds so stupid now, after a lovely fun bath and snuggly bed time, and when each day she amazes me by coming out with new words and phrases ("silly daddy" and "Cat miaow sssshhhh" are my particular favourites!) but that is genuinely what I believed.
But now, when some of my pink fluff gets blown away by life, I only think of Miss T in terms of how to protect her from the blustering. Some decisions would certainly be easier if we didn't have her to consider but that doesn't mean I would want to be making them without her.
So for the moment, I'm gathering up the fluff and hanging on to it as I negotiate the piles of poo.
And in better news, today was another good day at the childminders, and I had the opportunity for a bit of a chat about how she is doing which proved greatly reassuring.
More proof that sometimes even tough decisions pay off...
It would be really easy, after a difficult and demoralising day, to sink backwards down into the gloom but at this stage it's something I have a choice about doing, and I'm choosing to hang on.
Tough times are also an ideal opportunity to reflect on how far I've come. There was a time not that long ago when I thought everything that was not quite right in my life was a direct consequence of having Miss T.
And if you follow that warped logic to its conclusion, as I did, the next step is to believe that if she wasn't here all would be sunny and warm.
It sounds so stupid now, after a lovely fun bath and snuggly bed time, and when each day she amazes me by coming out with new words and phrases ("silly daddy" and "Cat miaow sssshhhh" are my particular favourites!) but that is genuinely what I believed.
But now, when some of my pink fluff gets blown away by life, I only think of Miss T in terms of how to protect her from the blustering. Some decisions would certainly be easier if we didn't have her to consider but that doesn't mean I would want to be making them without her.
So for the moment, I'm gathering up the fluff and hanging on to it as I negotiate the piles of poo.
And in better news, today was another good day at the childminders, and I had the opportunity for a bit of a chat about how she is doing which proved greatly reassuring.
More proof that sometimes even tough decisions pay off...
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