Category Archives: Parenting

A Mother’s love – how our broken bond was mended

From the first moment I held my newborn son in my arms, I was head over heels in love with him. No, scratch that. Since the moment I knew I was pregnant I loved him. I loved him fiercely and protectively, as a mother should, right from the very start.

He’s six and a half now and I can’t really remember what my life was like before he came along. He has completely changed my life. In the seven years he’s existed I’ve gone to hell and back with my health. I have tortured myself over his health (he’s fine, he’s absolutely perfect, but it wasn’t always so). I’ve lost my career and forged a new one. But most importantly, I’ve discovered what it is to love and be loved back unconditionally. 

A Mother's love - how our broken bond was mended

At various points in his six and a half years, I’ve stopped and looked at him in wonder and thought “right now, right at this very moment he could not get more perfect. This is the best age he has ever been, it can’t get better than this surely?”

I’ve made a point of keeping that moment in my head and storing it away, because it’s impossible for him to get any better than he is at that moment, but it does. I’ve had so many moments of “oh my god, this is the perfect age” that I’m pretty sure that every age is the perfect age.

Before you decide that I look at my son through rose-coloured spectacles, I do not. I am incredibly aware of his faults. I am the person who bears the brunt of his tantrums. I’m the person who has to pick up after this child who walks through the house leaving tornado like destruction in his wake. I am the person who tries to teach him to be a good human, full of care and compassion. My son is not perfect, he is flawed like the rest of us. He’s human, not super-human, but still lovely.

A few weeks ago, over the Easter school holidays we had a night away in Blackpool, just the two of us. We had the best time and it was so good just to chill out and do things together at our own pace. We missed his Dad of course, but it was only two days and he was busy working anyway. 

It’s been a tough 12 months for us. I lost my Dad and he lost his Grandad. It’s been a year of tears and sadness. There have been splashes of light and colour, it’s not all been widow’s weeds and lighting candles in remembrance. But our two days away reminded us both of the good things we have in each other and it has really brought us closer together.

I never thought I’d bond with my son the way I have. When he was two years old I had an accident, followed by two emergency surgeries. I was bed ridden and full of pain medication for 8 months. In that time I was a zombie who couldn’t care for myself, let alone anyone else.

My amazing husband stepped up and parented for the two of us, but in that time the mother-son bond was damaged and it’s taken a lot to get it back. We’ve always loved each other, always enjoyed being with each other, but his go-to parent has always been his Dad and I’ve often felt excluded.

A Mother's love - how our broken bond was mended

Last night my son sleepily presented himself at my bedroom door. He wanted a cuddle because he couldn’t sleep. So he got in with me, we cuddled and then he fell asleep in my arms. I looked at him in the orange glow from the street light outside and my heart swelled with love for him. He is as good as it gets and I am delighted with that.

Right now at this moment, this is the best he has ever been. This is peak Benjamin. He cannot possibly get any better than he is right now. He is funny, helpful, kind, caring, loving and very much his own person. Six and a half is the best age. He is the best, my best and I am blessed by his presence in my life and the bond we share.

A Mother's love - how our broken bond was mended

Are you giving your kids a bright future?

When I got pregnant with the small boy, I naturally had hopes and dreams for a bright future for him. In the first instance I hoped for a healthy baby delivered safely, something which didn’t really go according to plan, but he did arrive and he was eventually pronounced healthy. The old cliche is correct, nothing ever really prepares you for bringing your own tiny human home. No amount of books, pre-natal classes or expert TV nannies can prepare you. You’re pretty much winging it.

When you are pregnant, people say things to you about sleepless nights and explosive nappies, and you just sort of nod. You nod like you know what it feels like to have broken sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t how you imagine it to be, having broken sleep, snatches of naps, dealing with constant demands from a tiny human who can’t communicate with you what they want or need night after night, it’s hell. No wonder it’s a form of torture. The SAS play recruits tapes of screaming babies whilst keeping them awake to see if they can break them. Ladies, we are tougher than the SAS. Sort of. 

bright future

I remember sitting down with a good friend over a brew. Our two toddlers sat on the floor playing together. She turned to me and wondered if she was a good parent and I replied, “well we’ve not managed to accidentally kill them yet and they’re both clean, clothed and well fed”. I doubt anyone is the perfect parent, but all you can do is your best.

No one prepares you for lots of things, the amount of washing for a start. Previously my husband and I would do 2-3 loads of washing a week. When the small boy arrived that increased to at least one wash a day. I used to joke that he had more costume changes than Elton John, he still does come to think of it.

Having a child makes you worry for the future, but it also gives you someone who holds you in check. You may think you recycle as much as you can, then they learn about recycling at school and you find yourself being instructed by a five year old to scrape the labels off jam jars and recycle separately both the jar and the label. He’s a stickler for standards!

Being a parent influences most of your decision making, right from the day you pee on a stick and find that blue line. From where you holiday, what you eat, when you eat, how much you recycle, the cleaning products you use, what car you drive, where you live and who you are friends with. It’s all encompassing, and finding yourself going from strong independent career woman, to that lady with the screaming kids who always smells like baby wipes, can take some getting used to.

Everything I do as a parent, the choices I make and the things I buy are all small acts of love (stick with me on this). I buy him the pasta shapes he likes because he enjoys them and it’s good to see him clear his plate without complaint. We go on holiday to places near a good sandy beach, because nothing makes him happier than digging a big hole and filling it with water.

Everything we do, we do with him and his bright future at the forefront of our minds, not because he is a little prince and we pander to him, but because he is one third of our family unit and we’re busy helping to shape him into a useful and productive member of society.

I recycle with him, because he likes doing that with me, and doing that helps to create a better future for him. I wash his clothes in Persil because it makes his clothes smell nice and gets the grass, paint and pasta sauce stains out of his clothes. I wash at 30° because it saves energy for us, and I know that the little changes we make ourselves can make a difference.

bright future

I teach him to turn lights off when he leaves a room, to shut the door to stop the draught, to put a jumper on when he’s cold, to tidy up after himself, to turn the tap off when he brushes his teeth and to be kind to people, because kindness is everything.

Creating a bright future is about so many things; cementing good habits in childhood, learning that good manners cost nothing, understanding that small changes can make a big difference. It all adds up and hopefully, hopefully, my small boy will grow up to be kind, considerate, loving, funny, wise and capable. 

bright future

This post is an entry for BritMums #brightFuture Challenge, sponsored by Unilever.

Relaxation – How do parents unwind at home?

When the small boy is tucked up for the night and the house falls silent, it’s often not a time for relaxation for us. When the boy falls asleep we do chores for an hour or so, catch up on admin, clean the house, sort the washing. It’s endless. But once that is done then for me the TV goes on, I flop on the sofa, fire up Twitter and unwind with a brew. My husband has other ideas, for as much of the year as possible, as long as it’s dry he will sit outside and have a cold beer under the stars.

People unwind in different ways. My mother in law would tend to her allotment, my dad would watch comedy DVDs and chat to his magic friends (that’s not as weird as it sounds, he was a magician). My brother and his wife will open a bottle and a box set. Everyone is different, but everyone needs to relax in whatever way they find works best for them.

Rattan Direct have put together a survey asking what you as parents do to unwind around the home. They want to know what works best for you. Like me do you chill out in front of the TV, or does relaxation for you involve having family and friends round for the evening? Maybe you bake a cake or have a hot bath with scented candles and your favourite bath oils.

relaxation bath

Whatever relaxation means to you, it’s a necessity. Life and parenting can be stressful and finding time to unwind and relax is essential. Making space for that rare thing – “me time” is so important. Without an hour of doing nothing but zoning out over a repeat of NCIS each night, I know I’d be a frazzled mess of a mum.

How do you unwind? What does relaxation mean to you?

= This is a collaborative post =

Love wins – playing parenting good cop bad cop

At 3am this morning the screaming and shouting started. The small boy had woken up and was engaged in complex negotiations with his dad about returning to bed and going to sleep. The small boy has a bad cold and is what can only be described as incredibly overtired.

I lay in bed and listened to the back and forth between father and son. After 20 minutes or so of tantrums and tears I intervened. It was clear it was my turn to play bad cop, so I marched in, confiscated the Lego he was arguing over at that moment and threatened to put all of his toys in bin bags unless he got into bed.

This did not work, he sat on his bed cried a bit harder. I went back to my room and waited for the next stage of negotiations to fail. This is ridiculous, he’s perfectly capable of going to sleep and I’ve never heard him behave like this for so long. I thought about it while I listened to them.

It was my turn to play good cop. My boy was poorly and tired. When I’m poorly and tired I want someone to cuddle me, stroke my hair and sing soft kitty to me. I warmed up his hottie, made a little nest for him under the blankets on my bed and welcomed him in for a cuddle and some love from his mummy.

Within minutes his tears had dried and his breathing was slowing. I squeezed him a bit tighter and told him I loved him and that I’d always look after him. He was asleep and snoring quietly to himself soon after. What’s more he slept past his normal 6am wake up and right through to 8am which is tremendous.

Today I resolve to love my son a little bit more and give him the things that I want and need. Love, friendship, consideration, affection, laughter, happiness, safety, freedom and respect. Last night at 3am I lost sight of the poorly little boy with needs and was more concerned with getting the household back to sleep. This is not a licence for him to get away with 3am tantrums every day, but a reminder to me that I need to think about why he’s behaving badly and deal with the cause and not the effect.

Today we’re having a lazy day with lots of cuddles and calpol. Tomorrow is a new and hopefully brighter day.

Good cop bad cop

Mummy? How do you spell f**k?

The inevitable has happened. The small boy has uttered his first major swear and it didn’t end well for him. 

Picture the scene. It’s bathtime and the boy is splashing about and playing with his foam letters, spelling out words and the names of his friends at school.

“Mummy, how do you spell f**k?”

“Erm, can you say that again please, I didn’t quite hear you.” *Quickly beckons husband into the bathroom*

“F**k” he replies. Husband and I exchange slightly panicked glances.

We knew this day would come, but we weren’t expecting it to happen just yet. He is only 5 and we try very hard not to swear in front of him, though it turns out husband is quite the potty mouth when he’s driving.

I remember my first swear. In the car on the way home from something when I was about 8 years old I said that “I was knackered”. As soon as we got home I was chased into the house by a red faced parent wielding a wooden clog to spank me with. In spite of this I have grown into a creative and enthusiastic private swearer.

We dealt with the boy’s verbal transgression without resorting to a beating. We figured it was one of those “teachable moments” so we pulled up our parenting socks, sat him down and had the conversation about naughty words and why he shouldn’t say them. We asked him where he’d heard the word and he said one of the boys at school had taught it him. We were secretly relieved that neither of us were the one who taught our son how to swear (we were very f**king relieved in fact).

There were a few tears before bedtime, a punishment sanction of his Lego ( for giving excessive cheek during our discussion) and a discussion about how it’s not nice to say rude words which might upset people. We quietly congratulated ourselves on a tricky parenting situation handled appropriately. 

The next morning he woke up, lesson learned and enjoyed the day with us. At bedtime, snuggled up with a story he sighed and happily said…

“I’ve been a good boy today Mummy, I’ve not said f**k or anything like that”.

*facepalm*

kids swearing

The Facebook Motherhood Challenge

Are you on Facebook? Are you a mum? Have you been tagged in the motherhood challenge? I pretty much universally hate this kind of thing, but since it’s only posting five happy shiny pictures of me and the boy how hard can it be?

I’ve loved looking at everyone else’s five pictures, and like them I’ve chosen to highlight the good stuff. It’s like a CV of parenting, you accentuate the positive and hide the negative stuff away and hope nobody sees it.

Like when he was 3 weeks old and we were both crying hysterically and we’d run out of tissues so I was so delirious with exhaustion I blew my nose on the duvet and we promptly fell fast asleep.

Or the time when he projectile pooed all over me and then peed on my face when I was cleaning him up.

Or all the cakes he’s coughed and sneezed in while we were making them (plague cake anyone?).

Or the times he’s shouted at me that he’s not my very best friend anymore, then cried out for cuddles before bed.

Or when he was having an operation and I almost tore my heart out with a mixture of fear and anxiety.

Or the times I’ve been too full of anxiety to do anything other than cry and rock to myself until it stopped.

Or the money troubles, the times I’ve not been able to scrape the money together to buy enough food for his tea, never mind the Lego set he dreams of.

Of the things I’ve missed out on in his life because my ruined spine won’t let me kick a ball around with him in the park, or carry him upstairs when he’s sleepy, or wrestle around in the floor playing horsey.

I’m just a normal mum, doing what I can to make sure he grows up to be a happy and productive member of society. My parenting isn’t perfect, in real life it’s not all lovely smiles and cheeky kisses, it’s not been carefully staged for Instagram, with filters applied left, right and centre. Parenting is messy, physically and emotionally, but would I change it? Not on your nelly.

motherhood challenge

Learning: Writing letters and numbers

Over Christmas a few developmental things seemed to fall into place for the small boy and he couldn’t get enough of activity books, specifically practicing writing letters and numbers. Not one to discourage this, I spent a small fortune on activity books, we were going through one book every other day over the Christmas holidays and he was thoroughly enjoying it. But there had to be a cheaper way.

I mentioned this to Karen from That Lancashire Lass and she suggested I have a look at Twinkl. Twinkl is a brilliant website full of fun educational resources for parents, teachers, childminders and home educators. It’s full of more resources than you could ever wish for, and whatever their flavour of the month is (it’s usually fire engines and dinosaurs here) there are loads of easily downloadable activities available. 

We thought we’d start off simple and just print off a number formation workbook and letter formation worksheets. Because we’re fancy, I got my OH to print them and bind them into workbooks (it is here when being married to a printer finally comes into its own), but they’d be fine loose or just stapled together.

Writing letters and numbers

The boy loves them. He’s had them about a week now and he comes home from school every day and wants to do a few pages with us, which is so great, we’ve not wanted to push him to do things too much so it’s a delight that he’s genuinely interested and excited to do things. We had an inset day on Monday so we spent some time doing crafts and working through some pages of his new workbooks.

Writing letters and numbers

Although he’s been able to write his name for well over a year now, I’ve found that since he’s been doing some writing practice every day that his letters are much clearer and smaller, he’s even grown in confidence enough to write Benjamin instead of Ben, it’s a big name for a little boy! As you can see from the above picture he’s totally nailed writing the number 12 too.

What we chose to start our Twinkl journey with were fairly straightforward activity sheets. I’m already planning for a few themed rainy afternoons using some of the downloaded Twinkl resources, so I’ll be blogging them at a later date.

If you need a bespoke resource they have a new tool to create your own resources – twinkl create.  I think Twinkl is a cracking website for anyone who likes doing activities at home with their kids, as well as for teachers needing some inspiration; I’m looking forward to doing some lovely learning with my boy.

Mean girls – how playgroup destroyed my confidence

Now my boy is five years old, we’ve more or less settled into a group of friends. He sees them at school, out in the park, at parties or at after school clubs. He, like any five year old has a better social life than me, and that’s saying something. It wasn’t always this way.

When he was a baby I felt some pressure to attend baby groups and classes with him, something I thought would be good for his development. I didn’t really want to do it but I did it for him, the thought of making awkward parenting-competitive small talk with people I had nothing more in common with, other than our bodies had expelled a child at roughly the same time filled me with anxiety. But still I persisted, taking him to a music class where we banged tambourines, rang bells and shook maracas to encourage his development; to the local library for baby story time where we sang and jiggled; and to the “Friday playgroup” which filled me with weekly horror.

If the thought of sitting on the floor of a church hall making music, with a baby who was at best ambivalent to my finest Bez impressions was bad, then “Friday playgroup” still gives me hideous palpitations of anxiety. They were a bunch of stuck up, cliquey yummy mummies, who even after six months of me attending and smiling weakly at them, still failed to find out my name. They would literally turn their backs on me and my attempts at small talk over coffee and biscuits.

Each week I spent an hour each Friday crying in front of my wardrobe, desperately searching for something to wear which would make me one of them. Hysterical, I would push my baby to the church hall and pull myself together just in time. I’d sit, huddled on the play mat with my baby and my one friend who also felt like an outcast.

Little did I know that the “Friday playgroup” had form for being an unwelcoming hotbed of bitchy cliques. Subsequently I’ve met and made friends with many people who attended for a week or two, discovered how dreadful it was and moved on elsewhere. I knew no better, I had no yardstick, I thought this was what groups of mums were like, horrible, bitchy, judgemental and just mean. My heart fills with anxiety at the memory of it all.

I’ve no doubt they didn’t realise what a bunch of complete bitches they were, they probably looked at dumpy old me in my less than designer post-maternity wear and decided I wasn’t from their set. I wasn’t a chartered accountant, I wasn’t the wife of a partner of a firm of solicitors, I was just some dowdy mess who didn’t belong in the same room as them.

I credit this awful group of mean girls (because that’s exactly what they were) with denting my fragile confidence, it’s coloured my every interaction at baby groups, all the way up to school. My natural response to another parent isn’t one of friendly welcome, but a cautious backing off and shying away so they can’t hurt me, and so I don’t care enough for them to hurt me.

I let very few people in (if you’ve made in into the circle of trust, then welcome, here’s your special badge, wear it with pride) and I know that means both me and the boy are missing out on a whole load of good stuff. So this coming year I will try harder, trust more, open myself up for more disappointment and rejection and hope that I’ll never encounter those mean girls again.

FYI, I found a better, more welcoming, more lovely playgroup, made some nice friends there, so there was a happy ending after all.

Playgroup

12 Things I love about my son

I get a bit teary sometimes when people ask me when I’m going to have my next child and I have to tell them I can’t have any more children. The loss of what might’ve been I feel acutely, but I know I am bloody lucky to have what I’ve got.

I creep into his room most nights to look at him, partly because he’s still for once and I can get a good look at him, partly because he looks so damn cute when he sleeps, and partly because I think it does me good to fill my heart full of love before I go to sleep at night. So with that in mind, here are 12 of the things I love about my son…

  1. I love the sound of my son yawning when he’s having his dream wee.
  2. I love the way he sleepily snuggles onto his dad’s shoulder when he’s carried back to bed, like the little boy he is and not the big boy he thinks he is.
  3. I love the way he wakes me up “like a princess”, which is to kiss me like Sleeping Beauty might be kissed by her handsome prince.
  4. I love the way he climbs into bed with me for ten minutes of putting stickers in his farm book before he goes to school.
  5. I love the way he shares things with us, breaking off a small piece of his toast for us and sharing every bag of sweets he gets.
  6. I love the way he stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the street like a tiny foreman, pointing out anything of interest “look mummy, a rubbish lorry”.
  7. I love his sleeping face, peaceful and angelic, still with the soft round cheeks of a small boy, framed by his long eyelashes a thousand girls will later envy.
  8. I love the way he slips his hand into mine when we walk together, his is so warm and soft and he doesn’t mind me squeezing it as I try to burn the memory of his little hand into my mind.
  9. I love the way he loves music, asks for it to be turned up and rocks out whenever he has the chance.
  10. I love reading with him, baking, making crafts and drawing. I love talking about our days and about all of the things in our lives.
  11. I love how polite he is in company, how he will behave impeccably in a restaurant, how people say he’s a credit to us.
  12. I love learning about him. He’s good at counting, less good with phonetics, loves sport and is a bit obsessed with robots.

I love him. With all of my heart.

Of course there are things I don’t love. The rough play, the tantrums, the frankly gross habits I know I’ll be moaning about for the rest of my life. But I’m the mother of a boy, a beautiful, lively, intelligent, caring boy. And I wouldn’t swap him for the world.

things I love about my son