Yet another blogging mummy

 Last night, after I worked, then picked up Pickle from school, then bought milk at the supermarket, I came into the house, dropped my stuff, and said to my husband "I have to lie down". I went into my room, closed the door, lay down, and watched a Swedish crime drama on Netflix.  About half an hour later, I heard my Pickle call from the other room "Mummy!" I said "No." She said "Why?" and that was the entirety of the conversation. During the night, I slept at 9:30, when she did, after an hour of trying to get her off to sleep. She woke up at 3 am, at which point I went with her to the loo (nightly occurrence, I literally cannot wait until she can do this by herself) then after this she needed water, and she went back to sleep, I did not. I couldn't sleep until 6. Nights are not good. Generally she wakes me up 2-3 times a night.  The other night, she woke up, realised that I was right smack dab in the middle of the deepest part of my REM cycl...

Recently, we had a friend over for a play date. In the past, this child has been challenging, to put it mildly. We have been avoiding playdates with her for a long time, as they unerringly ended in tears from my child soon after they had started, and apart from the reality that I don't like to see her in tears as a result of the bullying words of another, it was also never worth the stress of mediation between the two children that it inevitably caused.  Today, I found the girl a different child completely. She seemed to have grown up and learned how to play with other children. It was quite lovely having her over, and I found her to be the sensible one, teaching my daughter rather than making her feel inadequate, taunting her, and pushing her around.  An aside: The past few times she has visited, I have set very, very clear, firm rules, and I have told her that if she breaks these rules, she will go home immediately. For some reason, it seemed to work. I have never been firm ...

The funniest thing in my day by far these days, is when my five year old has to have a poo. She still has to have me or daddy right next to her when she goes, and the process goes a little like this; Usually at suppertime, and generally when we have only just persuaded her to have her first bite after much cajoling, bribing, using play and imagination (as each and every instagram video seems to suggest is the only way to do it) and then having failed at all these tactics and resorting to blackmail, threats and lies, she slips off her chair and chirrups in a slightly panicky voice "Mummy mummy mummy I needapoo I needapoo I needaPOO!!!!" as she waddles with haste to the bathroom, holding her bum with both hands, having left it almost too late as always.  My husband and I exchange glances and within a millisecond decide silently between us who will go using a lightening speed tally of who is the most tired, who has worked the most today, who has just been playing with her for th...

First off - I've been sober for ... 100 days! Because this is my blog, and because in my blogs I am always (mostly) honest, I have to say that there were 2 days that I had a glass or two of wine.  Both times I regretted it sorely, both immediately after I'd had the drink and most importantly, in the morning and all the way through the next day. I see this as only a good thing. I feel great. I am exercising again, yoga and running, I am eating less, I have lost weight. There is no way I want to go back to the way I wuz.  I have decided this blog is going to take a new direction, one with a combined focus. My hope is that it will fuse my thoughts on raising a spirited child, and the complexities and challenges of motherhood, with  my work. I find working with children solely through music to be fascinating, and my learning curve is sometimes very steep. My work is inextricably connected with my own life, not only because I teach children who are of a very similar age to my ...

As I write this, I have not had a drink in 67 days. That's not true. I had two glasses of red wine two weeks ago one night, to see if I liked it. I did not. So we won't count those two glasses of wine. It was an experiment and it failed. So, apart from those wines, I have not drunk a drop of alcohol in over two months. This is monumental for me. The only time I've managed that in the past 25 years is when I was pregnant. And even then I probably had a few glasses of wine in my third trimester. Two or more months ago, I would never have thought this was a possibility for me. I was drinking myself deeper and deeper into a hole of misery. It sounds dramatic but it really was like that. When I drank, I would get depressed and sluggish and irritable, and the light would go out in my heart. Imagine having to live with someone like that.  I would drink about 2-3 glasses every single night, and on the weekends I would drink way way more, even to the point where I would lose count o...

  A week ago was Hallowe'en. Pickle got dressed as a witch and my husband had drawn some spiderwebs and bats drawn on my face. That was as far as I went with a costume this year. I have seen entire families of six or eight dressing up as the entire cast of Frozen, or all the characters from Super Mario, but me, I could barely get out the door, on a Thursday evening, after work, in the freezing dark. So, spiderwebs and bats was a big achievement babes.  Our neighbours and Pickle's friends came to our door first, and then we trooped off together to the house next door, owned by Leslie and Bruce. They have been here for years, as have our other neighbours. Possibly decades. Their house is big, beautiful, and they keep it immaculate. They have two teenage daughters, a big garden, a trampoline, a volleyball court, and lots of trees. Their flowers always look tended to and the house always looks cared for and symmetrical, somehow. Tonight, there were glowing  Jack O Lanterns pl...

Just keep swimming...... I am sitting at a coffee shop doing some work, and a young mum walks in with a baby in a front swaddle. She looks so peaceful, so delighted, so utterly content with life. Two or three short months ago, she has undergone the most excruciatingly painful ordeal the body can undergo, possibly starting months before she gave birth, culminating in her body being stretched and ripped and pounded, for hours and hours, maybe days, and then left in a heap of exhaustion after which she had to stay up all night, tending to the this precious little creature that simultaneously completes her and makes her want to punch somebody while screaming at the top of her lungs. She has not slept in months, and her body is depleted, withered, a husk, in order that this little bundle of scrumptious insanity lives, thrives, is loved beyond any love imaginable. And yet, she has all but forgotten all that. In this moment, all that matters is the glow of ecstasy she feels at having her perf...