Yet another blogging mummy

Years ago, when my daughter was about 1, and I was back working at my school, (that eventually kicked me to the curb for having the audacity to have a baby and then ask to work part time, but that is an entirely other story) one of my colleagues, who had a pregnant girlfriend, asked me if I had any advice for having a new baby. At the time I felt totally overwhelmed with the question, as, my god, how much time did he have to listen? I could not possibly condense all of my suggestions and helpful advice into one sentence. For years, I've been thinking about it and wondering what one or two poignant, incredibly helpful things I could have told him, and I really couldn't think of anything.  Firstly, there is so much to say that it's just too overwhelming to hear, let alone to try and articulate.  Secondly, whatever you say, people will forget or not listen to in the first place. But now, now we are six, I have a feeling that the best advice I could give anyone who is raising a...

Last night, as I was lying next to my pickle who was on the precipice of sleep, after playing a card game and having some chats, she sleepily, yet firmly, murmured to me "Mummy. Put your feet down." She likes to have the security of knowing that whoever has the pleasure of being next to her in bed is comfortable, thus making it less likely for them to leap out of bed, leaving her alone, in the foreseeable future. "Pickle" said I, "my feet are down." At this point she sat up, to check that my feet, in fact, were down, whereupon she realised that my duvet was not in the correct position. She moved it slightly to the right, so that my feet were uncovered, and let out a contented sigh. "ahhhh." she intoned, and turned over and went to sleep. That is all.  Thanks for reading x

 I want to write this post because I always feel like my posts are so negative and depressing sounding. Just a quick one, because I do not want to forget it.  The other night, after we had done all the bedtime routine things, the lights were off, Pickle was in her bed, and I had just settled into my bed (ie: my mattress on the floor next to her bed) and was taking some deep breaths and preparing to finally relax for the first time that day, I heard a whimpery, whispery voice coming from her bed, almost tearful in its fearful panic. "MUMMY!" said she "I have forgotten what a turnip looks like!"  Well. Being the intuitive and empathetic mummy that I am, I realised the catastrophic consequences this could cause later in life, and as such, hastened to rectify the dilemma. I showed her a picture of a turnip on my phone, and she instantly relaxed, snuggled with extreme satisfaction into her duvet, and went to sleep.  The next morning, the first words when she awoke were ...

 I love my daughter with every fibre of my being. Every single cell in my body, every single hair that grows out of my body, every muscle and tendon and vein and artery and bone and nail and skin particle adores her fiercely, endlessly, from head to toe, from front to back, from tip to tail. There is nothing and noone more important to me than her, and I honestly don't think I could love more than I love her. She is my world, my moon, my sun, my galaxy, my stars.  But she drives me, at this point in her life, absolutely bananas. Every evening she won't go to sleep without some kind of almighty battle that involves endless negotiations, usually a lot of tears, debates, pleas, bargaining tactics, it's like some kind of courtroom in this house. Every night she wakes me up at least twice, sometimes a lot more. She usually ends up on the mattress that I have put in her bedroom for ME so that I can fall asleep in her room so she will GO to sleep, and yet still, I don't even g...

 I don't think it's overly dramatic to say that we, Mikey and I, feel like after a really bad night with Pickle, we get some mild form of PTSD. Last night was behaviour that was off the charts. I don't even want to go into it or divulge any details. Just to say that today we both feel like we've been run over by a 50 ton lorry, dragged through that proverbial hedge a number of times, and then run over a few more times for good measure. I feel completely on the edge with this now.  This morning, however, she was a dream. Eating a good breakfast, playing quietly, being polite when she asked for things, getting dressed when we asked, giving us hugs and being absolutely lovely in general. Then I get an email from her teacher about her atrocious and dangerous behaviour at school this morning. I feel like I am being emotionally battered, and I don't know how I have failed her and what I can do for her. Feel completely deflated and like I want to cry all the time. But I ca...

I am sitting here in bed, while my husband is out with our Pickle. This morning, a Moana dress and head band arrived for her and she's been wearing it proudly all day. She looks just beautiful. The past three days we were in Vancouver, and she whined almost half the time she was there that she wanted to go home and that she missed home. That part wasn't enjoyable. A large part of the other half was spent telling me that she didn't want to talk, to eat, to dress, to stop doing this, to start doing that, that she was too hot, too cold, too thirsty or too hungry, but she didn't want to eat, drink, stand in the shade or stand in the sun, and I spent most of the time feeling completely overwhelmed and frustrated, which led to exhaustion and ultimately, a lot of big emotions inside me that couldn't come out. So, a large part of the rest of our time in Vancouver was spent in a state of trying to pacify the beast and feeling out of sorts.  Whenever this kind of thing happen...

Well it certainly was a summer of learning. My pickle grew about 3 feet in two months, and my heart grew at about the same rate. I also found out what I do not want to happen during the summer, which felt like it lasted 2-3 years. I don't want to get to the end of the school year and dread the summer starting, but I am already dreading it. And this one hasn't even ended yet.  Pickle was challenging, and I found the whole summer to be more exhausting and stressful than any other time during her life. I guess every parent goes through this, especially in the summers, but I think the first summer is probably the hardest. So, with that logic, surely it can only get better next time?  I had stopped drinking completely, from Christmas to June essentially, and in the summer, all that went out the window. I started drinking heavily again, stopped exercising, as I was with Pickle all day every day, and had no time to exercise, and basically I had absolutely no time to myself whatsoever...

It's Thursday. Which means that wherever you go, people have that Thursday look about them. Wednesday's people are much less Thursday than Thursday's people. Everyone just looks very Thursday. Today I feel very, very Thursday. Last night I did not sleep, not because, for once, my gloriously adorable pickle woke me up because of bad dreams, or that she needed the loo, or that she was wiggling beside me in her sleep, but because every full breath that my gorgeous husband took throughout the night was swaddled in an ear splitting snore. I know tigers that would be jealous of how roary his snores get.  So, today I woke up to my pickle being extremely argumentative, and trying a thousand different tactics to get me to agree that she stay in bed, so the morning fighting, which has been almost non existent this week, resumed today. You know when your child, after not sleeping for 2 years, finally sleeps for a night, and you and your partner instantly start manically listing the th...

 On the worst day, it was the last day. If that seems like a Dickensian or Biblical beginning, this story does lend itself to something miraculous.  It truly was the best of times, and the worst of times, although I did not know it at the time. The day that I decided that I physically and emotionally could not take "it" anymore, whatever it was (some kind of existential matter I expect) was the day that "it" seemed to rear its head for the last time and then subside.  The screaming was so loud that all 4 of our ears rang. They literally rang for hours afterwards. We both had to take post screaming pills.  The resistance was strong, the fighting raged, and the whining never ceased. I had forgotten what peace, and sleep looked or felt like in our house. And I was desperate. Caterpillars, as you know, spend 14 days inside a little chrysallis they have made around themselves. Their bodies and brains are broken down whilst inside, and then reformed to create the body and...

Oh. My. Goodness. This summer has been a completely new experience for me. I absolutely do feel like I just want to lie down all day, all the time. I almost don't know what to write, I'm so tired.  I thought summers were supposed to be fun, casual, carefree? Not a bit of it. With small kids? Summers are ridiculous.  Summer is full of boundaries pushed until they fall over, crafts that never get started or if they get started never get finished, of unreal expectations, endless lost shoes, (to be fair that's every day of the year with kids) sticky fingers, toes, noses, chins, screaming through the "sun scream" application, (both of you), hours packing stuff for the beach and then hours, and, let's face it, usually days to unpack the wet, sandy, dirty clothes, banana peels discovered in the bottom of bags days after the trip, empty juice boxes, daily ice cream demands, fights with wasps, and the complete and total defiance when you ask anything at all to be done,...

 When I was in therapy for losing 4 unborn babies in a row and after I was blessed with my miracle baby, I was talking to my therapist about how guilty I feel for being completely and utterly in love with my child but also being totally and relentlessly exhausted by my child. The therapist very wisely said "Is it so inconceivable that the thing that you love most in the world makes you the most tired that you've ever been in your life?" I thought that was a very sensible thing to say, and I dropped my feeling of guilt right there and then. About that at least.  What I did not know then, is that the level of tiredness I felt from my child then was laughable compared to what it is now. Maybe I am just a tired person, or maybe my child has the energy and brightness of a thousand suns. Maybe I have always been this way, or maybe it's gotten worse with age. As I look back on these posts, I don't think any of them omits an opportunity to write about how tired I am. Is t...

 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...

First day of Kindergarten.  My little girl is absolutely loving it. It's as if all the problems, all the fights, all the horrible bits of her, have somewhat dissolved. The many, many, MANY things that I had feared, that have run us ragged, that have turned me (back) into an alcoholic, that threatened to destroy my soul and my relationship with my husband, these all seem just to have drifted away somehow. Maybe on the morning mists, maybe on the evening sunset. I am dealing with a very different person. It's not linear, it's not black and white. But, something has changed. Something has shifted. And I feel like I am starting to be able to become my own person again. A person who has healthy amounts of time to do things like this. To exercise. To work. To prepare my work. To think. To sleep.  My nervous system is starting to begin to return to normal again. I feel more whole. More reasonable. More like a grown up. More like the person I was born to be. A mother, and a teacher...

This is wonderful.  I am sitting at my table, with my coffee, (kept company by many tiny fruit flies) doing some work, while my wonderful husband keeps my little Pickle busy at the playground, and I have, for the first time in many, many, MANY months, been able to have some time to just breathe, in my own space, in my own house, by myself. Just to breathe. I went on a run this morning (I have been running every day this and last week, feels great) and then I got back, expecting to be met by the usual chaos and noise, and there was nothing. Just....peace. Ahhhhhhh. I feel very, very lucky. Last night, we had a dance party. Friday nights are now going to be our dance parties, I have decided. Even if it's just two or three songs. Pickle loves it SO much and it's a great way to connect. Then my husband and I collapsed on the couch after dinner, and Pickle just played. By herself. For ages. Up to half an hour she played. It was so unusual, so unexpected, and so desperately needed fo...