Guest Post : Stiches in Time

This week I have been dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday's arrival I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we have been hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger  and friend Mummy Plum, who writes over at www.mummyplum.blogspot.com.   All contact details for Mummy Plum can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

 

***

 

My mother has always been good with a needle and thread. Lack of money was the incentive that prompted her to learn to sew. She made most of my baby clothes; mop hats to shield my hairless head from the summer sun, sundresses, sleep suits. Fabrics were sourced for next to nothing from second hand stores and jumble sales. As a young girl everything I wore was created by her, made with love, either at her sewing machine or sewn by hand. The family photo album charts her creations; primary school dresses in purple and white gingham check with cute peter pan collars and hipster pockets, a deep purple dress with pink rosebuds, a copper coloured cord dress for my youngest brother’s christening, a checked full skirted number for everyday, a high collared blue blouse with contrasting floral skirt for ‘Sunday best’, and once, matching sundresses for me and for her, white with a sprinkling of tiny red roses.

The kitchen table was often spread with patterns, pins, cotton reels. As I got older, she would sometimes let me cut the fabric with her special dressmaking shears or use her special dressmaking chalk. ‘Follow the line of the pattern’, she’d say. Dressmaking wasn’t her only skill; she could turn her hand to tapestry and embroidery too. There was no end to her talents. Whilst she was working on her projects, we would talk. Words entwined with wool. It was an opportunity to have her to myself whilst my brothers usually played outside, slinging mud around the garden. Sometimes she would encourage me to try some of the less complicated sections of whatever it was she was working on; the night sky of a landscape, the grassy green of a field. Tapestry engaged me, I found it satisfying, but more so, the luxury of being alone in her presence, sharing secrets, talking together as we sewed.

Her box of embroidery silks was enchanting, almost exotic; bright and vibrant in colour. I used to love opening it and staring at the kaleidoscope within, rearranging the coloured silks to make different patterns. She’d show me the easier stitches; chain stitch, cross stitch, as she created pictures from the silken, shimmering thread. Patience, tenacity, listening, observing; all skills I learnt through sewing with my mother. The Christmas I was seven, the last parcel under the tree was a ‘special’ one, she said. Inside, two handmade nightdresses, the bodices of which had been embroidered; one with a small girl, the other with a posy of flowers. She must have spent hours stitching them late into the night in order to surprise me. I thought they were wonderful.

It was a hot dusty summer’s day when I first sought to test her skills in a different way. Riding over the hose pipe in the back yard, my bike slipped on the gravel and the handle of the brake inserted itself under my chin. My dress, patterned with delicate blue daisies, became a sheet of blood red. As I ran into the house wailing, I remember the shock on my parent’s faces and then my escalating hysteria as I heard them discuss ‘taking me to the Doctors.’ In the end, my mother didn't take me to the Doctors that day, instead I was cradled inside the safety of the spindles of the old Windsor chair in the kitchen, wrapped in an oversized cardigan whilst she pieced together the underside of my neck. ‘Butterfly stitches’, that’s what she called them.

Mum’s needle and thread have been present at every juncture in my life. Her stitches have been markers in time, present at significant turning points. Many of my happy memories are filtered with images of fabrics, be it the sumptuous purple velvet of a homemade Tudor fancy dress costume or the sweet pink floral of my bedroom curtains. In my teenage years I cared little for her homemade efforts. I wanted brands; the high street, not to wear clothes from home cut cloth. It was then that she made the patchwork quilt. Off cuts, remnants, she’d kept them all, fabric pieces from every dress, every outfit she’d ever made. Painstakingly, they were sown onto hundreds of hexagonal cardboard templates, before being joined together, by hand, until they resembled a giant piece of colourful honeycomb. Sometimes I would sit and help her, we would talk about the stories behind the fabrics, when I had worn it, or what it had made, I liked to listen to her reminisce about my earlier years. The finished masterpiece covered my single bed, a visual memoir, each fabric patch with it’s own tale to tell. A symbolic rite of passage, a parting gift from my mother, to mark the end of my early childhood years as I began my journey into adulthood.

Sewing has been a language for my mother, stitches her way of saying; I love you. She herself grew up without a mother and had no blueprint to work from when she had children of her own. At times I think she has found it easier to show her emotions wordlessly, through making and creating. A blue ribbon sewn inside the petticoats of my wedding dress, the names of my boys embroidered beautifully next to those of my brothers on the family christening gown. Most recently, an appliqued play mat for EB featuring bright and playful farmyard animals.

As we prepared to move house recently and she helped us pack, she gathered up small green and pink pompoms from various locations around my house. Once part of a fringe on my favourite scarf, but helpfully detached by my son's incessant tugging, I had kept them, optimistic that one day I would find the time to sew them back on again. After she had Ieft, I noticed they had all been restored to their rightful place, that my scarf was now fringed again. Every time I wear it, I think of her and feel loved.

Over the years my mother has stitched, unpicked, pinned and restitched me together again countless times. Becoming a mother myself has allowed me to appreciate how much. Quiet words in shared moments; small but significant stitches in time, carefully placed, delivered with deft and grace, shaping who I am today. Even though I say so myself, I think she's done a magnificent job. I'm writing it here, so I know I've said it; thanks Mum. x

About Mummy Plum

I live in London with my husband and two boys, Pip (3) and EB (3 months). Part memoir, part sanity saver, my blog charts my reflections on life, motherhood and whatever else takes my fancy. My philosophy is to celebrate the little things often. I believe a good cup of tea can make the world seem a brighter place, especially when accompanied by cake.

I blog at www.mummyplum.blogspot.com and you can also find me on twitter @mummy_plum.

Guest Post : Warrior Mother

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow Special Needs Mum and blogger Donna, who writes over at www.autismandlove.com. All contact details for Donna can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

So I'm sat here on a lazy Saturday night watching "the matrix". I'm watching the female character, Trinity, kick the ass of the agents ably accompanied by Keanu Reeves and my mind starts wondering...as it does!

 

I've always had a childish infatuation with warrior women...strong confident kick ass females like Lara Croft inspire me! I once trekked through Guatemala for charity and back packed round Thailand inspired by this Xbox boy’s fantasy. Posing non-stop with fake gun in my hand whilst scaling volcanoes and dossing on beaches!

 

A lot can be achieved through role models. Whether they are fictitious or human? Whether they are empowered artefact hunters or Jane Austen heroines we all have to have someone we look up to. Someone we can take strength from. 

 

There’s a modern day phenomenon called the "warrior mother". An army of women who have chosen to follow the strength of their inspirations and "kick ass" for their families. These women fight tirelessly on a daily basis for what is right. Not politically. Not a feminist movement. Not lobbying the government or staging protests. They are ordinary mothers living extraordinary lives within their own homes, every day. And what they fight for is their kids. And what’s right for their kids.

 

I've written before in wise words from..rocky balboa? about the habit people have once you get a diagnosis of following that with the words "get ready for a fight" and they are right but perhaps not just in the way they mean it. You see every day you fight and battle. With professionals. With schools. With ignorance and with bureaucracy. Even this week I've had my request for Jesse's assessment for sensory processing disorder turned down because she is autistic and therefore hard to assess. But I won’t give up. I will fight. Not necessarily with the professionals though. I will research private assessments and I will continue to make a nuisance of myself at the OT departments but most of all I will battle with the autism.

 

If the professionals won’t help me and if ignorance is rife. If people won’t listen then I must do it. All of it. And I will. If I can’t get the understanding and the assistance from an OT to help Jesse with her sensory issues then i must battle like a warrior and gather that knowledge myself. I must dedicate time and money into sensory play, give my time to her to help and assist her. Find out what she likes and don't like so she can calm down and find some peace from time to time.

 

If Cody needs a photograph taken of every item in the house that he may ask for to improve his communication then I'll do that too. If he needs patience and empathy whilst he’s kicking and slapping me then it’s my duty to give him that.

 

You see every day I soldier on for my children to do what’s right and in doing so I stand alongside mothers everywhere and declare ourselves warrior mothers. We may not have changed government legislation, we may not re write diagnosis journals or burn our bras in the street but behind closed doors every day we are fighting the disabilities that live alongside our children to make life better for them.

 

I don't have to change the world to be a warrior. I don't have to carry weapons tucked in my hot pants to be in battle. If every day I accomplish something within my own four walls that improves the quality of life for my kids even only for a minute then I'm as kick ass as Lara...I am a warrior mother. 

 

About Donna

 

My names Donna and I'm a mother of two children. I'm a mother of two autistic children. There's a difference and there always will be which is why I write a blog about my experiences, thoughts and emotions of being the mother to Cody (4) and Jesse-Leigh (3). In every other way we're your normal, average family..husband, kids, dog but once a week i unburden my soul at www.autismandlove.com and give people a glimpse into the life of a "special needs parent".

Guest Post : Meaning of Motherhood

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger, Mummy is a Gadget Geek, who writes over at www.mummyisagadgetgeek.co.uk.  All contact details for Mummy is a Gadget Geek can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

Motherhood is a funny thing. The impending nature of it came as somewhat of a surprise to me, since the Wee Man was a happy accident – I certainly hadn’t had children on my immediate horizon, more as a far off fuzzy idea. But from the moment I learned he was growing inside me; despite, as my family and friends would say ‘not having a maternal bone in my body’ (I’ve never been one to go gooey eyed over babies and children always seemed to me like strange incomprehensible aliens) I suddenly felt fiercely protective of my invisible bump, my wriggly little peanut, and finally – my son.

I never imagined how much of an impact such a tiny little person could have on my life, but I’m so glad I’ve had the opportunity to find out.

He arrived in a rush at 11 past midnight on a Sunday morning, and once the shock of his rapid birth had worn off, I’d eaten the egg sandwich and chocolate mousse provided by the midwives, and the Other Half had been dispatched home for what was likely to be his last decent sleep for a while, I was left alone on the ward to get to know my son. The midwives told me he should sleep in his plastic cot at my side, but he was happy on my chest…and since all my instincts were telling me to keep him there, contented and sleepy, that is what I did. I will never forget that night of overwhelming awe as I looked down at his tiny restful form and realised that this amazing little boy had grown inside me, and was now outside and dependent on me for his every need.

If any other person had dared deprive me of my sleep for weeks on end, they’d have felt the force of my wrath.

If any other person had howled and screamed at me for protracted periods I might have walked away.

If any other person had poo’d, puked and drooled on me repeatedly, I might have felt disgust*.

But – despite the odd crying spell, the odd tired snap at the Other Half, the occasional overwhelming need for two minutes to myself (I am only human, after all) – what I mainly felt was a need, a desire to make sure that he was happy. Even if that did mean my clothes were crumpled and crusty and my hair looked like a birds nest. My motherhood instincts had kicked in, and although I’ve often felt I’ve had no clue what I’m doing, read conflicting advice from books and the net, and been given advice both good and bad, in general I’ve followed them and muddled through.

Even more surprising to me, just over a year after he had changed our lives for ever, I kind of felt I might be ready to do it all over again…and nine months after that our lives changed again as our daughter was welcomed into the world. Just like her brother, she had a speedy entry, but this time I was prepared and able to take in more of the birth experience. And although I’d wondered how I could ever possibly feel about someone else the way I felt about my son, when she emerged I felt the same overwhelming awe as she nuzzled my chest and latched herself on for her first feed, before snuggling in my arms contentedly all night.

As they’ve grown, their needs have changed, and I’ve had to change too. I can no longer be selfish as I once was, laying in til midday because I want to or sitting around playing computer games or reading a book. I do of course sometimes still do these things when given the chance (well, apart from the lying in – thanks to over three years of early starts I don’t seem to be able to stay asleep that long any more!) because I think it’s important to retain a sense of my adult self. But having children has also reminded me of how much fun the little things in life can bring, and although I think fondly of my pre-children days I don’t wish myself back to them.

For instance, before, a ladybird was just a ladybird. A potentially unremarkable observation as part of an unremarkable day. But my children have reminded me how exciting it can be to see a small red thing with spots when you’re least expecting it, and even better, watch the red-and-black-spotted small thing magically make wings appear and fly away.

Walking along the street singing vaguely remembered silly songs from my own childhood, I realise they’ve given me the confidence to embrace my inner child that previously sometimes hid away in fear of public embarrassment. (Although there is no denying that I was in fact fairly silly on occasion prior to my children arriving).

I’ve learnt to appreciate life more, to live in the present and not the past or the future, and enjoy each minute whilst we are in it rather than wishing the time away. Whilst with the Wee Man I was – like most new mothers – eager for him to reach his milestones, and fiercely proud each time he mastered a new skill, with Bubby D I have been much more relaxed and we take things as they come. She has just this week learned to walk, and although the sight of her beaming pleased-with-myself smile lights up my day, I also have a feeling of sadness that her independence is growing and with every day that passes she is becoming more of an independent toddler and less of a baby.

But if my introduction to motherhood was exciting, then watching my children grow and learn is more so. Every day the Wee Man tells me something I didn’t know he knew, and reminds me of things that I’d forgotten I knew too. Every day Bubby D learns a new word, and I remember how exciting the simple things in life can be. We may not have much money, we may have a messy house (although I can’t necessarily blame that on having kids…), I may have a baby tattoo where once my stomach was (reasonably) firm and (kind of) flat, and I may have permanent panda eyes - but every day I feel glad that four and a bit years ago, an action that took a matter of seconds has irretrievably changed our lives for ever**.

 

*I never before understood the ‘sniffing a baby’s bottom thing, and I was sure I would never do it. Now I do understand, and I hold my hand up guilty as charged…

**and just to clarify and save the Other Half from possible shame, I’m talking about the moment of conception there, not the actions leading up to it ;)

 

About Mummy is a Gadget Geek

 

I am a 31 year old mother of the Wee Man and Bubby D, who enjoys whizzing down shiny slides in the sun, finding hairy caterpillars, and kitting unidentifiable objects that were originally intended to be jumpers. If you'd like to hear more about us and what we've been up to, you can find us at www.mummyisagadgetgeek.co.uk, on twitter at @mummygadgetgeek and on facebook http://www.facebook.com/MummyIsAGadgetGeek.

Guest Post : The Miracle of Motherhood

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood.  With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises.  In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers.  Our guest writer today is fellow blogger Amanda who blogs over at The Family Patch.  All contact details for Amanda can be found at the end of the article.  Enjoy.

***



When I was a child, there was one thing I knew for certain and that was that when I grew up I wanted to be a mum. I think I was probably born with a fully intact and activated maternal instinct, but it really kicked into overdrive when my own mother began childminding when I was 9. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to grow up and one day have kids of my own.

As I grew older, however, I began to realise that it might not be as easy as all that. I was diagnosed with Endometriosis at the age of 21 and knew that this could cause fertility troubles. I was even told that the twisting of one of my fallopian tubes could put me at risk of ectopic pregnancies. And when treatments for it became incredibly harsh during my mid-twenties there was even a point when TJ and I considered never having children.

But about a year before we were to be married, that maternal drive kicked in full force and I knew without a doubt that I wanted children. It didn't matter that practical issues might get in the way, this was something I felt far too deeply to ignore. And so a month after our wedding we began trying to conceive, and two months after that I found myself pregnant. What a shock!

At first we were blown away by how incredibly lucky we had been to fall pregnant so quickly. We had beaten the odds and were blessed beyond measure. But then the sickness kicked in. Badly. I suffered from Hyperemesis Gravidarum and spent a large percentage of my pregnancy in bed wishing I had never fallen pregnant in the first place. The one thing that kept me going above all else was the knowledge that I was expecting a child, the thing I had longed for my entire life and it would all be worth it in the end.

And it was. It was more than worth it. All the sickness and pain and worry, all the anxiety and depression and trauma... all of it was worth going through to meet our beautiful boy.

It was far from easy. Becoming a mother was so much harder than I ever imagined it could be. I never got to bloom and enjoy pregnancy, breastfeeding was a nightmare, and the sleep deprivation felt like it was going to send us insane some days. And what about that guilt? It feels like I find something new to feel guilty about every single day. But it's worth it... oh so worth it!

Because here I am, mother to a beautiful boy who astounds me with his love, his joy and his sheer enthusiasm for everything in life. Watching him grow and explore the world reminds me to see everything as new once more. I can find joy in the simplest things these days: a hug, a smile, even a cardboard box...

But more than that, being a mother makes me want to be the best I can be. It makes me want to face my demons and reach my potential, so that through example I can help my son reach his. It makes me want to do more for others whilst remembering that to do this I have to look after myself too. Gone are the days of burning the candle at both ends for something meaningless... these days I do it for my family and no one else. Or at least I try!

This is what I like to call 'The Miracle of Motherhood'. It is so much more than I can express in words. It is everything I have just written and much, much more. It is greater than anything I have ever experienced and something I wish everyone could enjoy. Being a mother is the hardest thing in the world, and yet it is the most beautiful and therein lies the miracle.

I wouldn't change it for the world (although I wouldn't mind a bit more sleep once in a while, if you're asking).

About Amanda

The Family Patch is written by Amanda. It includes all aspects of family life, from the everyday mundane tasks, through balancing work and family, to the things that inspire the entire family. Amanda blogs about everything including her health, the home, the garden and her love of photography (amateur) and crochet. Pretty much anything goes here, just like in life itself.  You can find Amanda on Twitter @amandaspatch

Guest Post : A Tribute to My Mother

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is author Anne Coates. All contact details for Anne can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

 

A Tribute to my Mother

 

 

Perhaps it's only when a daughter becomes a parent herself that she truly realises just how much her mother has always loved her.  This was certainly true for me.  Mum was with me when my daughter, Olivia, was born and as she has been growing up, each and every stage has made me think of mum - even little things, like plaiting Olivia's hair would remind me of mum doing my plaits and now, of course, I understand why she couldn't get to sleep before I came in from an evening out as a teenager.

 

One of the many wonderful things about my mother was the way she attracted people to her.  She was like a second mum to many of my sister's and my friends and she was always interested in those she might not have met but had heard so much about.  I must admit to feeling a little jealous sometimes until I had matured enough to understand love isn't finite.

 

I am so fortunate to have thousands of happy memories: mum drawing me a bride; reading Alice in Wonderland to me; introducing me to books and libraries; choosing a dress for a special occasion and saying "Oh have them both!" when we had so little money.  I remember the fun we had the day we went to buy my books for college and a few years later she flirted with my tutors at my graduation.

 

When she visited the magazine where I worked, she was treated like a queen and loved every moment.  She was always so encouraging and read everything I wrote but I think my first article on my attempts at tap-dancing (she had trained as a dancer at the Italia Conti stage school) made her laugh the most.

 

Whenever I think of her now I see her laughing at something.  Even though her life was severely restricted by rheumatoid arthritis, she rarely complained or lost her sense of fun.  She never thought of herself as old, or disabled but I don't think she ever realised how much other people valued her wisdom and company.  Her legacy is the love she had for her family and friends and her courage.

 

My grandmother died when mum was only 37 and many years later she told me that not a day went by without her thinking about her mum and telling her something in silent conversation - I think that has been the same for me.  Shopping for presents the Christmas after she died, I was dithering over which earrings to buy my daughter.  I heard her voice so clearly : "Don't be mean.  Buy them both!"  Needless to say I followed her advice.

 

 

My mother loved Mothering Sunday - in fact she loved celebrations of all kinds - but one year she told us not to bother giving her anything.  We didn't get her cards but we did buy her a rubber plant.  We hadn't realised how disappointed she would be - she adored receiving cards.  However she did love and cherish the rubber plant which seemed to last forever - a constant reminder that written declarations of love were needed too!

 

 

Mum, Joan, with Olivia

 

 

About Anne Coates

 



Anne Coates is the founder of www.parentingwithouttears.com and the author of seven non-fiction titles, the last two being Parenting Without Tears Living with Teenagers and Parenting Without Tears Guide to Loving Discipline both published by Endeavour Press.

    Anne also writes fiction and has recently published: Cheque-Mate & Other Tales of the Unexpected and A Tale of Two Sisters. She is currently working on a full length crime novel.

Twitter: @Anne_Coates1 and @ParentingWT

Guest Post : The Mummy Kindness Manifesto

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger Mummy Kindness. All contact details for Mummy Kindness can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

 

The Mummy Kindness Manifesto

 

I hope my blog will encourage mums to stop competing and comparing and start practicing more kindness to themselves and each other.

 

 

1. I will trust my own instincts.

 

2. I wil feed my baby however it suits me, my baby and my family.  I will never judge another mother for how she chooses to feed her baby.

 

3. I will always tell pregnant women they look amazing.  No other comments on her appearance or size are necessary.

 

4. I will accept that other willdo things differently to me.  This doesn't mean that they're wrong, I am wrong or that they think I am wrong.

 

5. I will only offer advice when it is asked for.  I will do so with love and without judgement.

 

6. I will remember I am entitled to be proud of my child.  But non-one likes a show off.

 

7. I will not be defined by the number on a scale.  It is not my worth.

 

8. I accept I will make mistakes.  I will learn from them and move on.

 

9. I will be true and authentic and not pretend all is perfect at all times.  This helps no-one.

 

10. I will not compare my insides with everyone elses outsides.

 

11. I will remember that my kind words, compliments or smile could make someone elses day.

 

12. I will accept compliments gracefully and I will believe them.

 

13. I will always remember that I am the best mum for my children, that I know them better than anyone else.  I will discount any thoughts or comments that suggest otherwise.

 

14. I will remember that it is OK, to not be OK sometimes.

 

15. I will be kind to others and kind to myself.  In doing so remember that is is not a competition.  All mummies are on the same team.



 

 



About Mummy Kindness

I'm a married mum of two little ones from Essex. Two babies in two years taught me a great deal about both parenthood and myself! In my new blog Mummy Kindness, I recently "came out" about suffering from PND. The response has been overwhelming and inspiring. I hope my blog will encourage mums to stop competing and comparing and start practicing more kindness to themselves and each other. Visit my site: mummykindness.com or find me on twitter @mummykindness.

Appreciation of Motherhood Week

A few weeks ago I decided to really take the opportunity to celebrate the fact that Mothering Sunday is approaching.  I put out a request for guest posts, on the theme of Motherhood and had an amazing response.  The only specification I made was that the posts be upbeat in their tone.

There is a real variety of posts, from Tributes to Finding the Meaning of Motherhood - we even have a Manifesto!  I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all the pieces and chatting with the authors.

The week kickstarts tomorrow and articles will be published daily.  I really hope you enjoy them as much as I have, and they make you think about and remember how amazing Motherhood really is.

Enjoy!

LTMD 

What Has Made Me Cheerful This Week?

This post is a little late this week but as usual things have been full on, as they are within any household with children!  This weeks Reasons to be Cheerful is being hosted by Clare at Seasider in the City whilst Michelle at Mummy from the Heart takes a break from blogging for lent.  If you want inspiring posts to uplift your mood, hop over there.

 

Valentines

 

In the midst of a chilly and rather grey February is that day that people either love or hate; Valentines.  I must admit, it generally isn't something that bothers me and the Hubby and we do not go all out to do something 'special'.  We decided that as we have 'The Holiday' fast approaching we would not change that this year.

 

However, my parents offered to babysit Valentines evening for us as a surprise, so we had an off the cuff evening together with a gorgeous meal at our friends restaurant.  With good food and even better company it was nice to spend a few hours sans-children.

 

Half Term

 

The first one of 2013 has arrived and J1 has a few extra days this time.  The school he attends is undergoing a huge building project, and it is J1's classes turn to move to the new section.  So in order for them to pack up and re-locate J1 is getting three additional days off, which is lovely.  We are intending on taking a trip to the Zoo with our Gold Passes as long as the weather continues to be reasonably mild, which both boys love.  And it should be much easier now we have the power-pack to assist with the hills.

 

Projects

 

Exciting developments are continuing with the various 'work' projects I am pursuing at the moment.  They are giving me a real fire in my belly for making a new career - something I wasn't sure I would know how to do if I am honest.  This all helps with confidence building.

 

Christening

 

My brother and his wife have decided to get their boys Christened.  We are looking forward to a lovely family gathering in April for it.  The Hubby has always been for getting our boys Christened, but I have never pursued it.  However, the news from my brother really delighted my mum.  It turns out she is all for it and I never realised.  So we have decided to also get our children Christened later in the year.  I want to spend some time really learning about it and understanding it first.

 

Blog

 

I had a fantastic response to my call for guest bloggers for the week leading up to Mothers Day and I am looking forward to putting together an uplifting week of Appreciating Motherhood, in all its guises.

 

So a busy week and to wondering what the next one will bring.

Appreciating Motherhood Week

I am going to be doing a week long dedication to Motherhood, leading up to Mothering Sunday (Sunday 10 March) and would love to feature some guest posts.

If you would like more details, please email me on lynseythemotherduck@gmail.com.

The Most Full Time Job in the World

A dear friend of mine got married last year.  At the Hen Do we got a rare chance to sit and chat and catch up.  She asked me if I was enjoying married life (yes) and if I was going to have any more children (no).  She said that her 'husband to be' really wanted to start trying for children straight away, as soon as on the honeymoon, but being the ever practical lass that she is, she couldn't afford to give up work as they would have debt from the wedding to pay off.

Fast forward to now and we managed to have a quick chat the other day.  I asked if she thought that they might try for a child this year and she replied 'Yes, if only to get me out of that 'hell hole'' (i.e place of work).  I understood that completely, the yearning to not have to work in the city (why do we do it?  For the experience, and for a while it's great, and for the better money of course) but to not have to get up at 5.30am to make a train at 6.30am come, wind, rain or shine, is beyond dreams.  To not have the commute there and back that invariably at least twice a week, makes you late in to work and even later home.  To not have to catch every bug that is going around the germ infested train carriages and air conditioned office with no windows.  To not have to think a dozen times a day 'I am never going to get this time back'.

However, I had the knowledge from already having one child that the SAH parent option was not an easy way out.  Far from it.  When I decided to trade the City for the Cradle a second time, yes I wanted to 'get out of the rat race' but moreover, I really wanted another child, I was ready at last to take the plunge and try for another baby, and I think only with that real wanting, and not just thinking it justifies you leaving a job you dislike, can you really survive being a stay - at - home mum. 

Many times you may think to yourself 'Why did I do this?' because it is trying and does force you to 'count to 10' numerous times in the day (particularly when they hit the dreaded toddler hood of course) and if it isn't what you want truly with all your heart, you could be in trouble.  The important thing for me is, in this role never once have I sighed and thought 'I am never getting this time back', but more 'this is our time', with all it's challenges and stress level enhancing power, it's an amazing time.

Now I didn't want to rain on her parade, and I know that they are a sensible couple, who certainly do want to have children, and I hope that they do, but at the right time for them because I think what people do not always do is weigh up the pro's and con's of taking up The Motherhood in a stay at home capacity (I do not say full time here, because you are a parent full time whether you are SAH or WAH or work out at a place of employment). 

What I will be saying to her when we get a proper chance to have a chat (ha ha, more than a text but less than a relaxed afternoon lunching and supping cocktails, they certainly fly out the window with the birth of a child!) is that; yes you do lose all those crappy parts of the job that you are pretty sure was never in your description when you started, and the commute, but be aware of the things you might not be so keen to leave behind... 

For example, the chance to take a shower / bath on your own to get ready for your day, or just the time to actually get ready for your day full-stop, adult conversation on a continuous level (which is one of the harder things to get used to not having I believe), lunch with colleagues / friends uninterrupted with a bottle of wine, opportunities to go for a drink or meal after work impromptu.  In actual fact the opportunity to do anything impromptu until they are out of nappies / off of milk / can walk sensibly and generally be almost a child of secondary age.  The luxury of doing whatever you want at the weekend, including shopping all day.  And the most important one, the loss of your own salary.

Now, this last one I think nowadays is a big deal for most women.  From my experience with most of my friends we have all been very independent, stand alone women for a portion of time prior to meeting our partners, who have earned their own money and lived on their own, thus dealing with their own finances and spending however they want.  This is difficult to let go of. I speak from my own experience. 

I have been a SAHM for two and a bit years now, and I still struggle to get my head around the fact that I do not earn a salary and have sole control over the house finances.  Of course I was thrilled that we were in a position for me to give up my salary and stay - at - home with the children, prior to this I was a single mother and needed to go out to a full time, paid job, but I did not realise how I would react to the situation.  It has taken a long time for me to get out of that 'me and mine, to joint and ours' and is still something I have to work on.

And I was shocked by this, because leaving work and having another child and being a SAHM is what I really wanted, I did not see the finance issues a-coming.  I thought it would be more the stress of losing an income but it wasn't it was more the feeling that I was completely dependent on someone else.  You can take the girl out of Independent Land but you can't take the Independent outta the girl I guess.

Something else that you really have to face up to, is that you are on duty 24/7, 365 days a year, whether you are sick, emotional, tired or hungover.  Kids can not be put on hold until you are feeling chipper again, and require the same amount of energy levels spent on them no matter how you are feeling.  There is no 4 weeks statutory sick leave in this job (or 'late into work because you overslept' - you will never oversleep again in fact...)

Parenthood, is the most full time job in the world,  unpaid financially, long hours, no statutory holiday leave or sick leave requirements, no free parties or socials functions where you stand with a glass of wine with all the time in the world yah-yahing with other adults, or having anyone impartial to referee the latest stand off (that you will have with your toddler over eating their breakfast / lunch / tea...).  

But, all the other rewards of this 'parenthood job', from the first time they look you right in the eyes after they are born, to when they reach their milestones with gusto, when you have those little moments in between tantrums of the toddler years where you lay on the floor playing 'rough and tumble' and you really hear their hearty little unadulterated laugh, when you first start having little conversations with them, for me, far outweigh those of any job I have ever had.   

And that is enough for me (well, 99% of the time, of course like every parent, some days after no sleep whilst feeling under par and being literally sick of the only words leaving your mouth being 'stop that, don't do that, stop being a naughty boy, leave the cat a.l.o.n.e! I maybe question if the better option would be to return to paid employment...but then they fall asleep and any parent knows you overwhelming emotion of watching your child sleep) and truly for the most part I am a very lucky person who can say 'I love my job' and be completely satisfied.

So I will be saying, my dear friend, if you can foresee yourself saying that too, then you are ready for children, love and cherish the experiences that will come your way because they are gone, all too soon.

'I Am Mum' (Family Friday)

This blog is dedicated to 'Mum's & Sons'.  I am not arrogant enough to call what is to follow a poem.  A poem is elegant and well, a little more eloquent also than what I have written, but this is more I would say, an Ode maybe... anyway, whatever it is or isn't, this is for my boys.

I Am Mum

I am the one
Who carried you safe
Until you were born
My scrappy little waif

I nestled you close
To keep you warm
And gave you your bottles
In the wee hours of morn

I deal with your tantrums
And laugh at your jokes
I make you your breakfast
Of runny egg yolks

I am the skin
You nuzzle when ill
I am blamed
For your god damn strong will

I am the one
Who kisses grazed knees
I am the one
Who's relentlessly teased

I'll give you thread
To mend a broken heart
If you take the blame
If in public I fart

I'll watch you leave
To do what you do
Be it bus driver, Teacher
Or Keeper of Zoo

To marry and love
Or whatever you choose
My hope is your spirit
You will never lose

Of you I'll be proud
Always, My Son
Because my sweet boy
I Am Mum


For J1 and J2.xxxxx

What's Not On The List of Things to Do?

One afternoon per week I get four hours 'off'.  When you picture me saying the word 'off' you should see my hands doing air quotation marks with a sarcastic look on my face.  My eldest would usually be in school and my youngest goes waddling off into the nursery classroom with a twinkle of destruction in his eyes. 

I leave jubilant that I have four hours (well about 3.5 by the time I have got back home and taking off the time needed to get back over to pick him up but hey!) of non-children time.  No singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm, no wiping running noses, no finding the juice cup that got lobbed half way to the shop, no need for the wet wipes to be on hand, no need to fret about where I have put my cup of coffee down or whether the stair gate is locked in place.

Being a person with a ridiculous need to have everything I ever need to do written down (or frankly I would forget to do it) I tend to write a list with all the things I would like to get done in the 4 (ish) hours and it generally looks something like this :

* Do 4 hours of cleaning
* Do 4 hours of ironing
* Do 4 hours of filing / home admin (which never gets done until I need to find something and then takes 4 hours to clear backlog)
* Get monster weekly shop
* Put away monster weekly shop
* Prepare dinner
* Sort wardrobes / drawers and generally have a good old tidy out (see note on filing / house admin item)
* [In a dream world] bake something (I love baking - I miss baking something other than a Rice Krispie Cake which in actual fact doesn't really require any baking...)
* Go for a run
* Sort photos
* Catch up on emails and generally just catch up with everyone

I will stop there as I would imagine you are getting the general gist but think I can safely assume that most parents have the same sort of list of things to do.  Some items are what I call essential (cleaning etc) and some should be on a permanent wish-list (running / sorting photos / clearing out wardrobes).  

So of course we all have the list that is as long as our arm, but can we identify something that is not on the list that really is essential?

TAKE A BREAK / HAVE A REST / WATCH HALF HOUR OF TV / READ A MAGAZINE - however you want to take it, just sit.

But it isn't on the list.  And it will doubtful make the list because being a parent comes hand in hand with a bucketful of guilt!  We decided to have the children and so we shouldn't expect to ever sit or take a break.  Even if we are offered by others or pay for a break from physically looking after our kiddie-winks in the form of genius that is nursery or a child-minder, that time is not for relaxation.  We must work, cook, clean, tidy, sort, never sit down soldier!

But who makes these rules by which we find ourselves trying to keep up with?  We do.  I do.  It's not my husband telling me, it's not my parents telling me, it's not my friends telling me.  I alone am the one who decides that I should not ever watch or follow a TV programme, too many other things need doing.  I am the one who make a ridiculous list of 24 hours (at least) of work for the 4 hours I have 'off'.  I think it was pre-conditioned into my brain while I was pregnant that if you aren't looking after the children then you should be doing something / anything productive, just because it's more difficult to do it with the kids around. 

But sitting and reading a chapter of a book is difficult with the kids around, sitting for half hour drinking a cup of coffee (that, ohhhhhhhh squeal with excitement might still actually be warm when you drink it!) whilst gathering your thoughts is difficult with the kids around.  Maybe they should start to make the list after all.

So next time you get those coverted minutes, or if your lucky hours, 'off' just think before you pick up that duster / wash basket / hoover.  Perhaps you ARE entitled to flick the kettle on and watch that half hour of TV that you recorded 6 months ago.  There is nothing wrong with that and if it makes you feel better make sure it is on the list of things to do - you'll feel great when you cross it off!

Alternatively of course, you could always spend that half hour writing a blog.  Whatever tickles your fancy.

And Then The Rain Came

I love the Summer.  I am not a cold weather girl.  Fact.  Never have been and never will be.  And this quality of mine has only grown in strength since having children.  I'll tell you for why :

In the dry, warmer weather you can throw open the back door / patio door / conservatory door, whichever you have and let that lovely air wade through, and if your children are anything like mine, they see an escape route out into freedom (well the garden) and charge towards it.

That fact alone is worth its weight in gold.  The children are out of the house, in the fresh air (the good old sea air for mine) and what does fresh air do?  At first, I admit it makes them a bit hyper but; it tires them out.  It tires them out like nothing else can seem to do and I love that fact.  Almost as much as I love shoes.

But alas, we live in good old Blighty and consistent and reliable weather is just one field that we are never going to win a gold medal in.  Thus I am a bit of a fanatic about getting the kids out into the air for as long as physically possible on nice days and why I have allowed the back garden to become a mini playground (i.e no plants or lovely items that can be destroyed by footballs) with the latest installment being a trampoline.

The kids love it.  I love it.  And we were loving it very much weather wise up to today 'when the rain came' and the realisation struck me that today was a 'mummy and boys only day' and I was going to be confined to the house all day, all alone.

Once the first few moments of irrational fear passed I had to get out the 'Entertainment Committee' hat.  Now if I had boys, closer in age and both able bodied then finding a day of activities would be easi-er.  But unfortunately that is not the case.  J1, my eldest wants to put everything to his mouth and has to be watched like a hawk with any toy that is given to him and is wheelchair confined, J2, my toddler currently has the attention span of a fruit bat.  I was up against it.  Especially as I hate the TV being on throughout the day and the idea of sitting on the Wii in the summer fills me with unwarranted rage.  We were going to P.L.A.Y.

Like any stay at home parent, I came out fighting.  Remembering all those useful articles from baby and toddler magazines and netmum's.com I decided to crack out all my old CD's and create a mini-disco with snack time being incorporated to look like a mini-buffet.  We pulled out old photo boxes (probably more fun for me!).  We dug out all Jacob's old favourite books that had since been deemed no longer favourite and relegated to the back of the wardrobe and it was like producing a library for him.  We pulled out toys that were bought last Christmas that were played to death for the first two months and then put in drawers, wardrobes, tidy boxes.  But the favourite thing of the day for them both, was finding a large pack of stickers and sticking them all over each other, for some reason this made them laugh the most.  I don't know why and I don't care, it just did!

So at the end of this rainy day what have I achieved.  Well no housework got done, no washing got hung out, no phone calls got made or filing put away, however I type this blog fully satisfied.  I spent the day playing and giving my children good quality old fashioned time, which I, as I imagine for any parent, can sometimes get lost in the 'need to just get this / that / the other done'.

Now I am not relishing the thought of the winter months, and cold or not if it's dry then outside time for that blessed fresh air will be had (I don't want my kids to have the same dislikes as me!) but in the deep of winter, in rain or snowy climate, if we do have an indoor day I am no longer scared of it.  We proved today that we can have immense fun without the need for the TV or a computer or going out.  And I don't know about the kids, but it sure wore me out!

* Any idea's for 'rainy day activities' that would be suitable for a wheelchair bound child and toddler would be greatly appreciated! *

Just for the Record

I wanted to pen this blog early on, because as I have started to note down some topic ideas in my journal over the last few days, I realised that my sense of humour (which i hope may reveal itself during these blogs) may be seen as 'complaining'. 

So, in line with the title of this blog : just for the record I am never complaining about my life or the choices I have made.  I might not appreciate Cherub No.2 tipping the whole watering-can over himself when he is in his best white shirt ready to go out (yes, that was today's reason for the third change of clothing before mid-day) and write a sarky comment about it that I feel is amusing, but that is not a complaint.  I dutifully congratulated him on his reaching abilities and strength to hold the 6 litre vessel, and changed him.  That is what I do.  I am mum.

But sometimes I may feel like writing about what other things I would like to do, or aspire to do that I don't currently get to do, because I am being mum.  So in those cases just for the record I am never complaining.  Sometimes I may just be dreaming or planning ahead five years when both little Cherub's will be at school and I might finally get the chance to pee in private.  And yes some days I just want to get a big whiteboard and count down those days.  Others I want to cry because they are coming to fast. 

Being mum to the two children that I have been blessed with (please note : I am not religious but do feel very blessed, lucky and appreciative of being given the opportunity to have carried two babies and have them both with me now, considering my first was 8 weeks early and has suffered some problems due to that) can be very challenging. But I believe the more challenging they make it the more alive I feel and the more magical all those other sweet, funny, unbelievable and unique moments become. 

On a rare moment of getting the chance to watch TV I once heard someone make the statement that 'you only get your kids for 16 years, then they can be out of your life if they choose'.  16 years is not a long time in the scheme of life.  So although from time to time a rant might make its way out of one of these blogs if there has been a particularly long day of crying, demanding and not a second to step out of 'being mum' - which some days can be like that and are d.r.a.i.n.i.n.g for any human-being just for the record I am not complaining.  Because even at the end of those days, when the kitchen is closed, the washing up done, the packed lunch for school the next day made and although you are ready to collapse into bed - you look at those little sleeping faces and melt.  Then the next day is all brand new.  Tantrums of days past are forgotten.  Time out's, naughty step sessions (haha yeah right, does your child actually sit on the step?) and 'No more treats for you today young man' are wiped clean and most of the time they get up like different children (thank god!).

So just to reiterate, even on the worst days of parenthood that I might mention as being not very nice to endure; I am not complaining.  I am merely sharing the fact that me and mine have those days and I am aiming to give hope (and a laugh) to anyone that reads it and thinks, thank god it isn't just me!