From tealights to titanium...

I bought a squash the other day. Not a pumpkin, a squash. Blue Bear is really keen that we carve a pumpkin for halloween so this is my compromise.  I have bought a pumpkin and craved a face out of it in the past, but we ended up with a lot of vegetable leftovers which no one wanted to eat. There is only so much curried pumpkin one family can eat and we hit our limit pretty quickly. It's also the fact that I don't really see this as a 'holiday' we should even participate in. When I was a kid it was all about Guy Fawkes and bonfire night. There were kids who would push around a bundle of clothes in an old pram and chant 'penny for the guy' rather than knocking on doors demanding 'trick or treat.'

It's not being a misery to say I don't want to do Halloween. I just don't have any associations with it. I would much rather celebrate Diwali which is colourful, delicious and much more meaningful to me. As we will be away for Diwali this year I'm making sure I take some tea lights with me so that I can still celebrate the festival of lights and remind the boys of their Indian heritage. Wherever I have lived I've always done this. When I was in a shared house at Uni I recall my housemates loved the tea lights and Indian sweets and wanted to know how it meant. I went to the Sikh Temple in Coventry in my Indian clothes and phoned my Mum. It connected me to my family in a way that I needed when I felt as if I was all alone in a place full of people.

So today I took the boys to a temple in Derby. The extra hour helped ensure we were able to fit in a visit to the Sikh Heritage Centre that was also there. I was so proud when I watched my boys go up the holy book and bow their heads as I've shown them since they were babies. We say down to eat in the communal kitchen and they devoured the food that I never make at home. As we walked round the museum of artefacts showing the contributions Sikhs have made in wars all over the world and the atrocities visited upon Sikhs in history my boys asked questions and I told them, "when we go to India I will take you to the Golden Temple so you can see it for real." It means a lot to me that my sons are aware of their Indian roots and that they know about Sikh history and oppression.

It wasn't an easy day. All the firsts are painful. The first wedding anniversary since the break up was this week. I had no idea what to expect. I worked from home so I wouldn't have to interact with anyone and pretend to be ok. It was pretty rubbish actually. Not because I wanted to celebrate or because I miss being married, more the overwhelming grief and loss of a relationship that I wasn't expecting to end as abruptly as it did. At least I didn't have to deal with anyone in person who I didn't want to see that day.

I drove the kids on Friday night for many hours to get to our holiday destination for half term. It as a very long journey and it took hours, but they watched movies in the back of the car and we got here late on Friday night. When they woke up on Saturday morning it was tipping down with rain, but they still got to see the sheep in the field and a rabbit that scampered past the window. It was all I wanted for them this weekend. We stayed inside and watched movies while the rain lashed down outside. We made a den, ate snacks in bed and snuggled under blankets to watch Back to the future (part 2 - we''re working our way through the trilogy).

This morning Blue Bear climbed into bed with me in the early hours - bad dreams again. The extra hour in bed meant nothing as they both woke up at an unearthly hour demanding to watch TV. Still, I did manage to get a bit of a lie in and we did so much today I was genuinely surprised. We went to the temple, met up with lovely friends and made it back in time to watch Back to the Future Part 3. I have never actually watched it before so that was a first.

Everyone is telling me I can do this - that I am strong and capable. I'm not convinced actually. I often feel overwhelmed, sad, lonely, angry, bewildered and guilty, Oh so guilty, For not being a good enough mother, for not getting it right and for being a failure. Then today I looked at my boys laughing and playing in the park with the friends they see rarely. Blue Bear pushing the roundabout slowly because the little girl was scared if it went too fast. Brown Bear exclaiming his feet were too big for the playground toys he was on with his oldest friend.

Both boys hugged me tonight and wished me happy Diwali. It was a difficult day in many ways. It was also magical in so many others. I lit a few beautiful tealights this evening in celebration. The boys asked me why and I explained that is what we do to bring light to darkness.

No, I'm not ok. I don't know when I will be. What I do know, however, is that I have these incredible kids who love and accept me for who I am. However much of a failure I might consider myself to be.

Pride: in the name of love

Growing up in a house that was mostly girls I had no idea how I would cope with being a Mum to boys. I am well and truly outnumbered - even the cat is male. However, there are so many highlights (and idiosyncrasies) about my little family and I thought I'd share some of them. 

Brown Bear helps his baby brother get ready for school 

I am used to random dinosaurs supervising toothbrushing 

We spend a lot of time outdoors - a lot ! 

Some of the time we watch a movie outside - something Mummy loves too. 

We laugh a lot together 

Blue Bear loves nature and animals - he offers to help me with the gardening

I get the loveliest gifts from my boys 

At times there is no room for me in my own bed 

It's nice to get some time to myself 

The best times are with these boys  

A Mama Bear's work is never done

On Sunday we took the boys swimming. We try to have a family day when we can and part of that is taking them out to run off some energy and splash around so they sleep well. I was exhausted after a late night at a school event the night before. Whereas I usually swim on my own in the big pool I decided to stay with the boys in the small pool. As I moved around to stay warm I watched Blue Bear jumping in and swimming with his head under the water. It took my breath away. I remember when we first took him swimming and he would cling on and cry if we tried to let him go in the water. When I took him for swimming lessons he would get upset and sit on the side and shake his head forcefully insisting he wasn't going to go into the water today. I gave up being embarrassed and figured that if he wasn't going to be made to do it then I wasn't going to insist. Blue knows his own mind. He is a force to be reckoned with.

I thought about the little boy who first came to live with us. This tiny toddler who had a dummy in his mouth the entire time. He would put his hand over it if you tried to take it out. It was only ever removed to put in a milk bottle or if I managed to persuade him to let me brush his teeth. He barely spoke. He would shout or cry and his screams broke my heart. He slept in the cot next to my side of the bed and in the night I would feel his teeny fingers reach out to touch me to check I was there. In the end I would keep my hand inside the cot just next to his body. Not touching. He didn't like to be touched unnecessarily. Hugging was a one way street for a long time. We would hug him and he would allow us to, but he wouldn't participate. When we went anywhere he would stick close to us and hide if anyone spoke to him. 

This was 4 years ago. Now the story is very different. He has found his voice. Oh has he found his voice. Blue is a funny and engaging little guy. His teacher describes him as fun and kind which makes me so proud. He tells jokes. His laughter rings through the house and it is like magic hearing it. I recall the first time we met him at the foster carers' house and Hubbie was playing on the floor with Blue. He was hiding from him and lifting him up making him laugh. That throaty baby giggle that warms the heart. 

Yes he still wakes up crying and sometimes screams too. Early life trauma will do that to a child. I can't tell you how it feels to see your child shaking and sweating with fear and with tears all over his face. Inconsolable and unable to speak. All I know is that I comfort him and keep reassuring him that he is safe and we are here. We are not going away.

Brown Bear and Blue Bear now share a bedroom and a bunk bed. They were so excited to have their first sleepover the other week. My friend Soraya's son came to stay for the weekend and the boys were so excited to see him. They shared space, played and ate together, went to football with Hubbie and generally did boy things. At night when the boys went to bed I would kiss mine and when I went in to check on him I touched his head and wished him goodnight. The thought that he doesn't get a hug from his mummy any more was too much to bear. I didn't want to impose. When he was leaving I gave him a long hug - it was more for me than anything. 

This evening Brown Bear was really upset with me. He was tired and wasn't getting his own way. At one point I said, 

"Why didn't you ask me to help you ?" 

"You're a mum you're supposed to be able to read my mind." 

"I have read your mind since the day you were born. I have done everything for you. Now I want to teach you to be able to do things yourself." 

He looked baffled. 

"One day you will live somewhere else and will have to look after yourself. I won't always do everything for you." 

This boy has had me in his life since I put my hand on my belly and gave thanks for his very existence. How do I tell him that I won't always be here ? That his brother and his friend have already lost a mother and he is the only one of the three of them to still be with the woman who carried him. He takes me for granted. It isn't his fault. He doesn't know any different. His brother does. His friend does.

I have enough love for them all. Even if they don't believe it. 

This is me - if you don't like it *shrugs*

Last night me and my mum went to a talk by Anita Anand about Princess Sophia Duleep Singh. I already knew she had been a suffragette and a favourite in the court of Queen Victoria, but I had no idea of her Indian pedigree. Her grandfather was Maharaja Ranjit Singh. I drew sharp intake of breath when I heard that - Mum just nodded and smiled. You don't grow up in a Punjabi household and now know who Maharaja Ranjit Singh was. He is an icon in Sikh history and was known as 'Sher e Punjab' - the lion of Punjab. The story of his heir Duleep Singh being brought to Britain and kept like an English gentleman is absolutely fascinating, but it's how Sophia came to be such a rebel that I was captivated by. A woman who was too Indian to marry an Englishman, but too English to marry an Indian. Who dedicated her life to the advancement of women. She broke the rules and didn't give a damn. She was a brown woman who had been a society darling and lived at Hampton Court Palace and sold suffragette propaganda outside the gates. She had been arrested, but much to her annoyance didn't get imprisoned.

In her later life when women had been given partial suffrage she became a nurse and tended to the Indian soldiers who were being tended at the war hospital in Brighton Pavillion. Horrified that they had been sent to fight for the British without the correct kit she made it her mission to raise money to buy them boots and coats so they wouldn't die of cold. This woman was just amazing. She was also a pain in the arse to the government and specifically to Winston Churchill. I am so in awe of her !

I like to think that the Sher part of her punjabi heritage was what made her so forthright. I should know, after all I come from feisty stock. My grandfather fought in the British Army, so he was told before partition that it was on the horizon and took his wife and 1 year old daughter (my Mum) out of Punjab for safety. It's possible that in doing so he saved all their lives. My grandmother went on to study to be a teacher while my grandfather took care of their children. She ran her own school and raised 5 children pretty much alone when she was widowed at a young age. Her energy levels were legendary, she had a wicked sense of humour and it was well known in the family that she loved ice cream. She would always say, 'give it to the children first,' be we would make sure there was plenty left for her. It meant so much to me when she met Hubbie and declared, 'he's definitely punjabi' - it was the highest possible compliment !

Then we come to my mother, a woman who while softly spoken and seemingly gentle has a core of steel. Kaur - see what I did there ? She is a licensee, used to play darts, worked full time until only a few years ago and to this day is the one person I know I can call to ask pretty much anything. "Mum how do I set my economy seven heating ?" She talked me through it over the phone. True story. Oh and did I mention that she can whistle. I mean proper fingers in the mouth ear splitting whistle. I have never had the guts to ask her in what context she learned to do this. She is in her seventies and can still do it. Mind blown !

So my point is I'm from a long line of fierce punjabi women - this is in my blood. It's my heritage and it's in my DNA. I can't be any other way. Woe betide you if you make the mistake of thinking I am a pushover. I'm not some passive indian woman - never make that mistake. Once in my days as a procurement manager I had a meeting with a salesman about a printer he wanted to sell my company. I went to the offices for the sales presentation and then we had lunch. Over nachos (or something) he said, "When I first met you I thought you were a small, quiet indian woman, then you opened your mouth." It was then I realised that being me, looking like I do comes with certain preconceptions.

Last week I went for a run at lunchtime - I'm training for a half marathon - and headed towards Bushy Park. I ran halfway across the zebra crossing and then came to a stop (still jogging on the spot) as a motorbike and cyclist came to a stop on the other half. The guy on the motorbike took out one of his earplugs and yelled. "Why you running ?" I looked at him with my head to one side, not quite understanding the question. "You're supposed to walk" and he helpfully made a walking gesture with his fingers in case I didn't understand him shouting at me. I looked at him, again said, "what ?" and he pointed at his head to indicate I was stupid so I slowly raised two fingers towards his face and said - with a smile. "Fuck you !" and ran the rest of the way. As I got to the end of the crossing the cyclist called out to me, "Don't worry, you're fine." I thanked him and carried on. As I processed my anger (and shame) through running I wondered, if I'd been a white woman would he have talked to me like that ? I bet he wouldn't. He would know bettter in case he got a mouthful of abuse. Oh well.

Today I was going to pick up the boys from school. As I got to the bottom of our road it was clear there had been an accident as traffic was building up and I decided to go back up the hill, park outside our house and walk to school so I wouldn't be late. As I turned my car round I saw a line of cars who had taken my road as a 'short cut' and were queuing on the wrong side of the road blocking my way back home. I waited for a few to pass and then inched forward to where there was a gap for the oncoming car to pull in so I could pass. He refused to move. I got angry. I shouted at him to move. He refused. I got out and said, " I have the right of way so I'm not moving." he told me to get back in my car - I guess 'like a good girl' was implied. Now his first mistake was in thinking he could talk to me like that. His second was in telling me what to do. Oh I will get back in my car. And I will sit here and wait until you decide to move. So I did. He shook his head. I smiled. We could both hear the drivers behind him getting impatient and I stood my ground - I was in the right after all. Eventually he reversed into the space - badly - and I couldn't resist shouting out, "See I knew you could do it." His reply to me is unrepeateable, mostly because I didn't stay to hear it. He tried to intimidate me and get me to move even though I was in the right - he lost. To a brown woman. Oh for shame !

Yep I was being a dickhead. I can be. And you know what I don't care. I don't have to be a good girl because it upsets someone else's narrative about me. I am done with anyone who wants me to be their idea of what an indian woman is supposed to be. If having an attitude and being angry is not what you expected from me so what ? I'm not a meek and quiet woman. For years I would beat myself up for being too outspoken. I'd try to train myself to keep my thoughts inside, to shut up and not express an opinion so as not to cause upset. It never lasted. I did this for years and I'm done with that. I am not going to apologise for who I am. Not any more.

Do you know what ? I'm pretty fucking awesome and if you don't think so then you know where the door is.*

*Yes I am angry. Very angry. I'm not really this arrogant.

From boys to... not quite men, but working on it.

When I think about my parenting I'm not proud of myself - I think only of the times I have shouted at my kids, the arguments we've had, the seemingly never ending stream of, "don't do that," "no !" "stop it !" and "leave your brother alone." Then I catch sight of one of my boys. I saw Blue Bear putting on his shoes and thought, "when did he learn to do that ?" I forgot all the times I sat with him and put his shoes on or showed him how to put them on. This evening I went to see how Brown Bear was getting on with his homework and he asked me how to do the maths puzzles so I told him to look for the pattern and he said, "Ok, I've got it now." I came back a few minutes later and he was racing through them. He did indeed have it.

I've been cooking with the boys recently - Blue Bear and I made pastries and I said "let's brush them with milk," and he said, "I'll do it Mummy." I watched as he carefully and precisely brushed milk over them and could not believe this was my baby boy. Brown Bear is really keen to apply for junior bake off so I agreed to help him practise. He has spent a lot of time designing a showstopper cake, so I thought I'd get him started with a family favourite. We baked some banana bread and he followed the recipe from my notebook, measured the ingredients with me using digital scales, mixed the batter using an electric hand whisk and timed the cooking. He was very happy with the cake, but insisted that next time he bakes will do it all himself. I think he will too !

In the last few days the Guardian ran a piece by a man explaining how he feels that his work as a stay at home parent is undervalued compared with paid work outside the home. This was greeted with a national chorus of "well duh !" from women (and men). Way to go there Guardian, some epic mansplaining and complete disregard for what women have been saying for, oh I dunno, decades ? I feel devalued as a person because my worth in financial terms is non-existent. I can show you my children, my home, my writing, but I can't show you any pay for those 'jobs' and I don't have any references. The joint decision we made that I would take care of our children and Hubbie would work did not include an agreement to become invisible and irrelevant. So, yes, women's work is devalued and let's be honest parenting is still seen as 'women's work.'

On the toughest days I tell Hubbie that he should stay at home and I can go to work again. He can be the one who acts as referee, cook, butler, party planner, tutor, playmate and occasional furniture. I can be the one who gets to talk to adults, read my ipad on the train, make small talk with people in shops, take a phone call without being interrupted by a small child needing something urgently (a wooden train, a drink of water, the answer to why is the cat white ?). My friend Yasmin told me today she has the same conversation with her husband and then she said something that I've heard so many times before, but today I really felt it. "What we're doing is so important. This matters."

This morning we all went on the school run. The boys on their scooters, Hubbie on his bike and me on foot. It was Blue Bear's first day and Brown Bear was so proud to take his little brother to school. We took the obligatory photo before we left - not in front of the door though, I don't do that cliche - then made our way up the hill. As the boys scootered off into the woods Hubbie said to me, "Well done. You did it, you got them here." The boys parked their scooters next to each other outside the school office and Brown Bear held his brother's hand to walk him to the nursery gate. I swelled with pride - then took a deep sigh of relief.

Tonight as I put Brown Bear to bed he asked me to sit on his bed so he could read me a story called "I love my mummy because..." and looked at me after each page, "...she gives me hugs... she is beautiful... she holds my hand, etc." We hugged each other and I said, "I loved that story baby, thank you."

No, I don't get paid. There's no Christmas party, or secret Santa. My reward is seeing my boys grow up. To watch them become the amazing young men I know they will be. I can live with that.

My secret life as the Easter Bunny

We don't celebrate Easter as such, we're not Christians so it isn't a religous thing for us at all. However, it does often coincide with the Sikh celebration of Vasaikhi which marks the formation of the Sikh faith. So in that sense we do make a big deal of it.

On the last day of term I organised an Easter egg hunt for all the children in Brown Bear's class with all the mums kindly donating chocolate for the goody bags and controlled chaos while the kids searched for the plastic eggs that were hidden all over the pub garden. It was great fun and they all enjoyed it very much.

Last week I took the bears to Bromley and we went for a nice lunch, played in a fantastic playground in the sunshine and took part in an Easter hunt to find the bunnies hidden in shop windows. It was quite a walk to find them all, but the boys loved it and at the end they got a chocolate egg for their trouble. "Can we eat it now ?" asked Brown Bear, and I said they could as they'd been so good.

Finding a bunny in a shop window 

The next day I took them to Ikea for yet another egg hunt which again was a bit of a trek, with Brown Bear writing down all the answers on his sheet and at the end the boys both got an ice cream cone.

Tonight I've been sorting all the eggs and gifts the boys have been given into separate bags and am astonished at how much they have been given. Our lovely generous families and neighbours have all given them Easter gifts in addition to our own presents for them. Every year we have an egg hunt at home and I hide lots of small eggs around the garden with a big egg at the end. This year they will already have got so much chocolate I'm not sure they can handle any more.

Tomorrow we're surprising the boys and going to a steam railway with another Easter egg hunt. It's the perfect combination of steam trains and chocolate, I can't imagine anything my boys would love more.

Ok, so none of these are especially traditional activities, but they all involve an element of searching for clues, writing things down and a treat at the end. I mention this because rather than just handing them a chocolate or an ice cream - which of course I could do - they are doing something to 'earn' it, working something out or finding things. They get a sense of achievement from taking part and are rewarded with a treat at the end.

A few sweeties for Easter 

Do I spoil my children ? Yes of course I do. It makes up for all the times that I feel incompetent, useless or think I've been overly hard on them.  It's my job to raise my children to be kind, thoughtful, helpful people. It's also my pleasure to make them smile and laugh. To give them the pure joy of having a chocolate or a sweet just because and for them to enjoy it guilt free. I write them notes from the Tooth Fairy, leave them little traces to indicate that Father Christmas has been and pop little secret notes where they can find them from me just to tell them I love them.

Now I have to hide chocolate in the garden and leave clues from the Easter Bunny - shh don't tell anyone. 

Breakfast in bed and other fantasies

In what can only be a ridiculous trick of fate it's mothering sunday tomorrow and also the day that the clocks go forward for daylight saving. So I get to enjoy an hour less sleep before 'my day.' Of course it's not strictly mine. I'm not greedy and I do realise that I share it with other mothers, grandmothers, carers and special people. Last weekend we took mother in law out for lunch to celebrate with her and tomorrow Hubbie is taking the bears to visit my mum so she can spend it with her grandchildren. We like to spoil the mums and seeing the boys makes them happy so that's two for one right there. 

Movie night with my boy 

On Friday evening me and Brown Bear held our inaugural movie night with popcorn, marshmallows, big drinks and the Empire Strikes Back. I wanted to do something with just him and me and I hope to make it a regular thing. It's little things like this that I love to do and it doesn't have to be on a special day. The other weekend we made indian food together and he tried a few dishes he's never eaten before. You see this is what I like to do with my kids and I'd rather do that on any day than make a fuss on one day of the year. I don't need the album full of terrible ballads that's released for mothering sunday, or a bouquet at an inflated cost and with a high quotient of pink and purple flowers in it. 

For the last week or so the boys have been making gifts at school and nursery and Brown Bear has already given me two cards in advance. He's terrible at keeping secrets and can't stop himself giving things away which is so sweet. Blue Bear is pretty oblivious to it really, but he's going to do whatever his brother does so I expect a hilarious double act to ensue. 

So what am I doing tomorrow ? I'd like to wake up in newly changed sheets, but that means I have to do them tonight. I'd like breakfast in bed, so I've bought everything I like so that it's already in the house and all they have to do is assemble it. Then I'm spending the day at a yoga workshop with fellow graduates of the school where I trained to teach. I will spend the morning with my boys - of course - but for 'my day' I want to do something just for me. This way I don't have to be on my best behaviour for my boys, I can relax and be a grown up with other grown ups and they can brighten someone else's day instead. I'm doing this my way. I'm mum every day so I think I can have one day when I'm off the clock. Also, considering that I'll be getting one hour fewer I don't want to squander it telling them not to argue or asking them to put socks on. 

I will also be thinking of those who will not be celebrating tomorrow and for whom mothering sunday may be a sad or difficult day. 

Right, I've got to get an early night !!

My mantra right now

Ctrl, Alt, Delete to reboot this week

I'm been a bit worse for wear this weekend. My cough has just got so much worse and I'm tired and achey. On Saturday I thought I was just hungover, which is such a rarity these days, as I just don't drink much at all. On Friday afternoon I took the boys for an afternoon play date at the home of one of Brown Bear's school friends. Her mum fired up the barbeque and had the paddling pool out and all of us mums sat in the garden chatting and enjoying lovely food and drink while our kids played and had fun. I had the best afternoon I've had for a long while. Hence more to drink that I am used to.

These mums knew me before Blue Bear came along and are kind enough to say they can see how far we've come. Their children are the same age as Brown Bear so if he's being annoying they help give me a sense of perspective as they also deal with similar behaviours from their own. Instead of worrying and being on edge I decided to enjoy some wine and to kick back. I called Hubbie to come and pick us up so I didn't have to drive and I'm so glad I did. I needed to give myself a break. I needed to just be nice to myself for a change.

I've heard it so many times and I've never really believed it. It is clearly true though - I am too hard on myself. I set myself unrealistic standards and if I fall short I punish myself forever. I spend far too much time telling myself that I fall short as a parent and as a result of this self-flagellation I'm not as good as I could be. The self-fulfilling prophecy nature of parenting is brought into even sharper focus during the school holidays when we're all trying to keep the kids busy and ourselves from going spare at the same time. I find myself shopping almost every day to keep on top of packed lunches for playscheme and food to stop the boys from yelling at me when they are tired and hungry. I can't leave the house without a kit bag of snacks, drinks and - as I discovered on Friday when I forgot it - my band card in case of unexpected spends.

The reality I have to face is that I only need to aim for average. This isn't an instagram family with perfect shots of us all laughing and smiling and playing in fun and exciting places. So long as my boys are fed, watered and safe I have fulfilled the basics. Anything above and beyond is a bonus, but not necessary. I'm not about to win any awards for this. I'm too short-tempered and my kids are too sarcastic for that to happen.

If I find myself getting all het up I'm going to remember that I'm with them every day and no one can sustain joy and happiness all the time. Instead of setting myself unrealistic goals I'm going to be kind to myself and them.

My aims for this week are simple - to smile at my kids, to hug my kids, to tell them I love them. If I manage to do that I'll consider that a win.

Heroes don't wear Fit Flops.

When people hear that Blue Bear is adopted it brings out some strange remarks. I find that it inspires pity, "Oh poor you having to get a second hand baby," or something like awe "I don't know how you do it. You're so good." I am used to both reactions now and try my best to find a way to look as if this is the first time I've heard those comments.

Both reactions baffle me really, but the reason they do is the same. I don't see my son as a good deed. The fact that we tried for years to fall pregnant and were told it might not happen made us determined to adopt. I had been prodded and checked and Hubbie had been tested. The medical professionals didn't sound hopeful and it was increasingly depressing to hear how unlikely it was going to be that we'd ever be parents. So we decided to go ahead and proceed with adoption.

We were questioned and assessed and checked. We had professionals comment on our relationship, our home, our families, our friends, our finances and even our cat. We sat in a room with 13 people who decided if we were fit to be parents and then waited for them to tell us that we would be allowed to adopt. Then we waited. And waited. There were children who we knew we could be parents to and who we asked to be matched with. We waited some more.

After almost a year of waiting and when we least expected it I fell pregnant with Brown Bear. It was amazing and unexpected and exciting. Our families were delighted. I sat in the Sanctuary in Covent Garden with a close friend and told her I was pregnant and she started to cry - to be honest most people did when we told them. Even father in law who is not known for his emotional responses. Our first son was universally adored and everything we had hoped for and dreamed of.

We had always talked about having a few children, but as it had taken so long we were grateful for the one we had and hoped that lightning might strike twice. It did. I fell pregnant again and we rejoiced, but it wasn't quite right. Something wasn't the same and sure enough I miscarried very early on. We made a deal to move on and get on with being the best parents we could to Brown Bear.

Then we made the decision to go back to adoption - we knew the process this time round and it was closer to home. We also had the advantage of being parents already so we thought we knew what we were getting into. Again with the checking and the questions and the visits from professionals. This time it also involved our son and I resolved that if he did not seem to be ok with it at any time we would just stop.

When we were matched with Blue Bear we played it cool. Not because we didn't absolutely adore him and want him to be part of our family, but because we had no idea if this was real or not. If he would be dangled before us only to be taken away and offered to someone else. It was safer for us to just wait and see what happened. Before long it was real. He was in our lives and our home and everything changed again.

In my head the boys would love each other and be great mates. Instead they spent the first 6-9 months fighting, arguing, screaming for my attention and hating each other intensely. I felt torn in two and like a terrible mother for inflicting this pain on my children. Most days I was convinced it would never get better. When people smiled and said, "Oh he really loves you doesn't he ?" I'd nod and smile back all the while thinking, "He doesn't have a choice. No one asked him who he wanted to live with." Even now not everyone knows how Blue Bear came to us. If it's relevant I will mention it, but it's not necessarily an opener for a conversation is it ?

So to come back to the pity and awe that I'm greeted with. I don't need the head tilt and pity. I am blessed to have two wonderful sons who are funny, smart, handsome and kind. They love each other and fight like brothers do. I also don't need the suggestion that we are saintly in any way. For me it's pretty simple. We wanted to have another child in the family. It wasn't going to be in the conventional way and with my history of falling pregnant it certainly wasn't likely to happen 'by accident.'

Adoption was an entirely selfish act on my part. I got to have the baby I wanted without incurring any stretch marks. Brown Bear got to have a brother without having to wait for the boring bit when he was a baby and wasn't at all interesting to play with. At first he was intensely annoying taking toys and things, but now Brown Bear loves having a Blue Bear shadow and is realising the benefits of having a younger sibling who hero worships him. The cat has a new infant to train up and already has Blue Bear bringing him tins of cat food (even if he can't actually open them.) Hubbie has a 'mini me' who adores him - who wouldn't want that ?

Brown Bear is my first born. Blue Bear is my youngest. Neo was my first adoptee. Hubbie has been my constant in all of this. We've shared the pain, the sadness, the joy, the bafflement, the sheer bloody-mindedness and the love.

It's not heroism. It's not charity. This is my family.

I went to Cornwall and found my bliss

As a family we absolutely love visiting Cornwall, so when my lovely friend Pippa told me she was arranging a Mama's retreat I was very interested. It's my birthday soon and Hubbie asked if I'd like to go as an early birthday gift. He booked annual leave to do the school and nursery runs and assured me it would all be fine if I went. So I packed the car on Tuesday and tuned into Radio 4 for the 5 hour drive to visit my lovely friend Penny the night before the retreat started.

I've spent three days child free and enjoyed the company of friends old and new. I've been nourished in so many ways: physically with a facial, a massage and reflexology, emotionally by taking time for myself and actually with wonderful food. I'm feeling so blissed out I wanted to share some photos to give you an idea of what the experience was like.

We ate delicious vegetarian food:

Pea and Mint Fritatta

Courgette and lime cake 

We created things from nature:

Lovely inspirational messages

My interpretation of the cove

We walked and admired the beautiful Prussia Cove:

Off for a meditative walk

It's a stunning place 

A bit steep 

We enjoyed a lovely, relaxing yoga practice:

A beautiful room for yoga

Pink flamingo nails 

I've come home energised and refreshed and am looking forward to seeing my beloved boys in the morning. I can't believe I was even worried about going !

I hope the bliss lasts.

Beware the lioness

I experienced a moment of parenting today that I haven't had before. I wanted to punch a young lad in the face. Someone else's child. I don't know this kid or his parents and I don't even feel bad about it.

Big Boy had a try out swimming lesson at a different pool and he did really well. He was by far the youngest in his group, but as I watched him turning his head and sweeping his arms doing front crawl I was so proud of how well he was doing. I've been taking him swimming since he was a baby so he's very comfortable in the water, but he isn't so keen on change. I talked to him on the way to the pool and said that all I asked was that he do his best. If he enjoyed it that was great and if not that was fine too.

All of this preparation was because we went to a dance class yesterday morning and he just wasn't into it at all. Another mum from school teaches ballroom and had invited the children to try a class with her so as a lot of the children from his class were going I thought it was worth a go. Big Boy has pretty good co-ordination and I've been practising yoga with both boys at home so they are pretty flexible too. He stood at the back of the room and reluctantly joined in, but after a while it was clear that he just wasn't enjoying it. I accepted that he wasn't going to be on Strictly any time soon and moved on.

So when he seemed to be getting on so well this morning I was delighted. Until after the lesson. All the children of different ages went to the showers and my little boy went with his shower gel bottle in his hand. He took off his swimming trunks and showered as he always does after swimming. An older boy standing next to him sniggered and looked over at his friends. They were keeping their trunks on and were clearly too cool to have a proper shower.

I was furious. I wanted to shout at those horrible, snide kids. How dare they body shame my 5 year old boy ? Who on earth did they think they were to laugh at my boy ? I helped him dry off and get dressed and he said,
"Mummy I took my trunks off, but no one else did."
"Maybe they don't know how to wash properly. You don't keep your clothes on to have a shower do you ?"
"No. Two of the boys were laughing at me."
"I know baby. That was rude of them. If I see them I'm going to talk to them about that."
He wasn't upset, he was just telling me what happened. I felt upset on his behalf.

I was determined to have it out with those nasty boys, but they all looked the same and as they came out dressed I had no idea if they had passed me already. Big Boy sat at the table in the cafe eating his Hula Hoops and I watched every face that left the changing rooms for a clue. In the end I accepted that if he was ok with it I just had to be too. I'm not. Of course I'm not. The tiger mama part of me that wants to protect my cubs from any harm or humiliation is still angry.

I told Hubbie about it when we got home.
Me: "If that horrid boy is there next week I'm going to give him what for."
Hubbie: "Maybe it's best if I take Big Boy swimming next week."
 - pause -
Me: "Ok, I think that might be best."

The road less travelled: for those of us who really had to work at becoming a Mum.

Mothers Day is one of the biggest days of the year for florists and restaurants do pretty well out of it too. We've always made a big deal about it for my Mother and Hubbie's Mum too. Then after we had our son it took a while for me to realise that it was my day now too. I recall how hard it was before then when we were trying for so long and being reminded of what we didn't have was just so painful. A card from the cat is lovely, but the feeling that you will always be congratulating everyone else on their pregnancy and never celebrating your own can become very wearing.

When people know you're trying to conceive it is amazing what they say to be helpful. I was told to try hypnotherapy, acupuncture, reflexology and my personal favourite Shamanic healing. We did actually try yoga, hypnotherapy and reflexology and when I did finally fall pregnant with our son I called him the baby that yoga built.

In trying again I did the same things I had before. Stopped eating rubbish food, cut back on alcohol increased my fitness and made time to look after myself better. The hardest part was trying not to be upset at everyone else becoming pregnant easily while we struggled month after month. A friend suggested trying an ovulation monitoring kit and I was already using an app to track ovulation. When it still didn't happen I figured we were probably just unlucky. Then the lovely folks at Ovusense asked if we'd try their new fertility monitor. It's completely different from the kit I'd used before and is new to the UK. Here is what OvuSense say about the system.

"OvuSense is a new, highly accurate fertility monitor.  OvuSense consists of a personal sensor and a data reader. The sensor is placed in the vagina (similar to a tampon) overnight – the only place where accurate readings of core body temperature can be made.  OvuSense uses patented technology to measure core body temperature every 5 minutes, inside the vagina, while you sleep, providing you a complete picture of your personal cycle. OvuSense predicts ovulation in real time in each cycle, and detects the exact day of ovulation with 99% accuracy.  In just two weeks, OvuSense can tell you when you are going to ovulate, and then calculate the exact day for you with 99% accuracy. Only OvuSense can calculate this much personal information about your cycle with this much accuracy."

It does take some getting used to and the first couple of months the system is getting baseline readings on which to base future predictions. You do get a reading daily and it does say when your fertile window is coming up which is similar to the existing systems I've used before. Where this differs is that you will then get a much more accurate reading telling you when you actually did ovulate and all the information is recorded so that you can compare one month with another.

I found out that I ovulate later than I thought I did and that is really helpful to know. It is also really good for women who have PCOS or unpredictable cycles so they have no way of working out when they are ovulating. If you have an accurate window for ovulation you have a better chance of succeeding in becoming pregnant. The great thing about Ovusense is there is an online support community on Facebook that is a great place to ask questions and to find out more.

The hardest part of trying to conceive for me was the feeling of being alone and not being able to talk to anyone about it. When those around you can just decide to have another baby and it happens for them and you're trying month after month without success it's pretty disheartening. Ovusense answer questions and offer online support as well as sharing success stories from women who have used the system. For a woman who has no idea why she's not conceiving it's a good way to feel a bit more in control of at least part of the process.

I would definitely recommend using the Ovusense fertility monitor as it's really been an eye opener for me. It is not the cheapest fertility monitoring kit, but it's a lot more scientific than anything I've tried before and the data it collects is far more accurate. The online support is a great resource and for anyone trying to conceive it makes what can be a lonely and long road feel less so.

Disclosure: We were sent the Ovusense fertility monitor to review and to give honest opinions.
You can find out more about the product here: www.ovusense.com

I'm a mother: you'd better believe it !!

This afternoon we went to our first Build-a-Bear workshop party and my boy made a fabulous Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (or Ginger Turtle as he called it) bear complete with fighting swords. It was great fun - we even managed to sneak some stuffing into his bedraggled old bear so he now looks less like the 'before' bear story and more like he used to in his glory days. 

At the pizzeria afterwards there was an incident with hot tea and me running over to a sink carrying my 4 year old boy to run cold water over his arms to prevent scalding. All the other parents were watching and one lovely Mum stood close by with her tiny baby reassuring me that he was ok - afterwards I realised that she is a medical professional. 

At the tram stop going home I was shaking as I phoned Hubbie to tell him what had happened. As soon as I rang off I burst into tears. I crouched down to my son's level and kept repeating over and over, "I'm so sorry." He touched my face and said, "It's ok Mummy, don't cry."

When I have to be I'm tough, practical and have the strength of Hercules. What I am all the time is my son's mother. More than any other time I feel the need to listen to this song tonight:

Say Hello (to work) and Wave Goodbye (to being a SAHM)

I'm going to miss nonsense like this

I'm going back to work next month after being at home with my boy for almost all of his first four years of life. Since I found out that I'll be working full time I've worried about a lot of things.

• whether my boy will be able to manage a longer day once he's going to breakfast club before school and creche after school 

• not being there to drop him off - Hubbie will be doing the morning school run

• how I'll cope with having to get up and commute again. I really hate commuting 

• whether or not I'll be able to get myself organised so that I have breakfast and lunch with me to stop me spending money on food 

• getting back from work in time to pick up my boy at the mercy of London Transport 

• having enough time to make a meal for us in the evening instead of just putting stuff in the microwave

• reducing the frequency that I swim from daily to whenever I can when I no longer have the whole day to fit it in

• will the house ever get cleaned when I'm working full time ? 

• how my boy will adapt to my working again instead of being 'his Mummy' for a living. 

I've been talking to the boy about my return to work for a while now - since before I was offered a job in fact. I told him Mummy would be going to work and he asked me why. I said it was because he is a big boy now and I can go to work in the day while he is at school. He was ok with that. In fact he seems to be excited about the prospect of going to breakfast club and creche and I have to accept that he might be looking forward to some 'mummy-free' time. Ouch !

 My boy's preferred job right now

It would appear that the only thing I haven't worried about is doing the actual job. Not because I'm so blasé that I think I will be fine, but I just haven't given it any thought yet. My lovely friend Soraya not only sent me the job advert, but helped me prepare for the interview and was pretty much holding my hand the whole day I was there (metaphorically speaking of course). She's been amazingly supportive and told me not to worry about childcare - these things work out she said - and today she asked me how I felt about the job. She knows the person who is doing the role at the moment and they are pretty impressive shoes to fill. I honestly don't know, but it's an area of work that I feel strongly about and that I believe I can make a contribution to. It's going to be challenging and interesting and terrifying all at the same time.

So for now I'm going to just worry about letting go of my current role as stay-at-home parent, because that's what this is. I'm reluctant to share the load with anyone - even Hubbie - because I've become so used to doing it myself. The dropping off, the picking up, the school meetings, the swimming lessons, the meal planning and preparation, the in-between shops for items that run out midweek and the weekday appointments for pet immunisations. The meticulous planning of every hour of every day to ensure nothing is missed and that I wring out as much as I can from the meagre 24 hours I've got.

I'll start thinking about my new role as a working parent later. When I've chosen what to wear for my first day. Worked out the best route to and from work. When I've packed my bag and managed to include everything I need for the whole day. When I've remembered what it feels like to wake up so early that it's still dark while I walk to the tram stop in the morning. When I look out of the window of the train or the office and see the world that I've been away from. When I have more conversations with adults in a day than with a 4 year old and when I make and finish a brew while it's still hot enough to call tea.

In short, when it feels real.

I can only hope it's this light when I leave the house

For Hubbie, on Fathers' Day

It's Father's Day this weekend so we've had the usual bombardment of advertising persuading us to buy sarcastic cards and silly, but fun gifts for Dads. One article I read this week asked if we are disrespectful of fathers and their place in society. It is a stark contrast with Mother's Day if you consider the fluffiness factor of the cards, flowers, chocolates and the suggested gifts for Mums. We are encouraged to thank them and to spoil them on their special day. With Fathers we're enticed to make them laugh or send them to jump out of a plane.

To be honest I've never made a big deal about Father's Day for my own Dad. Whereas I'll take my Mum out for pampering or a nice lunch the most I'll do for my Dad is a card and maybe a pair of socks. Hubbie is about the same so while we take Mother-in-law out for lunch Father-in-law gets a card and a phone call to wish him a nice day on the golf course. It's not like our Dads even want the fuss so we're not exactly being nasty, it's just how it's always been really.

Hubbie protecting our boy from a snake

In my case I'm careful not to pick a card that thanks him for all he's done for me (not a great deal) or professing my love for him (that would just be embarrassing). You see our Dads were at their parenting peak when it was still considered the main role of a Father to be the breadwinner and the 'man of the house.' That was not a role that my Father was able or willing to occupy. He was there, I'll give him that, but he wasn't a willing or particularly pleasant Father to me or my brother. He's fine as a Grandfather and that is why he is still in my life.

The role of a Father is very different now and our expectations of what a Father can do are much higher. It is considered remiss if a man isn't there for the birth of his child or if he's not prepared to change or feed his child. In the same way that Mothers are always in the spotlight and being judged, so are Fathers. Yet the day that is supposed to be set aside to thank them is almost considered a joke. Mother's day is one of the busiest in the year for florists. There is no equivalent for Father's Day.

Daddy is almost as tall as the Gruffalo !

We do make a fuss of Hubbie on Father's Day. Maybe because it was such a big deal for us to become parents in the first place, but mostly because he's a great Dad. Just as they make big deal about me I like to do the same for him and it's a long way to his birthday so it's nice to have an excuse to spoil him for a change.

Hubbie works a long day and comes home in time to do bedtime every evening. The only time he isn't is if there is a gig or a midweek football match that he wants to go to, but that's pretty rare actually so when he does want to go it would be churlish to deny him the occasional night out.

Since the boy was a few weeks old they have had 'Daddy Day' every Saturday of the football season. They have a boys' day out and I have the day to myself. Whether I use it to clean the house or to meet up with friends it's been a blessing.

He never complains about the house, my appearance, the food I prepare or anything really. Not that he ever did before, but whoever said that giving a man a baby means you're off the hook forever was pretty much right. He comes home and me, the boy and the cat are all ok and that makes his day.

So today we're doing things that make Hubbie happy; going swimming, taking him for brunch, getting out the barbecue that he loves so much and generally spoiling him in between all of these activities.

He deserves it :)

My boys :)

One weekend, three Mums :)

This weekend it's Mother's Day (if you're in the UK that is - our American friends celebrate in May for some reason). It'll be my 4th one as a Mum and I've planned a lovely pampering day on Saturday which my Mum is coming to and then lunch with Mother-in-law on Sunday. We've kind of got the hang of this thing now. My first one was a little fraught as my boy was only 6 months old and while I enjoyed having a day of being pampered I did actually want to spend some of the day with my son and Hubbie.

Me and my Mum at West Pier Brighton

We are both lucky that we have our Mums and we make sure they are thoroughly spoiled and that they get to see their grandson, which is no less than they deserve. They seem to enjoy spending time with the boy and as time goes on it gets difficult to think of things they don't already have lots of. In the past I've deluged my Mum with scarves, chocolate, flowers and all manner of gifts. In recent years I've noticed that I have inherited a habit from my Mum and her Mum (my Naniji) of saying that I don't want anything. I never understood it, but as time goes on I notice that with Christmas, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and then my birthday in the space of 6 months it does get a little crowded and I don't need that much. We're still working our way through all the chocolate we got at Christmas so I've embargoed all chocolate gifts until after Easter. This also helps with my getting fit and training for the Moonwalk so double bubble.

Hubbie with Mother-in-law

I prefer to have some pampering and relaxation so that's what I'll be doing courtesy of my boys. The nice thing about having some time to chill out is that I get to reflect on how far we've come as parents and what my boy can do now that I catch myself being amazed by.

• He can brush his own teeth. I remember when he didn't have any teeth

• He chooses his own clothes - sometimes many times a day - and he checks himself in the mirror !

• He asks questions and responds to the answers - I remember when he would burble and smile at whatever I said *sighs longingly*

• He can use scissors - properly - this still makes me wince and I keep wanting to take them out of his hands

• He can hold a conversation with a pilot, a cab driver or an airport official. I know adults who can't do this ! 

• He knows to speak up and look at his grandparents who are deaf when he talks to them - he doesn't shout

• He corrects me. Often. It drives me crazy

• He calls for me when he is hurt or upset - it makes me feel important - one day he won't 

The thing I like the best is when he gives me a big hug and a kiss and says, "Mummy, I love you more than Jiggles." Jiggles is the bear he loves most in the whole world.

Whatever you do I hope you have a wonderful Mother's Day :)

Me with my one day old boy

Don't mess with me - I'm a Mum !

In the last week I've heard more than one discussion that has been focused on the old and - I believe - false distinction between Mums who work and those who stay at home. In one case it was about how women who don't have kids resent those who do as they feel they have to pick up the slack left by their workshy parent colleagues. Then there is that old chestnut about working mums vs stay at home mums. On Radio 4 You and Yours had a woman representing stay at home Mums and a lawyer who returned to work two weeks after giving birth to each of her five children. One caller referred to her role staying at home being so vital because "the most important thing we can give our children is love," thus implying that by returning to work a mother does not love her children as much.

I say it's a false distinction because I honestly believe that with a few exceptions we are all doing the best we can. If we're working we're trying to do the best for our family and if we're at home we're trying to do the best for our family too. No one is deliberately trying to compete with 'the other side' and what about those of us who do both ? I work some of the time, parent most of the time and feel like I'm underperforming all of the time.

The most recent discussion has been about discrimination against women returning from maternity leave and I can very closely identify with this. I returned to work after a year at home with my son and I believe I was constructively dismissed as my boss told me he hadn't been expecting I'd be coming back to his department so he didn't have anything for me to do. At meetings I was invisible and my colleagues pretty much ignored me. When the offer of voluntary redundancy came round I discussed it with Hubbie and we agreed I'd take it and became a stay at home parent as a result. I had worked hard for a promotion before maternity leave in the hope I'd go back to my well paid job and be able to work part time and still earn a good wage. Instead I took a lump sum that cost me my career progression and future job prospects.

Now I'm working again and it's for a lower wage and the work is far more stressful - or does it just seem that way because I'm doing the work while also being a Mum ? I've mentioned before how my own mother worked full time, raised four children and made a home cooked meal every night. She did all this and balanced the family budget on less than I earn now with my part time salary (although I question whether 4 days a week is really part time as it doesn't feel like it !). I've always worried about money. When I had no money I worried about not having enough money. When I earned a lot of money I worried about maintaining my well paid work. Now I worry about having enough money and when I go out for a meal I still scan the menu to make sure I don't pick the most expensive dish and if have wine it's only ever one glass so that I don't go over budget.

We're not badly off by any stretch of the imagination, but I still worry because that's what I'm programmed to do. I ponder the career cul-de-sac I find myself in and any discussion that suggests my son is adversely affected by my being a working mother adds to my anxiety. Bottom line is that some women want to work and some women have to work. Some women choose to stay at home with their children and some don't get a choice. Creating these false walls and comparing apples with oranges doesn't put food on the table or get the children ready for school. It just makes some of us feel a little bit worse.

I don't know about you, but I really don't have time for all that. I have a Hubbie, a son and a cat to take care of.