I taught my son to make me tea - now that's what I call self care !

At the weekend me and Hubbie spent a couple of days on our own in Cornwall. We dropped off the boys with Grandma and Grandma and as we left she remarked on how surprised she was we were going so far away for just a couple of days. Yes it was a lot of driving and it was a long way, but it was entirely worth it.

Within minutes of being child-free we were joking and making each other laugh. We listened to the music we wanted to, we ate sweets without having to hide them from ears that can hear the rustle of a toffee wrapper, but not, "stop hitting your brother." I even managed to snooze for a while, made much simpler without the shrill demands from the back of the car for different tunes, a snack, a drink or a toilet stop. 

I had bought tickets for us to see Bjork at the Eden Project and we decided to make a weekend away of it. Blue Bear stayed with Grandparents and Brown Bear had a boys' weekend with Hubbie's brother. We went to a place we love and saw an amazing gig together almost 2 years to the day we did it last. Brown Bear went swimming, had Subway for lunch (which he loves), pizza for dinner and watched the World Cup games with his equally football-loving uncle. Blue Bear had his grandparents all to himself and when I called on the phone I could hardly believe how chatty he was. The weather was gorgeous, everyone got to do something they wanted to - even Grandpa who escaped to play golf - he loves his grandkids, but only for short periods of time and preferably only one at a time. 

It was a year ago that I went away to Brighton on my own and went to a show and stayed in a nice hotel. I had been looking after the boys full time for so long I was feeling resentful, tired and fed up. The room was fancy, I went shopping, had a nice dinner and went to bed in a huge double bed all by myself. I got up early to go for a run and felt amazing. I ate breakfast - which I often don't get to do - and went back to bed after a shower and watched TV. It was blissful and relaxing. 

A lot of people passed comment about my choice to be away from my kids - which was interesting as I didn't see them there when I was struggling to keep myself together. People often say the words "me-time" with a sneer, as if it's self-indulgent or somehow spoiled. I know it's not possible for everyone who needs a break to do that and I am fortunate that I can take time for myself if I want to. It's taken me years to value myself enough to do it though. For so long after we adopted Blue Bear it was difficult and emotionally overwhelming. I was trying to love and care for two boys who were in the throes of complete meltdown and I was left completely empty. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't coping as I was terrified that if I did they would take Blue Bear away from us. I'd be deemed an unfit parent - that might even affect Brown Bear. I started to believe that my incapacity was detrimental to my kids. I asked other parents at school to help me, but very few were willing or able to. I chose to be absent from taking Brown Bear to school so they wouldn't see how terrible a parent I was. As soon as Hubbie came home from work I would go out of the house to get away from the demands of my two little boys. 

Then my lovely friend Pippa advertised a Mama's retreat in Cornwall and I mentioned it to Hubbie. He said if I wanted to go he'd be happy to take care of the boys. I booked a ticket and took the car for the weekend. The long drive was wonderful. It reminded me of the days when I travelled all over the UK and delivered talks at schools and then later at Rotary meetings. I spent two days away from my boys, in a beautiful house in Cornwall with sea views and no internet. It was wonderful. I promised myself that I would take better care of myself and not let it get to the stage where I was that broken again. 

Self care can be a little thing we do every day. It might be drinking a cup of coffee on your own before anyone else wakes up. Going for a walk instead of sitting at your desk all day. Listening to music you love and singing loudly along with it (in privacy mind - don't destroy someone else's peace in order to enjoy yours). Having some nice chocolate instead of a rice cake. I take a cup of tea in a thermos mug with me in the morning. I drink it on the tram, then the train and by the time I get to work I am halfway human. It's the one I have after that which enables me to actually function. 

If I ever doubt the benefits of taking care of myself I cast my mind back to one afternoon in the summer holidays when Blue Bear first came to live with us. He was screaming at me for my attention and Brown Bear was doing the same thing. I was in the hallway with one child on the stairs who I was trying to protect from falling and the other was in the front room swinging the door which made me fear he would hurt himself on it. If I turned to help one the other would alert me to the imminent danger he was in and vice versa. It felt like I was being torn in two by these children who I love and want to protect with all my heart. The old saying about putting on your oxygen mask applies here. How on earth could I take care of my boys if I wasn't even taking care of myself ? 

When anyone makes comments about how I spend time away from my children I smile sweetly and say, "I've earned it - I've done my time." This parenting malarky isn't meant to be an endurance test. There are no prizes for suffering the most or for martyrdom. If there were I know plenty who'd compete for the trinkets. I taught Brown Bear how to make a cup of tea for Mummy at the weekend. Not pouring the boiling water you understand, but the practicalities of adding a little milk at a time and taking his time to get it right. I praised him for doing a great job and Blue Bear told me he wanted to do it next time. I explained that he is too young. 

"Mummy I'm nearly five !" 

Fair point, well made.  

Part of taking time for self care is also about knowing I've done enough to let go of the reins sometimes. After all, I'm not going to picking up boy socks my entire life am I ? 

Seriously, am I ? 

A year of love, laughter and memories

A year ago today was a very special day for my family. I took the phone call that told me the judge had formalised the adoption and Blue Bear was officially part of the family. I called Hubbie to tell him the news. Brown Bear was at school and Blue Bear was at nursery so I pretty much got on with my day. Then we waited to be invited for the celebration day.

The sun came out that morning and it was beautiful. We all got dressed in nice clothes and travelled to meet Nanny, Granny and my sister at the court. The boys played in the sunshine and when they spotted the social workers they ran over for big hugs. Once we were all there we went in and were led to the court room to wait for the judge, who came in and congratulated me and Hubbie. She gave Blue Bear a teddy and us a certificate. We all posed for photos and it was done. We thanked the social workers for joining us, cut a cake and everyone hugged the newest family member.

Since Blue Bear came to live with us we've known he was meant to be in this family. He loves his brother. He adores his aunties and uncles and he's best friends with Neo. He's experienced so many new things with us too:

His first snow day. Making footsteps in the deep snow and building a snowman with Daddy. When he looked out of the window and saw it had melted he burst into tears.

Having watched Brown Bear on his scooter Blue Bear has been desperate to learn how to ride one too. We took him to a local park recently and he finally worked up the courage to give it a go and he loved it.

Like a lot of 3 year olds Blue Bear loves anything to do with pirates so it was heartwarming to see him having a swashbuckling adventure with Neo. Every pirate captain should have a cat first mate on board.

Blue Bear has really enjoyed the changing seasons and really loved taking autumnal walks in the crunchy leaves. I've spent months with pockets full of leaves, conkers and pinecones. 

Both boys love dressing up to play and Blue Bear especially enjoyed being a dinosaur / dragon. He's pretty ferocious isn't he ?

Taking a leaf out of his older brother's book he decided to relax with the tablet. I'm not sure why he's watching a tractor though.

We drive past the fire station every day on the way to nursery and he always counts them to see if any have gone out. We were out walking one day and just happened to spot this engine and he was delighted. Nothing beats a surprise fire engine !

We love Cornwall and it is so wonderful to take him to the beach and see him running around enjoying the sand, the sea and the ice cream.

I remember the first time he stood at the door when Hubbie was leaving for work and he said, "Bye Daddy. Later. Love oo." I laughed and my heart melted. 

Not all firsts have been successful. He tried broccoli, but decided that it's not for him really. We attempted to get him to put his face in the water at swimming and he was adamant that it just wasn't going to happen. He's taken to stamping his foot down and saying, "NO !" which is new and not entirely welcome. 

When the boys have gone to bed I go to check on them and silently watch them sleeping. Brown Bear surrounded by bears so I almost can't see him. Blue Bear lying on his back with his mouth open. I kiss them both and whisper, "I love you." Brown Bear smiles in his sleep, and sometimes Blue Bear sleepily replies, "love oo Mummy." 

We might not have been his first family, but we are his forever family. He belongs with us and we belong to him. 

A crazy little thing called love

Blue Bear woke up crying and upset this evening. He was shaking and incoherent so I talked to him softly and held him until he calmed down. As I tucked him back into bed I reassured him that Mummy and Daddy are here to protect him and take care of him. Brown Bear chimed in to say that if Blue Bear cries he will rush in to look after his brother too. This from a boy who wasn't feeling all that well himself either, but seeing his brother upset he stepped up. If that isn't love I don't know what is.

Love is being not saying. Even though Blue Bear now says, "Bye Daddy. Later. Wuv yoo." as he leaves for work (Hubbie, not my baby boy) and it's the cutest thing ever, it's not necessarily the gold standard of expressing love in this house.

Maybe it's because I'm raising boys, but I'm not exactly overwhelmed with declarations of love every day. Instead I value the slight and almost imperceptible acts of love.

A hug when I'm not expecting it - Blue Bear was sitting next to me on the sofa the other day and he leaned over and gave me a hug then sat back down on his side. 

Random notes telling me nice things - after sitting with Brown Bear one morning and drinking a cup of tea while he ate breakfast (something I never get to do usually) he wrote me this note:

Being nice to the cat - both my boys respond to Neo's pleading for food with an immediate proffering of cat food or biscuits. Tonight Brown Bear whispered, "Mummy let me show you where Neo is hiding." He was under the rocking chair and Brown Bear was delighted to have the cat in his room.

There are days when it's just too tiring. The running around, the picking up boy socks, the smells. Oh my the smells. Some days it's hard to feel love never mind show it. 

Then one of the boys will do something lovely and it's all ok. I think they get it from their Father. 

Adoption Week: So, was it worth it ?

It's my final post about adoption this week and I've decided that having written about the trials and tribulations, the challenges and the worries today would be about the rewards. I have talked to many people who've said, "we thought about adoption..." and it kind of drifts off. I'm not judging how anyone had their family. How you had your kids is your business. It's not a competition and I'm not about to win any awards for parenting. I'm doing my best, just like you. We happen to have come to adoption as a result of intention and circumstances.

So, once we've got past all the other stuff the question is always something along the lines of, 'was it worth it ?' I think this is about the perceived effort, the assessment, the waiting, the settling in, the not knowing. It's a lot to answer.

The biggest part of adoption is being an advocate for my child, in a legal sense, but also on a day to day basis I'm the one standing up for him. As well as being his parent I'm his protector - that is what adoption gives a child. It's not about a home or toys, or nice clothes. It's having someone who will talk to the parent of another child when they aren't being nice. Knowing that you are not on your own if you're feeling sad, scared, excited. Someone who will care that you don't like the dark. Who will pop in after you've gone to sleep and turn down the dimmer, just enough to help you sleep, but not so much you are scared if you wake up in the night.

For my son it's knowing that someone cares about him and wants the best for him. I'll be at the end of the phone when he's an adult and he rings to ask how to set his heating system or where to get a new tyre - just like my Mum has been for me. I'll tell him how to cook his favourite meal, "are you cooking for someone special ?" I'll enquire, "no, nobody, nothing, never mind," he'll say. He knows he can ring Dad and ask for a loan (yeah good luck with that son) or tell my sister when he's done something he is too worried to tell us about.

Adoption gives a child a family, security, someone to shout at and to be angry with. He has a safe space to have all the feelings with people whose love is all consuming and who won't walk away when it's too difficult or painful. When he has his heart broken he knows we are here to dispense hugs, cups of tea and his favourite biscuits. When the hurt is so much that it feels unbearable I will hold him (emotionally and physically) for as long as it takes.

Now that he is in this family my son has grandparents who spoil him and have pictures of him everywhere because they love him. He has a cousin and aunties and uncles who adore him. He also has a cat. Neo quite likes him too.

My boy and my cat.

We are here to celebrate his successes, to champion his ambitions, to laugh at his jokes (even the really lame ones) and to tease him when he's being daft. To notice when he is doing something new and bragging about it. Only yesterday I asked a rhetorical question and he said, clear as a bell, "I don't know." You could have thrown tennis balls into my mouth it was so wide in shock. He spoke in a full sentence.

We're the ones with mobile phone memories creaking with photos of him from every single day since he's been with us. The ones who notice the milestones, we see and record and remember. When he does something amazing I'm the one beaming, "that's my son there."

So, was it worth it ?

A million times yes. I can't believe you even have to ask.

It's Adoption Week so I've been writing about adoption every day.

To find out more about adoption week take a look here: http://www.first4adoption.org.uk/nationaladoptionweek/

Adoption Week: What is a 'real' family anyway ?

I've written about the different types of families before . It's not like as a society we're unfamiliar with the concept of single parents, step-parenting, family carers (eg. grandparents raising children), multiracial families and same sex parents. I realise that not everyone has an enlightened view on any or all of these types of families. It's a shame that for some there is an idea of the 'real' family that exists in their mind - and pretty much nowhere else. Oh and in the christian allegory / family soap from my childhood, Little House on the Prairie. I mean even Michael Landon was pushing custard uphill trying to convince the audience that this was typical family life wasn't he ?

Even thought adoption is no longer kept secret there are still so many misunderstandings about it. I often get asked where my son has come from as there is an expectation that he must be from another country. It's also common to be asked why he was adopted as if there must be some fluffy reason like they had run out of room in the mansion he was born in. There is also the misconception that babies sit around in children's homes waiting until their adopters come to find them. Like Annie, but without the singing and dancing. Or the dog.

When talking about adoption even the most understanding of people struggle with what is appropriate to say or ask. So here's my handy guide to help you stay on safe ground - and some tips on what to avoid:

• He is my youngest son thank you, not my adopted son. I don't refer to your youngest as 'the accident' or your oldest as 'the result of too much prosecco in Kos' do I ? 

• Yes he does call me Mummy. That's because I am his Mummy. He also calls Hubbie "Daddy" and his brother "Baba." I'm pretty sure he's going to call him a lot of other names before too long. 

• We are his family, yes his 'real' family. He also has a birth family and a birth mother - sometimes referred to as a 'tummy mummy' when explaining to very young children. 

• He has grandparents, aunties and uncles just like anyone else. They are his just as much as they are Brown Bear's. I am pretty sure they do not make any distinction between the boys based on how they came to the family.

• Our child was not 'taken away' from his family and 'given' to us. He's not a parcel or an unwanted toy. The decisions that have been taken about his life and the choices that have been made are complicated. They are also private. 

• It is ok to talk about adoption to us, but please show some consideration when talking about him. He has ears and so does his brother. They hear the things you say about them. If it is something you feel the need to say under your breath maybe don't say it at all. 

Blue Bear has been a wonderful addition to our family. He is fun, hilarious and cheeky. He's also stubborn as an ox and gives as good as he gets from his big brother. Anyone who meets them would have no idea that they don't have the same parents. I have been greeted with shock at this news. He looks like Hubbie, he plays tricks like Brown Bear, he dances in the car like me. 

Blue Bear is with his real family. We are his and he is ours. 

Tomorrow: Was it worth it ? 

It's Adoption Week so I'm writing about adoption every day this week.

I'll be answering questions about adoption that you may have. Feel free to comment on here or ask me on Twitter with the hashtag #askaboutadoption.

So go ahead and ask those burning questions. If I can't answer I know enough professionals who I can direct your questions to.

To find out more about adoption week take a look here: http://www.first4adoption.org.uk/nationaladoptionweek/

Where is he from ?

Love

Did you get him from an orphanage ?

No Blue Bear lived with foster carers before he joined our family.

Which country is he adopted from ? 

This one - we would not adopt internationally.

Was he badly neglected ?

That is a private matter and one that he can talk about if he chooses to when he is older. 

He seems alright - why was he taken into care ? 

I refer you to the above answer.

Did you meet his family ?

No, we didn't.

Does he call you Mummy ? 

Yes he does. I am his Mummy.

I swear he is a cat !!

Why adoption ?

We talked about adoption when we first met and it was something we agreed on. We always wanted adoption to be part of how our family was formed.

You are so brave to do that.

It's not bravery. It's parenting.

It must be so difficult. 

You have no idea. Some days it feels like the hardest thing I've ever done. Then I remember how my ankles felt when I finished the Moonwalk.

Was it worth it ? 

A million times yes.

I admire you.

Thank you. 

We are family

Parenting: past performance is no indicator of future success

Oh this parenting lark is mad isn't it ? Just as you think you have your kids figured out and it seems that the waves are settling and you may well be in for a calm and smooth crossing... The lightning flashes, the thunder claps and a whole new type of bonkers begins. We've had the screaming abdabs, throwing things, pinching, biting, threats and tears. And that's just me and Hubbie !

A sunny afternoon in the park with Baby Boy

We always have mixed feelings about school holidays. I used to look forward to spending days with my beloved boys, baking, lying in bed watching movies, going to the park, messing around in the garden. Then we had the long summer holiday last year and I changed my mind completely. Endless weeks of dealing with tantrums, tears, fighting, bad moods, refusal to take part in anything I'd book for them to do and generally just making me feel like a terrible person.

Big Boy on Brighton Beach 

I don't plan now. I take each day as it comes and have a loose idea of what we will do and nothing too structured. This has had variable results this Easter holiday. The first week I was laid up ill so Hubbie had to do all the childcare during his week of annual leave. It meant the boys went to the park every day - sometimes twice a day - and mealtimes were a bit ad hoc. Then last week I sent them to a sports camp most days to wear them out and then my lovely mum called to ask if Big Boy wanted to go over and stay there for a couple of days. It was a lifesaver. Baby Boy loves having us to himself and Big Boy gets spoiled by grandparents and auntie and uncle. It's a win win - for the kids.

Checking out the animals at Foal Farm

Then today after a particularly bad two days of meltdowns from Big Boy I asked my sister to talk to him. They are very close and have been since he was a baby, I thought if anyone could get him to open up it would be her. Afterwards I spoke to her about what's been happening and she hypothesised that he may well be feeling that while he's away Baby Boy is getting the better deal having Mummy and Daddy to himself for a few days. It had never occured to me that he might want to do that. I feel so stupid. Well, it's on my list to arrange for Baby Boy to spend some time with family so that we can have some exclusive Big Boy time.

So much still to learn. I'm so lucky to have a sister who can help me figure it out and he's very lucky he's got an aunt who loves him so much she is helping him and me to get this right.

The future's so bright my boys have gotta wear shades. 

Who wants to be a Mark Warner Mum ?

Big Boy: On tonight's edition of "Who Wants to Be a Mark Warner Mum ?" we will be asking Mummy and Daddy what makes us ideal to be a #MarkWarnerMum Blogger family.

Mummy: Remember to speak clearly and don't leave your brother out. 

Big Boy: Ok Mummy, Can I have Haribo when we finish please ?

Mummy: We'll see. 

Daddy: So what's your first question then son ? 

Big Boy: Well, I guess to start with we'd like to find out about the kind of holidays you've enjoyed before.

Mummy: Well the first photo I ever saw of me on holiday was with my Mum on the West Pier in Brighton. 

Big Boy: Where is that Mummy ? 

Mummy: Well it's not there any more, but when I was a little girl we used to go to Brighton quite a lot. 

Big Boy: Have I been there ? Was I a baby ?

Daddy: Actually the first time you went there you were in Mummy's tummy. 

Big Boy: You took me on holiday when I was zero ?

Mummy: Yes we did. We did have a lot of holidays when it was just us two. 

Daddy: We went to America a few times...
Big Boy: Where Superman lives ?
Daddy: Yes, and then we visited Morocco before you were born.

Big Boy: When did I go on holiday with you ? 

Mummy: We decided to book a holiday to Spain. Do you remember ? 

Big Boy: Did we go on the plane ? 

Daddy: Yes we did and you met the pilot. You were really good on the flight and kept busy the whole time. 

Big Boy: We had the big white car on holiday didn't we ? 

Mummy: Yes we did and we went to see lots of nice things, but the resort where we stayed was nice with a kids club too wasn't it ? 

Big Boy: I still have the t-shirt from there. 

Big Boy: What's your best kind of holiday ? 

Daddy: Well I like a beach holiday where it's hot. We've taken you on beach holidays.

Big Boy: We've been with Baby Boy too haven't we ? 

Mummy: Yes we took you both to the beach a few times didn't we ? 

Big Boy: Do you like beach holidays Mummy ? 

Mummy: Well, I like being warm, but I also love holidays in the snow. 

Big Boy: The snow ? 

Mummy: Yes. I used to go skiing before you were born. 

Daddy: I haven't been skiing though.

Big Boy: Would you like to go on a snowy holiday ? 

Mummy: I would love to take you and Baby Boy on a holiday where you could have skiing lessons and maybe we could get Daddy to have a go as well. 

Big Boy: I want to try snowboarding. It's like skateboarding isn't it ? 

Mummy: Yes sort of. 

Big Boy: What do you like to do on holiday ?

Daddy: I like to do fun things with you boys. I like to see you having fun. 

Mummy: When we all try new things and do things together it's great. 

Big Boy: Anything else ? 

Mummy and Daddy: Well, we like to have some time together too. 

Big Boy and Baby Boy: (both laugh) 

Big Boy: Finally is there anyone in the family who might object to these plans ?
Neo: Miaow (translation: Ahem - excuse me)

Big Boy: So all we need to do now is check that Jiggles' passport is up to date and we're ready ?
Mummy: I hope so son.
Big Boy: Good luck Mummy. Can I have Haribo now please ?

Mummy: This is my creative writing entry to be a #markwarnermum - with thanks to the whole family for taking part :)

What is my authentic self anyway ?

A different kind of Mummy

I've seen a lot being written about the 'authentic self' recently. I've been impressed to see others living their dreams or ambitions. Taking risks and making brave decisions that might not even be clear when they start out on those plans. Some of these friends have decided to travel for a year - with kids - or to pack in jobs and start a business from scratch. My personal favourite has been the friends who decided to move to Cornwall and make a new start.

I often have feelings of envy when I hear about such plans, but then I think I'm just piggy-backing onto someone else's dreams instead of thinking about my own. You see I don't actually know what or who my authentic self even is.

Is it the shouty overwhelmed Mummy ?

Is it the barely managing to do the required hours working Mum ?

Is it the fitting in as much as possible every single day multi-tasking (out of necessity rather than choice) character ?

Rare photo of me and my boys

Is it the me who swims like nothing else matters 5-6 times a week ?

The me who loves animals and is so delighted that Baby Boy does too ?

Cat time

Who teaches yoga with a genuine love and passion for making a difference for the people who trust me with their practice ?

The me that presents on the radio and doesn't mind if no one is listening so long as I get to do this one thing ?

Or maybe it's the me that I've rediscovered lately  - the one who will do anything silly or fun to make my kids laugh ?

Hubbie always jokes that I'm a real life Miss Rabbit because I've done so many different things in my life. I'm not entirely sure if that is true - I can't fly a helicopter for a start ! I am working on becoming part of the Mummy's Fire Service though.

Firemum

Not a lot of people know that.

My boy makes me laugh for so many reasons. He makes me laugh because he knows his name - including two middle names - and he knows Daddy's full name - he has one middle name - he even knows that the cat has two names, but if you ask him my name it's Mummy. He knows that he is 3 and will be 4, that Daddy is 41, but apparently Mummy is one.

I like the air of mystery that I seem to hold for my boy. Like when I found out that my Mother could whistle, not just a demure, 'put your lips together and blow' type whistle, but proper loud one using fingers. This was disturbing not only because I found out when I was an adult, but because I then wondered under what circumstances she has ever needed to use this macho whistling technique ! What it did was give me an insight into my Mum as a person and not just as my parent. One day my boy will also realise that there is a lot he doesn't know about me. You can have a sneak preview:

I'm not really interested in ice cream: 

At the Royal Cornwall Show the other week as we stood in line waiting for him to get his face painted I sent Hubbie off to buy two ice cream cones - one for him and one for the boy. He got back to us and handed me one of them and held onto the other one. I was wrapping a napkin around the base of the cone to stop it melting all over his hand. The boy looked at both his parents with an ice cream cone and let out a little sigh and an "Ohhhh," of sadness thinking we had forgotten to get him one. It was so sweet.

Strawberries, yes please. Chocolate spread, no thank you :) 

I don't eat chocolate spread: 

On the penultimate morning of our holiday I revealed that I had brought a jar of chocolate spread with us as well as the jam, marmite, peanut butter and honey I had so diligently packed. The boy had been out feeding farm animals with Daddy so I thought they deserved a special treat. I made them both toasted waffles with chocolate spread and fresh strawberries. As put it on the table the boy looked at it and asked, "is that for me Mummy ?" I said, "yes," he said, "to eat ?" I laughed and told him it was. He looked at Hubbie who shrugged and then they both tucked in lest I changed my mind.

Custard makes me gag:

I just can't bring myself to eat it. Whether in a trifle or in a tart. I have to ask for crumble without custard and more than once I've been given a stare of incredulity when I've disclosed my phobia of custard. Ok phobia is a bit far, I just don't like it. No, not even custard creams. I will buy ready made custard for the boys, but I don't eat it myself or lick it off my hand if it spills when I'm opening a carton of it for one of them to eat *shudders*

I have visited every city and many towns in England:

In two separate jobs I've toured the country doing public speaking and it's meant there are few places I haven't visited at least once. Of course I haven't spent 'quality time' in all of these places, but on visiting somewhere I can usually say, "yes I've been here before," and recall some pointless fact about the place that would make a stand up proud. Talking of which...

I did one of the first stand up courses in London and used to do impro

This is how I met some of my closest friends, we were all doing silly things together in after work classes. The stand up itself terrified me to my very core, but some of my fellow students have gone on to great things. I found the skills I learned from the course very useful, but getting up in front of an audience as a 'comic' was too much for me.

I was mistaken for a diamond smuggler when leaving Sierra Leone:

Ok this one probably does require some explanation. I was working for a charity that had projects in Sierra Leone and I'd been on a visit meeting children in refugee camps and villages. I'd taken small presents for the children with me in my luggage. As we were leaving the country the customs officers looked at each other quizzically and asked me to step to one side with my bag. I had to empty my make up bag onto a counter only for them to laugh as they realised I'd been carrying diamante temporary tattoos and not smuggled blood diamonds out of the country. I was relieved to say the least.

Very streamlined... not ! 

I'm quite the sportswoman:

I know I don't look it - it's not often I get mistaken for Jess Ennis that's for sure ! However, I can ski, and scuba dive, I swim most days and am a yoga teacher. I've been a regular runner for over ten years now and have taken part in a lot of 5k (and one 10k) runs. It's not something I did at school as I wasn't the sporty archetype, but I love it now that I don't have to do it.

I'd never cut my hair until I was 26:

Raised in a Sikh family it was understood that we didn't cut our hair. Me and Hubbie chose not to cut our boy's hair for the first few years of his life out of respect for my family. I'm not sure what I thought would happen if I did cut my hair, but it did mean I had the longest hair of anyone I knew at University. My hair is a fair bit shorter now. 

My rock 'n' roll hair  

Mummy is a rocker:

I've been to see Metallica a few times and used to go to Donington rock festival regularly. My favourite item of clothing, bar none, is my biker jacket and I secretly still want to be in a rock band :)

I still can't whistle like my Mum does though. That is way cool ! 

Small is beautiful (even when it's called Big Ben)

On the days when our boy is home with me I try to do things that are fun. It's all part of building my profile as 'Fun Mummy' so that I'm not left behind by 'Fun daddy.'

The other day I took the boy to the London Transport Museum (his 'happy place') and had said he could have a toy of Big Ben if he was good, because he's a big fan of clocks at the moment. He was good, but I forgot all about the toy and on the way home he reminded me. I felt so guilty.

So when I was in Leicester Square on Sunday for Dim Sum with friends I popped into a souvenir shop - the kind that only tourists go into - and overheard the indian lads who work there speaking Punjabi. I sweet talked them into a bit of a discount for these little souvenirs.

They're trinkets, but my boy loves them.

Go Team Mummy !!

This post is part of Mummy Never Sleeps linky All the Small Things 

Attachment parenting: I swear by it.

I'm not going to get into it about the Peaches vs Hopkins TV 'debate' on attachment parenting. I didn't follow it and neither woman is a parenting role model I'm about to emulate. I am all for attachment though and was listening to Oliver James talking about lovebombing on Radio 4 yesterday afternoon. As a result today has been spent loafing around and doing as little or as much as my toddler wants to do. You see I like the idea of responding to what my child is interested in, but I'm not about to advocate my skills as a parent above anyone else's. I'm doing my best and I sometimes over-do it or get it wrong. Mostly I am just glad that he's a happy child and that he loves us. 

If anything I've probably been over-attached. I never left my son alone at all when he was first born. I would shower while Hubbie was home either in the evening or stupidly early in the morning. I honestly thought that if I left my baby for longer than it takes to make a cup of tea he was going to roll over (which he'd never done) or stop breathing (he's still here).  Of course I do still check on him - old habits and all that - but now I stay in bed rather than shower at 6am. That's hardly tiger mama behaviour is it ? 

As he's a toddler now I do go and shower and leave him to his own devices (watching telly, creating a 'traffic jam' with his toy cars or playing with the hands free soap dispenser if I've forgotten to put it high up) for around 5-10 minutes. I do have to keep calling every 30 seconds to check he's still in the house though as he can't be trusted not to open the door if someone knocks. Grandma was babysitting on Halloween night and as she is quite hard of hearing he heard the door knock and went to answer it - only to be confronted with two rather terrifying teenage boys in masks. They didn't get any sweets, but the boy got a proper scare !!

The other night Hubbie opened a belated birthday card he'd received that had been sent to the wrong house with the wrong age on it. He affectionately called the sender a nob - supposedly out of earshot of our boy - only for the boy to start saying 'nob, nob, nob, nob' in a sing song voice. I gave Hubbie my 'silly boy' head shake and he responded with, "actually, he may have heard that before in the car driving to football." I suppose it could be worse. I'm not sure how though.

Up until now my son's idea of bad language has been to point at me and say 'Oh. Dear.' forcefully as that is what he thinks swearing is. We're also working on discouraging the 'toilet talk' which he loves right now. As an example.
Me: "What did you do at nursery today little bear ?"
Toddler: "Bum Bum."
Me: "I don't think you did. What did you have for lunch ?"
Toddler: "Poo Poo."
Me: "Ok that's enough toilet talk for today."
Toddler: "Wee Wee."
Me: <sigh>

I'm not expecting a call from anyone asking me to share my parenting secrets any time soon. I am, however, expecting to be embarrassed by my son's vocabulary some time in the near future. 

When If he calls Santa a Nob Poo Poo I'll look around pretending he's not with me, but that's when all my attachment parenting will come back and bite me in the 'bum bum.'

Sandals, sarong and a stack of books. Check.

It took some to-ing and fro-ing (an identity verification issue and resending of birth certificate and a refund of my check and send fee from the Post Office), but we now have passports for my boy and me. His first one and finally my passport in my married name - about time too as it's our 7th anniversary this week. You see I'd renewed my passport the year before we got married - I didn't know we'd be hitched the following year - and I was loathe to pay for a new passport just to change my name. The boy has never flown before so we thought we'd better choose a short flight for his first time and go somewhere warm and relaxing.

I know I need a holiday because Seasonal Affective Disorder has set in with a vengeance. The wet and windy weather is making me feel angry and upset and the only cheery moment of the day is when the boy kicks through what we now call, "crunchy munchy leaves" (thank you Octonauts). It's a miserable time of year for me and many others so I think a break should pretty much be prescribed by a medical professional. I mean the signs of distress are unmistakeable:

• The highlight of my week so far has been that I spent all morning cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, let's be fair though it's only Tuesday so there is time for things to improve 

• It's so rainy and windy outside that we're eating comfort foods and feeling stuffed. I'd much rather be outside in a warmer climate eating salads and fruit and drinking wine for lunch 

• I've had to take the cardigans and scarves from the back of the wardrobe and put the summer clothes to the back - that's not right is it ? 

• The cat is permanently fixed to his beanbag upstairs. If even he won't go out then it's either the end of days or winter - same thing really

• I'm starting to sympathise with the white witch in Narnia. No wonder she was pissed off, who wants to have to deal with frizzy hair all the time from the cold and rain ? At least if it's proper winter with snow you can wrap up warm and cosy. This in between weather is just infuriating.

So the plan is to book somewhere not too far and warm enough for me to wear sandals. Where the boy can splash in a pool and play all day. Where Hubbie can watch sports and lie in the sun (and preferably not burn). Where I can read sit under a massive parasol, swim a bit, read lots of books and not cook for a week.

Ah, holidays… I love and miss you so much.

Countdown to a toddler meltdown

5 hours to meltdown:

The boy cheerfully calls out "good morning Daddy. Good morning Mummy" and gets into our bed to watch Tikkabilla while Hubbie gets ready to go to work. 

It's raining outside. 

The cat wanders in miaowing about how horrid the weather is today.

4 hours to meltdown:

He has brushed his teeth and his clothes are changed. One piece of toast and marmite eaten another piece of toast with jam to go.
Dora is teaching us about Thanksgiving and he's paying close attention.
I go upstairs to have a shower while he's occupied. 

3 hours to meltdown:

"Do you need the toilet before we go out ?" 

"No Mummy."

"Are you sure ?"

" I DON"T WANT TO GO MUMMY !!"

"Ok, but when we've gone out it'll be too late."

One toilet trip later we're on our way out.

2 hours to meltdown:

We pick up a new cot mattress which makes the boy happy as it's folded behind my seat in the car and, "It looks like a tunnel Mummy."

1 hour to meltdown:

As we're near Biggin Hill I take him to look at planes only it's raining so they aren't in the air, but on the ground today. The training instructor offers to take the boy outside to see them, so kitted out in high-vis jackets we wander round and my boy is in his element looking at 2 seater planes. The owner of the flying school shows the boy a vintage Rolls Royce propeller and all the instructors wave us off saying, "See you in a few years for your first flying lesson." 

45 mins to meltdown:

I have to drop off some leaflets at Kiddicare so we pop in and he has a play and we go to his favourite toilets. He wants to play some more so we agree he can play for five more minutes and then we have to go. 

5 mins to meltdown:

Time is up and when I call him to leave he runs off pushing a lovely pink buggy. I call him back. 

He leaps head first into a play house with his feet in the air and his trousers at half mast. I pull him out by the feet as another parent watches in horror. 

I carry him out of the shop as he screams at me that he doesn't want to leave.

Meltdown:

In the car he yells at full throttle. 

I turn the volume on the car radio up to 35 to drown out the sound of his screams and the noise of my swearing. 

He's hungry, tired and very upset. 

I'm all of the above too and I have to drive us both with the emotions in the car turned up to 11 !!

30 mins post meltdown:

He has a mini-screech in the temple because he's hungry and can't get the food inside quickly enough. 

Finally he calms down and eventually smiles and says.

"the food is reaching my tummy Mummy." 

I still haven't eaten yet. 

1 hour post meltdown:

He's in his cot on the new mattress asleep.

For some reason I can't fathom his trousers are on inside out and his pants have been discarded. 

I pop a blanket on him and go downstairs to drink a cup of tea and get something to eat. 

Oh don't you just love rainy days ? 

Nope, me neither.