Not today

Today is not a good day

I keep thinking that years ago when that woman at work told me I'm stupid I she was right.

All those times Mum said I wasn't nice or kind it was the truth - she wasn't being cruel, she was telling me for my own sake.

That ex who told me I'm negative about everything and critical about people and always looking to find offence - he had a point. 

The feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me everything going wrong is all because of me - that's self awareness right there. 

Tears rolling down my face as I drive remind me that I wouldn't feel this way if I didn't deserve it 

Waking up at 3 am, 4am, 5am and not being able to lift my head off the pillow at 6am when the alarm goes off is happening because I am rubbish. 

Today is not a good day. 

I still have to parent my boys. 

Today is not a good day.

The things I do still have to be done.

Today is not a good day.

Being upset and sad around others isn't ok. 

Today is not a good day. 

I'm not up for polite chit chat and pleasantries.

Today is not a good day.

For now this is how it feels - I have to accept that things are not good. 

Not today. 

At least we have Glastonbury on the telly.

I cry a lot - I mean all the time. It doesn't take much to set me off. Yesterday I was watching TV and an advert came on - you know those food stories ones with a person sharing a meal they make for a special reason. Well this time it was an amazing woman called Bridie and her Jerk Chicken recipe that she feeds to all the foster children who have lived in her home. Over 800 children and counting. She describes how children always arrive hungry and she feeds them with love. Sets me off every time. What a wonderful woman. Tear Jerk Chicken more like.

The other day I took the boys to Waitrose with me when I popped in to get a brew and my copy of Waitrose weekend. The foodbank volunteers were outside and we took a leaflet listing what items they need urgently. Blue Bear pushed the trolley and Brown Bear read out the items and we took it in turns to put them into the trolley. After we paid and put some green tokens into the charity boxes we pushed the trolley outside and emptied the contents into the volunteer's trolley. He watched in disbelief as my boys gleefully kept putting food and toiletries into the donation trolley. When we finished I gave both boys some change for the tins too. They were thanked for their generosity and they both beamed with pride. In the car on the way home Brown Bear asked why we had given all our shopping to the man and I said, "Our fridge at home is full of food. There are people who aren't so lucky. The people at the foodbank will help them by giving them what we bought." If you haven't seen I Am Daniel Blake the scene in the foodbank is heartwrenching and the very thought of it makes me cry. This is why I always donate sanitary items and as much food as I can.

 

A few weeks ago Brown Bear told me that a boy in his class told him that he's not 'a real Indian.' Apparently he isn't brown enough and his name isn't Patel. The boy who made the comment has asian parents and it did make me wonder what they say about people at home. I find it hard to believe a 6 year old would say something like that without context, but I could be wrong. To be frank I don't much like the kid or his family so their opinion means absolutely nothing to me. What does matter is how it makes my son feel and what it does to his sense of identity. I want to protect my children from negativity and unkindness, but I can't always be there. What I can do is ensure we raise our children not to be like that. In our family we don't remark on skin colour and certainly not in a pejorative way like that. All four of us look different and it's not something we make a big deal out of. When Blue Bear came to live with us a few people mentioned that he looked white. I smiled and told them both my boys have mixed parentage - well frankly all children do up to a point. Our boys are a beautiful mix of asian and white british. Now I consider it rude and intrusive for anyone to comment on the colour of my children's skin so I don't engage with it.

We talk about equal marriage in our home. We talk about adoption. We talk about fostering. We talk about poverty. We talk about politics. We talk about being kind and being fair. We don't necessarily use those terms, but we are role models for our children and if they see us being kind we hope they will do the same. I explained to Brown Bear on our walk to school the other morning that I hope he will be a kind and caring adult. I joke that being an indian mother I should want him to be an engineer, a doctor or a lawyer, but actually if he wants to play football (his latest thing) or to be Superman - for which he has to move to America naturally - then we will support his dreams. Of course he did also state in complete seriousness to Hubbie that he wanted a skateboard, because, "it's always been my dream."

I started off by saying that I cry a lot. Recently there has been plenty to cry about in the news. We're also going through our own stuff as a family and that is pretty difficult. This afternoon my lovely sister took the boys out for a treat and after spending over an hour tidying the garage and cleaning the car me and Hubbie sat down on the sofa and watched Glastonbury. We just sat together and enjoyed the music, like we used to before we had kids. Just for an hour.

Sometimes simplicity is everything. 

Cry me a river

Baby Boy is crying because: 

• His brother is eating a banana - he doesn't want one, he's just crying about it

• He wants to ride his scuttlebug and I want to put him in his carseat 

• His baby cousin is crying in pain and he wants to show empathy with him. 

• He wants Daddy to carry him, not to ride his scooter home. 

Big Boy is crying because:

• Daddy found all the wrappers in the bin and knows he took 5 packs of fruit strings and 2 packs of bear fruit from the kitchen. 

• Mummy knows he took a Kinder egg and Kinder chocolate bar and ate them in secret while she was out 

• He's probably off his nut on sugar now 

I am crying because: 

• My son has eaten enough sugar to give diabetes to a hippopotamus 

• I finally watched Amy and it made me feel so sad 

• Supervet fixed the dog - then when we were watching Gogglebox I cried all over again when he couldn't fix the dog.

• Hubbie keeps leaving mugs with herbal teabags in them around the house - I now know why my friend hated it when I used to leave mugs with the dregs of tea in them on her sink drainer 

• Every day I step on a rotting apple core that Hubbie has left lying around somewhere in the house - it's like the worst treasure hunt ever 

At least half term is over now so we can all go back to normal.

No more a baby and not yet a man.

You know how you see a forlorn tiny mitten in the street, or a sock that has lost it's mate ? I feel sad for the child who has lost it - and to be honest for the Mum who won't notice it's missing until she's home or at least too far away to go back and retrace all her steps to find it. Well, once I had a child I realised how easy it is to lose things - often just the mundane things like socks or mittens. I thought I was very adept at taking care of the valuable toys and loved cuddlies. Until the day he dropped Ellie in the supermarket. 

He was sitting in the trolley and wanted to hold the toothpaste tubes so I let him. Then when we almost reached the till I asked where Ellie was and he said he didn't know. I frantically asked everyone if they'd seen Ellie and they said they hadn't. Some were genuinely concerned until they asked what she looked like and I described a small fluffy orange square with a trunk on one corner that was all chewed and smelly. The concern on their faces was palpably reduced when they realised it was a comforter that I was looking for and not my missing daughter. I'm not being too dramatic when I say I was distraught. I looked at my son and with tears filling my eyes I said. "I'm sorry we can't find Ellie. He looked at me and said, "It's ok Mummy, we have a new Ellie at home." He wasn't wrong. I had bought spares just in case of this eventuality. He styled it out with his seeming indifference to the loss of his most adored toy, but he never loved the 'new Ellie' the same as the original. So you can see why I thought my boy might have some experience in dealing with loss.

Today was my boy's first day at school. He's in the nursery, but it's in a school with uniform and book bags and all sorts of formalities that help get the children used to going to 'real' school. He finished at his old nursery at the end of July and we've been talking to him about the new school and what to expect. We have noticed he was getting a bit upset at times, like when we went uniform shopping or when anyone asked about 'big school' so we stopped calling it that and said, 'new nursery' instead. In preparation he had a haircut last week and every morning this week he has woken up asking, "Am I going to school today Mummy ?" In the last few days cracks started to appear, though, as he said, "Mummy I don't like my hair, I won't go to school until I get a new haircut." or, "I'm not feeling well, I can't go to school." I started to see signs of his fear and worry about the big new change.

Then today arrived and he bounded in to our bedroom asking, "Am I going to school today ?" and we said, "Yes, let's get ready." He had a wash, brushed his hair and then put on his uniform - causing his hair to get all messed up - so he brushed it again and admired himself in the mirror. We all got ready to go and he part walked and part scooted to the school. When we arrived he went straight in and started to play with some other children. When we called out to him he gave us a cursory, "yeah, yeah, whatever I'm busy." wave and we smiled and left the school. I didn't cry, but I did feel a bit choked and hoped he'd be ok. He hadn't eaten much breakfast and I know how ratty he gets when he's hungry so I wondered how he'd make it to morning break time without a meltdown.

When we went to pick him up this afternoon he was sitting nicely on the carpet and when he got up to come to the door I noticed he seemed a bit tired and down. He mithered all the way home, wanting to be carried and I assured him that he'd get used to walking - we both have to ! He wasn't too keen to talk about what he'd done or who he'd played with or in fact anything about his first day. Then we took him out for dinner as a special 'first day at school' treat. He was a bit moody and I put it down to tiredness, but he managed to wolf down a big milkshake and got a balloon from the lovely owner of his favourite diner so he cheered up a little bit.

After a bit of a fuss at bedtime. I went to his room for our usual end of day chat and calmly asked him, "Have you had a good day ?" He said no. Then he burst into tears. I mean massive wracking sobs that made his little - still damp from the shower - body shake. I held him close and kept saying, "It's ok. It's ok baby. It's ok." He cried and cried. I felt terrible - I wanted to cry too. This wasn't tiredness, this was something else. He eventually said, "I don't want to go to new nursery any more. I want to go to my old nursery." I held him close and said, "New things are a bit scary and it's sad when we have to leave somewhere we like, but you will like this nursery too." I asked him what he missed about the old nursery and he said, " My toys..." pause, " and my friends.' More tears. I held him closer and kissed his still wet head. He kept saying he just wanted to go to the old nursery and pleaded with me not to take him to new nursery again.

I felt my chest constrict and my throat tighten. We had spent time talking about the fun new things he'd be doing, but we had neglected to prepare him to leave things behind. Because he can count and and he is very funny and fluent in his speech we think he has a maturity that isn't really possible in someone who will only be 4 at the end of the month. I thought that because he was putting on a brave face he was dealing with this big change in his life. Up until now I've been sewing in labels, getting photos taken and dealing with the 'cosmetic' part of moving on. Now, the real work begins in helping my boy to let go of the past and move on to the future. To help him learn to have faith that things will get better. That this transition from knowing everyone and being well versed in what goes on to everything being new and unknown will only be temporary. The teachers will no longer be strangers and he will make new friends.

You see when I look at my boy I don't just see someone who can dress himself and who plays tricks on me and Hubbie to a make us laugh. I see the tiny newborn who I held close and kissed on the head. I see the smudgy scan that me and Hubbie gave thanks for. I remember the bump that we used to sing to and who I whispered to that I'd love and protect for as long as he'd let me.

If I can't let go of the past just like that it's hardly fair to expect my boy to is it ? It's going to take time.

Making a drama out of … well not even a crisis really

A week ago I developed an arm pain that reduced my arm movement and made hair washing very difficult. It was inconvenient as it meant I couldn't go to dance, aerobics or swimming and as a result I was very grumpy. Then we had my boy's birthday party at the weekend with family and friends and a full house. It was a busy day and by the end of it I was a bit tired and relieved.

Feeling a bit pants

Then yesterday evening I developed flashing lights before my eyes while feeding the boy his dinner and a couple of hours later my head was thumping and I thought I was going to throw up. Unfortunate as I was driving at the time. I got home and cried before putting eye drops in for my son and going back to stand over the sink in case I did indeed throw up. I told Hubbie what was going on and he told me I was having a migraine.

I have never had a migraine before, I don't even get headaches often. So imagine what I thought was going on when I had a pain in my left arm and a massive splitting pain in my head and a feeling of nausea. Yes, I had in the ten minutes it took to get home convinced myself that I was either having a stroke or something even worse. Here's what went through my mind:

1. I regret not having sorted out that life insurance I promised I'd get

an imperfect Lotus

2. Oh, I should have posted Mum's birthday cards, dammit she won't get her cake now either

3. Is there enough milk in the fridge ?

4. I'm going to miss the yoga day with Howard Napper at the weekend - so unfair, he's yummy !!

5. I haven't told Hubbie that I was going to get the boy dressed for nursery in a waterproof coat tomorrow morning, he'll send him in his bus jumper… ooh I hope it's dry now

6. At least I remembered to put the week's meal schedule on the front of the fridge so Hubbie knows what to cook when

7. Who will take over my radio show on Monday ? Will anyone even notice ?

8. If I get offered an interview for that job I won't be able to go - they're going to think I'm such a flake

9. I haven't chosen any music to be played in memory of me. I do hope Hubbie doesn't pick The Fall or My Bloody Valentine

10. The moon looks ever so big tonight - I hope the boys have seen it


I got home intact, went to bed early and slept until this morning.

Drama over.

Oh and the arm ? It's tennis elbow. I don't even play tennis.

Go figure !

My baby just cares for me...

I dropped my son off at nursery this morning and as I left I could hear him crying, but Petra told me he'd be fine and to leave, so I did. Then on the other side of the gate I paced up and down the pavement before getting into my car and bursting into tears.

I've known this was coming and it is part of the process of helping him to learn how to be independent. I was hoping he'd skip into the nursery all smiles and with nothing more than a jolly wave over his shoulder he'd go and play with other children and not notice me at all. Instead he fools me into thinking that he's ok by showing interest in toys and as I say "see you later" he comes over to me and grabs my legs to take him with me. Then as the staff peel him off and take him over to play with something I hear his heaving sobs as I go to the door.

Of course it's only his second day and they assured me he was fine for the hour that I was away, but his tear stained and snot covered face when I returned told another story.

It was my choice to give up work and stay at home with my son and I don't for a moment think it was anything other than a good idea to be the adult he spends the most time with. I've taken him to playgroups, parks, libraries and sung songs with him for almost 2 years now. It's me who spends 11 hours a day with him so I choose which tantrums to respond to and when to just walk over him and pretend he's a small noisy rug.

It's also me who hears most words for the first time. I watched him take his first steps. I helped him feed himself for the first time. I showed him how to give the cat biscuits (just before he put his foot in the cat's water bowl). It is only right that I take him to nursery and do the official handover of responsibility for my beloved boy. It's also only right that we both find this difficult.

I reassure myself that he is of course fine when I am gone and that he is just trying to make me feel better by being suitably upset for my benefit alone. In psychology speak it's called a "secure attachment." If we didn't love each other so much it wouldn't be so upsetting to be apart.

That's what I'm going to tell myself tomorrow, and the day after that …

Don't call me (cry) baby !!

I've always loved watching movies and when I was a younger (and single) woman I used to go to the cinema every week with my good friend Sandra and we'd enjoy the latest offerings. Of course now I'm married and a mother I barely go to the cinema - apart from last week when the wonderful Rachel babysat so me and Hubbie could go and watch Avengers Assemble, bloody brilliant it was too !! So now I tend to catch movies on the telly or watch them when the baby is asleep which means I don't fully pay attention as I'm usually folding washing or checking email at the same time.

This week we've been testing out Netflix and I decided to watch The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas while the baby had his afternoon nap. It was very different from what I had been expecting and I found myself drawn in so far that by the denouement of the film I was actually panicking and pleading with the film to not do this and was absolutely beside myself by the harrowing end of it. It's not often a movie has that effect on me (not least as I'm not paying attention so I've no idea what's actually going on). However, I am prone to crying during films so in no particular order here are my top weepies:

Miracle on 34th Street (every version): it's the bit where we realise that Santa can talk to all children. Richard Attenborough signing with the little girl has me bawling like an infant every time - even thinking about it sets me off

Juno: pretty much the entire movie has me crying, but when Jennifer Garner opens Juno's letter and when she holds her son I am a wreck

Sex & the City: yes I know and I feel you judge me and I just don't care. Carrie's wedding day makes me cry and makes me angry all at once - no mean feat ! 

Marley & Me: I won't say why in case you haven't seen it and to be honest unless you can stand the beige one for the length of this film you probably won't watch it. Suffice it to say that a film about a dog is going to make me cry at some point. 

Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham: a very traditional Bollywood movie and traditionally I sob my heart out at the old family separated for some stupid reason and reunited at the end scenario

The Shawshank Redemption: So many reasons to cry, but more than anything when Red is working in the supermarket and puts up his hand and asks for a "bathroom break boss"- heartrending

Love Actually: Emma Thompson listening to Joni Mitchell and crying - not an original choice I grant you, but guaranteed to make me weep every time

Truly, Madly, Deeply: only the hardest of hearts could watch Juliet Stevenson snottily sobbing "I miss him so much" and be unmoved

Million Dollar Baby: Hilary Swank telling her family where to go - and Mr Eastwood sitting with her. Just recalling this is making me go 

Precious: I really had to work myself up to watch this as I knew it was going to be hard going - amazingly it isn't entirely morose, but a tear jerker nonetheless 

It's not an exhaustive list - like I said it doesn't take much to make me cry - but you get the general idea. I didn't even mention Toy Story, or Dumbo, or the Lion King, but animation that makes me cry is a whole other category for another day.