Bulletproof and other myths.

Over the years I've frequently been told I come across as 'bulletproof.' I'm not sure why that is - maybe I'm not meek enough to pass as a typical asian woman. My own mother doesn't pass as quiet so there's no hope that I would. As a kid I aspired to be like the beautiful actresses in movies with their downcast eyes and quivering lips. It was a look that said, "I am so innocent, but sexy too."

Meena Kumari 

The phrase, 'you're strong, you can handle it' has been levelled at me many times. The thing is while I might talk a good game and wear a t shirt that bears the legend 'Mother of dragons' I'm playing a part. Oh yes I will absolutely tear apart anyone who touches my kids. However, I'm equal parts Tiger Mama and terrified of everything mother.

Like most women of my acquaintance I've been called aggressive. I used to tell myself to be less outspoken. I'd wish I said less or just knew when to shut up. I tried to adhere to the adage, 'better be silent and thought a fool than speak and confirm it." Only I always had to say my piece. I still punish myself for speaking my mind. I go over the conversations in my head and think about all the ways it could have gone differently if I'd said less.

The distance between what I want to be and what I am is one I am trying to bridge. I've had to negotiate the transition from being someone's wife and knowing what that meant and where we were heading to a future without any certainty at all. Instead of seeing this a a bad thing I've decided to see this as freedom.

Anything is possible. I don't have the weight of anyone else's expectations on me any more. It is all up to me. I can choose. So what are the dreams and ambitions I have for myself ?

1. To do the things I love - that includes swimming in the sea and spending time with this lovely lady:

Gorgeous Pippa from Penzance :) 

2. Being sassy - full on flounce and attitude to match. Sequins optional:

Yass !! 

3. Celebrating my inner silly - actual total ridiculousness:

Check out the buns ! 

4. Never being afraid of my darker side. Embracing the pain and difficulty without it consuming me or taking over:

5. Using my voice for good. Sharing music, positive intentions and using the platform I have to do good for others:

Hey DJ !

6. Finally giving thanks. For the kind thoughts and deeds that others have directed towards me. Gratitude enables us to radiate love and kindness:

From inertia to inspiration. Kind of.

 You know when you read those inspirational posts on facebook or Instagram that say things that are supposed to be profound, but some days they are just annoying and others they induce tears ? Well I’m not doing that – obvs. I am, however, thinking about something that I’ve seen a lot. ‘What would you try if you knew you wouldn’t fail ?’ It sounds complicated at first, but simply put it’s a kind of go for it, what have you got to lose ? Well for most of us the fear of what could go wrong is paralysing and leaves us in a state of inertia.

I’m thinking about this now because I saw the film about Ruth Bader Ginsberg the other evening and it confirmed for me that she is an amazing woman. Not that I doubted it for a moment, but it struck me that she was fearless and brave in her life and it was with the support and love of her family that she was able to achieve. Often we hear of people who have left relationships behind or driven their loved ones away in the thrall of ambition so to see her children and husband as integral to the success she has achieved was inspiring.

Years ago I joked that I should move to the US and market myself as a self-help guru. I reasoned that if Deepak Chopra could do it why couldn’t I ? It wasn’t entirely in jest and I now see that had I done that I’d probably have pre-empted the yoga boom we have seen and the resultant throw down of all the ‘spiritual leaders’ being accused of sexual assault and inappropriate behaviour with their clients / students. It’s like a ‘me too’ movement with a hint of hemp. I’m not belittling this in any way. What I am doing is pointing to the all-encompassing nature of this culture of casual sexual misconduct that has pervaded even the ‘wellness’ sector. How even the act of finding inner peace is fraught with the potential for inappropriate touch or full on assault due to an imbalance of power and privilege.

And this is the crux of what I’ve been mulling over. For all that I am driven and passionate about equality and fairness and justice what have I achieved in my life ? Is there anything I have done to inspire ? I’m nowhere close to the giddy heights of Ginsberg and her impact, but have I done anything I can be proud of ?

Then at the weekend I shared a post that joked about a Mum’s fantasy being spending time alone in a hotel and just sleeping (all true by the way). My lovely friend Yasmin said she would be doing just that. Going away without her kids and having a break and some valuable ‘me time.’ I commented that I was jealous and she responded, “ I was inspired by you.” Wow that’s kind, I thought. Then I remembered other times people have kindly said they were inspired to do something because of me. Soraya went away on her own to Berlin for a mini break and she told me it was as a direct result of me taking time for myself. It was so much fun “I’m going to make it a regular thing,” she said. Sadly, months later she died, but she had done this thing for herself and I was so proud of her. I have a wonderful friend Paul who is a radio producer and recently he has been presenting a radio show of his own with amazing guests and I praised him on the great success he was having. “I was inspired by you,” he told me. Mind blown. This guy who actually works in radio and is in the business was inspired by little old me to present. What an honour.

Finally – and the one I am most proud of - is the one that I see my son doing. He can’t pass a homeless person without giving them something. It was early in his life that he started to say, “Mummy why is that man sleeping there ?” and I explained that he probably didn’t have a place to sleep or a home. My boy will ask if he can give money or food and always goes up and offers it himself. He has a kind heart and a deep seated desire to help others. I have often wondered where this came from. 

The other night me and Hubbie went out for a pizza (I know we are so rock and roll !) and as we were walking home a woman asked for some money. I shook my head and apologised that I didn’t have any. Then I asked if she wanted some hot food as I could buy it for her. I had electronic money, but not real coinage or notes you see. We walked together to Burger King I paid for her food and asked the man behind the counter to ensure the lady got her meal. I patted her on the arm, smiled at her and wished her well. As we continued walking Hubbie was quiet. Then he said (a bit choked up if I’m honest), “I love it when you do things like that.” “What ?” “You know.” “Well, we are so fortunate and we just had a nice meal, she deserves to eat too.” 

I think I might know where Brown Bear gets it from after all. 

Some kind of wonderful

On twitter today I spotted the charity Macmillan promoting random acts of kindess by giving out sweets in advance of random acts of kindness day tomorrow - who knew that was even a thing ? As you already know I have a lot of love for the work of Macmillan. They have supported and cared for people I loved and continue to do so for those who are left behind. I've consumed many cakes as both a host and a guest of Macmillan coffee mornings and this year I'm hoping to raise as much money as I can for them in recognition of the amazing work they do. Their aim to ensure no one faces cancer alone is inspiring and much needed.

Earlier this week I was in Brighton with they boys and my sister. As it is half term I thought we'd do some fun things together. The weather put paid to some of those plans as it was cold, wet and windy on Tuesday morning. I still went for a run, but it was pretty miserable and I did keep asking myself why the hell I was outside in such rotten conditions. The evening before, however was much nicer and I had booked to take the boys on the i360 which is on the site of the old West Pier. We'd had a fraught afternoon with the boys getting on each other's nerves - and mine - so I didn't hold out much hope for the trip. As we ascended Blue Bear held my hand tight and said it was like being on a spaceship. We looked outside the capsule at the lights along Brighton Pier as the sky grew darker. I realised the music that was playing was all on the theme of flying. The boys and I danced around and Brown Bear declared, "I thought it was going to be rubbish, but it's not." High praise indeed !

Of course it was also Valentine's Day this week. I know not everyone is into the whole cards, flowers, chocolates, etc. I'm not judging anyone's decision not to join in and I'll thank you not to make a comment on my slavish adherence to all the cliches. I got carried away with buying cards and in the end had to find ways to use them all up so I asked people to address the envelopes and post them from different locations so that Hubbie would get a load of post, but not know it was all from me. The failing in this plan was that I had forgotten I'd signed all of the cards from me. Hubbie gave me flowers, took me to lunch and bought me a hamper of Reese's treats - which shows he's been paying attention to my latest chocolate obsession. The highlight for me, however, was something really simple. When we were in the car he started humming a familiar tune. It took me a few moments to place it, but when I did it was joyful. The night before we'd been to the theatre to watch A Passage to India and the highlight had been the indian musicans playing live on the stage. The tune he was singing was a disco classic from a Bollywood movie. In the early days of our courtship I'd explained the words to this song (something like, "when you came into my life that was something to talk about" - I can't be entirely sure that's accurate though). I was so touched that he remembered the tune and our silly conversation.

Kindness is something I rate highly and when my children are kind I give them a lot of praise to encourage it. In recent weeks I've received such lovely messages from people I don't even know offering condolences for the loss of my friend. I have found a whole new world of kindess that I didn't know before where people have shown care and consideration to me. The week of her funeral was pretty grim. I was honoured to be asked by her widower if I'd like to give a speech and worried about getting it right. I also had a job interview to prepare for and it was all pretty stressful. I attended the funeral on my own as Hubbie was at another funeral for a family member which was attended by my parents and siblings. It was emotional and difficult. As I drove home in the dark - hoping to see my sons before they went to bed - I remembered I had a job interview in the morning. I did my best, but I didn't get the job. All in all it wasn't the best week.

At heart the secret to kindness isn't some great mystery. I do my best to be kind. I like to think it's something that I do as a matter of course. I saw something today that said if you do for someone else expecting anything in return that's not an act of kindness it's a business transaction. My Mum has always been critical of my closeness to my friends and how one-sided she thinks my friendships appear to be. I don't see them that way at all. I love my friends and I will do a lot for them. Sometimes you just have to accept that giving is no guarantee that you will get anything back.

Kindness is not a transaction it is an end in itself. Go forth and be kind.

Is kindness hereditary ?

This week we had an email from the headteacher of my sons' school. In it he told us about the trip his family had taken to Romania during the last half term to deliver donated clothes to children living in poverty. We had given gloves, hats and clothes and the boys were delighted to see the photos of their donations being given. The headteacher was launching phase two of the support for the organisation in Romania and during assembly on Monday he had asked the children if they could give £2 for a child to have a Christmas meal. This must have really made an impact on Brown Bear. He came home and asked if it would be ok for him to give more. I said of course it would and what did he have in mind. "£10 would be good." I told him that was very generous, but it would mean he might not have enough money left to get a glow toy for the junior school disco tonight. He didn't even stop to consider the sacrifice and brightly announced, "It's ok I don't want a glow toy, I want to give all the money to Romania." I felt such a glow of pride.

I recall when we visited Waitrose on one occasion and our local food bank volunteers were there making an in person collection. I asked Brown Bear to take the list of required items and to read me and Blue Bear all the things on the list so we could put them in the trolley. We filled it up and also bought some cereal and milk that we had come to buy for ourselves. As we left the store I asked the boys to help load up the items for the food bank volunteers. They were so appreciative and thanked the boys who beamed and smiled at the gratitude. As we drove home they couldn't stop talking about how great it felt to give food to people who didn't have enough.

At the end of the last school year the boys went through their old shoes and we picked the ones that were in good condition, but no longer worn. We gave them to a charity that takes shoes overseas to children who need them. I explained that there are children who just don't have any shoes and we have so many that once we've used them and they don't fit any more they are still good enough for someone else who has none. They really took that on board and it seemed to give Brown Bear an appreciation of how different some children's lives are from his. He now asks if his shoes are going to be good enough for someone else to have once he outgrows them.

In January Hubbie and I are going to do a fundraising walk to raise funds for Help for Heroes. It's 20km and it's the first fundraiser we've done together since the Nuns Run we did for Barnardo's. At the time we didn't appreciate how wearing a synthetic habit and wimple would be extremely uncomfortable on a summer day. I'm hoping that this challenge being a 'winter walk' makes it a little less - well shall we say anti-social ? The boys are used to seeing us take part in charitable endeavours and also understand that we give to others as we are so fortunate ourselves.

This evening Brown Bear was sitting on his bed counting out the change in his Big Ben piggy bank. He worked out it was around £4 and I said I had another tin of change somewhere so we went through that one as well. He took great care to sort the coins into piles of different denominations and we made a note of the totals. In the end it came to just under £14. I said, "that is a lot more than you expected isn't it ?" He smiled and nodded. "Are you sure you want to give all of it ? Are you sure you don't want to keep some of it ?" There was no hesitation at all. "I want to give all of it to Romania. We have £14 and they don't."

On days when this parenting thing seems to be impossibly difficult and thankless I'm going to remind myself of how thoughful and selfless my son can be. I must be doing something right.

The future's bright... if my boys have anything to do with it.

Today we went to a family event organised by my Mum at a Sikh temple. The boys wore their special indian clothes, covered their heads and took off their shoes. They've been before so they know how to show respect and what to do, but today Brown Bear did something extra special. He saw other family members serving food in the langar hall (where Sikhs offer free food to anyone who visits the temple) and asked if he could help. He went to wash his hands and came back to help serve food. I cannot tell you how proud me and Hubbie are of our boy. 

My boy serving food at the Gurdwara

I've been thinking about the things we do that fit in with the Unilever Brighter Futures initiative and then today he did this wonderful selfless thing. Like a lot of parents we want our chidren to have a positive impact on the world they live in so we try to lead by example. 

I take the boys with me when I make donations to the food bank - they help choose the food items and I talk to them honestly about how important it is to help others. This is also why they understand the concept of langar is such a fundamental in our society as it's about caring for others. 

We went through Brown Bear's clothes the other week as he had so many new ones for his birthday and chose which ones to hand down to Blue Bear and which ones could be given to other children who could use them. I was surprised at how once he understood what was going to happen to this clothes Brown Bear was so willing to part with things he has loved so much. Knowing another child might like to wear a nice t-shirt made him all the more keen to give it away. 

I enourage the boys to be kind and helpful to others and we have a great relationship with our neighbours. Jill has been living on her own since her husband died a few years ago and the boys have adopted her as a 'spare grannie' (her chosen epithet, I promise you !) As well as being a fantastic helper to me she's also a great influence on the children and they often go to see her to keep her company. It is important to me that this intergenerational friendship is part of our family life. There is something magical about how much it means to Jill to have small children in her life again. Equally seeing how considerate my boys are to her and that they think about asking her over for a tea and a play is just lovely. 

In the reasearch that Unilever did for their brighter futures initiative they found out that six out of ten parents say they have started to live in a ‘greener’ way at home at the suggestion of their children. Actually we have always been pretty green, but now that my boys realise that there is an environmental benefit to the things we do they are more inclined to do them too. Most of the things we do are instinctive:

• We save water - I won't let it go to waste at all - if there is water left undrunk it gets reused for plants around the house. 

• I have trained the entire family to turn off the taps when brushing teeth to save water - it's a small, but effective action. 

• We have a special waterproof timer for the shower so that there is no lingering and the boys love to try and beat the timer. 

• We collect rainwater in a waterbutt and it gets used for plants in the garden in the drier months. 

We don't let anything go to waste.

Any and all packaging is reused. From boxes that go to pre-school to the parcel contents such as bubble wrap, shredded paper and even packing peanuts (those polystyrene things that cannot be recycled) get used for art and play projects at school.

Finally I like my boys to be part of the community and to understand that this means doing for others. That is why today was so special. Being from two different cultural backgrounds can be a lot for children to take on so for my boy to embrace the Sikh values in our family is really special to me.

We're raising our boys to make a postive contribution to society - again this is best demonstrated by what they see us doing. I am a trustee of an inclusive dance charity and the boys support the work we do by joining in fundraisers such as the annual Ceilidh. Disabled and non-disabled dancers who take part in our projects come along and we get to do something inclusive, fun and raise funds at the same time.

Quite 

I honestly believe that we are contributing to a brighter future. Not least as when Blue Bear came to join our family it was a big learning curve for us all. I'll be posting all this week about adoption and it's special place in our hearts so I hope that you will join me to find out more.  

This post is an entry for BritMums #brightFuture Challenge, sponsored by Unilever 

Black Thoughts and Blue Skies.

Today this cartoon appeared on my timeline and I felt so moved by it that I shared it. It's taken from a website called www.robot-hugs.com which you should check out - it really is quite lovely.

I was moved by this because the sentiment in it is so important for those who don't live with depression to understand. It's not always possible for someone with depression to express what is wrong or what they need. I remember my housemates in a shared house at Uni asking me why I was the way I was and being so confused and tearful I just didn't know what to say. It didn't matter how much Rachel harangued me to explain I just didn't know. I still don't really.

Just as one of my other Uni housemates used to play Pink Floyd and lock herself away sometimes and be really excited and happy at other times and we just accepted that was who she was. When she was sad we would be around, but not in her face and when she was manic we'd be carried along by her enthusiasm and rapid fire chat and laughter. I've since found out she has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and this was what we were witnessing, but without any knowledge of it. I like to think we were not a hindrance to her and that she knew it was a safe space to be herself in.

It's not always possible to know what you need to make you feel better. Equally it isn't always easy to know what to offer to do. When my closest friend almost died (actually she technically did die and came back) I went to see her in hospital and I asked what she needed. She said she had everything - her ipad, fruit, etc. I thought for a minute then said, "do you want me to wash your hair ?" She looked so relieved and said, "Yes ! That's just what I need." I'd taken a guess because I remembered being in hospital with my newborn son and just wanting clean hair. It made such a difference.

Sometimes is isn't much, but it's just something. When my first marriage broke up and I moved back to my parents' home I was in a daze. It was a miserable time and I didn't know what I was going to do. My sister was living at home and she came to the room where I was going to sleep and said, "shall I sit with you until you fall asleep ?" I had no idea what I needed or wanted, but at that moment I knew that I didn't want to be by myself. My sister brought in a chair and sat next to my bed in silence. She stayed there in the dark until I nodded off. It was the single most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

This is a difficult time of year for so many people. The weight of expectation is so high and we are all supposed to be having a wonderful time. If you aren't full of festive cheer it can be impossible to be around people who are. It's ok to feel sad, or angry, or fed up, or nothing.

If you are around someone who is depressed bear in mind that you may not be able to do anything. Just being there might also be just enough.







www.mind.org.uk

www.sane.org.uk

Zestica fertility kit

If you're a regular reader you will know a little about the journey we had to take in order to meet our beloved boy. You may also have realised we've been trying for another for a while. I won't dwell on the details as friends & family reading this really won't want to know, but it's safe to share that seeing a lot of others who've gone on to have a second ( or more) has not been easy. I smile and congratulate them as it's churlish not to and they're probably not that keen to hear how we were so close and it didn't work out. No one wants to be a downer do they ?

Another kindly blogger who's had similar experiences and is now pregnant with her second (and I'm genuinely very happy for her) put me in contact with Zestica as they have launched a kit to assist couples who are struggling to conceive. The kit comes with two different gels in individual tubes and a set of ovulation tests. There is a calendar provided to help you work out when to use which product. 

The conception gels are used daily in the days leading up to ovulation and are designed to prepare you (the woman) to conceive. The ovulation kits help pin point when you ovulate so you can try on the most likely days. The fertility gels are to use on those days. Not to be too indelicate, but they're also for the woman and are supposed to help assist 'his' swimmers to Olympic standards. 

The timings are a little difficult to get the hang of at first, but the instructions do help. There is a reference to an online calendar which I was unable to find so I relied on charting the days on paper. There is, however, an issue with the lack of spontaneity in having to pop in a gel before you can have some 'grown up time.' 

I did not fall pregnant after using this kit, but I know that despite the stories you hear about things working first time they rarely do if you're already struggling to conceive. I was prepared to try shamanic healing, acupuncture and all manner of bizarre weirdness before we had our boy, so this is quite scientific in comparison. 

It's not entirely clear what the science behind it is, but I'm guessing that most people using it won't ask too many questions if it works for them. It's priced at £39.99 which isn't the priciest kit I've seen so it's reasonable value. You get enough gels & tests for one cycle so if you're having to try again a few times the costs could be quite substantial. 

If you're trying for a baby it is probably worth giving this kit a go. You will get a good idea how your cycle works (if you don't know already) and it's not that much of a hassle to use - aside from the spontaneity issue mentioned earlier of course.

You can purchase the kit from www.zestica.com and good luck !

Disclosure: I was sent this kit in order to write an honest review. No payment was received for this post. 

What do I tell my toddler ?

It's been a really odd day today. it started off normal enough with all of us going swimming then for a change I took the boy shopping while Hubbie mowed the front garden and fired up his beloved barbecue for lunch. As we were coming home I got a call from Hubbie that there was a car in front of our drive so I'd have to park on the road. No big deal, but I was worried as I knew what this probably meant.

Our neighbours on both sides are lovely and we have a good relationship with them. On one side are a couple who were both widowed in that last few years and who have grown up children. The other side are an older couple who also have grown up kids and are retired. All of the neighbours have taken care of us, our cat and our son at some point and we've done the same for them. The older couple kind of 'adopted' our boy as a surrogate grandchild as theirs is almost 11 years old and they missed having a little child around. 

Not long after we moved in I was talking to the retired chap and he told me he was being treated for cancer and was travelling to St Thomas' hospital for his chemotherapy. In between sessions he was still able to tend to his garden and play bowls with his wife and they went on holidays and we watered his plants. I recall one very hot Sunday afternoon last summer (not unlike today) when they called us over the fence to join them and their son and daughter-in-law for drinks. Our boy ran around having fun, we chilled out with them and it was just really lovely. 

We found out later that the chemo had been unsuccessful and that his cancer had spread. Then at Christmas he was in hospital and since then he has been very seriously ill. All our son was aware of was the he was 'not well' and he would say that to us as an explanation for not having seen the man next door for a while. In the last few weeks his condition deteriorated and nurses and doctors became a regular fixture at their home. 

Then today came the news we had been expecting, but dreading. The car across our drive was the undertakers who had arrived for 'the body' as he passed away this morning. We took the boy into the garden to play with his new den so that he wouldn't see what was going on. Hubbie and I bowed our heads in respect as he was taken away and both shed some tears for him and for his family's loss. 

Then we went on with our day as normal, the barbecue we had planned went ahead as family members called in next door to visit our newly widowed neighbour. We put a card through the door to offer our condolences and later on watched Andy Murray in the men's final at Wimbledon. Our boy has now witnessed a piece of history as it happened. 

The dilemma I have now is how do I tell my son what has happened ? What can I say to him that he will understand ? He drew a picture for our neighbour as I asked him to and came with me to post the card through the door, but he didn't ask why. 

At some point he will wonder where his lovely, kind, playful surrogate grandparent is and I just don't know what I'm going to say. 

What was I doing at 12.12 on 12.12.12. you ask...

The date today was significant to many different people. From the worrying doom-mongers to the spiritual and fluffy the main concern was that this date will not happen again for a hundred years or something. Well that also applies to yesterday and the day before as well as tomorrow and the day after that so why today has more voodoo attached to it is beyond my meagre knowledge of utter nonsense.

Now I subscribe to plenty of daft ideas (astrology, reincarnation, etc.) and I refer you to my last blog post for some of the inherited craziness that I still indulge in. However, even I struggle with some of the thinking that pervades days like today. So the numbers seem meaningful and hence we're supposed to do something special are we ? Well what's wrong with doing something good, kind, or life changing on any day. How about stopping at some point on a random Tuesday to smell the air or smile at strangers (be careful with that one - it can create confusion and worry) rather than waiting until it is special - numerologically speaking.

It reminds me of the tradition we have of the news story that runs in January on the 'most depressing day of the year.' Apparently it's the day:

-  we give up our new year's resolutions

- the cold, hard reality of winter sets in and Christmas and New Year are a mere memory

-  gyms see a drop off in new members turning up who have paid up front for a whole year (and therefore subsidise people like me who take up free trial days all the time)

- we realise that getting paid early on Dec seemed a good idea at the time, but actually February is still a long way off now that Christmas is over

- we look longingly at holidays to cheer ourselves up

And here is the crux of the matter. The most depressing day of the year story was originally run by a holiday firm looking to promote early booking for Summer holidays. It ran as 'news' and took on a life of its own so it's now an annual fixture despite it's dubious origins.

This makes me wonder who is making anything out of the whole 12th of December 2012 story. Is it even a money spinner for anyone or just a convenient run up to Christmas chance to get us all depressed in advance ? I've noticed that shops aren't nearly as busy as I expected at the moment. Is that because we're all skint or because we've not noticed that it's less than two weeks to Christmas ?

I've been baking and making for family and friends - when you're not employed it's difficult to justify spending on gifts - so I've been pretty busy. Hence, the realisation that I hadn't set aside a special moment to do something breathtaking at 12.12 today.

In case you really are interested I was tidying in the kitchen and preparing some soup for lunch which my son took one sip of and pushed away.

Totally worth it :o)

Yoga Bunny vs Super Nanny

At around lunchtime today I officially fell back in love with yoga. Of course being taught by Howard Napper who is hunky, good looking and super fit does help. The fact he remembered me from the class I used to attend in Notting Hill was a bonus. In case I sound completely facile, I actually do have a practical reason for remembering why I came to yoga in the first place almost 20 years ago.

At least I'm not drooling :o)

My yoga journey has included the obligatory phase of being obsessed with posture and having a great body - which was what we all did in the noughties. I used to attend an Ashtanga class that was so popular that we'd all arrive early and wait outside for the teacher and fight for a space for our over priced sticky mats in the hideous mirrored room of the gym. My first teacher had been a dancer, my second a super fit ashtanga yogi, then there was Eddie the marine. I don't know if he was actually a marine, but he was the polar opposite of what male yoga teachers usually are ie. long limbed, slim and with that vaguely transatlantic accent they affect to sound more cosmopolitan. Eddie was husky, cockney and also caused queues round the corridors of the community gym that he taught at. He was the teacher who told us it's ok not to bind as some of us have short arms and I have used that excuse ever since.

When I was training to teach I started to attend classes with Howard at the Life Centre in Notting Hill. It was during these classes that my style of teaching began to take shape. It was also when I changed my approach from 'doing' yoga to 'being' yoga. I know that sounds hippy and odd, so I'll keep it simple. Instead of trying to get into Lotus position I began to listen to my body and to enjoy the practice of yoga again. After years of being taught and getting injured here was a teacher who advocated listening to your own body and instead of pushing on through pain and injury backing off and doing less. It was revolutionary !!

So, today I rediscovered this approach and after a challenging week with my son I spent a day finding my foundations, going back to basics and remembering why I do yoga at all. I drove home in the sunshine with a smile and a warm feeling in my heart and head. As I pulled up to the drive my son saw me and screeched "Mummy !" in delight.

Half an hour later there was an upturned bowl of pasta on the floor and a smattering of the accompanying tomato sauce and a few vegetables on the left left leg of my favourite yoga pants. Now I don't really have favourite clothes any more. Since I became a Mum it's whatever is clean or hasn't been spit up on, or had food thrown at it. In his current phase of randomly throwing food and shouting  "NO !" it's becoming the norm to feed him in his vest to save on washing products. After this week I may have to do the same.

My boy is going through that phase of challenging behaviour that all toddlers do. I realise that he is testing the boundaries and that this will only be for a while, but this week I had a very difficult time coping with it. I'm working on being more patient, but I hear myself sometimes sounding like I'm whining at him and frankly I don't blame him for not listening. There's only so much 'don't do that, Mummy doesn't like it' that we can both put up with.

Last weekend I made the mistake of watching Supernanny. Before I had a child I thought it was an interesting show with some good ideas. Now I watch an episode with a Mum whose six year old son hits her and is out of control and I'm terrified that it is a premonition of what my boy will turn into. He doesn't take after his father as Hubbie was, by all accounts, a fabulous little boy and no trouble at all (although Mother-in-law may not be an objective witness). I sometimes think he gets it from me, but I wasn't a challenging child as I was too scared of my Mother to ever tell her I didn't like certain foods so I just ate them. As an adult I am a seething mass of anger about all sorts of things, but I'm pretty sure that isn't genetic.

So this week we've been learning to say sorry (both of us) and to be nice to each other. It's a work in progress and one that is tiring us both out. Even Neo was called in to help the boy learn to be gentle and he did very well not running off as the toddler approached him with a brush to smooth his fur with. As with all things, it's small steps.

Today reminded me that I have to take time to do things just for me and to be 'not Mummy' for a while. It's in that time that small miracles can happen. Like standing outside in the sunshine and not thinking 'ooh I should hang out the washing.' Like making a cup of tea and drinking it while it's still hot.

In all the years I've practised yoga, in all the classes where I've tried I've never come close to achieving the Lotus. I think it was Howard who told me that a lotus can grow in the dirtiest, grubbiest water. It is the beautiful flower that we see on the surface in spite of the grottiness underneath and around it. Today while I was doing less and enjoying some 'me time' I looked down at my feet and saw this.

It's almost a lotus, but not quite. I'm happy with that.

Like I say it's all about small steps.

Then the miracles can happen.

With a big sigh and a heavy heart… a serious blog

I've lived for 42 years and in that time I've been made to realise that there are a lot of things about me that other people don't like. Some of them I can do something about - like talking too much, or having the wrong accent, or making a face that looks a bit too smug, or correcting poor spelling unasked. There are some things I can't do anything about, like the colour of my skin.

It amazes me that there are still people who think it's perfectly ok to make offensive remarks about race and treat it as normal or justifiable to do so. It upsets me, because my parents faced so much racism for so many years that I'm sure their only hope when it happened to them was that their children would be spared the indignity of the same.

My husband hadn't come across racism in his own life so when he married into an asian family it suddenly became a personal insult for someone to make derogatory remarks about asians as they were talking about his wife, or his mother-in-law or now his son. Imagine how much worse that is when it's a member of your own family making the remarks ?

When I was at university I shared a house with friends and we lived in an area on the outskirts of Coventry. On one occasion when I was walking home with one of my housemates and the local kids shouted out racist comments to me I ignored them and she went ballistic. It's not that I wasn't bothered. As I explained to her there is little point in telling them what they're saying is wrong when it's what they hear their parents say.

In the same vein I met up with a friend I used to go to school with when I was 8 just before she emigrated to Australia and we reminisced about some of our classmates. I have few fond memories of my school in Greenwich in the '70s when the National Front were still marching in the streets and me and my brother were the only asian children in the school until the Patels sent their daughters to the school.

My friendship with Nichola was one of the only things I recall with happiness. I was in a classroom where the teacher sat me with the only black child in the class - a strange form of selection as the other tables were based on academic ability not skin colour. One of my classmates gleefully shared that her mother had asked me to let her know when my Dad's head was better - as a Sikh he wears a turban.

Nic remarked that one of our classmates used to sing racist songs which I have no memory of at all. Maybe I've blanked it out like so much else that I don't want to recall. The interesting thing is that this lad had a promising career as a footballer, but his father was unwelcome at the Arsenal training ground due to his unreconstructed comments about people of other races. So that apple didn't fall too far from the tree then.

This has come up now because I read a comment on Facebook tonight that stunned me so much that initially I called it out for the racism is blatantly was. Then I decided that was probably too strong and decided to just say that it was offensive and inflammatory. When something like this happens I have to maintain my dignity and my ability to walk away.

I wish that I could believe I will never have to explain to my son what racism is.
I pray that in his life he doesn't hear the insults or the ignorance that make me so sad.
I hope that he is a kind and loving person regardless of what others say and do.

That's not too much to ask is it ?

To stay at home or not to stay at home that is the question...

Mother-in-law was asking me earlier this week about work. We'd just finished eating and I was still tired from two sleepless nights with a teething toddler, so I was only really half listening. Initially she asked if I had given up working and I said yes. Then she asked if I was going to look for another job and I said I wasn't sure, but I'd probably look for something that fitted round my boy's busy schedule. She then went on to tell me how it's so much nicer to stay at home with your children and it was simpler in her day as you could do that.

This morning there was a discussion on the radio about women 'having it all' and whether or not it was possible or preferable to work or be a full time mum. As I was driving back from an aerobics class while Hubbie and toddler were out doing father and son activities I only caught two soundbites. One was a woman saying that women should never give up work. The other was that men can have it all because they have women to do the other stuff for them.

I stayed at home with my boy for the first year of his life and that was a bare minimum for me to feel ready to leave him. Then I went back to work - ostensibly full time, but with flexible hours and a lot of leave to use up. I hated being at work while others looked after my boy. He was with family members as my sister and Hubbie did the childcare so he was always with people who love him very much. I missed him so much and my work just didn't appeal any more. When the offer of voluntary redundancy came up we discussed if it would work for us and Hubbie agreed that we could manage if I stayed at home. I loved being with my son every day and took him to playgroups and activities every day.

Then a few months ago I found myself feeling fed up. My life seemed to be about waiting for my boy to nap then while he was asleep preparing for him to wake up. I cooked most evenings and my son ate home cooked food every day. He got so used to me that he would greet Daddy enthusiastically and look disappointed if it was just me - AGAIN.

A job came up locally which I decided to do a few days a week to see how it went and if it would suit me to work as my boy was older now (although still under 2 and increasingly cheeky - of course). I did the job a few weeks and just knew it wasn't for me. I was in an office alone and the work was pretty soul destroying. What had started out as a way to have some time for myself and to spend time with other adults became a long walk at lunchtime sandwiched between massive boredom either side. Another discussion with Hubbie about the pointlessness of doing a job that was making me so miserable led to my deciding to give my notice.

This brings us right up to date with my conversation with MiL. Women of her generation do have a different perspective on how to raise children. It took me and Hubbie a long time to have our son so it was important to me that I raise him and care for him as I didn't have him to farm him out to childminders. My mother didn't have any choice and had to work despite having four children. Her perspective is broadly the same and she encourages me to stay at home if I can while understanding (a lot better than MiL I suspect) how hard it is to work and raise a family.

The phrase 'having it all' is misleading:

Women work because we want to or because we need to
We have children and raise them because we want to or can do
We try and do both because we have to or because we are led to believe we are supposed to

The messages we get about being a Mum are:

Being a Mum is not enough to be 'a job'
Working and trying to raise your children will mean you are not doing a good job of either
Being dedicated to your work makes you a poor parent

So I find myself once again tackling the thorny issue of whether to work or not. If I work we can have a few nicer things and maybe a holiday. It means the pressure is not on Hubbie to bring home the Quorn bacon so he can still have some family life and not be a wage slave to support us all.

If I stay at home I get to raise our boy with our values, our boundaries and to watch my little boy grow into a confident and engaging little man before my eyes. I can look at him and beam with pride when he says "bless you" for someone who sneezes or does all the actions to Incy Wincy spider, or strokes the cat gently after weeks of being told not to pull his tail. It also means I get all the tantrums, the throwing, the refusing to do as he's told and hearing the word "no" so many times I cannot tell you.

I've said before that I don't want to have it all. I just want to have a son who feels happy and secure. A Hubbie who is happy and feels appreciated and loved. A family who feel they are part of my son's life and valued. Oh and if there is room for one more wish I'd like this body in a size ten please.

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.

And now for something a bit serious

There were two news stories that I took particular interest in this week and I wanted to share some thoughts on them.

The first was a news item about the arrest of nine men from Rochdale and Oldham who had been involved in systematic grooming and sexual abuse of young girls. Comment and opinion has come from quarters as diverse as the BNP and the chair of the Equality and Human Rights Commission. Interestingly enough they seem to be saying about the same thing - that race is a factor as 8 of the men are Pakistani and one is from Afganistan. The assertion has been that they targeted white girls due to cultural attitudes towards sexuality. This completely ignores the fact that abuse is abuse regardless of the ethnicity of the victim or perpetrator. It also turns a blind eye to the abuse that takes place within the Asian community (which is the catch-all term being used to describe these men) and goes unspoken about. Additionally there is the practice of underage marriage which pretty much sanctions child abuse and is more common than we are led to believe. To make this about race is unnecessary as it takes away from the reality that these are horrific and cruel acts committed by nasty people. In communities where it is the custom to call all adults uncle and aunty and to show respect to them a child can be placed in a vulnerable situation and not feel able to report it to anyone. Targeting complete strangers and luring them into a dangerous situation is downright criminal and thankfully these men have been caught and charged. Don't even get me started on how unhelpful Trevor Phillips' comments are - just read them and decide for yourself: http: BBC News website

The other news item playing out towards the end of this week was the cover of Time magazine to illustrate an article about attachment parenting. In case you haven't seen it this is the photo:

The various debates on radio and online have included spokespeople from Mumsnet and other parenting organisations. All of them commenting on the pose of the photograph and not the article itself. What was a piece about attachment parenting has become outrage at a woman defiantly appearing to breastfeed a child who can stand and look at the camera. Not for them the traditional babe in arms pose we are used to seeing (or not as the case may be). The various threads of discussion I've followed have been about whether or not prolonged breastfeeding is about the child or the mother. I breastfed my son and wanted to do so for as long as it suited him. Eventually at 14 months I had to concede that he wasn't really feeding any more and it was about me wanting to hold him close and keep the bond we had developed. When he was first born and we were in hospital for a few days I fed him for hours at a time and holding him close was just the most wonderful sensation. Being able to let go of that closeness is difficult, but I have noticed that as he grows he chooses how to be close to me and this autonomy and independence is important. It has always been important that my son feels close to both me and Hubbie and they also have a very affectionate relationship. Being able to breastfeed is a wonderful way to build a bond with your child and one I'd recommend to anyone. However, it isn't always possible for a mother to breastfeed and it isn't an option for the father so attachment comes in many other forms. The magic 2 year goal for breastfeeding is taken from the World Health Organisation guidance to women in the whole world. It is the safest, most hygienic and cheapest option for mothers of babies born in countries where water is not clean or accessible and where healthcare is not freely available. However, in a culture where we have the choice it is the tyranny of the 'Mummy mafia' that makes breastfeeding for years the gold standard of caring. If I sought validation from the Supermums I'd have serious concerns about my own sanity.

Next time: back to usual light-hearted self deprecating schtick I promise :o)

The incredible Sulk

For those of my readers who are not in a relationship this post will either be of little interest or make you glad you're not. It's about the trials and tribulations that living with another person can cause.

People are annoying. They can be friendly, kind, loving and even funny, but mostly other people are annoying. From the music they listen to on their headphones, to the opinions they have to the way they eat food in public, other people are just a mish-mash of things that are designed to get on your nerves. Take all these qualities and put them in your house and try living with them and you have a marriage. Or if you're not that into marriage, you have a partnership.

I live with someone who doesn't argue (and I don't mean my son - he's already able to yell within an impressive range !) My Hubbie is perceived by everyone as being a nice guy and a bit of a softie. So those who think I'm a meanie have this idea that he is hen-pecked. In actual fact he's perfectly able to stand up for himself and not arguing is a real bonus as I come from a family where shouting and arguing are considered primary forms of communication. In fact my father's preferred form of punishment in my teenage years was to just not talk to me for ages. The longest time he ignored me was 4 years and at this point he even walked past me in the street and pretended he hadn't seen me. In his mind withdrawing any form of communication was the ultimate sanction in a household where the decibel level was critical all the time.

If I'm upset I snap, or I cry, or usually I do both. It's immediate, it's done with and as soon as it's over I regret the bad feeling I've caused to others in my warpath during the dark mood. This is why I can't abide two things:

1. the lingering nonsense that is sulking.

2. being constantly reminded of how I was really angry about something that time. 

If you sulk it's self indulgent and it doesn't achieve anything. It doesn't clear the air and it doesn't explain to anyone what your issue is. It also doesn't leave any space to apologise for being selfish as it's just too long drawn out for that. Reminding me that I was upset about something years ago (or as one person I know likes to do constantly telling me I'm unreasonable) ignores the fact that I do apologise and try to make up for being in a bad mood which a sulker doesn't do. 

I live with the world's primary expert in sulking. If there were a prize for being able to sulk the longest and with the least reason he'd have won it long ago. I blame myself. Mother-in-law did tell me this years ago and I smiled and thought, "what does she know ?" I mean she's only his mother after all. He is able to sulk for days that go into almost weeks. I make his favourite foods, offer him the remote more often and keep asking if he's alright. The mood doesn't shift. Then I finally snap and lose my temper and revert to type and demand an explanation for the moping around and get a teenage response akin to "nuffin" and a shrug.

In some ways it's good to have different conflict styles. Not for us the constant hum of low grade bickering you see in other marriages. I remember getting caught in the cross fire of an argument about whether or not to paint radiators once - it was petty and ugly, much like that couple's arguing style. Just once in a while though I'd like the simplicity of one of us saying what is wrong and the other one responding with kindness and a cup of tea. 

It's difficult enough to be nice to strangers without having to do pleasantries with him indoors. If you can't just say "Oi ! Stop leaving your socks on the floor it pisses me off !" what is the point of being married ? Surely it's about being able to let off steam to the one person who you know can take it and will be alright with you about it because they know you're just upset and not being a nasty, selfish pig.

Every now and again I want to switch off from making sure everyone else is ok and just have an off day. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. A cup of tea and a bar of chocolate is a great solution, but just not having someone else sulk about it is even better. 

Happy Sister's Day

In a year of celebrations from the Olympics to the Queen's diamond jubilee we've just had Mother's Day and in June it'll be Father's Day. We also now have grandparents day, nurses day and all manner of celebratory days to mark the special relationships we have with people. There are some glaring omissions though and one that I feel especially aggrieved by is the lack of a day to celebrate siblings.

As the oldest of four children I have a few of them and have been blessed with some great kindness that I think is worth a mention. In particular I have one sister who has been through some hardship in recent years and has still remained a kind and loving person.

When she was a young child she was always looking out for everyone. If I went out for the evening (I didn't have a wild social life, despite what my Mother thinks) no matter how late it was I'd get home to see her sitting on the top stair usually fast asleep waiting for me to get home safe before she would go to bed herself.

When I returned home having left my first husband none of my family questioned why or what happened. On the first night my sister came into the room I was staying in and asked if I wanted her to stay with me. She sat by the bed in the dark, quietly, just keeping me company until I fell asleep. I had no idea what I needed, but it was the kindest and most selfless gesture.

When I was in labour and had to go into hospital because our son was having trouble being born my sister was the go-between with my family checking on how we were doing and helping hubbie keep calm. She was the first to visit her nephew and offered to help me have a wash as I felt so skanky in the hospital.

Since then she has been invaluable in caring for my son and by association me. She would tell me to go and lie down and even took my son out in his pram without me for the first time. Last week she took him for his first happy meal and I expect she will be his favourite auntie all his life for that alone !

Just writing this has made me tearful, so I'm going to stop, but not before I say thank you to my sister. There isn't enough cake or chocolate in the world to thank you for being such a kind and loving person, but you will always get both whenever you are here.

Oh and I'm working on getting you Jessie Pavelka dipped in chocolate :o)