A feminist, an adopter, a radio presenter, an equality advisor and mum to boys.
I swim, play music, write stuff and have ambitions to declutter my home.
Neo has lived with us for 9 years. He has welcomed a baby into the family, moved house, seen off random other felines and managed to deal with yet another child joining the family. His life has not been without incident, but as I watched him today lying in the sun relaxed and purring I appreciated that he has a happy life with us.
He gets to sunbathe (indoors or outdoors) relatively free of interruption.
Relaxed - and long - cat
He is free to check his email and social media as he wishes and while his typing speed is still pretty slow at least he now dribbles far less on keys.
This does not look like a mouse to me !
Neo has trained the boys to come and say hello and goodnight to him and to feed him on demand. He's a smart cookie !
Playing with the track before school
Yesterday we decided to take Brown Bear's high loft bed down and put him back in an average height bed. This way Neo can lie with him and they both love to sleep together. It is funny to try and work out where the cat is among all the soft toys !
Sleeping beauties
This morning Neo was staunchly sticking by Brown Bear's side. He followed his boy around the house and decided to sit close by on the table. I think he makes a cute - if a bit fluffy - paperweight.
Still life
I love seeing my oldest boys getting along. Neo and Brown Bear are a great team and they do love each other very much indeed. It's a wonderful thing to witness.
I treated myself to this cuff from lovely Pippa at Story of Mum. I don't wear much jewellery and I don't have tattoos so sometimes it's good to double up. It goes under my sleeve and when I'm feeling like I'm not doing so well it reminds me that I am enough.
My gift for me - because I'm worth it
It wasn't until we got home from Cornwall that we were able to build this table for the boys. When it was done they couldn't wait to get started - I've just realised that Blue Bear is just the right height to get poked in the face by the rods. Not my best plan !
Table football for my boys
Hubbie bought me some lovely things - including a gorgeous handbag. He also bought me this book and I wasn't sure at first if it was a comment on my housekeeping skills or intended to assist with my ongoing declutter. Either way I have just finished reading it so it's the first book I've finished reading in years and I'm already noticing the change in my attitude to tidying. I'm not sure about sparking joy, but I can definitely see the changes in our home.
Yep I've actually finished a book !
This was a gift from my lovely friend and beauty therapist Yasmin. I hung it on the handle of the cupboard where we store Neo's food and I didn't really appreciate until today how accurate a depiction it is of him.
They know Neo so well
I felt terribly guilty at Christmas when despite all my planning and packing and preordering of shopping I managed to forget to take anything for Hubbie to open on the day itself. He was very good about it, but I really wish I had got him something to unwrap. I bought him tickets for some great gigs that are coming up this year so hopefully the thought counts.
A while back I went to see Russell Brand's show Messiah Complex in which he compared his life with some famous world leaders for comedic purposes. As we drove back from a visit to family this afternoon and the boys were being insane in the back of the car my mind drifted to how I'd make a similar comparison. Gandhi - I think we all start out this way. Benign and with a patient and loving attitude. In the early days I also found I was pretty much on hunger strike, not like all the other new mums on a post baby diet, but because I just didn't prioritise feeding myself when I was caring for a tiny baby. Some days I didn't get dressed so my clothing pretty much resembled Gandhi's too. I never took up weaving or surrounded myself with pretty ingenues though.
Malcolm Luther King - once they're on the move we become a bit more "I have a dream" about our children. The aspirations take full flight and we approach parenting from a non-violent, but pragmatic standpoint. As soon as they make sounds that resemble words we begin to teach them songs and spend hours at a time repeating things so they will learn to say, "Mama." It's always, "Dada" frist though isn't it ?
Malcolm X - as my boy developed an attitude I became a lot more, 'by any means necessary' about it all. As he developed into a tantrum prone easy to tears toddler I had to find ways to keep myself sane in the face of a meltdown of epic proportions in the supermarket. If it took bribery (I will take you to the park if you stop screaming) I went with it. If I had to threaten to take stuff away (no bear fruit if you keep shouting) that was what I did. It wasn't pretty. It was, however, for the greater good.
Mugabe - then he went to school and became a know it all and a mini adult. He knows better than me and argues about everything. I've had to go hardcore and lay down the law with him in no uncertain terms. I've gone from previously heroic to always trying to ruin his life. It isn't about what he wants, it's all about what I need him to do. I even find myself saying, "because I said so." A sure sign that it's not going my way. It's not going well I'll be honest.
So I've decided the only way to go from now on is...
Trump - yep total batshit crazy. When my child gets up in my grill I'm just going to talk utter crap at him until he's so baffled he will be reduced to thinking I've lost the plot. When he says, "I want cake," I will respond with, "I have all the cake, I have the best cake. No one has better cake than me." He's just going to stare. We've already planned to tell him that we're building a wall (between his room and his brother's) and that we will not accept any judgement of our parenting that isn't in our favour. I draw the line at the orange hair though.
I wish I could go back in time and be all Mary Poppins about it, but I think that ship has pretty much sailed now. I mean a spoonful of sugar ? In this day and age ? We'd get such a hammering on the Mumsnet forums it's not even worth thinking about.
Still I wonder what Russell's take on it is now he's a father to baby Mabel.
The other day I was watching the comedy show Modern Family and the character Jay described a situation he found difficult as 'my Vietnam... and I was in Vietnam."
After last weekend I think I have some idea what he's talking about. It was the big birthday weekend. I'd been planning for my son's 6th birthday party and it was also my nephew's party the next day. I prepared for weeks, nay months in advance. I ordered popcorn bags, collected suitable party bag treats, booked a great street dance teacher and our old friends at Totstars for the sports side of the party. After the event I felt like I'd been in the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan. So much was going on, but I wasn't really part of it so I had no idea what was happening. When I've seen photos afterwards I don't even remember being there !
I can only conclude that for me planning and delivering a children's birthday party is actually like being in a Vietnam war movie (yes I know Saving Private Ryan is not a Vietnam movie, it's just an illustrative example. Please do keep up).
I start out like Charlie Sheen in Platoon - idealistic, full of hope in my ability and the potential for this to be the greatest social event of all time. My hair starts off looking pretty cool as well.
During the party I channel Robin Williams in Good Morning Vietnam: enthusiastic, a bit manic and driven by adrenalin. I probably make about as much sense at Adrian Cronauer too.
After contact with the Viet cong (kids) I'm more like the drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket: driven, bullish and in 'just get it done' mode. I'm also pretty much singing the surfin' bird tune on repeat in a post party haze.
The drama started even before the party with a mum coming up to me at swimming to say, "Oh I think we can make it to the party now - when is it again ?" Now how do you tell someone, "Well, actually your child wasn't invited so don't worry about it love." ?
Then during the party there was the entitled little shit of a child who started off by being too cool for school during the street dance and not taking part in the dance-off. Then when the kids were eating the popcorn I'd painstakingly bagged up as a post-dance, pre-sports snack he handed his back to me with, "what else have you got ?" It doesn't get better. We had pizzas delivered for the children to eat and as we offered them round he looked up and said, "Don't you have pepperoni ?" Well mate it's not a restaurant it's a party. We ordered margerita, veggie, hawaiian and chicken. You're the first 5 year old I've ever met who eats pepperoni so eat it or don't eat it, there's garlic bread and wedges if you're really starving.
Having made it to the end of the party and seen everyone off the premises we went home to bed to prepare for the party the next day. At least this time we were guests instead of hosts.
My tiredness and PPSD (post party stress disorder) may have contributed to my experience of this one feeling like I was in the Deer Hunter. Instead of finding it charming when a dad asked his daughter, "how do say orange juice in French ?" I wanted to just shout, "Oh just shuttup why don't you ?"
I lost my joy with the hipster parents who lounged around not watching Oberon and Marigold taking food off plates that people were eating from. One 'darling' kept calling my son names and when I asked if he wanted something to eat he said, "I want bread" I muttered, not entirely under my breath, "my kids would have said please and thank you."
The crowning glory of the party was when my boy was pushed aside from standing with his one year old cousin cutting the birthday cake because, "You've already had your birthday." I have only one response to this and it's pretty Michael Cimino:
Ok I'm not quiet, but you'd better believe that with that one gesture you unleashed hell !
I recently had my hair cut shorter and have found it suits me better, is far more practical when swimming and has garnered some compliments. The other thing I noticed was that I can now spot the odd white hair along the front hairline. For years I asked my hairdresser if I was going grey and he insisted that I wasn't. I suspect he was sparing my feelings, but I also put it down to a mythical family trait that I had told myself existed.
You see I was convinced for years that my Mum didn't go grey until she was in her forties. She had been colouring her hair, but I was pretty sure she wasn't anything like as grey as other people of her age. Now I'm wondering if I was right after all. I mean it isn't bad to be on the cusp of my late '40s and only just noticing silver wisps is it ? I'm almost proud. Not quite, but almost.
Ageing is inevitable, but some do it better than others. It's become pretty standard to watch people in the public eye get shinier and tighter as they grow older. In real life things sag and droop, but we try and defy any signs that we're getting on a bit. A lot of the people who swim at the pool I go to are much older than me and are super fit. Maybe they would have been anyway, but the swimming probably helps.
It's ok for men to get older, they are described as 'distinguished,' but women aren't treated the same way are we ? It's like wearing glasses. Hubbie eschews contact lenses because he knows that glasses suit him. I've never quite managed to shake off the idea that, 'boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.' I know women who look fantastic in specs, but I'm just not one of them. In my final year at Uni I decided to wear glasses to look clever in the hope they would confer intelligence on me by stealth. No such luck.
I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to behave. Do I stop wearing t-shirts emblazoned with band names and logos on them ? Do I listen to serious music instead of the tunes that make my children laugh and sing along ? Do I watch my cholesterol and take preventative measures ? Do I take up soothing pastimes and start collecting things ? Or do I continue as I am. Dancing in the car and the kitchen with my kids and Hubbie. Hiding sweets from party bags that the kids bring home so that we can eat them to 'protect their precious teeth' ?
What I am going to do is all the things I enjoy:
go swimming
go out to eat with Hubbie
have a lovely pampering treatment
present my radio show
see friends and have my hair done.
Then when it's all done I'll take a look at the 'silver' hair on my head and consider myself lucky.
I know I'll take the kids swimming after school. Hubbie has a thing after work so he's going to be out until after their bedtime. This way I can tire them out and make sure they conk out and are washed all at the same time. I am a parenting genius. (high fives self)
The Preparation:
Ok, I've got all the swimming kits in the car. I've been to vote already so that's taken care of. Have to make sure everyone has eaten as soon as they get home from school and have packed snacks for the inevitable post swimming cry of, "Mummy I'm hungry." Check off all of the above.
The Mission:
So, the boys are fed. Well sort of. Brown Bear scoffed the pizza he made at school today, then ate both hot dogs I put on his plate. Blue Bear deconstructed his hot dog and left it on the plate looking like it had undergone a forensic exam. I've told them they can wear crocs to the pool as I know it's faster to put them on than socks and shoes and I need all the time savings I can get.
The Success Part:
Oh this is wonderful, the boys are splashing around and having fun. Brown Bear can jump confidently in at the deep end and is doing forward rolls in the water. Blue Bear is having a whale of a time practising how to get in and out using the steps and jumping up and down in the small pool. I've totally nailed this. I can't believe I was even worried about taking them on my own. Bring on the awards, Mum of the Year right here folks.
The Failure Learning Part:
Ok, it's time to get out now boys. No you can't jump in just one more time. I've said it three times now. Remember what we talked about before we came to the pool about listening first time ? Under the showers please. Hold onto my hand Blue Bear. (He slips and falls. Screaming ensues). It's ok baby. I know it hurts, I'm sorry. Oh that is a nasty bump isn't it ? Let's go and get an ice pack from the lifeguards. I know your tummy hurts Brown Bear. Go the the toilet and you will feel better. Ok then go again and see if it helps. I'm going to get an ice pack and I'll be back. Can you get dressed while I'm doing that please ? (Ice pack administered). Brown Bear what do you mean your pants are wet ? Did you put wet trunks on top of them by mistake ? Well, that won't do you any harm, I promise. Let's get going home shall we ? I know your tummy still hurts. Maybe it'll feel better when we get home.
The Afterparty:
Who wants Haribo snowmen and who wants the stars ? Yes I think they will help your tummy. Definitely. You've both been so well behaved at the pool it's a treat to say thanks for helping me. (and bribery to stop crying of course). It's ok Blue Bear it's almost time for bed. Yes you can watch Peppa Pig until you finish your milk. Brown Bear why is your towel still dry ? Did you have a shower at the pool ? Are you sure ? Well, have one now please just to be safe.
The Guilt:
What if Blue Bear has concussion ? Goodness I've had wine, if anything happens I won't even be able to take him to the hospital. I hope Brown Bear doesn't throw up in his bed. I'd better check on them every ten minutes. I'm such a rubbish parent. Not fit to care for my lovely, wonderful children. What if they decided we're incapable of keeping Blue Bear ? I don't know who 'they' are. Anyway, I have to make sure they're both alive and well so that when Hubbie gets home he doesn't suspect I've broken them.
The Confession:
I'm sure the sausage chappati was delicious. Did you have a good evening Hubbie ? Good. Yes the boys are asleep. Yes I broke the baby, but to be fair he slipped and fell. Brown Bear always swallows loads of pool water, but I think it was worse than usual today. I suspect part of it was that Blue Bear was injured and Brown Bear wanted some of the attention too. Anyway, now you're home we can take turns in doing the concussion and vomit check.
I think I'll go back to swimming on my own tomorrow.
This evening I saw the cat lying on the sofa sleeping on a particularly fluffy blanket. He looked so relaxed and I had a few minutes to spare so I went over and rested my head softly on his body. I felt the warmth on the side of my face, the softness of his fur and the vibrations from his purring. It was a moment that I fully experienced and I don't often do that.
In the last few weeks I've been unwell. Firstly it was a bit of a cold and it was annoying, but not especially debilitating. Then it was a bit more full on and I was a bit flattened, but the boys got sick too so I parked it and took care of them instead. There's nothing guaranteed to make you get well faster than having to deal with children who are ill, grizzly and climbing into your bed at night because they don't want to be left alone.
So after a week or so of this it seemed we were all getting better. Then on the last week before school broke up for Easter I found I had tightness in my chest. Then the next day I felt really wiped out. Finally on the last day of school we all met up for an Easter egg hunt after school. We stood in the cold and drizzle waiting for the other kids, my boys were miserable and I was starting to realise that I wasn't quite well. Afterwards as we walked to the car park I banged my head on a low metal beam and the sound like an animal wailing in pain must have been heard for quite a distance. It wasn't a good sign.
On Good Friday I woke up ready to collapse. As we'd planned to visit my parents then Hubbie's we set off in the car. I went upstairs to lie down when we got to my Mum's house. I did the same when we got to the in-laws. Essentially I spent the entire Easter weekend sleeping. I couldn't stay awake for long and kept coughing too. It was pretty rubbish. During all of this I couldn't even enjoy any chocolate as I had given up for charity. As it was I couldn't eat much or taste anything so it was a moot point really.
It was so lucky that Hubbie was off work as I couldn't have handled the boys by myself. I stayed in bed and coughed a lot and slept a lot. Hubbie took the boys to the park, fed them and played with them. It's been the longest time I've rested since Big Boy was born. For the last year I've not stopped long enough to let myself get ill so this was a long time coming. The enforced rest gave me time to just give in to my body. I didn't swim for over a week. My fitbit recorded less activity than my cat achieves. In fact I took my cues from him and lay down and rested when and where I felt like it.
By last weekend I had completely lost my voice. The kids loved it as they could get away with so much knowing I couldn't say anything to them. Again I felt liberated. I didn't have to speak. I could just observe and listen. I noticed how much Baby Boy is chattering away to himself now. The mindless humming and singing that Big Boy indulges in all day became background noise and as he chunters away I realise that his Baby brother copies this and is finding his voice.
Like so many of us I don't take time to stop. I don't let myself take a break or let myself off the hook for daily chores or other things I tell myself I need to do. I'm not able to switch off easily. Giving in and accepting that I had to slow down gave me the chance to see how far my boys have come. It also allowed me to appreciate what I have in Hubbie who took care of everything while I collapsed in a heap of tiredness.
I've no doubt that things will return to normal before long. The school run, the swimming and daily fitness challenges on the fitbit. Scheduling decluttering time to get the house in order and meticulous meal planning. Just for now though I've enjoyed the slackness of it all. Taking my foot off the pedals is curiously satisfying.
A year ago we were preparing for Baby Boy to come and live with us permanently. We took the cot out of the loft and made it up with nice sheets. We picked some suitable bedtime story books and soft toys to help him get to sleep at night. I collected a high chair for him to use and put the toddler cutlery into the drawer.
On each visit over the previous week we had picked up some of his things so we already had his clothes, toys and some of his favourite snacks. The space in our home that we had made for this little boy was ready. It was real and it was about to happen.
The day itself we were advised to keep things quick and not to linger too long so that he wasn't too upset by it. All of the foster family had already said their goodbyes. As we went to pick him up the teenagers were standing outside the room visibly upset. We asked if they wanted to hug him before we left, knowing that this would be sad, but they all needed closure too. I'm not sure he understood quite what was going on as he was passed around.
I knew it was going to be emotional. How can you care for a baby and watch him leave to go and live with other people ? The foster carers always knew he was going to live with a 'forever family,' but the reality of him going was never going to be easy. He was the first baby they had cared for and who they had prepared for permanency. They were protective of him and keen to see that he went to the perfect home.
What I wanted to tell them that day was what I know now:
You've done an amazing job with him. He has learned to trust, to play and he shows affection.
The good eating habits he has have come about thanks to you cooking him good food.
We won't ever let him forget how important you have been in his early life. At a time when it was crucial that he was cared for and loved you were there for him.
He did miss you at first. Of course he did. How could he not when he had lived with you for so long.
That first night when you sent me a message late at night asking if he was ok, it helped so much to know you were there.
As we left that day Big Boy handed over a picture of 'Auntie and Uncle' that he had drawn. We all smiled awkwardly as we headed for the door. There were tears in Auntie's eyes and I wrapped my arms around her with Baby Boy still in my arms.
"Thank you." I whispered into her ear with tears filling my eyes.
"You're his Mum now." She whispered back to me.
We hugged each other tightly until Baby Boy wriggled in discomfort.
On days when Hubbie works from home we try so hard to make sure he gets plenty of time to do actual work. Last week Baby Boy decided to join him in some letter and number work on his own laptop computer.
Baby Boy decided to carry his brother's schoolbag on the way home, I'm not sure if this was his own idea or if Big Boy planted the seed of the idea.
My adorable little nephew has been hanging out with the grandparents - he's loving his tummy time mat.
After swimming we always get chips for the boys' tea and Big Boy likes to take responsibility for ordering and paying for them now he's a regular.
After school one day last week the weather was warm and dry so we decided to go to the park. The boys loved having it all to themselves.
Finally I can't forget Neo - he's really into blogging now and has been proof reading my posts. Ok, he's actually just trawling Youtube for funny cat videos really.
Christmas Eve and all is well. We have a few traditions that Baby Boy is experiencing for the first time. Last night we took the boys and our lovely neighbour (and spare Grannie) Jill to see the lights. There is a cul de sac near where we live and the houses have the most amazing Christmas lights every year. I always take a few sneaky trips with the kids in the run up to Christmas and then we make a family visit to donate to the charities that houses are collecting for. Baby Boy loved it so much.
Christmas Eve is always spent with my family as it's my Dad's birthday. Last year we were lucky enough to spend Christmas at Coombe Mill and we really missed seeing him for his special day (we did enjoy the party hosted by Fiona, Farmer Nick and the children though). Today we went to see the family and I spent a lot of it cuddling my gorgeous 3 month old baby nephew. I remember when Big Boy was that age at his first Christmas and it was just magical.
As well as being a family day I like to remember how lucky we are to have people who care for us and enough food for everyone. We donate all year and I like to ensure that we all remember that not everyone has a great time at Christmas. We made a drop of food, teabags, snacks, hats, gloves and socks to a charity that provides support to homeless people all year round, but especially in the colder months. I hope that they are able to make it a bit better for anyone sleeping rough. It's also worth mentioning that Sikh temples are open all year round for anyone who needs hot meal. There is no qualifying criteria and it is not shameful to ask.
Once we were home everyone got out the Christmas stockings for the morning. My family never really did them as we didn't get the point, but Hubbie is a big fan so we do them. Baby Boy has one to mark his first Christmas with us.
As well as the stockings we also do a Christmas Eve box of treats for the night before Christmas. Baby Boy loved his Penguin design and Big Boy couldn't wait to open his.
There are always new pyjamas and some new toys.This year I also added some glow sticks, Christmas socks and a bow tie each as a quirky addition. It turns out that Big Boy loved the bow tie the most. Who knew ?
Of course the most important job to do tonight was the get a snack plate ready for Santa Claus and Rudolph. The boys put one carrot each on the tray and Big Boy insisted that we put 3 mince pies out. A little while later he reminded me that we needed to also put a bowl of milk out for Rudolph too so that was a close shave !
All that is left now is to try and get a few hours sleep before they both wake up over excited and keen to tear into everything. To say we have an embarrassment of riches would be an understatement, so I suspect it may take some time to get through all of this lot. I hope the boys appreciate how very lucky we all are.
One final note - more to myself that anyone else - it's not a great idea to try and be creative with nail colours after a large glass of wine !
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year !!
This week I'm all about raising awareness and money for cancer charities. When I was growing up no one mentioned cancer at all and I thought it was a rare thing that only happened to other people. As time has gone on I've worked with people who have developed cancer, my aunt was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and passed away not long after. My beautiful friend Soraya was diagnosed with breast cancer, was treated for it and last year we did the Moonwalk together to celebrate her recovery. In a few weeks time I will visit the lovely Penny who was the midwife who attended the birth of Big Boy. A few years ago Penny was told she had pancreatic cancer and that her prognosis was bleak, she refused to give in and defied the odds to recover from it.
Soraya and me before the long walk
That's why this week I'm spending a lot of time eating cake. Well, not just me. I hosted a Macmillan Coffee morning earlier in the week and all the lovely guests who attended brought cake - and barely ate any - so I had loads left over. Then today we had another coffee morning at playgroup and there was even more cake. So I have started to act as a 'cake courier.' I'm delivering cake to friends locally in return for a donation to Macmillan.
Loadsa lovely cake
I have a personal connection to Macmillan as their nurses have cared for and supported friends and loved ones who have sadly passed away. The nurses were kind enough to attend the funerals and I know how much it meant to the family members that the care extended beyond their lives. It was also great to be able to thank the nurses for providing end of life care. I have a lot of respect for Macmillan and the work they do.
All ready to raise funds for Macmillan
On Saturday night I will be walking a half marathon through London with my lovely friend Carole to raise money for Cancer Research UK. I've been a bit under that weather for over a week so my training has taken a bit of a hit, but I've walked a full marathon before so I know I can do it. I'll be bold and brave and shine brightly for all those wonderful people I know whose lives have been affected by cancer.
If you would like to sponsor me that would be fantastic. Any amount will make such a difference and I promise that this is the last fundraising ask I will make for a while. I'm a bit done in with having done the danceathon earlier in the year and I think I'll take a break after the walk.
You never know this cake courier thing might take off :)
This afternoon we went to our first Build-a-Bear workshop party and my boy made a fabulous Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (or Ginger Turtle as he called it) bear complete with fighting swords. It was great fun - we even managed to sneak some stuffing into his bedraggled old bear so he now looks less like the 'before' bear story and more like he used to in his glory days.
At the pizzeria afterwards there was an incident with hot tea and me running over to a sink carrying my 4 year old boy to run cold water over his arms to prevent scalding. All the other parents were watching and one lovely Mum stood close by with her tiny baby reassuring me that he was ok - afterwards I realised that she is a medical professional.
At the tram stop going home I was shaking as I phoned Hubbie to tell him what had happened. As soon as I rang off I burst into tears. I crouched down to my son's level and kept repeating over and over, "I'm so sorry." He touched my face and said, "It's ok Mummy, don't cry."
When I have to be I'm tough, practical and have the strength of Hercules. What I am all the time is my son's mother. More than any other time I feel the need to listen to this song tonight:
