Mother's pride

Every Friday you ask me to attend the celebration assembly at school and every week I dutifully turn up and try to catch your attention so you can see me there and when you do, the smile and wave I get it so worth it.

So I join in with the hymn and sing happy birthday to those celebrating and smile as all the teachers hand out certificates to their favourites. Each week I sit there and think about all the wonderful things you have done this week and hope it's your turn.

I think about how the other morning you saw a younger boy crying in the playground before school and went over to see if he was ok. I then watched you take Billy over to play a game to cheer him up.

I remember that day when a new child started and he was upset about his dad leaving him and you invited him over to join you and your friends to play football and showed him the ropes as the new kid.

I was there when you handed in your precious picture for the Christmas competition having taken time to carefully design it and thinking about all the detail and colours you used.

I know that when we talked about giving toys to children who had none you wanted to give even more than I had expected as you wanted to make sure other children would get to have something nice for Christmas.

I've seen you gently stroke Neo and keeping him company when the fireworks were frightening him and you read him a story to help keep calm.

I swelled with pride when you were struggling during the park run on a freezing cold morning, but you kept going and I watched your face break into a huge smile when you made it over the finish line.

So you see when they call out another child's name and I see your shoulders fall in disappointment I am right there with you. I am smiling, but I'm feeling sad for you too. It makes sense that you are wondering why it isn't you. I think the same. Still we put on our best smiles and are happy for those who get the praise that you don't get. I've applauded when other children get recognition for:

Swimming a width of the pool - when we both know you can now swim a length without help and on both your front and back (that took a lot of work)

Taking another child under their wing - when I know you've made time for other children to help them feel welcome or to cheer them up

Writing a whole page - when you write pages and pages of news and stories and lovely notes - in your best writing

Being kind - when I have seen how much it took for you to share your home and family with Blue Bear and now you are fiercely loyal to him as he is to you

We will always smile and be happy for others and applaud their achievements. I will be there to give you a big hug afterwards and bring a snack for the ride home.

You see I do know all these wonderful things you do. I remember every little thing you do that makes me proud and I tell you. Just because it's not in front of the school doesn't make you any less than a kind, caring, loving, bright, boy who does his best.

You and me kid - we know.

It was acceptable in the eighties (but the hair is still a disaster)

I mentioned on social media the other day that after ten years of marriage I had run out of original ideas for anniversary gifts. Quite frankly Hubbie has all the mugs with images of the kids on that he's ever going to not use and if I keep getting him pants and socks we may as well just rename ourselves Stan and Hilda - ask your mum, no go on I'll wait. This year I gave him the gift of a new TV show to fall in love with. In the past I have tried - and failed - to get him into The Wire (too much investment) Breaking Bad (just not really into it) the West Wing (too much time has passed) and Empire (storylines so ridiculous that even I'm struggling now). My past successes include; Curb Your Enthusiasm - a joint favourite that still raises chuckles, Bake Off - which he pretended not to watch until it became blindingly obvious he is such a superfan, Modern Family - well if you don't watch it then we just can't be friends can we ?

The new favourite is ... drum roll please.... The Goldbergs. It was while we were on our child-free mini-break that I stumbled across it and said, "watch this, you'll enjoy it." Only I had no idea why I love it so much until I had watched quite a few episodes. Beverly Goldberg is my parenting idol. I've started to take pride in my stereotypical 'Indian mum' approach to parenting. I shout at my kids, I tell them they are embarassing me, I stand nose to nose with them and hiss at them to "stop it or else," I even ask them repeatedly if they are hungry. I had it all sorted. Then I saw Bev and I realised that there's a higher level I can only aspire to.

Now I've heard about the whole Jewish mother scenario, dammit, I even know some, so it's not like I am unfamiliar with the concept. It's not until I saw Beverly in action, however, that I realised she is clearly the end goal I am aiming for. I mean it's just so obvious.

I demand my kids hug me and make it clear that it's their duty to me as their loving mother.

I take great offence if they don't thank me - profusely - for everything I do for them. Witness Bev at Thanksgiving dinner waiting for her - well deserved - thanks and not getting them until Murray does the decent thing. Hubbie does prod the boys into thanking me, but to be honest if I've said, "Thank you Mummy" in a patronising/sarcastic tone once I've said it fifty times. Today.

I have serious 'Mom goggles" - my kids can do no wrong (despite what I said above) I am inordinately proud of the smallest achievements. "You took your own socks off ? Well done baby, Mummy is so proud." In front of other people I'm all humble brags and modesty, but behind closed doors it's medals and trophies for everything in this house.

I am protective like a crazy person - that's pretty much the definition of a mum for me right there. Mess with my kids and I'll mess you up. Seriously.

I don't want anything bad to happen to my kids so I am there. In their faces, whether they want me to be or not. Bev doesn't care if it's embarassing and neither do I.

On Sunday Brown Bear took part in his first Junior Park Run and he was convinced he was going to ace it. I suggested I might run alongside him and he said, "No Mummy, I can do it by myself." "Ok, I'll just run by myself behind you then" I said. A few minutes into the run his pre-run lunacy in the park caught up with him and he was exhausted. He got upset and told me he couldn't do it so I took his hand and ran with him. Then I walked with him. He wanted to give up and stop and I said, "Let's just do a bit more then we can finish if you like." He carried on. Then I suggested he might want to try and run the downhill bits. He ran a bit then he said, "I want to hold your hand Mummy." So we completed the park run part walking, part running. Holding hands. As he approached the finish he let go of my hand and I could see he was as proud as anything for completing it. In the retelling he was as fast as Mo Farah and I wasn't even there. He did it.

I'll take that. 

No, you're crying. So what if I am ? Oh just shuttup !!