Parenting: past performance is no indicator of future success

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

A sunny afternoon in the park with Baby Boy

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

Big Boy on Brighton Beach 

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

Checking out the animals at Foal Farm

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

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

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

The trials of life (and homesickness)

Afternoon tea treat

I've been a bit absent lately and it wasn't entirely intentional. We went to visit the in-laws for a few days and I expected we'd be a bit busy. We took our boy to Peppa Pig World on Thursday. He's been a few times before and loves it there. It was torrential and there was thunder and lightning, but once the sun came out he went on all his favourite rides at least twice and some three times.

On Friday we went to Bournemouth for a spa day. It's going to be my birthday on Tuesday this week so this was a bit of a treat and after hitting the gym, the pool and having a steam and jacuzzi we had a nice afternoon tea. Grandma and Grandpa took care of the boy while we were out and by all accounts he was pretty good. I'd left his scooter and some craft bits for him to do with Granny, who loves painting and gardening so they usually do fun things together.

On Saturday it looked a bit cooler and I had a salon treatment booked first thing so I went to get my nails done and when I got back we decided to take the boy to a local Gruffalo trail. It was at a site called Bolderwood and some of the locations in the woods were just stunning.

tree roots

look at me !!

Of course we'd hoped the boy would enjoy it as he is a big fan of the Gruffalo and we are taking him for a Gruffalo birthday picnic in a few weeks so this was a sort of preview to get him used to what to expect. It did involve a fair bit of walking, but he was unbearably whingey about it all the way round the trail. He kept complaining about having to walk and even when hubbie tried to distract him with an impromptu game of Pooh sticks he just moaned.

watching a stream 

looking for the Gruffalo 

In an attempt to cheer him up I gave him a snack to bolster him along. He ate it and carried on grumbling. When we spotted some massive puddles I said he could jump in them because he had his wellies on. He jumped joyfully and then kicked at the puddles so that we all got splashed with mud too - thanks son. Then he whinged a bit more. Then he had yet another meltdown.

walking on cattle grids

playing peek a boo 

By the end of the walk we had all tried to cheer him up whether it was playing hide and seek with him hiding behind trees, or carrying him for bits of the walk or encouraging him by racing to get to the next signpost. We were all a bit fed up of the screeching, kicking, complaining - and by now squelching - threenager in our midst. It was horrible. He clearly hadn't enjoyed it at all and three adults had basically spent the day being yelled at by a monster of a child.

When we got back I looked up train times to come home and told Hubbie I wanted to leave and try to salvage at least some sanity while he spent more time with his parents and the boy could at least have his precious time with Daddy - who is his best friend apparently. Hubbie sat next to me and said we could all come home a day early. I felt terrible, but relieved.

When I sat with the boy at bedtime and told him we were going home he asked why. I explained he wasn't being nice and that it wasn't fun for anyone so we would go home. The reason I do 'Mummy and boy time' with him is so that we can talk about our day and sometimes he opens up to me about what's on his mind. From chatting to him I found out he was missing his teddy bears, his room, our cat - basically he was homesick.

A little while later I heard a plaintive voice asking for me or Daddy to lie with him in his bed. I closed my laptop and went to lie down next to him. He softly said, "I'm going to miss Grandma" and I said, "so is Daddy. He won't get to spend tomorrow with her now." My voice broke a bit and he looked at me, then he turned and put his tiny arm around my neck. He looked like he was going to cry and he started to stroke my cheek. "I'm sorry Mummy." I asked if wanted to go home and he said he did. I stayed with him until he fell asleep then gently took his hand and put it round one of the bears in the bed and went downstairs.

We came home today and I was shattered, emotionally wrung out and felt massively guilty for us leaving early. I've reorganised the downstairs of the house, defrosted the freezer and Hubbie has cut the grass in the front and back gardens. We took the boy swimming then let him play with his favourite toy cars and watch his favourite film and generally just hang out at home. It was like managing a tiny time bomb of screeching, kicking, yelling hysteria.

I can only hope that if he's like this at three and a half he's going to be an angelic teenager.

That's how it works isn't it ?

Easy Like Sunday Morning

At the moment our boy is testing my sanity.

He screams, he rages, he throws things.

I find myself arguing with a 3 year old as if he's an adult (me and Hubbie rarely argue, he doesn't join in, so it's pointless)

It makes me feel like I'm rubbish as a parent. 

Then on Sunday morning we left Hubbie to lie in and came downstairs to give him some peace.

The boy sat on my lap on the sofa and we cuddled while watching TV. 

It made me so very happy :) 

This post is part of Mummy Never Sleeps linky "All the small things" 

Why my boy is like a tiny Russell Brand

It's been a difficult few days with my boy. His tantrums and moods have been almost constant. He pretends not to hear me and turns his back when he doesn't want to do something. He shouts and yells and runs off. He pushes me to the end of my tether (which is unsurprisingly short right now) and then looks really hurt when I am upset with him.

Then on Thursday we went to see my sister for her birthday. I was really worried about how he'd behave as he'd been horrific that morning and by the time we got to my Mum's house he hadn't improved any at all. I was so tired out that I left them to observe his 'naughty day' and didn't say anything to him and let them do all the repetitive instructions, 'don't touch that, put that down, etc.' Then my other sister invited us to come to the theatre where she works to watch Room on the Broom based on the book by Julia Donaldson. I've always said that I wasn't sure he'd have the concentration to sit through a show so we've not taken him, but this time I had my Mum and both my sisters to help keep him in check so I thought I'd risk it.

We made it just in time for the show, found our seats near the stage and he sat in his seat with his legs folded and his beloved bear clutched to him. Then it started and the actors were talking to the audience and he interacted. When they imagined a witch flying overhead he looked up. When an actress asked who'd like to try some of her porridge his hand flew into the air and he mimed catching it, eating and said it was "yummy." My boy was a delight and he was singing the songs in the car on the way home.

Then yesterday and today he was back to his belligerent self and I just shook my head and gave up. This morning he woke up yelling at 4am and I went in to check on him. He went back to sleep and so did I. Then at 6am Hubbie woke up yelling, so I tried to work out what was wrong with him too, he went back to sleep, I sort of did too. I was glad I had plans without them today. I needed to be away from them both just for a few hours and Hubbie always takes him out on a Saturday anyway so I didn't feel too guilty.

Tonight the boy was erratic and tearful at bedtime, he ran off and went up and down the stairs and I was so fed up with it all that I said I wasn't going to have our sitting in the chair bedtime chat tonight. He said that was fine. Then a few minutes ago - after we'd finished watching Dr Who we heard some squealing from the monitor. I turned the sound on the TV down and it was the boy crying and calling, "Mumma." I took a deep breath and went upstairs to see what new antics these were.

When I got to his room he was standing on his bed shaking and crying and clutching two bears really tightly to himself. I held him and managed to prise one of the bears from him and held him close and asked if he'd had a bad dream. Eventually I calmed him down and sat with him in my arms singing softly until he'd stopped shaking and was ready to go back to bed by himself. I recalled how I'd had a nightmare the other night that left me shaken and confused - I'm 43, he's only 3.

So however hard I'm finding his emotional outbursts or his seeming belligerance I have to remember he's only 3. I also have to remember how amazing it felt to watch his imagination in full flight in the theatre the other day. I have to remember what Russell Brand said about the death threats he received when he was planning to do some comedy gigs in the Middle East, "I'm just trying my hardest."

When I find my boy wearing or taxing or just a bit too much I'm going to think of him as a tiny Russell Brand. At times he's unpredictable, his hair looks crazy, but he smiles a cheeky smile and wins over a lot of people. He's just trying his hardest.

I draw the line at him wearing snakeskin boots and skinny jeans though. Oh, and the public nudity. 

Countdown to a toddler meltdown

5 hours to meltdown:

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

It's raining outside. 

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

4 hours to meltdown:

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

3 hours to meltdown:

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

"No Mummy."

"Are you sure ?"

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

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

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

2 hours to meltdown:

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

1 hour to meltdown:

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

45 mins to meltdown:

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

5 mins to meltdown:

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

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

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

Meltdown:

In the car he yells at full throttle. 

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

He's hungry, tired and very upset. 

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

30 mins post meltdown:

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

Finally he calms down and eventually smiles and says.

"the food is reaching my tummy Mummy." 

I still haven't eaten yet. 

1 hour post meltdown:

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

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

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

Oh don't you just love rainy days ? 

Nope, me neither.

Anger management course week 3: From Breakdown to Breakthrough

Something happened for the first time in our relationship the other day. I said to Hubbie this weekend words he's never heard before. 

"I don't know what we're going to eat tonight. I haven't bought anything or thought about it." This from a woman who has the meal plan on the fridge and a shopping list planned meticulously around what we're eating on every day of the week. 

Now if you're a randomer who flies by the seat of your pants on important issues like meal planning you won't get the significance of this. You see being organised is my raison d'etre. If I can't plan a meal, how on earth can I manage anything more complicated like dealing with a toddler's moods ?

On any given week I plan a radio show, the week's meals, my son's outfits, my lunches at work, the complex range of classes I go to in the evenings and ensure we don't run out of milk or bread. It's because of all these things that I run the daily risk of going to work on the train wearing 2 different shoes (best case scenario) or trousers that don't fit me and fall down as I run for the train (worst case scenario and yes this did actually happen to me). 

I can only surmise that something is going wrong and it's now that I've done 3 weeks of anger management for parents that I have any idea what it might be:

1. I've returned to work and it is a stressful job

2. My boy is properly going through the terrible twos and it's very, very hard work

3. I'm trying to do too much (clean the house, go to work, plan and cook meals, exercise to lose weight) and there is only one of me

4. I'm just so bloody tired all the time

I feel broken into bits - tired in body and mind. The kind of tired you are when you're a new parent and you can barely function. I can't think straight and my normal levels of organisation and planning have all but gone. I am not someone who asks for help and I do not tell anyone when I am falling apart. I keep going. I keep trying to do everything. It's a mechanism I have developed over the years to stave off depression as you can't have time to feel depressed if you're busy can you ? 

So I knew it had gone too far when this weekend after two days of being away from my boys I didn't actually want to spend time with them on the one day we had left together. Now I take my family time with Hubbie and my boy very seriously. When I'm not with them I ache from missing them so much - going to work is a great distraction as I can't think about not being with them if I'm busy. Feeling so upset that I don't want to be with them when they are right there is not a good sign. 

We all have bad days. Being told that the boy has broken something or hit someone at nursery is pretty bad. Not caring about it is worse. I've been doing the anger management so that I can use coping mechanisms to deal with his tantrums and to stop me having a meltdown of my own. I love him, but I have to be clear about what is not ok to do and not lose my mind at every small transgression. Being upset because he's run out into the road is understandable, but yelling the house down because he's dropped a biscuit not so much. 

So consider this post my public declaration of a cry for help. Since I started writing it I feel loads better just for saying it out loud. There is a lot more to say, but I'm going to bed early tonight to get some rest.

Only one more week of the course to go...

It was a rough afternoon on Walton's mountain

I was Facebook chatting with a friend the other day who has 4 children, half of them young twins. As the oldest of 4 children I used to think it would be nice to have that many. However, there are times when I am so overwhelmed by one toddler that I can't imagine what state I'd be in if I was outnumbered like that. I was commenting on how well my friend seemed to be doing with her brood as she had posted lovely pics of her beautiful babies. This was enough proof for me to surmise that she is coping admirably with the transition from two to four kids, but she tells me it's mostly crowd control.

Now I can definitely identify with this sense of being in the eye of a tornado and having little idea what's coming next. What I hadn't appreciated was that I respond in ways that my boy is now reflecting back to me. In the last week he has uttered the words:

• "That's nonsense"
• "Pack it in"
• "No, no, no."

      and the other day he said: 

• "Ridiculous"

Now I know he got the last one from the Archers which was on in the car at the time, but the other stuff was all from me. Even though I have no recollection of saying any of those things, Hubbie assures me that I do. I tell the cat to pack it in when he's miaowing for food (which is often) so my son isn't even just copying what I say to him. This would be less worrying if it weren't for the fact that during one of our particularly prolonged arguments the other day I caught myself throwing a plush* space rocket at him and heard myself say "if you don't put on your shoes / eat your dinner / stop throwing your toys all over the place (I can't accurately recall) I'm going to smash your face in."

Now if you have just taken a sharp inhale you're not alone. I did as well at the recollection of it. I don't advocate violence and I certainly don't countenance threats to anyone - least of all small children. I can only imagine I temporarily lost all sense of proportion and didn't realise what I was saying. Then it sent me into an insane train of thought about how I clearly don't deserve to have any more children as I'm just not good enough to cope with the one I already have. I won't tell the adoption people this of course as they might just take me seriously. Having spoken to a prospective adopter who had been told she had a miserable face and that might work against her I'm not taking any chances.

I do expect my karmic reward to be that my son will repeat my words at some highly inopportune moment, but at least I am now forewarned and waiting for it to happen. As he is in the 'hear it, say it, repeat it' phase of language I deserve all I get in return really.

However, I've also been working on forgiveness lately as I realised that being able to forgive is the root of keeping a level head. I am very hard on myself when I make a mistake and hold onto grudges and resentments from the past that really are best left there. My new approach is to forgive myself for getting things wrong and to let it go when things happen that would usually cause inappropriate rage.

Next phase is to stop making insane threats to my son.

I can't promise anything, but I'll try.


*plush fabric - I'm not making a comment on the decor

They don't do Hallmark cards for two and a half do they ?

My boy turned 2 and a half this week. It wasn't greeted with much fanfare, but he did enjoy a Peppa Pig cake at my parents' house on Good Friday and insisted on having candles to blow out. It has become a tradition when we visit that they get him a cake as he loves birthdays so much. We end up having to google whose birthday it is so that we have someone to celebrate for, but it is quite funny and I will enjoy telling him about it when he's a stroppy teenager.

Talking of which this new age and stage has heralded a surprising range of emotions. The tantrums we've already experienced, but now he can go from a standing start to a full blown tornado of anger or upset. He is also speaking fluently and using a lot more words - well I understand him anyway - so it makes for animated conversations when he isn't blowing up because I won't let him drive the car. Today two things happened that made me realise how much my boy is growing up.

Firstly, his small chewy flannel toy (Ellie, the elephant) was lost in the supermarket. I searched all the aisles and at one point had most of the staff looking for her too, but to no avail. A mother pushing a trolley round frantically asking, "where's Ellie ?" often causes concern as people have in the past asked me if she is my daughter. I felt sick in my stomach at the thought that we had lost the toy he'd had since he was born and that he slept with as it smelled comforting. Even though she was filthy and smelly she was also clearly loved by someone very much, so I hoped that she'd get handed in. A while back I bought some spare Ellies as a contingency for this event, so he has once met a replacement when the original was in the wash. Today as I got more and more distressed I told him that Ellie was lost and I was very sorry, he looked at me and said, simply, "new Ellie at home."

Later after lunch I let him have a mini roll as a treat. He hasn't had them before so I wasn't sure if he'd like it, but he seemed to as it was gone pretty sharpish. As I went to take him up for his medicine and nap he asked if he could have some chocolate. I reminded him he'd just had a chocolate covered cake. He went quiet. I said, " you just had one - remember ?" and he looked away from me and said, "No." I laughed and he gave me a very serious look and said, "No" again.

So today I have learned that my boy is mature enough to deal with loss (more than his mother) and that he will lie for chocolate.

I could not be more proud :o)

This too shall pass (I hope)

As it's that time on a Sunday evening when the looming spectre of Monday morning is only held off by the hope of a good night's sleep I have been pondering. I left school over twenty years ago and I left my job over a year ago so why would Monday hold any dread for me ?

Other than the logistics of getting the boy to nursery and ensuring I'm home to receive a delivery at almost the same time it's hardly the most trying of starts to the week. I also do my radio show on a Monday so apart from a little bit of a panic about my guest finding the studio I tend to look forward to it. By the time I pick up the boy from nursery and then Hubbie from the station we've all got stories to share about our day.

So why is it that by the time Hubbie is home - having commuted for a few hours and suffered a full working day - I hide in the kitchen with a cuppa and Radio 4 and let him deal with the boy ? After all I don't have colleagues to drive me crazy, or the travel delays to wind me up or even a toddler at home on certain days ?

Well my theory is that it is precisely because I don't have colleagues or a commute or delays that I have lost all sense of perspective. My day is punctuated with breaks for hot drinks and planning my needs around my son's. I no longer have a role at work or a salary to spend or even adult company to discuss office politics with. All those necessary components to keep my sanity and identity intact.

Later in the week I mostly escape to the kitchen at 6.30pm because it's been one of those days - again. The ones where I have bruises from being kicked changing nappies, a headache from being head butted in the chin, a ringing in my ears from being slapped across the side of the face and backache from wrestling to get the boy to sit in his car seat. To top it all off I usually also have a sore throat from saying "Stop !" and "No !" so often.

Try as I might not to I do mutter swear words under my breath or in the next room, but his supersonic hearing will catch me out eventually and he will cause a sharp intake of breath at a bus stop or in front of his grandparents one day and I will have to hide from them too.

So the phrase 'this too shall pass' is my mantra to get me through my son's terrible twos and my muddled middle age.

In the meantime any tips would be much appreciated.