"Mummy I don't like you. Daddy is my favourite."

Drawing Daddy 

I'm so sorry I'm just no good at the fun stuff. I seem to be the one who's always saying, "be careful" and "don't climb on the sofa" or "well I did tell you not to stand on that didn't I ?" The only reason I can give you is that it is what my parents did and I can see now that it was because they were so afraid all the time. The difference is that you have me (not fun) and Daddy (fun) so your life is not solely about being surrounded by fear and discipline.

I know son. I realise that I'm not your favourite. It's been sunny all weekend - an oasis of warmth in a wet and miserable Summer (so far) - and I tried to tempt you off the sofa where you were watching Firehouse Dog for, I don't know, the 60th time ? You know, Firehouse Dog, the movie I recorded for you because I thought you'd enjoy it. I was wrong of course. You're obsessed with it. 

It is true I'm not the fun one. Daddy is the one who is good at the fun stuff. He will play with cars and run around the garden or the park and he takes you to football. I feel so guilty and I wish I was more fun, but it doesn't come naturally to me.

Daddy loves to take you to the park whereas I'm looking at my watch and finding excuses to move on and do something else the whole time. Actually I'm watching your scooter as I'm so convinced that some random stranger will come and steal it. I have no evidence on which to base this suspicion, but I do it anyway.

When you go to football I pack you off with healthy snacks and a water bottle for half time and when you get back you tell me you've had a Kitkat and biscuits in the boardroom. Of course there was the time that he forgot to take your shoes and a hat so Daddy had to go to the supermarket next to the ground and buy emergency plimsolls and a baseball cap. 

When we all go swimming Daddy splashes around with you in the kid's pool and you both pour water into boats, race ducks and throw a ball if the nice lifeguard is there. I swim up and down the lanes of the big pool as I don't like being splashed. Mind you the fact that you have a towel and a snack afterwards is my doing and there was that one time that Daddy left your costume behind in the changing room and this weekend he forgot your shower gel.

I've always taken you out and about to activities and you've met Peppa Pig, Thomas and the Fat Controller and had a tea party with Mickey and Minnie Mouse. It's just not my thing to get involved in toddler activities. While Daddy will run around with you at Totstars football I'm complaining about my dodgy knees and looking for the tea trolley. 

I'm not entirely useless though. This stuff doesn't matter to you, but here's what Mummy is good at:

• Before you go to bed I like to have some special time just you and me where we talk about your day. About what has been good and what wasn't so good. It's a space for you to share your feelings and for me to help you make sense of things that might be difficult to understand. 

• When you're asleep I come into your room and kiss you and move the toy cars on your pillow so that you don't roll onto them in the night and hurt yourself.

• If you say you like something I listen. It's important to me that I know you love Big Ben, windmills, Minis, fans, Spider-Man, buses and - at the moment - dogs.

• I don't buy things for myself, I only shop for you. On the rare occasions I do get something for myself I end up taking it back so I can get something for you instead. 

• Any conversation I have becomes about you. It's terribly boring for everyone else, but you know how you're obsessed with Firehouse Dog ? That's how I am about you. Even on days when we aren't getting along you still make me smile and I am proud of what a bright and funny boy you are. 

• When I get it wrong - which seems to be often - I say sorry. It is important that you feel heard and respected and I want you to grow up to be a man with integrity. As far as I'm concerned that means I have to lead by example. 

• I tell you I love you many times a day. I know you don't get why this is important, but you are kind enough to say it back and that makes my day. I hope that you will grow to realise how special it is when someone you care about tells you they love you. My parents never did, so I tell you every day. A lot. 

Lastly, I write about you and our adventures in this blog. I hope that when you're older you will read it with some pride. That it will remind you of things we did and times we shared that you can look back on and smile about.  

I know I'm not the fun one, but I did teach you the words to "I Fought the Law" by The Clash. That has to be worth something ? 

Never, never, never… Oh well ok, as it's you

John Cusack often tells his Twitter followers that if poor grammar and spelling bothers them they should unfollow him as the content is more important than how it's delivered (my words not his). It's not a philosophy I adhere to usually, but I make an exception for him as I think his tweets have the capacity to entertain and inform, but to be honest I break my own zero tolerance rule because I like him. It's the same rule that applies to the films he has been in - yes even Hot Tub Time Machine which when I saw an online trailer for I genuinely thought was an online spoof as it looked so bad. I can't say the same for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil which despite being directed by Clint Eastwood and starring JC (a dream combination in my book) didn't hold my attention and bored me to actual sleep. Otherwise I heart John for wearing a Clash t-shirt in any movie where he has wardrobe approval as it shows he has great taste in listening to English bands - if he wore a Smiths t-shirt I might properly explode.

The same exception applies to my friend Jan who sends me text messages in teenage text speak which grates on me if done by anyone other than her. I suspect it's because I find it endearing that someone who has a senior citizen's bus pass writes "gr8 to c u on Sat, thx 4 cream t." I mean come on that's far too cute to be annoyed about.

On a different tack my husband follows any and all sports (except Rugby, but in extremis he has been known to watch that too) despite the fact that years ago I swore blind that I would never marry a man who was obsessed with sport. Clearly he won me over with his witty repartee, his massive intellect and that meal he makes with prawns and pineapple. Actually I refer you to the previous blog post that lists the lovely things he does which make me heart Hubbie (yes, yes I know I hate when people do that too, I promise not to do it any more). 

An area in which we are perfectly matched is our shared interest in politics which is why my friendship with my closest friend is the most puzzling example of my exception to the rule theory. Our politics are polar opposites, yet we get along and don't actually argue. We disagree, but often find common ground that is not party political. In fact it's thanks to SJ that I shadowed a Green London Assembly member (the lovely Jenny Jones) when I took part in a programme to encourage BME women to become involved in politics. I discussed the scheme with SJ and told her I wasn't sure which party to ask to be matched with and she said that she considered me to be most closely aligned with the Greens. She showed great insight that revealed in all the years we've known each other she has identified something that I haven't acknowledged myself. Now that's a good friend ! 

The most recent revelation has been just today. I have for years been very sniffy about people who home school their kids - and as a yoga teacher and part-time Yummy Mummy I know a few - as I've always seen it as self-indulgent and hippie to take Jacinta out of school because she's far too bright for the rubbish teachers at her school to cope with. This opinion has altered since I've realised that if my son was only offered a place at a very poor school I'd have to seriously consider home schooling him as I daren't risk some yobbish Croydon yoofs hurting a hair on my darling boy's head. Today, however, I found out that my NCT teacher Wendy is taking her daughter out of a local school to home school her. I can't blame her, from what she's told me it's the best decision to improve her daughter's chances of actually getting an education. My own fear has always been that even though I'm a qualified teacher I'd struggle to do a good enough job teaching my own child(ren) the curriculum and I'd feel guilty for letting them down.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have a strict zero tolerance policy on most things with the following exceptions:

1. Poor spelling and grammar - unless you're John Cusack (or Alex O'Loughlin if he's on twitter)

2. Text speak - unless you're old enough to know better and do it to be cool

3. Sports obsessives - unless I married you in which case you put up with far more than I do (and bless you for that)

4. Tories - unless you're SJ, that is the only exception

5. Home Schooling - unless you're a normal person in every other way like my friends Wend and Siobhan. If you're a homeopathic, 'spiritual,' yurt dweller just move along now and we'll say no more about it.

Thanks for listening :o)