Sometimes I think that loving you is the hardest thing I will ever do

If you're a regular reader you will know that I dote on my son and I mention him frequently. The fun, the japes and the hilarious conversations that we have. So, it's with some trepidation that I'm sharing this with you in the hope that you will not judge or tut at me - or him.

My boy hits. Every day when I go to pick him up from 'big school' I dread what the teacher will tell me. Usually her look is enough to ascertain if it's been a really bad day or just a normal level of naughtiness. I leave feeling embarrassed and upset that my boy is unable to play with other children without being aggressive towards them. I am baffled that this keeps happening and I just can't work out where it's come from.

• We've never used hitting as a sanction or a form of discipline.

• We don't hit each other, or anyone else.

• We don't joke about hitting or make light of anger and violence.

Yet every day our pleas that he use his gentle hands and his big boy words fall on (selectively) deaf ears. I hang my head in shame as he's asked to get out of the pool early during school swimming for not listening and for playing up. "He's disrupting other children's learning," says his teacher. I nod and feel myself well up and my face feels sore from trying not to cry.

We've tried everything we can think of:

• Reminding him that it feels bad to get hit or to hit seems to have no lasting resonance at all.

• Positive reinforcement and praise has no long term effects.

• Punishment and taking away toys or denying treats like swimming achieve nothing. 

We avoid situations where he has been in trouble before because I can't face people who have seen him meltdown or hit me, or hit Hubbie or throw things in a tantrum with seemingly no cause. 

At swimming the other morning more than one parent said, " oh this is the famous ...." I held my breath to find out what they've heard about him. What does that say about me and my expectations of my son ? I am at the end of what was - at one point - a very long tether.

I remember how it felt the first time I saw a child take a swipe at my teeny tiny boy at playgroup. I wanted to thump the child, or their parent, but I didn't of course. Then he went to nursery and he had a few tussles with other children, but he formed friendships and learned the aforementioned 'gentle hands' and 'big boy words.'

I've always taken him out and about. From very early on we did Gymboree, since he could walk he has played sports and we swim a few times a week. I ask myself if I was responding to his boisterousness or if I've caused it. Over the summer I took him to a sports camp most days to run off his boundless energy and some days I'd hear about his off the wall behaviour there too, but mostly it was a break for me and some well-needed running around for him.

Next week my boy will turn 4. Hubbie and I want to do something special for him and to give him gifts and to celebrate his birthday. Yet I feel so sad and upset that I can't bring myself to reward him for being so unkind to his classmates.

I keep reminding myself he's only almost 4. He's learning how to form new relationships. He's in a new nursery environment, having left behind all his friends of 2 years, half his life. He has exclusively adult company at home - well a cat too, but let's include him in the adult category for now - so however hard we try to encourage him to share he's used to everything being just his.

Every day I wait with dread and bated breath to find out what level of aggression he went to this time. I'm exhausted and shamed. I feel as though I can't actually get through to him. Please don't misunderstand, I'm not expecting him to misbehave. I always go with an expectation that today has been a good day - a day without a pitying look from his teacher as I sheepishly make my way to pick him up.

I ponder whether I've been too soft, by looking for reasons for his anger or whether I've been too hard by being strict about behaviour. His manners are impeccable and he says, please, thank you and always says sorry for hitting. I just wish he wouldn't hit. Underlying all this anxiety is a fear that I've made a mini hulk. An angry child who could become a moody and mean teenager and eventually a horrible adult. 

Some days it's all too much. I'm reduced to tears of frustration, anger, upset. Then I remember that's probably how he feels too. So however bad I'm feeling I still go up to see him at bedtime and hold him close. I just need to remind myself how much I love my little boy. I have to show him that I love him no matter what. That I am a safe person to be himself with.

The words that go through my head are from the scene in Love Actually where Andrew Lincoln finally tells Keira Knightley how he feels and as he walks away from her he says, "Enough, Enough."

The cat, my boy and the missing teddy bear mystery.

Our family (including Clovey)

My chosen reading at the moment is a book called, "New Toddler Taming" that was lent to me by a friend of mine who has two boys. It has been a difficult time with our threenager and he's been pushing mine and Hubbie's patience to the very limit. It has made us both feel so tired and sad and disappointed. It feels like we just have no clue how to deal with this seething mass of shouting, kicking, screaming energy and it's demoralising.

Then I look at him right now lying on his front drawing a picture of Big Ben wearing clothes he chose and put on himself - yes they do match. He comes over to show me he's also drawn a picture, "Of me and Daddy and Mummy and my sister Clovey." Then he draws another small face, "That's my baby brother." Our boy is an only child, so maybe it's more aspirational than factual. He knows that we would love for him to have a sibling so it's reassuring to know that he's keen on the idea of being an older brother.

I often reflect on the early days when he was so new and shiny and it was exciting being exhausted, overwhelmed new parents. When he was so tiny he'd lie between us in the bed and I'd hold my breath so I would be able to hear the snuffles that confirmed he was breathing and alive. Carrying my baby son in a sling and being able to kiss the top of his head while strap hanging on a bus or walking to an appointment for a check up with the doctor. Being so scared of every little thing that might go wrong and realising that this would be the emotion I'd feel the rest of my life.

In order to keep a sense of perspective I try and reflect on the positive things that bring a smile to my face. The things that remind me how proud I am of my boy and how blessed I feel that he is in my life.

• The other morning me and Hubbie were dancing in the kitchen to the Prodigy, Firestarter. The boy walked in, looked at us for a moment then joined in with the mayhem. That's my boy !

• He's obsessed with a movie called Firehouse Dog that we've watched so many times I think I spend more time with Bruce Greenwood (the Dad) than with Hubbie.

My little pony

• On the Bank Holiday it was so wet and miserable outside we stayed indoors mainlining movies. Carry on a Cabby was on and our boy enjoyed watching it with us - I have no explanation for why he was dressed in a pink pony outfit. 

• We took him to Peppa Pig world last week and there was torrential rain, thunder, lightning in the morning followed by an afternoon of blazing sunshine, no queues and ice cream for the boys. I asked him what the best thing about the day was. After some thought he said, "the eggy bread you made me for breakfast Mummy."

Look no queuing !!

• This morning he asked if I'd seen his teddy bear Jiggles. We both searched upstairs and couldn't find him. I jokingly asked the cat if he knew anything and he miaowed. I told the boy that clearly Neo was telling us where the bear was and to follow him. I heard a loud squeal as the boy found his bear exactly where the cat was standing - at the bottom of the stairs. I swear those two are pulling tricks on me !

So, as we go into another weekend I am armed with tips and hints from the book and a heart full of hope that this one will be better than the last one was.

I find it's a good life rule to give the last word to Calvin and Hobbes.

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Love is... music, chocolate and sarcasm

Now as I type this me and Hubbie are on the radio presenting our Valentine's Day show - we do our show every two weeks and we pick a theme and choose alternate songs based on that theme. We joke that it's the only time we actually talk to each other, but the truth is we love to banter between songs and it's a chance to share our passion for music and bizarre facts with whoever is interested in listening to our ramblings.

I know not everyone is into Valentine's Day. Yes it's very commercial and a made up holiday and an excuse to sell cards and flowers and chocolates and to charge more for a set meal in a restaurant because you just have to go out and if you are still in a new relationship it's a minefield (and breathe). If you are single it can be a hellish thing much like the scene in Sex and the City the movie which typifies the miserable singleton experience of Valentine's Day. However, it is a thing and there are more songs written about love than almost anything else so it seemed an apt theme for our show - so there !

Besides which I'm married and we've been together almost ten years so we're supposed to be in the 'romance ? what's that ?' stage of life. I don't really get why you're supposed to celebrate being cynical about being in love when actually I genuinely do love Hubbie and my son and our cat. It's not just humans who get all loved up on this day either, 3% of all pet owners will give their cat a gift on this day. Neo got a kiss and cuddle from our boy, but he did wander off with disdain that it wasn't accompanied with a shake of biscuits in his food bowl.

If you are quite old or into cartoons you may recall that in the seventies there was a thing called "Love is..." with two slightly chubby characters who were pretty much naked all the time. Each one signified something that was supposedly typical of love and it was usually something twee like, "giving her the moon," or "kisses on a park bench."  I was never really into them if I'm honest. They were always a bit too schmaltzy for me, but inspired by this retro romanticism I've compiled my own signifiers of love - just for you this Valentine's Day.

You are welcome :)



Love is... Hubbie remembering the elephant teapot I mentioned that time we went past that shop in town








Love is... going out with my son and Hubbie for lunch instead of for dinner in the evening, because we love our boy's company - even if he prefers to watch Alphablocks on Daddy's phone.






Love is... Neo putting a paw on my leg to stop me getting up from the sofa because he's so comfy lying on me








Love is... me saving up all my calories for weeks so that we could splurge on a chocolate dessert pasta only for it to be really disappointing actually



and finally




Love is... Hubbie giving me this badge - even though I suspect he was being sarcastic !!

Mums know everything don't they ?

When I became a Mum I figured I'd just know stuff. Like my Mum does. She knows pretty much everything that's of any use to anyone. I always assumed that as soon as I had a child I'd automatically know stuff too. I am now, slowly, realising that it's taken raising 4 kids for her to gather that kind of wikipedia-esque skill.

So far here are the questions I can answer:

My boy: Mummy can I watch Gruffalo please ?

Hubbie: Where are my swimming trunks ?

The Cat: Miaoooooow (translation: something to do with biscuits)

All of them: When do we eat ?

The Questions I can't answer: 

Why did the cat lick Hubbie's marmite on toast yesterday morning ?

Why is it always the one thing that is most precious that my son will drop on the floor and break when he's at someone else's house ? (sorry Janice)

When will I work out how much less shampoo and conditioner to use now my hair is short ?

Why do the bin men always leave the wheelie bin right in the middle of the drive after emptying it ?

And to prove how useful my Mum really is - here is a small sample of questions she can answer:


"Mum how do I programme the economy 7 heating system ?

"Mum, how do I prepare and cook [name of exotic vegetable] ?"

"Mum what do I do with my son, he's not sleeping / eating / listening [delete as appropriate]"

"Mum how did you manage to run a household, raise 4 kids, work full time and prepare a meal from scratch every day ?"

and the questions my Mum can't answer:

"Mum, how do I get past this level on Candy Crush ?"

Personally, I don't see why she isn't running the world :o)