The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Monday, 21 April 2014
Matters of survival.
Firstly, it is ok to feel angry or upset. Most of all, it is ok to cry. Normal in fact. More than this, it is ok to cry in front of others and more than ok to talk about it. This is not a sign of weakness.
Secondly, others can help. I don't have to do everything on my own and others are actually happy to help. This is not a sign of weakness.
Finally, that dreams are still possible. It isn't all over for me and it is ok to believe this. This also is not a sign of weakness.
Parental responsibility and parental guilt.
I carry this concept of 'more' with me in everything I do; most of all in parenting. Should I be doing more as a Mother? Does my son need more? Does he want more? Can I give him more? How can I provide more? More time. More of a home. More of a future.
This is not to say that our life is in any way lacking. We are incredibly lucky to have a home, my income and each other. However, I cannot help but think on a daily basis that I should own a home for Ethan, have savings ready for his future and just provide more for him. Perhaps this is the price we pay for modern existence. We want for more when our lives already hold so much. Or maybe this is something of a personal nature. Something far less political; far less of a social study.
I have been thinking about where this idea comes from and have come to several conclusions. The first is that I have always pushed myself. Whether this be in my career or personal life, I have always expected a lot of myself. I was an 'average' student who achieved highly, I was the unpopular girl who became the centre of attention, I was the goth who settled down to have a family. I always worked hard at whatever my focus was and this still stands today in my rather unusual life.
As a Mother it is impossible for me to reach the heights I aspire to, for what I yearn for is my child to want for nothing and always be happy. Impossible. As parents we want this from the second we are aware of the existence of our child, but it literally isn't possible. Children will be unhappy, as babies, teenagers and adults. As parents I guess all we can do is be there to make the unhappiness slightly less unbearable. What a horrible job that is in reality.
Underneath all of this, at the root of this feeling is a fear of failure. I fear I have suffered failure as a writer, as a singer and as a wife. Now, these things may may not necessarily seem as though they link to a fear of failure as a parent, but one ultimately makes me feel as though I have already failed my son. I wanted my child to grow up with both his parents together as a unit. Maybe I am old fashioned, maybe I was dreaming, maybe it was all a joke.
Jokes aside, I know that my son still has both of his parents and that I am here for him in every way. I do my best for him and he will hopefully grow up understanding that. However much I know this, it doesn't stop my from thinking otherwise. Maybe this is the curse of parenting, or the curse of an analytically inclined mind.
I am not sure exactly.
Perhaps I should just be.
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Rebel parent?
Now, I don't consider myself a rebel parent in any way. My son has a strict 7pm bedtime, I use the naughty step and he lives, by all accounts, a 'normal' day to day existence.
However, according to this article I am a total rebel. Go me. Here is a rundown of my rebellious parenting according to those on the list I am 'guilty' of:
1. Giving your toddler undiluted fruit juice.
Shit the bed, I am mental. Ethan sometimes has undiluted orange juice and, worse still, a fruit shoot!
2. You gave your toddler a chocolate biscuit.
Yesterday, Ethan found an Easter egg, put it into his cup to fashion his own brand of chocolate dispenser and ate most of it. Go figure.
3. You give your toddler screen time.
We have watched Monsters Inc. or Monsters University at least once every single day of the Easter break. It makes me want to set fire to Sully and Mike. If I was a rebel I would throw my TV out of the window in order to not watch this film again.
4. You spend time doing absolutely nothing.
PJ days are some of our best days, after a long week of work and nursery. Hardly Courtney Love.
5. Sometimes you ignore the bath, teeth, bed routine.
Yep. Still in bed at 7pm but sometimes, with a grumpy toddler, that bath just isn't worth it.
6. You let your toddler make his own friends.
Well, yes. This isn't a dictatorship.
7. You don't follow gender rules.
Ethan has dinosaurs and superheroes alongside his kitchen and baby doll in her pink buggy. Even writing this reinforces gender stereotypes. I'm not a rebel; I just live in the present day.
8. You let him play with swords.
A foam one, yes. I also play at being monsters. He's not actually a monster though. It's called make believe which means it's not real.
9. You take your child to the pub.
Twice in the past week, in fact. We had a lovely dinner and I had a lovely pint of cider. Just call me Miley Cyrus, I'm so rebellious. Oh, it may have been my twerking in the pub garden after our scampi and chips which caused that pseudonym.
Nine out of twelve on the rebel checklist. Must try harder next time.
Granted, the list does also say that it is 'ok' to do these things but should we really need permission to just be a parent?
Saturday, 12 April 2014
First Aid.
In clear view, I see myself. It comes to me that I will never have this. My time has passed, as the past lies dormant, undercutting all. All that I have been and all I have been is shaped by a damaged dream. A broken paradise deep within.
The bride, glowing and warm. The groom, proud and home. Their dreams, fresh and exciting. I stand just outside of this familiar scene, gazing with joy for them and rot for myself.
I will forever remain a stillborn bride, a stagnant wife. First, my heart was broken. Second, my dreams were broken. Which is worse? I know the truth. A truth which is now more evident than ever.
With the blindfold peeled away, I can see the truth. My truth.
I keep the blindfold close, in case of emergency. I fold it carefully and store it in my first aid kit. Alongside this are bandages, pain relief and sedatives. There is a needle and thread, crudely packaged, resting on top of an unopened instruction manual. Should I open it?
Hidden in the first aid kit is an old fashioned pack for open heart surgery. There are implements and tools of all shapes and sizes, framing the heart itself. The heart which beats quietly, echoing, taunting: "Take me. Wear me. Use me." This is his whisper, as he waits, impatiently and sinister.
I have looked upon this heart before. I even approached it once, with a hesitant finger and thumb. I am closer now. Closer and calmer. This heart is mine.
Friday, 11 April 2014
Need, want and independence.
A boisterous toddler, Ethan now has real personality, holds the most basic of conversations and yet has far more complex needs and, moreover, wants than as a baby.
At the weekend, we went for lunch at our local The Alex with friends and got to discussing when Ethan gets older and starts to work. Maybe he will work in a pub. Maybe Auntie Sam, Auntie Katie and Mum will embarrass him by popping in for lunch. What kind of young man will Ethan become? I have an image in my head of what he will look like, what he will sound like, who he will be. The frightening thing is that I have a feeling it won't take long to get to this point.
The last ten years since I was a teenager myself have passed in what seems likes minutes. All of a sudden I am a Mother, with relationships and marriages behind me, sitting on the brink of thirty. This is not to sound negative at all as my life now is richer and fuller than that of my 19 year old self. It has just taken years, yet moments to get here.
Ethan is no longer a baby. That part of his and my life has passed. The night waking, breast feeding and endless rocking is finished. Done. The Ethan of now is loud, excited and sometimes seems to need me less.
Or, does he simply need me differently?
On his first trip into London on Monday, this was more obvious, wonderful and alarming than usual. As we walked the streets of Camden, made friends with animals in the zoo and travelled by train and underground, Ethan seemed to grow even more into a little boy in front of my eyes. He ran with confidence, laughed as an emotional, not biological reaction and was wild with excitement.
There were moments, however, when my little boy still needed me. He didn't need to suckle for nutrition and comfort, but needed to tell me or show me things, to share chips with me and to hold hands while running through puddles.
Similarly, he needs my Mum, his Nan, for cuddles, for laughs and for playtime. He needs his Grandad, my Dad, for walks to the shop, noisy games and secret sweets. Ethan may not need me solely, but he still does. The difference is the wonderful independence he now has. It may feel like rejection and loss at times but, ultimately, I have utilised our close relationship and Ethan's reliance and trust of me to give him an independent and brave spirit. If this gives any prediction of his future young man, he will be an incredible young man indeed.
From this...
...to this...
...to now...
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