The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
Saturday, 13 June 2015
Bits and pieces: the trouble with willies.
For a fair while, Ethan has played with his willy and found it another fascinating part of his body. Biology. Learning. Great, I thought.
That was until he found out his willy had powers, unknown to him previously; the foreskin and the ability to move this up and down. Nothing prepared me for this. Nowhere in any class or book do they tell you that one day your lovely two year old will run in and reveal to you something which looks like it belongs in a lab.
I feel sorry for my Mum, who experienced this first, from he dear grandson.
Now, I get that this is natural and curiosity is a positive attitude but really? It's grim. Plus, trying to explain to my boy that this could hurt himself and make his willy dirty is fairly challenging. He just finds it hilarious. Obviously.
Sunday, 31 May 2015
Woodland Warriors.
I've come to realise that i'm quite the outdoors type. A tomboy. A tree hugger. Since having Ethan, I've embraced this side of myself and, while I'm by no means an adventurer, I love getting grubby and down to earth in the woods or on the beach.
Ethan is a total nature kid. He loves bugs, trees and running wild and free. On Friday, we headed to Wat Tyler Park for Woodland Warriors, which is run by the extraordinary Tiffers, whose enthusiasm for nature is catching, for both children and adults of all ages.
We started by sitting in a circle learning about the various songs of different birds and even my 2 year old was interested, holding the different soft toy birds and listening to their songs. The rest of the session was spent on various activities, from bird mask making to swinging in the trees to building a bird nest and making bird feeders.
A highlight for me was making a clay bird with Ethan and the other families, which reminded me of David Almond's novel 'Skellig' and the freedom of his character Mina.
To end the morning, Tiffers lit an open fire for us to cook marshmallows over. Wearing a huge protective glove, Ethan cooked his marshmallow up, learning about fire safety along the way. It was a stunningly beautiful moment to share.
The whole event felt relaxed and yet structured, with a balance of learning and freedom. When helping an older girl to start her own fire the old fashioned way, Tiffers said 'I'm not telling you what to do, I'm just helping', which summed up the overall atmosphere.
I have a feeling William Blake would have more than approved of Woodland Warriors, with his philosophy of embracing the natural intelligence and creativity of children and the magic of our environment.
'How can a bird who is made for joy sit in a cage and sing?'
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Dressing up games.
When we are children, we love to dress and make believe. My son loves all things pretend and all things fantastic; from superheroes to fairies to animals. Similarly, I teach many students who love to play at make believe, even as children. It seems to help them deal with their issues and, to be honest, sometimes being someone else feels like a better option.
This leads me to my coming weekend. Comicon. Comics. Cosplay.
I am a 30 year old woman, a Mum and a teacher and yet I'm so over excited putting together my catwoman cosplay for the weekend. For just a day, I can at least pretend to be catwoman. How cool is that? To most, probably not all that cool at all but to me, it really is.
In some way or another, don't we all pretend we are someone else? Someone more ideal? Not all the time, but just sometimes. If not for escape, then just for fun! Isn't it time we accepted that children have fun and that the ability to play is important and vital, in fact, to our humanity?
I love that cosplay is something I share with my friends and my son. We both love dressing up and acting, which is something to be celebrated. It isn't forced or fake and my son is surrounded by a wonderful menagerie of family and friends joining in with his fun. What a lovely tradition to continue on as he grows up.
Saturday, 16 May 2015
Living in the 'cliff.
I have now lived in and around Westcliff-on-sea for around 10 years and thought it was about time I gave this reliable old town of mine some respect.
Standing on my balcony, I can see the 'sea' if I lean over and to the left. I love it; for it may be a murky estuary but it's always been there. When I separated from my first husband just one year after moving here with him, I took a walk to the seafront for some peace and reflection. When I was in an awful relationship and suffered an unexpected miscarriage, I sat on the seafront with a cigarette, beer and the complete works of John Keats, trying to fathom what had happened. Later, while pregnant with my son and arguing with his Dad, I sat on the seafront in the cold, listening to the waves crashing and the boats rocking.
Now, while all of these are negative experiences in my life, I see the seafront of Westcliff as consistent, stable and calming. Through any trouble, I can escape to the seaside. Maybe this is rooted in a childhood of seaside holidays, a talent for swimming or the memory of watching 'The Little Mermaid' at the cinema with my Dad, my strong and sturdy Dad, who cried when Ariel's father set her free to be with her Prince. I'm not sure of the psychology behind it; there may not be any explanation. It just is.
Westcliff-on-sea has been the backdrop for some of my happiest memories, predominantly with my son. Playing on the beach for hours, seaside lunches with my Aunt and ice cream with my Mum. It's a tiny piece of holiday just outside my door. I've not even mentioned the number of shows I have seen at The Cliffs Pavilion and the close friends I have made here.
Some people may look at Westcliff and see drunks, druggies and depression. What I see is reality, community and home. Living here, I actually talk to my neighbours and local shopkeepers. We have a regular cafe, I have a favourite vintage store and it feels like home. It may be a little crooked and rough in places, but so is my life sometimes and that's more than ok with me.
Tuesday, 5 May 2015
Jekyll and Hyde
Toddlers are fickle beasts. You never know quite how they are going to wake up, change through the day or finish the day. Generally, my son is happy, loving and friendly but he can also be demanding, impatient and angry. Most of all though, toddlers seem to be irrational. The things Ethan gets annoyed about are ridiculous. Recently there was a fallout over the hoover. I wanted to put it away and Ethan wanted to hug it because he 'lubs it.'
Just this evening, Ethan stole a bottle of squash from the kitchen and hid it in a toy box. This was funny and cheeky. What came next was a minor breakdown because I refused to let him drink said squash straight from the bottle, as you can see. Just seconds after this photo was taken, Ethan was sat at the table eating his dinner in absolute perfection.
Toddlers, eh?
Sunday, 19 April 2015
"Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair."
I came across this photo I had sent to a friend fairly recently; my son rubbing a rubber centipede into my hair, while I'm suffering with a horrible virus.
This is parenting.
Right here is the ugly truth of it. As always, this is not to say that I don't love being a Mum. I really do. It's just that this photo and moment are ridiculously funny, exhausting and amazing in equal measures. Why not share that?
Tuesday, 14 April 2015
Health freak or just freak?
Lately, I have been trying out a lot of vegan foods and general (seemingly) pretentious healthy shit. It happens every now and again; I get rundown and ill, leading to me surviving on pizza and painkillers, until I realise it's stupid and buy out Holland and Barrett. I often ask myself when I became so middle class? That's a whole other post though.
One thing I have discovered is kale. What a delicious middle class iceberg lettuce that is! Allegedly, kale will boost my immune system with vitamin c and even give me the power of invisibility if I eat enough of it. Yum! Superfoods all round!
Jokes and inner class battles aside, I'm really enjoying the little adjustments I have made. Just being conscious of my food and body has been really fulfilling. What I have failed to tell you is that I still ate several homemade scones last night. I will never be a true health freak; I just like cakes too much.
Right, I'm off to dunk my head in a jar of peanut butter, followed by a jar of jam!
Monday, 13 April 2015
What you don't expect when you're expecting.
So, my son is now closer to 3 than 2 years old and is full of energy, attitude and surprises.
Let me list sone recent shockers:
1. Trying to persuade him to put a nappy on and he responds with 'no, Mummy...play with bum bum...it's nice.'
2. He climbed onto my head in a playful manner, only to fart on my face and laugh.
3. He shoved his feet in my nose, asking me 'do you like it, Mummy? Do you like the stink?'
4. He had an argument with his toddler friend, who was adamant he was Leonardo from Turtles. My son disagreed.
5. I gave him a delicious easter egg. He cried and laid on the floor.
What an unusual world toddlers lead you into.
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
Make do and mend.
During world war two, a pamphlet was published, called 'Make do and Mend', which offered advice on how to be both frugal and stylish during harsh times of rationing. My own nanny tells me stories of her own experience of this and it strikes me that, in some ways, aren't we all in the process of a make do and mend? Stick with it, reader, it's a hazy metaphor I'm working on here.
Now, I feel privileged to live in a time and place where I can provide for my son and myself, with the support of our family. I may buy many of our clothes and home items from charity and second hand shops, but I still feel privileged in our everyday life. We have a home, subsistence and safety, with the addition of love and fun.
Emotionally, however, a little wartime make do and mend may be more common than it first appears. My life is emotionally full of love and joy, but there still lies a small sense of making do, in terms of expectation. My life wasn't meant to look like this. A single Mum, working full time. To make do for me means not to settle, but to enjoy everything I have. To feel privileged, rather than cursed. To feel blessed in every simple joy, rather than disappointed by those who wrong me. Making do is thankful and peaceful.
As for the mending. Well, that's a huge project, which isn't over just yet. Slowly but surely I have been mending the damage to my dream and my stitching isn't bad. Sometimes, the stitches come loose or someone catches them and leaves a snag in our beautiful patchwork creation. The key is that I have good tools, positive skills and the ability to keep on mending, no matter how many times things break. Mending is strengthening and empowering.
So, there it is: a rather odd analogy for sorting shit out. Luckily, you've finished reading it and can resume usual procedures.
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
Let it go. Just, let it go.
There are some moments in this parenting business which, to me, feel momentous in their simplicity. This afternoon I took Ethan to a Frozen tea party at a fabulous local tea shop called Mad Hatter's.
Ethan chose his shirt and tie, which he then covered up with his spiderman costume. Obviously perfect attire for being in the presence of princesses.
The afternoon was wonderful. The princesses were convincing and gave lovely renditions of the songs. They were warm and loving towards the children and Ethan was totally in awe. I must admit that I was also genuinely entertained.
When the food arrived, Ethan had his own beautiful afternoon tea and loved it. As I sat opposite him, just the two of us, I realised that I have this funny, cute little boy who really wants to spend quality time with me. It really felt like something special happened between us and I can't quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was the comforting childhood memories of Disney or the delicious cakes; I'm not sure. All I know is that there is something just perfect about one to one parent and child time outside of the home and outside of our routine.
I felt so proud of my son, wearing his spiderman costume, meeting princesses and having a grown up afternoon tea. How amazing that this little human who I only evicted from my body 2 years and 6 months ago, can sit there eating his sandwiches and scones, simply enjoying being alive. He has no idea of stereotypical gender roles and no care for how others see him. All he is concerned with is the present: his food, the party and his Mummy. How liberating it is to be a child.
When I asked my spiderman tea partner who the prettiest princess is, he said 'Mummy' and thanked me for the treat. It doesn't get much better than that.
Cheesy as it sounds, when Elsa sings of her fears no longer controlling her and her feeling of immense freedom, I think we can all learn something from her. After all, being an adult can get uptight too easily and, sometimes, you just have to let it go.
Sunday, 25 January 2015
Hard or soft boiled?
Sadly, this isn't another gripping piece about my love of breakfast or TV cookery shows. Incidently, I did make a delicious soft boiled egg for my salad this afternoon.
Anyway, over the past couple of months lots has happened, lots has changed, lots has transposed. Something I have realised, just today, is that over the past 17 months as a single Mum, I made a choice to harden myself. I have always been rather a softie to be honest. A vegetarian at 9, believing in soul mates forever, helping the homeless and volunteering abroad later on.
When my heart was finally and fully broken, I made a decision to be tough and protect myself. Consequently, I changed into a different version of myself, that i'm not all too sure I like. I became less sympathetic of those outside of my close inner circle, I became more judgemental and, as such, more hateful. That's just not me.
Now, I do think I need to protect myself and to be honest, take less shit; does this mean I need to be hard? Of course it doesn't. I like being kind, I like helping others to be happy and I love seeing the brightness in everything. I miss it, in fact.
When talking to a friend about this, she told me 'you are soft and that's why we love you.' That just says it all really.
Contrary to this, my Mum advised me that if I were in fact soft, how the hell did I give birth to a giant baby, in my house, without pain relief? Good point, Mum.
Something to note is that my Mum always makes good points and always has done. No one knows me quite like my Mum.
This got me thinking: are my soft attributes really all that soft? I make a choice not to eat food, which may be delicious, to live by my morals. I travelled to Africa alone, when I had never even left the South of England alone! I saw and heard things there which were painful and I had to leave the beautiful children I met behind me. Soft? No. I have risked and felt heartache because, deep down, I still believe in love. I call that brave.
So, rather than consider myself soft or hard, I'm going for strong. It's far more accurate. I'm a strong mother and strong individual. That's just me.
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