The funny side to life as a working single Mum. My stories of embarrassing escapades, toddler tantrums and great expectations.
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.
Sunday, 7 December 2014
Christmas, nostalgia and philosophy.
So, it's been a while since I've written anything here. It's 3 months exactly.
With Christmas looming, I can't help but wonder what it is about the season which drives me to melancholic nostalgia. Is it the end of this year and start of a new one? Is it the dark mornings and darker evenings? The colder climate with its promise of snow?
Christmas to me is often shrouded with ghosts, making me feel somewhat like the protagonist of Dickens' most famous Christmas story. Harking back, I find myself wondering about past lives I have led. Reflecting at my present, I feel blessed. Looking to my future, I see the unknown. Much of my past, which has led me to this point in my life, was unexpected and unplanned. With this in mind, I am unsure whether my meticulous planning is really worthwhile anymore.
Have I been wasting my real life while trying to create a life? At times I feel like I've spent so much time planning my life and trying to reach my goals that I have missed out on actually living. I have certainly achieved in life on paper and have had adventures along the way.
Recently, when studying poetry with my year 8 class, we got to discussing the idea of 'living in the present.' Now, what I am referring to is not 'the moment' because in my mind, every fragment of your life is not a moment; it can't be. The connotations of living in the moment also trouble me, for I am not suggesting that every fragment of life should be exciting or challenging. My suggestion to my class was that we should take time to look at what is happening right now and relish in it. Whether that is discussing poetry with a class, having a cup of tea or hugging my son; these are all equally as important fragments of time. They are mine and I should own them fully, giving them the respect they deserve.
The philosopher and sociologist Bruno Latour once said that 'philosophy is not in the business of explaining anything. Actual occasions explain what happened, not philosophy.' In this case, my analytical mind will not bring me answers; my fragmented occasions, however, may do.
Saturday, 6 September 2014
Domestic goddess?
Recently, a friend commented that she felt relieved to discover I am not the 'domestic goddess' she always thought I was.
I was shocked. I have always seen myself as more of a domestic villain rather than a goddess.
Then I started thinking about what I actually do in the domestic sphere. Here it is just for today:
Housework (all of it)
Made omelette for our lunch
Baked Nigella chocolate banana muffins
Prepared garlic vegetables to roast for dinner
Now, this is on a Saturday, while also entertaining my 2 year old and a full time job.
You know what? I am a total domestic deity.
Maybe we should all actually look at what we do every week, everyday and take note of our own minor achievements. Someone should, after all.
Monday, 1 September 2014
Boobs, bits and balls.
On a completely different note, my 2 year old son is able to identify 'boobs' and 'balls' by name. If he walks in on my dressing, I receive shouts of 'BOOOOOOOBS! ' followed by a mass of giggling. At nappy changes and bathtime, it's as though he has discovered his balls for the first time, every time, and is questioning them: 'balls?'
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