toughmotheruk

What is gratefulness?

My husband’s goal last summer was to encourage the kids to be more grateful.

They’ve got the basics – please, thank you – but we are nine years into this parenting thing and were hoping there might be some appreciation… Although to be fair, it was probably only once I had kids that I truly appreciated what mum and dad did for us.

Anyway, we hadn’t seen an appreciable difference.

It was only a few days after Christmas when I asked my husband whether the absence of ungratefulness equals gratefulness?

The children had not got a lot on their Christmas list, but had taken it well. They’d still been spoilt in my opinion, but still, progress?

Ironically, the next morning, our son came in early to discuss a burning issue.

How he’d really, REALLY wanted a lego sandcrawler.

And not all the other things he’d got.

Hmmm, more lessons required.

Is that a dagger I see before me?

I was just recovering from the news that my son’s year’s performance of MacBeth was going to be 75 minutes (not the 25 I had factored into my day), when my husband asked me to step outside for a sec.

That sounded serious.

Concerned, I headed out the door to see my Dad and sister!

Fresh off the plane from NZ.

They even had reserved seats in the front row (my plan to sneak out part way obviously foiled).

They’d managed to see my daughter as they arrived and my son’s jaw dropped as he entered the hall. He couldn’t stop waving, but he still managed to smash his soliloquy.

It turns out this had been in the pipeline for months and that my husband just about broke under the pressure of organising it and keeping it all a secret. I did think it odd that I hadn’t spoken to mum much (she wasn’t so confident about keeping it quiet) and that dad might have been losing it, but I had no idea. Turns out quite a number were in on it.

After dad’s second brush (well, full on dunking) with cancer, I didn’t think we’d see him on this side of the world again. Let alone my sister, who has four kids and a hectic life at home.

Amazing, wicked, epic…. there are not enough words for how much it means to me.

Thanks.

What’s a kind of magic?

Recently I did a relay half marathon with some friends. The event left me buzzing!

I was reflecting on what made it the magic mix…

We had the Planner – she’d scoped out an event that would challenge all of us in different ways, organised us, and even walked the course (clip board not required).

The Marketing Guru who spotted the opportunity and took the time to throw herself and us into supporting a great cause.

The Well-being Manager, who not only made sure we were in the right place at the right time, but that we had our bananas, water and everything else on hand in case it was needed.

And, of course, there was the support crew, that is the husbands and kids who stayed at home while we had our weekend away.

Running for something else and someone else meant I pushed myself harder than if I had been going it alone. The challenge, a mix of Queen, laughs and, yes, some wine was energising in a way that I hadn’t realised I needed.

All that and we made it under two hours with 8 seconds to spare…

What’s a support crew?

A few weekends ago I participated in the London Ultra Duathlon. I have to admit, I was pretty nervous. It was the longest distance I’d gone and the first time “transition” was a thing.

My husband had said he’d drop by with our daughter on her way to spend the day with a friend so it was cool to run then cycle past them. Luckily, he’d gone with high viz options – I could spot the rainbow knee high socks (on my daughter) from a mile off.

After waving them off, I put my head down to focus on cycling for a few hours. It was somewhat disconcerting that although there were thousands of people participating, there was hardly any noise (and definitely no chat!). Only the odd shouts of “to your right”!

Five of seven laps in, my enthusiasm was definitely starting to flag. It was about the same point, when I spotted my husband and son. It was as welcome as it was unexpected! The smile kept me going until the next hill. Which I was just cresting when I spotted some friends who’d come out to support me too. The last two laps seemed to whizz by. Getting off my bike and getting my legs to move for the last run was a struggle. By this point, I couldn’t feel my feet, but knowing I had the crew around the course kept me going. Particularly when it looked like my son planned to scoot round with me (I wasn’t sure he’d be up for the full circuit so he got sent back to dad).I can’t pretend it wasn’t hard but having friends and family scattered along the last kilometre lifted me like nothing else – even managing a ‘sprint finish’ when my son challenged me to beat him over the last 200 metres. So to my support crew – thank you. I know that was only stage one on the road to the Coast to Coast, and there’s a few more to get through, but it’s amazing having you at my back!

What have you been doing mum?

So my husband and kids arrive back tomorrow after spending three weeks away – mostly in New Zealand with my family (not counting the 60 quality hours travelling there and back!).

I wasn’t able to go due to work commitments and, I am not going to lie, the idea of some ‘quiet time’ at home was appealing.

They seem to be having a fabulous time – scanning ewes, learning to ski, sledging (somewhat faster when you’re being towed by a motorbike).

I am also enjoying time connecting with friends. Getting outside to train. Working late without needing to worry about getting back.

After they left, it took me about two days to sort through the chaos left behind and return some order. I even got a bit arty (for me), although the spare room was one step too far.

But it has been disconcerting walking into the house. A very quiet house. Where everything was where I left it. And stuff hasn’t bred into little (or big) piles to be sorted.

My mum used to always complain that our house was never tidy like the neighbours (their’s was ridiculously tidy. Their kids’ even put their toys away. Setting impossibly high standards – thanks for that!).

My response was isn’t it good to have one that looked lived in (it usually didn’t prevent me from being press-ganged into cleaning frenzy).

I’m sure I’ll be telling myself that again soon…

Found at least four sticks. They did not survive.

Do you think I am fat?

That was the question from my beautiful six, almost seven, year old daughter the other evening.

Oh god.

My mind went blank (for a bit).

One of the (many) things I love about my daughter is how unselfconscious she is. Back in January, I had written about how out of the blue, she had stated confidently that your tummy is always going to be your poofiest part. Not many bones…

There was no thought about her body, positive or negative. It just was.

While it never made it out of drafts, I had wondered when it would change? When do the comments start in changing rooms? Usually the skinniest girl saying ‘I am so fat’, with the rush of reassurance ‘well if you are, …’ or was that just my experience?!

If you are your own biggest critic, how do you protect against the annoying little voice. I know it can take little to trigger it into a deafening shout. And while I have not been in that situation, it’s still taken me a while to work out how to quieten or ignore it. It’s probably a work in progress. I’m sure that everyone has their own journey of understanding who they are. And hopefully somewhere along the line accepting/getting comfortable with it...

But this might be my biggest fear – now that there seems to be ever more focus on the external packaging, how do you protect your child from the craziness?

It might have helped if I had spent more time wondering about what I would do when confronted with such an event!

What I heard come out was “No, of course not. Are you a fast runner? Do you love doing cartwheels? Do you love dancing?”

Luckily all yes.

“You’re strong and healthy. That’s what’s important. Not how skinny or fat someone is.”

As I replay the conversation, I have no idea whether it was the right or wrong tack. Whether she’ll remember it or, hopefully, not think of it again for a really long time.

However, at least fortuitously, there were no “helpful” comments from her brother.

What do you see when you look at your reflection?

Why is the cricket on?

It was a bit tense in our household at the weekend. England were playing New Zealand in the World Cup final of the cricket.

The first time my husband and I watched sport together was, probably unsurprisingly, a rugby match. While we started sitting together in the middle of the sofa, within seven minutes we had migrated to opposite ends.

This time we were prepared and staked our claims. However, there was a major tactical error. We had not made our children watch some of the earlier games so the storm of questions commenced…

What’s an over?
What’s bowling?
Why are there six balls in an over?Who is the wicket keeper?
What’s a duck? Is that the same as a golden duck?
Is a four better than one run? (patience hanging on by a thread with this one…)
Can I have a hug?

That one was as England needed two runs off the last ball. So, it was not an ideal time. Sudden uncontrolled movements can lead to injuries...

For all that, the kids got caught up in the drama. Along with the millions of other people who didn’t know cricket could be so exciting!

To the extent that my son was devastated when he realised England had won on a technicality (bless him for not claiming his English half at that point).

But (to misquote a quote I now can’t find) cricket was the winner on the day…

What do you need that for?

I was going to write about the kids losing their night lights but that was rather eclipsed by the recent conversation we had.

I had just been talking to a friend about puberty and how unprepared I am for it, when my daughter cornered me on the way home…

Somehow my son had claimed the front seat in the car, and I couldn’t kick up a fuss when my daughter, pleased, said we can have some girl time!

Five minutes down the road she found a tampon in my bag that she’d been rummaging through. Mum, what’s this?

My life passed before my eyes briefly, but as there was no escape I plunged in. I noticed my husband turned down the radio as he tuned into the back seat.

It is a bit of a haze but I remember where does it go (not your belly button), how long does it happen (a looong time), will you have more children (you bring so much joy already, how could there be room for more)…

At one point, my husband went to add to the conversation but he was closed down rapidly. “Girls talk Dad”.

I was relieved to move off the topic – until she decided to give me a phonics lesson. After the tenth go at trying to pronounce an ‘a’ as opposed to an ‘e’ or was it an ‘i’, I was ready for more birds and bees.

What’s a sequel?

The other day, my daughter lost her eighth tooth. She’s now on the same number as her brother apparently. Who knew there could be competitive tooth loss?

The first night we all forgot to leave it out for the tooth fairy.

The second night, she carefully positioned it.

But the tooth fairy never arrived. Perhaps he or she didn’t get the memo about the delay… or thought it was a bit ironic following the Great Easter Bunny Discovery.

The third night almost went the same way. However, a light bulb moment meant my husband got a dig in the ribs just after drifting off to sleep.

Do you have a pound coin?

The answer was negative but he knew where the change was so he was nominated fairy.

That is, until he came creeping back into the room asking for some assistance. The tooth was on a shelf above said daughter’s head – which happens to be a few metres off the ground due to her platform bed. He didn’t like his chances of climbing on the bedside table without injuring him or it.

I scrambled up and made the trade.

I then looked over my shoulder and thought it was a great opportunity for a trust exercise, to elegantly fall into my husband’s arms…

or smack him in the face with my elbow, with him trying to hold in the expletives until out of waking up child range.

We had confirmed he didn’t need the tooth fairy when he disclosed that our daughter had asked him earlier that day whether the tooth fairy really did exist!

It was almost as painful as discovering the fairy actually left £1.20.

My son was particularly interested in the apparent inflation. It has currently been explained away as interest due to the delay. I am waiting for him to reveal a tooth that he lost a year ago…

What’s a kindred spirit?

On our epic adventure in New Zealand we decided to take the kids to see the magic of Fiordland. This involves a two hour bus ride there, a boat trip around Milford Sound, and then the return trip.

We walked into the tourist centre and a serious young girl immediately introduced herself, that she was eight, her sister, five, they were from Australia, some other fun facts about her family, and that they were going to Milford Sound too.

I in turn introduced her to my son.

The kids sat down the back of the bus and, as they were the same age, I think they attempted a “fact off” to establish the correct pecking order.

They covered:

Biology – what’s the deadliest animal?

Palaeontology – no, the biggest dinosaur was actually the …

Religion and literature – have you

Genesis? I don’t think it happened like that. I believe in evolution. My mum said the bible’s like a metaphor…

– my grandads both had tumours but not the same type…

Philosophy – what do you think happens when you die?

It was strange hearing some of our conversations being repeated. He really did listen!

The fact tennis seemed to go on for about an hour before they acknowledged stalemate and let the younger siblings get involved in the conversation!