Tag Archives: parenting

Moving forward, looking back. 

20 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by in Emotions, Motherhood, Relationships

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

I’ve never thought about it before, and have probably been guilty of it many many times; but how come everyone seems to feel that they can judge on my life. Or more to the point, my life decisions, marriage, separation and/or divorce. I don’t mean I expect people to not comment or ask about it or acknowledge it. That’s normal, it’s what friends do. They care. They check that you are ok. They offer support. 

The thing is some people go past that. They offer, no they give, you their view on your own life and then try to tell you how to live it. The thing is it’s just that, their view, their opinion, their experience. Not mine. My experience is completely different to anyone else’s, and thank goodness it is too, especially after hearing some of the divorce stories I’ve heard this week. 

I know that people are trying to be nice, they care, but my experience is completely unique to me. It’s not even the same as P’s experience of our divorce. We are all different and we experience things differently. 

The thing that appears to have shocked people most and that they have strong opinions about, is that P and I have moved on fairly quickly. Within weeks we have both begun testing the path of dating again. People assume that we were both having affairs, or tell us that it’s too soon; we need to let the dust settle. Maybe they are right, heaven knows I’ve been wrong many many times in my life, as anyone who reads this blog will know, but maybe P and I are right. Maybe the decision to separate was long overdue and has just drawn a formal line in the sand of our relationship. What if we both end up with the partners of our dreams? Should we turn down the opportunity of happiness to please people who don’t have to live our lives? 

We think not. It is difficult. It is strange, what people might find even stranger is that P and I have openly discussed this. P knew I was dating before almost anyone else. I knew he was almost from the moment that it started. Turns out that we were right; we are really good friends. We talk more now than we did married and living together. The cynics might say that will change; that things will turn out acrimoniously in the end. Perhaps they will, but at the moment we are going through a transition period and it is working for us. 

That’s not to say that it hasn’t been tough. I will always think of this as one of the toughest periods of my life. I have had doubts and worries and I may (once or twice) have been found snivelling on the bathroom floor sobbing that I can’t cope with being on my own. I’m terrible at decision making when it comes to my personal life.  Things that I used to find easy, such as parenting our boys seem so much tougher knowing I’m where the buck stops. Only, in reality it doesn’t. P will always be there for our 3 boys. Whilst not conventional, we are a family. It may be different, people may think it strange but it is most definitely true, like it or not we are stuck with each other. And we will work it out our way. Probably with a lot of shouting and screaming on my part. So thank you all for your support, and your well meaning words but excuse me if I carry on regardless. 

 

Advertisement

Papering the cracks. 

14 Tuesday Apr 2015

Posted by in Friends, kids, Life, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Since my last blog about splitting up with P I’ve been amazed at 2 things:1) the number of people who took the time to connect with me, to check that I am ok, to let me know they are there (thank you all), and 2) the number of people who said they were stunned. That they thought that we were a perfect couple. 

It’s made me think about how social media can allow us to share the life that we want people to think we have rather than the life we actually have with our friends and colleagues. I mean, we have all probably done it; we have a day off, at home with the kids, it’s been a hell of a bad day, they have spent nearly all of it fighting or arguing over important things, such as who is going to get to sit next to Mummy or who broke who’s biscuit. You wonder how you could possibly have borne these Devils, You are just about ready to kill them, and so, in desperation you make them put on their shoes and take them to the park. 

The only reason you are taking them to the park is the hope that they might put 100 metres between you and their constant bickering. This is not about fun, this is survival! It works, you can finally see the arguing but not hear it, and if you don’t look up you can pretend not to see or hear the constant whines of “Muuuumm, he, pushed/hit/punched/licked/looked at me funny!” Ignorance is bliss and so you sit back and enjoy the peace. And then it happens; they stop arguing for 1.5 minutes, the sun pops out for 2.5 minutes, and so you seize the opportunity to take a few pictures of them, in the sun, playing together like angels. 

30 seconds later they are back to bickering and arguing and generally being little sods, what do you do? You retreat back to the park bench, you ignore the yelps and screams coming from the other end of the park and you upload those few rare peaceful moments to Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram. Look at how perfect they are, look how nicely they play together (Yeah right!). 

The point is, I didn’t bother taking photos of them arguing, and I certainly didn’t post them to social media. Anyone who looked at my profile would probably assume that my kids and I had a whale of a time at the park, smiling and playing together. Which we did. I mean those perfect 1.5 minutes of not bickering or arguing, in the sun were indeed perfect. However I unconsciously edited my day/life down to those few small moments in an otherwise poxy day when I uploaded those pictures to Facebook. 

 Too many people accept that what people portray on social media is the reality of other people’s worlds. And that is quite a scary thought. If I was friends with someone who was depressed or not coping particularly well, they may well be under the illusion that I am coping perfectly, that I manage to be the perfect mother/wife/girlfriend/sister/employee/whatever. What they may fail to realise is that they are only seeing the highlights. The best bits. The parts that I want to show the world. They don’t see the me, snot hanging down my face, sobbing down the phone that I am a failure, that I can’t cope, that I am too tired, too sad to deal with this crap; because that’s not they way I want most people to know me. So those times get conveniently missed out from my Facebook feed and instead you see the times I’m winning at life, you see the good and I edit out the bad. To someone who is depressed or struggling to cope this can make them feel a failure, they may see everyone else’s lives through the rose tinted glasses of social media and this can make them feel worse. 

And that’s how people form the impression that everyone else’s life is better than theirs. That they must be doing something wrong. They don’t see the cracks in the lives of their friends, they only see the paper that their friends have covered over the cracks with. But nothing is perfect, everything has cracks, and so you know what? Those 1.5 minutes of perfection, in the park, sun shining and kids loving me were the closest to heaven I’ve been for a while. And so I’ll carry on sharing those moments, however perhaps we should all bear in mind that what we see is not always a reflection of our full time reality, it’s the reality we’d like. 

New beginnings. 

10 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by in Emotions, love, Relationships, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Yesterday  was a big, life changing day. A day that I never really imagined would happen and yet at the same time had become more and more inevitable. Yesterday  my husband and I separated. We had decided to do it 10 days ago, but it was only today that he moved out; at 18:13 on 9th April 2015 I became a single parent of three boisterous boys. 

I say single parent, even though I know that P will be there for them whenever they (or indeed I) need him to be. Still it’s a place I never imagined that I’d be. 

Ever since the decision was made on 30th March, my life has been full of firsts. There is the obvious first time that I have ever split up a marriage, and had to tell my children that my and Daddy aren’t going to live together anymore (which, in case you are wondering is heart wrenching) but there are also a lot of other firsts that I hadn’t really ever considered; things like not wearing a wedding ring.  I’ve had a ring on my finger engagement or wedding ring for over 8 years, I suddenly realised that I feel quite naked without it. It’s been off a while now and I still feel like I’ve lost something every time I touch my fingers together. I never realised that I noticed it that much. 

Last night I had to sort out the internet and tv all on my own for the first time. Given that I’ve spent 10 years deliberately not being able to do that so I’m never asked to, it was a struggle and I’m ashamed to say I gave up and ended up reading instead. 

Another first is having to ask my husband (ex husband?) if he will look after the children so I can go away on holiday, on my own. 

Today I am in the house alone. That’s the first time I’ve ever spent a night in my house with no one else in it. No husband no children. It is weird. The house feels empty.

P and I haven’t had a row in this process. I think we both agreed that our relationship wasn’t where we would both like it to be a long time ago but have been stuck in a quagmire of emotion around what to do about it. We know a couple who are still really good friends despite getting divorced. So much so that they go to the same parties with their new partners and all get along fine. We have agreed that we would like things to be like that. No recriminations, no blame. I’m hoping that we can stick to it. Interestingly since we called a halt to our relationship we have got on better than we have for ages. It seems as friends we get on brilliantly, not that we didn’t before, things had just changed. 

And so today came another first; I went and did a shop for P, so that he doesn’t starve to death in the next week or so while he gets used to being on his own. I dropped it off at his house and then walked away. It might seem odd to other people but I honestly truly care for him and hope that this is the start of something good for both of us. Life changes. People change. We are different people to who we were a decade ago and that’s no ones fault it’s just the way it is. 

I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I believe that if you can’t do any good for someone then, like the picture says at least you shouldn’t harm them.  Together we will try to do what is good for our children and also for us as individuals.  Hopefully we won’t hurt each other too much along the way. And I will always love him but maybe it’s time for new beginnings. 

 

My first, my last, my everything.

23 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by in Emotions, kids, Motherhood, Relationships

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Whilst I love being pregnant in many ways, I have never been very good at being pregnant. I have 3 children and all of my pregnancies have been complicated in some way, each one in a different way, but definitely complicated. This time 5 years ago I was 27 weeks pregnant with my youngest child, my last child. Even as I type that, my stomach churns and my mind does a little spin. You see, whilst I know that Billy Bob is going to be my last baby, there is still a part of me that can never quite believe that. The finality of it. The redundancy of me. The admission that I will never again feel that rush of dread/excitement/anticipation of realising that I could be pregnant. The tiniest flutter of the first movement and the whopping great kick in the ribs that takes your breath away.

When I had Bean, the Middle one, I remember going down to theatre on the way for a section and insisting on stopping and using the bathroom, not because I needed the toilet, but because I wanted those last few moments, alone with my baby, to recognise that this was the last time I would be fully responsible for his every need, to feel his heart inside me and to come to terms with him leaving the protection of my stomach. It was a moment of supreme peace and clarity.

When I had Bill, I didn’t get that. I didn’t have a section and so I didn’t have the warning that he would be leaving. Well, obviously I did, but I suppose the pains of labour aren’t as peace and clarity inducing as the gentle stroll down to theatre, knowing that in 20 mins it would all be over. It’s something I wish I had had the forethought to do. The last time I will ever hold a baby inside of me and I can’t really remember much apart from the pain and concentrating on getting through it.

Then before I knew it he was in my arms and everything we at once perfect and at the same time bittersweet because, I suppose I knew all along that in all likelihood that he was my last. Whilst I felt unable to definitively state I was having no more children, I knew in my heart that it wouldn’t be practical or sensible to have any more. Billy Bob was a surprise baby and childcare was going to cripple us, another child would drown us financially. So, without actually admitting to it, every time I looked at him I knew that this was the last time I’d go through this.

It was my last time to breast feed a baby, it was my last chance to finally master the use of reusable nappies. I would never again choose a pushchair and car seat combo, or go through the saga of picking out an appropriate name that we could both agree on. There would never be another first smile, or crawl, or first steps. It was the last time I’d experience the magic of the first words.

I found myself not wanting to start those firsts…Billy Bob was over 6 months before he started on solids, something both the other two were accomplished at by 4 months. I wasn’t in a rush to get him to give up breastfeeding or to stop getting up in the night. I saw both as opportunities to have more cuddles. Evidence that I was still needed. That my boy still needed me.

Whilst I delighted in every milestone, my heart also broke a little bit at everyone. It’s like a list that I made of everything fantastic that I ever wanted to do and each time I completed one, it was great, but at the back of my mind was the knowledge that soon it would be over. I’d be at the bottom of my list and wouldn’t know what to do next.

I found myself start to worry that soon he would be too big to comfortably be picked up for snuggles, that he wouldn’t think that a Mummy cuddle was the best thing in the world. Things which had never occurred to me with the older two now became matters of great importance. The day he called me into the bathroom to show me that he can touch both ends of the bath if he stretches out his hands and toes, his excitement was phenomenal, my heart broke a little more.

But gradually, I’m coming to notice something and I’m not entirely sure how it started. My first recognition of it was a few months ago when I realised that it was 9am and I hadn’t yet been woken by a child. When my baby boy asked to go to the shop for me to buy bread (he’s 4!!) when we’d run out. When the eldest offered to go and pick his brothers up from holiday club so that I could relax on a rare day off. All small things that are signifying a new era in my life. A whole new realm of “firsts” that I hadn’t imagined existed. That nobody had ever really told me would come. These firsts are every bit as precious to me. The birth of my last child signified an ending in some ways but it has also opened up a chapter that no one seems to talk about. A new life after babies and toddlers, a life where your children stop relying on you and start to rely on themselves and each other. And it’s different, and it’s emotional but it’s every bit as full of dread/excitement and as significant as those other firsts. And I’ve now realised that I’ve come to terms with having no more babies, and I’m looking forward to the coming years with my growing lads without regrets. Well, hopefully not too many.

Next to Godliness.

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by in housework, love, Motherhood, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

It’s been a long week. I’ve worked some long hours recently and as a result Paul has been taking on most of the household and childcare duties. The problem with that is that we have glaringly different ideas of acceptable levels of tidiness in the home, and in dress codes for the kids. In my world odd socks are not appropriate attire, (unless it’s 6am and the only other option is no socks at all), in Paul’s world this is not only acceptable but also to be encouraged. Equally, my idea of housework is to actually do housework, his is to hide whatever he can and get the kids to hide the rest.

I’ve got my niece staying with me at the moment, she is two days younger than my eldest and I love her being here. Not only is she company for the eldest, but she is fun and I can pretend I have a daughter without all the hassle of actually having a daughter!! I get the good bits, the cuddles and the girlie chats, without having to 1) give birth, or 2) nag her about the amount of make up that she wears! Anyway, as you can probably guess, life is hectic in my house at the moment!

As the cleaning fairy appears to have given up and left me to my own pathetic devices, I spent a few hours yesterday evening cleaning and tidying up the downstairs, (I mean honestly, no one sees upstairs so why bother?) it actually looked presentable by the time I left home this morning. It would never have passed an inspection by my nana, but hey, if someone (God forbid) visited unexpectedly I could probably pretend I was yet to tidy up and apologise for the mess!

Anyway, I’d mopped and swept the floors, tided up and washed up, put the washing on etc. I went off to work safe in the knowledge that the house looked ok (ish). I received a few missed calls from the eldest during the course of the day and when I rung him back he said he’d sorted out whatever he wanted in the first place. He also asked if he and my niece could go out on the bikes. No problem, says I, be home for tea. It was raining, I told them not to make a mess.

I picked up the younger two and got home around five. I walked into the front room, all was well. It was when I got to the dining room that I started to notice that things weren’t quite as I had left them. The mop and bucket were sitting prominently in the centre of the room, there were a few bits of mud on the floor. The dustpan and brush were on the dining table. Nothing much. A bit annoying but 2 minutes of sorting it out and things would be fine. Then I walked into the kitchen. Ah, the kitchen. It was a sight to behold: first off the bin was open and there were about 50 sheets of kitchen roll covered in some sort of black gunk. There were also the remains of some sort of doughy cooking, which I quickly identified (from the half empty bottle on top of the pile) as burnt pancakes!

I cast my eyes over to the cooker hob. It was covered in smears from where someone (only eldest and niece were home) had obviously made a mess when cooking and had wiped up rather ineptly. The work tops shared the same coating of smeared food. The draining board contained a huge pile of semi clean pots, pans, glasses, and bowls. It was piled up like a game of jenga, ready to topple at any moment! Actually in the sink was a massive over sized sponge, covered in mud and the wall, cupboard door and floor had splashes and slightly muddy puddles. I felt my hackles rising. I’d cleaned this place. It had looked ok. Why did they do this? I was annoyed.

And then I realised something. I was getting annoyed but actually I was looking at this all wrong. I was looking at the mess, what I wasn’t seeing was what is was evidence of. Instead I was seeing it as a bad thing, they had ruined all my hard work, but in reality it was evidence of many things and none of them were bad.

It was evidence they had been cooking, that they had tried to cook something that they had never done before. And they had failed, and continued to try. They had also recognised the mess and had tried to sort it out, because they knew that would make me happy. The smears on the cookers and worktop were evidence that they had attempted to tidy up.

The muddy puddles and splashes were from where they had tried to wash the mud from their bikes, they had tried to make me happy and in the process had probably made more of a mess, but the intention was good. And I was proud of them. They had also given me evidence that they had been out of the house, having fun and not watching TV or playing XBox.

The huge pile of jenga style washing up proved that they’d not only tidied up their own mess but they had also tried to tidy up the breakfast things I hadn’t had time to wash up before I left the house.

Sometimes, people may not always get things right, but the sentiment behind what they do can mean even more than the action itself.

If cleanliness is next to godliness, those two kids will never be His right hand man, however. In that moment they were Angels to me.

Concentric Circles.

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in kids, Motherhood, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

I work too much. There ok I’ve said it out loud. In many ways it is not a problem, I love my work, I get great satisfaction from doing it and I get paid at the same time. Sometimes. I even welcome the break from wife/mother. I relish the moments when I feel competent and capable, something which as a parent/wife I often feel the the complete opposite.

The problem with that is that it is a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy. You see the more I work, the more competent and capable I feel at work, but the more incompetent I feel at home! If I work long hours, I feel guilt because I’ve hardly seen the children, or my house is a mess. If I work less, I start to feel concerned that I am losing my professionalism and capability at work. I also strongly care about my clients and genuinely want to do my best for them.

And the stinger here is that I want to work hard, so that I can provide my children with all of the opportunities that I think will provide them with a good stable home environment and the best possible start in life. However I’m also aware that having their Mum there is also an important piece of the growing up puzzle.

The other thing with working a number of jobs and long hours is that it leaves me with very little time to relax, and so socialising with friends has become something which I treasure. I look forward to it, however at the same time I feel guilt as its time I could be a) spending with the kids, b) spending time with my husband or c) working. I am a nightmare to book a social event with as due to work and other commitments it may be we suggest meeting up today, and by the time I can actually fit in a couple of hours of uninterrupted time, it is 3 months away! Not great when you want your friends to know that you care about them. That they matter too.

And my poor husband. To be honest I’m amazed he puts up with me. I’m lucky, I suppose that he can see why I work and the benefits of it and is pretty relaxed about it most of the time. To be fair, he’d probably have to diarise an argument even if he did mind!

It’s interesting to me though that I feel this unending guilt about working and my children, when it’s actually pretty normal for Dad’s to work long hours and no one really comments too much on it. Im forever being told that I work too much, what about your kids? I don’t think I can remember a time I’ve heard it said to a male.

If kids need their Mum, isn’t a Dad as important too? Are my kids missing out, on having a Mum at home with them after school etc? Possibly. Are they benefitting from having their Dad there as a constant, stable and reliable role model in their lives? Definitely. Although, their nutritional intake would likely be much better if I was the one feeding them at weekends!

Life is a balance and, I’ve definitely not managed to balance those scales yet. However, I’m certain that sometime soon, I’ll work it out. The concentric circles of guilt have me spinning at the moment, I’m aware that it wouldn’t take a lot to topple me.