I Dreamed A Dream: The Things I Miss Since Becoming A Parent (Part One)

I have been in the situation of parenthood for four and half years now and there are a few things I am beginning to note by their absence. That is to say: i miss them a lot. Of course, I love my children, they are "my world", I am such a "better person for having had them", "a world without them is one I could (and would) never wish to fathom", etc. However, was there never to have been this husband, these children and this life there are a few things that I would immediately stop taking for granted:

1. Music

Now, I have never been, what anyone would deem, a discerning listener and my idea of a good tune is one which I can belt out in my own private concert on any given motorway. If it has a strong melody and lyrics to which I can somehow relate I am ALL there. The driver's seat is my bar stool and the open road, my stage. 

However, it would appear that my bringing life into this world has coincided with a complete exodus of opportunity to choose the music being listened to at any given time. The soundtrack to my life is now a mash up of the Disney Princess back catalogue interspersed with some classic nursery rhyme anthems. 

I now jump at the chance to drive to the local supermarket for any last minute errands or to undertake the more arduous of meal preparations just so that I can slip in five or six hits from days gone by. It would also appear that my most recent song purchases  were from a time when Miley was dealing with her break up from Liam (the first time around) in a rather destructive fashion, One Direction were not only together but were actually a quintet and Avicii was promising to Wake Me Up when my music drought was all over. 

I would have liked to have been able to have held him to that.

Headphones used to fit better

2. Reading

I was a prolific reader in my pre-child life. I would devour novel after novel with my holiday luggage (because I also had them back in the day) consisting mostly of pages populated with characters, situations and plot twists that I could lose myself in for hours on end. It was bliss. 

I planned, rather optimistically, that my first maternity leave would be spent with baby on breast and my face buried in stories being ticked from my bucket list of "must reads". I would return to work having expanded my mind rather than have let it go to the same consistency of mush that I was spoon feeding my baby. 

I read about six pages. I also read them twice, only realising in the last paragraph that I may have been here before.

I have since turned to audio books and whilst this allows me to lose myself in another person's story for an hour or so whilst I plod the pavements, it is not the same. Enjoyable yes, but not the same.

I used to read in the sun, now I parent.

3. Post work drinks

My social life could potentially have been put on the list in its entirety but that would be unfair to all of the friends whom I get to see in my parenting role. However, outside of these groups, my social life is largely based in my workplace as these are the people my maternal guilt will not prevent me from seeing. These are the people whom I get to speak to uninterrupted with requests to "GO WEE WEE!" or "you be the baby Mummy" or "SNACK!" These are the people with whom I get to be an adult and not a parent. That is until the invitation for an after work drink is issued, then I am most definitely the parent again.

"You won't be able to come will you?"

"I take it you are having to run off?"

"Not even time for one?"

I'd be disgruntled about their assumption except, more often than not, it's true.

I'll be off then...

Obviously my children have given more to my life than they have taken away and I can happily say that I have never actually missed the freedom of choice I no longer have more than I have delighted in the joy that they have brought but if they would just stop making me Let It Go and just allow me to Kiss the Rain from time to time, I would be a lot happier.

If you too suffer from withdrawal from your pre- parenthood lifestyle, do not suffer alone. Talk to someone. Lament together.  

The Parenting Rules: You Can Go Your Own Way

Now, I will freely admit that I am no Dr. Spock and I must confess that I have never even opened a parenting book. Whilst I would never claim to know anything about rearing a child beyond what my two, very individual progeny, have taught me about themselves as individuals, I do believe that we, as parents, are very hard on ourselves. We have been indoctrinated to believe that there is a "right way" to do things; a single code of conduct which we must adhere to in order to be "good parents" and lambast each other when we dare to deviate from the norm. We constantly benchmark ourselves against others' heavily edited best version of reality which they have choosen to share with us on social media. Please do not think that I am criticising this, after all it takes a village, even a virtual one, and there are plenty of #blessed individuals who brighten my day when I fall down a scrolling spiral whilst  I take a break from my never ending tea party with my "pet cat". 

#blessed

I, however, place trust in the belief that the human race is a resilient breed and will learn to cope with any number of failings in their parents as long as they are provided with limitless love and support. To err is human and all that, plus my children are divine. 

So now that we have all that out of the way, I need to admit to two significant parental "failings" of mine:

1. I have never sleep trained either of my children.

2. I have never pressed either of my children to ditch the bottle.

Case in point

These two failings are wholly intertwined with each other, my children's ability to play me like their Fisher Price xylophone and my insatiable need for sleep. 

You see, my first child was a dote, as in she was 5lbs when she entered this world, and despite having survived the gauntlet that is gestation in my rather hostile womb she had not been left unscathed. This may or may not have been the reason that she refused to be parted from us for the first 6 months of life; clinging on to us like a barnacle on the tail of a whale. When we finally convinced her to take to the bottle at the grand old age of 8 months (freeing up her mother to do the same) we found that its soporific effect enabled us to put her down in her own room before sprinting to the comfort of our own, temporarily uninhabited bed and catch a few unadultered hours of shut eye without having to wrestle the angry octupus. This routine continued for longer than I care to admit and although we managed to swap out the corrosive milk for sugar free diluting juice, the bottle and bed partnership was unshakeable; the Ant & Dec of the toddler bedtime routine.

Bottle and Bed

When my son came along, all hardy and such, I thought I would be different. I thought I would be able to listen to his anguished cries at bedtime, emboldened by the fact that I knew that I was doing the right thing. I was teaching him the art of falling asleep unaided. Mumsnet told me so. I once read that a child needs lots of love and reassurance but not in the middle of the night; in the night they need to learn to self soothe, preparing them for the harsh realities of life (like sharing and the like). I repeated this hypothesis frequently to my husband; citing its formal academic references in the vain hope that this would arm me for the night ahead but as I closed the door behind me I remembered that, as a child, when the night sky rolled in and the house took on an eerily quiet stillness, my previously welcoming bedroom would fill me with a sense of dread and unease. I hastily retreated back into his room, picked him up, kissed his beautiful rolls of skin, cuddled him into me and eased him into slumber with a reassuring bottle. 

Easing him into sleep

Don't get me wrong, now that he is two and able to understand the majority of what we say whilst also being able to make his (rather dramatic) feelings known to the world, we don't rush to answer his every summons. We now grade his anguish on our "placid through about-to-spontaneously-combust" scale and act accordingly but he still goes to bed with a bottle. I go through periods where the worry about the health of his teeth consumes me and I fear that I am affecting his long term ability to be resilient but then I see him plant his lips around that teat, watch his eyes roll back into his head in sheer ecstasy and I reassure myself that you don't hear of many 17 year olds still using a bottle to slip into the realm of unconsciousness. 

Well, none with a teat.

Drunken bum

Sharing a Life: A Tale of the Modern Day Family

I was reading this lesser known Julia Donaldson number to my pre- schooler the other evening when I realised that the story is very much in keeping with the magical/horrific first year of parenthood where everyone is very much in love but mostly with the new baby and also a little bit lost in themselves. Thus, another parody was born:

Look! A girl- with low self esteem,
Flirting with all the wrong men.
Tap, tap, tap
"You can't come in!"
You can't share a life with them

Or them
Or them
Or them!

Look! A cad, full of false promises
Run for your life, girl- hide!

At last, a flat, a space of your own!
Quick, girl! Scuttle inside.

Nightclub dancing (obviously)

One girl, safe in her flat,
When all of her dating is done,
Roaming all over the nightclubs
Then back to her home for one.

Look! A boy, a kind handsome boy.
Who can this nice boy be?
"Go away, Boy, whoever you are -
You can't share a life with me."

"I'm pretty awesome, not just nice.
Please let me share your life.
Give me a chance to prove that I care,
And perhaps you will soon be my wife."

The Wedding Day

Look! A job, a career moulding job.
A long distance move- here goes!
He flits to join her, puts a ring on her,
Their life together just flows!

Two friends, sharing a house,
Feeling happy and new,
Romping all over the house parties
Then back to their home for two.

Look! A child thing, trying to get in,
Wiggling and making a fuss.
"Go away, child, whoever you are -
You can't share a home with us."

"I'm not a child, I'm YOUR offspring.
Please let me in - don't be mean,
I love causing chaos; I'll keep you from sleep
You'll know your house used to be clean."

Three friends, sharing a home,
Tired as people can be,
Rollicking all round baby groups
Then back to their wonderful home for three.

But look how they've changed! The home feels too small.
"You're not doing washing" says Wife
"I'm fed up with being stuck in here.
It's time that I found a new life."

Grumps

"Really!" says Boy. "How ungrateful!"
Here I am, slaving away,
Working to feed our whole family.
If that's how you feel, I won't stay."

"Stop!" cries Child, but nobody hears.
The other two have a grump.
Wife empties a full ice-cream tub.
Boy finds a pub for his rump

Look! A scare, a terrible scare,
Giving everyone a fright
Two people look at each other
Know they were stupid to fight

But, look! A truce, a mutual truce.
Wife and the Kind Boy stare,
Too shy to speak to each other,
Too proud to say, "I was unfair"

Listen! A voice! And out comes a word
From the child wrapped around their necks
"Mama", "Dada" and everything's good
They might even consider some .... special cuddles?

Cuddles

The Tiger Who Came to Tea: EXPOSED

Sophie's mum was locked in the trance of an Instagram scrolling spiral when she absent mindedly reached for her drink and was both surprised and disturbed by the levity of the bottle in her grasp. Had she really finished the beers that her husband had been saving for his return from that overnight "team building exercise" in the Cotswolds? You know the one: "it's SUCH a chore", he "wouldn't go if [he] could get out of it", he would "MUCH rather be at home" with she and Sophie, she "shouldn't be jealous" as he would have "no fun whatsoever". Sophie's mother was somewhat skeptical.

To be fair it was very unlike her to drink before the all-acceptable 6pm but Sophie had been a particular terror that day. It had started with the pilfering of her mother's favourite lipstick from her coat pocket (as who actually gets to use a handbag?) She then proceeded to use the beloved cosmetic as a drawing implement to depict, what could only be described, as the scene of a massacre on her bedroom wall. All within the time it took for her mother to put a wash on.

Toddler Art

Her creative streak obviously worked up quite the appetite as, whilst her mother was distracted by her artistic endeavours, Sophie stealthily moved to the kitchen and devoured the twelve currant buns which were due to be donated to the nursery bake sale the following afternoon.

Post fuel stop and whilst her mother was preoccupied trying to salvage the walls, Sophie managed to empty all of her mother's finest hair products (overlooking the Aldi goods) into the bath before turning on all of the taps. The resulting deluge was of biblical proportions and the subsequent mopping required every towel in the house to stem the flow.

Water Play

Not yet satisfied with the level of devastation that she had left in her wake, Sophie then went on to kidnap a rather vicious looking Ginger Tom who strayed into their garden whilst her mother was still in the bathroom on bended knee, cursing her husband for having the pleasure of working full-time. Sophie coaxed the fierce feline into the house using the tuna sandwiches that had gone uneaten after her feast of currant buns, before concealing him in the larder.

You shall not pass

 Now, whilst Sophie is clearly a spirited child, she would never be accused of being cruel and, not wanting the cat to go thirsty, had poured out the four pint carton of milk that she had liberated from the fridge. Having largely missed the shallow bowl which she had meticulously placed on the floor of the larder, the dish now appeared like a speck in the ocean.

Milky Goodness

And that is exactly how Sophie's mother felt. As she sat there picking the label off her empty beer bottle, she could hear the grating saccharine voice of Topsy and Tim's mother mocking her from the TV just like those "instamums" and their #blessed images of motherhood that she had perused whilst Sophie was finally on lock down in front of the digital babysitter. All they were meant to achieve that day was a trip to the local supermarket but once the frantic feline was freed from its enforced captivity, it emerged confused and angry taking great leaps from one kitchen surface to another, taking several breakables out on its journey. Seeing the utter shambles that lay before her, Sophie's mother had picked her way through the fragments, opened the fridge and cracked open that beer.

She was broken from her reverie by the sound of a key turning in the door. "Daddy!" shouted the little girl as, pyjama clad, she bounded off the couch and threw herself upon her father. Sophie's mother, having leapt to her feet and not wanting to appear as though this had been the extent of today's activities, hid the incriminating beverage behind her back. 

#instamum

Her husband's eyes scanned the room as he took in the scene of devastation surrounding him. He looked to Sophie's mother "what on earth happened here?!"

She gulped as she saw the ginger Tom passing the window behind him, weighed down by its heavy belly.

"Erm... We had a... Tiger... come to tea? Yes? Yes. That's right. A Tiger."

"Ri-ight" he said hesitantly, spying the empty bottles. "Well I'm hungry and you look like you need fed so get your coats on and I'll take you to the local caff."

#blessed

We're Going to Family for Christmas: A Bear Hunt Parody

We're driving to family for Christmas
It's going to be a great one
What a magical time
We're not scared

Uh uh! Impromptu pee!
Stuck in a traffic jam, pee.
We can't skip over it.
We can't go around it.
Oh no!
We'll have to go through it!

Splash splosh!
Splash splosh!
Splash splosh!

We're driving to family for Christmas
It's going to be a great one
What a magical time

We're not scared

Uh uh! Vomit!
Projectile fruit pack vomit.
We can't skip over it.
We can't go around it.
Oh no!
We'll have to go through it!

Squelch squerch!
Squelch squerch!
Squelch squerch!

We're driving to family for Christmas
It's going to be a great one
What a magical time

We're not scared

Uh uh! Tantrum!
Unwelcome, unwarranted tantrum.
We can't skip over it.
We can't go around it.
Oh no!
We'll have to go through it!

Hoooo woooo!
Hoooo woooo!
Hoooo woooo!

We're driving to family for Christmas
It's going to be a great one
What a magical time

We're not scared

Uh uh! Need to be Santa!
Magical, nocturnal Santa.
We can't skip over it.
We can't go around it.
Oh no!
We'll have to go through it!

Stumble trip!
Stumble trip!
Stumble trip!

We're driving to family for Christmas
It's going to be a great one
What a magical time

We're not scared

Uh uh! Politics!
Ingrained family politics.
We can't skip over it.
We can't go around it.
Oh no!
We'll have to go through it!

Tiptoe!
Tiptoe!
Tiptoe!

What's that?

One paralyzing hangover!
Two over-hyped sugar- filled toddlers!
Two shrieking instruments of torture!
IT'S A FAMILY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Quick! Back through the family politics! Tiptoe! Tiptoe! Tiptoe!

Back through the Santa gifts! Stumble trip! Stumble trip! Stumble trip!

Back through the tantrums! Hoooo wooooo! Hoooo wooooo!

Back through the travel sickness! Squelch squerch! Squelch squerch!

Back through the roadside pees! Splash splosh! Splash splosh! Splash splosh!

Get to our front door.
Open the door.
Up the stairs.

Oh no!
We forgot to shut the door.
Back downstairs.

Shut the door. 

Back upstairs.
Into the bedroom.
Into bed.
Under the covers.

We're not going for a family Christmas again!

Toddler Christmas

#ablogginggoodtime

Terrific Toddler Books

I used to be a reader. I would even go as far as to say that I was a voracious reader. I would devour novel after novel, never limiting myself to a single genre. I would delight in the historical courting dilemmas of Austen and the Brontë sisters, immerse myself in the dark, crime-filled streets of Rankin's Edinburgh and delve into the sobering real life accounts of Oliver Sacks.

Then I had children.

Having spent the first two weeks of maternity leave, unencumbered by the usual desire of pregnant ladies to nest, I consumed tome after tome. Upon the arrival of my newborn, the books were cast aside. In the fug of sleep deprivation, I lacked the focus and energy, turning, instead to vacuous television programs readily available. The books were left to collect dust and act as coasters for empty glasses, guzzled down in the peak of overnight feeds.

Whilst the absence of novels went on for some time I started to revel in the writing and morals in some of the children's books that I was now narrating to my daughter: a lover of a story.

These are my current top 3:

1. The Worst Princess by Anna Kemp
Despite the fact that my daughter is a self taught devotee of all things pink, girly, glittery and Disney, the tale of The Worst Princess turns the usual princess-waiting-to-be-rescued tale on its head. It's a feminist's dream, beautifully illustrated and hilarious to boot! (I find reading the heroine with a strong Scottish accent adds a little something extra -my husband wholeheartedly disagrees!)

The Worst Princess - by Anna Kemp & Sara Ogilvie

2. The Odd Dog Out by Rob Biddulph
This is a classic tale of being your own person, beautifully summarised by the final line of "Blaze a trail, be who you are"... Need I say more? I love Rob Biddulph and his "Grrrr" story about how winning isn't everything very nearly made my top 3. Fred and Boris the bears are frequently referenced in our house when the inevitable toddler meltdown ensues following any form of activity which could loosely be interpreted as competitive.

Odd Dog Out by Rob Biddulph

3. The Shrew That Flew by Julia Copus
This tale is one of three stories featuring Harry the Hog and his best friend Candy Striped Lil 
and whilst my 3 year old daughter would definitely favour "The Hog, the Shrew and the Hullabaloo" where Harry fears a noise in the dark only to discover that it is his nocturnal friends going about their day, I love the Shrew That Flew. It is all about trying, failing, picking yourself up and trying again. The repetitive uttering of "Never say never!" serves as a mantra for all!

The Shrew that Flew by Julia Copus and Eunyoung Seo

If you are looking for books for your toddlers this Christmas look no further! Husband, if you read this I think we have learned that I need an adult book....

Terrific Toddler Books