mrssavageangel

First time mother just trying to figure out where to go from here.

Development

All the feels…..

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This week Oscar hit me.

He lent back in my arms, looked at me, pursed his lips and slapped me across the face.

Yeah, it shocked me too.

Maybe I should give a little context. We have had a pretty tiring week. As Oscar moves closer and closer to the terrible twos his mood swings are starting to resemble the most petulant teenagers. Only, he doesn’t flounce out of the room, slamming doors in his wake, yelling how much he hates me down the stairs. No he freaks out right in front of me and makes me worry for his safety.

This weeks best effort, the one as described above, was made all the more baffling as I honestly couldn’t tell you what set him off. We came downstairs, I made his milk, we went to sit together to drink it AS WE DO EVERY MORNING, and kerblammo, he freaked out big. Screaming, crying, kicking – whatever had upset him was being felt in every fibre of his being. Which made it all the harder for me. I tried ignoring him, I tried talking to him calmly, I tried holding him – I wanted him to know that whatever it was, it was OK. That was when he hit me.

This maelstrom went on for half an hour, until the boy felt he’d finished whatever point it was he was making. Then he came to me, took my hand, walked me back to the chair, climbed on my lap and pointed at his bottle. As though nothing happened. I felt physically and mentally battered and he wanted his milk? WTF?

So OK, I didn’t keep my cool all the way through this episode. I tried being firm and I lost my patience. But the worst of it was seeing so angry and yet scared looking broke my heart. It made me cry, in front of the boy. Not helpful, not helpful at all.

Later on I started reading articles online about Intense or Big Reactors, children, particularly toddlers who feel things so deeply but don’t have the control or language to express these feelings. It sounded so familiar. The more I read the more I could relate. And not just for Oscar. I am probably an Intense Reactor by nature too and talking to my mum it would seem I always have been. Children like this don’t deal well with transitions from one state to another (waking, going to bed, moving from one activity to another). Every time we left a friends house I would scream so much my mum worried people thought that I was scared to go home. I only remember feeling so sad to be leaving. I’ve also been told my entire life that I always need to know what we were “doing next”. I’d get set up with paints or playdoh or whatever, I’d play for a minute then ask what we were “doing next”. My parents found it maddening I’m sure. But now I think about it, maybe I wasn’t bored, maybe I just needed to know what to expect. What was coming next? I’m still a bit like that now!

As well as describing whats going on, the internet also offers various coping strategies. These seem to revolve around two principles: keeping calm and giving these children the language they don’t yet posses. These are both things that will require practice and I know I’m not there yet. But I will be. I will practice my calm face and give Oscar warnings when things are about to happen. Lets see how it goes.

After reading these articles it all made a lot of sense. Oscar feels things deeply. And that’s OK. He’s going to be passionate and creative and sparky. I smiled. Then I looked at him and realised he’s also going to get his heart broken. Good and proper. It breaks my heart just to think about it. But do you know?

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oscar and the den….

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I know I’ve talked about the pointlessness of comparing one child to another before. They’re all different and will do their stuff in their own time. Fact. But recently I’ve taken to reading some mommy/mummy blogs and man have I found myself comparing the things I do for Oscar and the life we lead, to other peoples!

At the beginning I felt inspired. I could make play dough like that, or I could make peppermint scented candy cane coloured sensory rice like that. But the more I read, the less I did. I stopped feeling so inspired and started feeling like what we were doing wasn’t enough. I started looking around at other parents in the social media stratosphere and even things that had never bothered me before suddenly made me feel like I was failing.

So OK, maybe this lack of action was the problem. Reading and not doing was bringing me down. So I tried to do some stuff. One of the blogs I read had a post about how she’d made her daughter a den out of her bed (she has a sort of day bed) and some girly blankets, which she then adorned with fairy lights. They author wrote how they spent the afternoon together in this den, cuddled up reading books. It looked and sounded perfect and easy to do. But I have a son. A boy who needs to know what everything is and how everything works. My den lasted all of a minute, before Oscar pulled it to pieces, jumped on top of the sheets and climbed over the top of the sofa. What great larks for him!

I was heart broken. I couldn’t even make a stupid den work.

It’s so hard not to compare yourself to other parents, particularly if you’re new to this game. You may have been a complete individual before you had kids, an innovator, a leader. But once you have children all that self assurance goes out of the window. Once they had children, even the most confident women I know, could be found huddled over their lattes comparing the lives they were giving their little darlings. And I don’t believe it gets any easier the older the children get. Weaning methods and sensory play gives way to birthday parties and academic achievement.

Why? Why do we feel the need to do this? Maybe “we” don’t, maybe its just me. But I would bet Oscar’s homemade playdough, (that I binned in favour of the shop bought stuff – bad mummy 😉 ) that it’s not just me. Why can’t I just be inspired and happy for the differences in the lives our children lead? Difference is what makes us interesting isn’t it? I’m not a particularly competitive person (unless I’m in a pub quiz team – then you’ll see a different Lisa altogether!) and the thought of competing against my friends or worse still people I don’t even know is just bonkers. I mean I don’t know the reality of the situation behind those gorgeous photos. I heard someone say the other day, that social media allows us to present the best version of ourselves. And my rational mind knows this applies to our parenting too. Oh but it’s just so easy to look at the soft focus, angled photos of a smiling, tousled haired child, intently painting a masterpiece with homemade glitter paint or reading books in a den lit with friggin’ fairy lights and want the same thing. Even when you know your child would eat the paint and climb on the top of the den, probably electrocuting themselves in the process.

Sigh

I gave up on the den for now. I’ve bought him a cheap pop up teepee for Christmas instead. Who knows it might even stay up long enough for him to read a book in it. I tell you what though. I wont be adorning it with fairy lights. Because he’s not her. He’s him. And I’m me. It’s OK to be inspired, but nothing good will come of comparing myself to others. I just need to remember that. And maybe cut back on the mummy blogs – for a while anyway 😉 !

Different but the same….

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Recently I’ve been looking for something to do with Oscar that isn’t just about him running around. Don’t get me wrong – Oscar is a child that gets a lot from running around, but I am keen to exercise his mental abilities as well as his physical capabilities. When I heard Lana, a friend from toddler group and a qualified teacher, was setting up a pre-school maths course we were keen to give it a go. Ben was super keen – I think he’s trying to temper my somewhat language based background with his more science based one (he’s always going on about how he can’t wait to “do a science” with the boy). So we signed up to a course with Top Banana Learning and had our first session last Wednesday.

BJ721_-_Abacus

The idea is to introduce children to the concepts and language of maths from a really early age and I have to say he’s loving the counting based song and stories we’re sharing with him at home. Wednesday’s class was great fun (who doesn’t love a pirate themed counting game?), really well planned and executed with real enthusiasm. The only thing I wasn’t expecting was that Oscar was the oldest child in the group by about 6 months, if not older. It doesn’t sound like much but the differences were clear. He wanted to run around and look at everything, while the younger children sat or crawled slowly. I feared for their little fingers and despite being a completely average size for his age he loomed over the younger ones like a giant. What I wasn’t prepared for was how this was going to make me feel. I felt like I was back at Baby Sensory which, for me, was not a good experience.

When Oscar was 6 months old we did a Baby Sensory course. Baby Sensory is a fantastic concept and enables the youngest of children to develop their senses in a fun way. Although there was a real mix of ages in our class, once again, Oscar was the oldest and physically very advanced for his age. He was crawling around and curious about everything. The other babies lay or sat, engaging with the session, Oscar – not so much. He had mobility and he was going to use it. But rather than just letting him get on with it I felt he should be joining in, should be enjoying watching the activities, should be this, should be that. Baby Sensory started to stress me out to the point where I dreaded going. I felt like my son was different and I felt like other parents were judging him and me. Its hard to explain, but I felt like they thought he was “naughty”, because he wasn’t doing what everyone else did. The odd thoughtless comment didn’t help and people took to calling him things like “crazy”, “trouble” and a “lunatic”. Affectionately I’m sure but it was awful, I was awful. I became embarrassed and ashamed. When I tell people now how he crawled at 6 months and walked at 10 months I’m so proud, but at the time I just wanted him to be “normal”.

When I think about those few months I still feel ashamed, but now in a completely different way. I am ashamed of myself, that I ever thought my son wasn’t “normal” (what ever that is??). I should have just been proud of him and ignored the comments. Doing things at a different pace is what children do. You can read all the books you like, but as a first time parent you are never going to understand this until you go through it. Why would you? It occurred to me just the other week that despite the seemingly millions of different schools of thought around parenting, children will all do the stuff they need to do eventually. Some will just do it differently to others. Faster, slower, sooner, later, some will thrive at this, others at that. Different but the same, the same but different.

So Wednesday’s group didn’t make me feel bad because of what he did, but because of the memories and the shame it evoked in me. Talking to Lana afterwards I couldn’t help but well up a tiny bit. I didn’t realise how fresh it still was. So she kindly suggested we try the Friday group. We did. He wasn’t the oldest. He didn’t always join in, but then neither did any other child. He seemed much calmer (or was that just me projecting?). We left much happier.

So I think we’ll keep going to the Friday class. He really did enjoy it. He’s taken to walking up and down the bath, pointing at the tiles, while Ben counts them for him and his new favourite book is One Ted Falls out of Bed (a counting book by Julia Donaldson). Maybe maths will be his “thing”. Maybe it wont. Whatever. He can be as “different” as he likes and I’ll be proud of him.

New Balls Please……

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My son has always had tonnes of energy and has always been keen to do his own thing. For example, the baby, who for most of his first year was in the 25th centile for height and weight (i.e. diddy), rolled at 16 weeks (front to back & vice versa), was crawling (at speed!) by 6 months and was walking unaided at 10 months. By 11 months he could run (sort of). So people who know him, know him as a runner, an escape artist, a child who is off! They don’t know him for crying and for the most part neither do I. Never having been one for major melt downs however, my son treated me to a blinder last Friday. In public. Eugh.

I should have seen it coming I suppose. He was tired, possibly a little stressed (our local soft play tower does that to him) and frustrated. He wanted to run around the leisure centre foyer and, if at all possible, under the barriers and out of the doors. And yet here was this mean woman holding him back, stopping him from feeling the joy of running, keeping him safe for goodness sake. I mean, what was her problem?!

So he flipped. Good and proper. Screams and squeals so loud I worried for my ear drum. Writhing like an eel in my grasp. Flailing his little arms like his life depended on it. The lot. So I hoicked him up under one arm, grabbed the buggy with the other hand and headed to a corridor I thought might be quieter. WRONG. I ended up in front of more people. I put him down for a second and he ran into the squash court (being set up for children’s play I have to add – phew!) and I had to run in and get him. In front of a glass wall of people staring. Oh the joy!

That was it. I’d had enough and in the absence of knowing what to do next, I carried him, screaming, into the baby changing loo. I tried talking to him, but by this time he, and I, were perhaps beyond talking. I started to lose my temper with him (OK, OK I’m not proud of this bit, but hear me out). I started to shout, to tell him off. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror next to me. I have to recommend it. Lose your temper in front of a mirror. It’s awful and ridiculous. You cant stay mad when you realise how stupid you look. I stopped. He stopped. We just stared at each other in the mirror. In that split second I felt us both say to each other “why don’t you understand me”.

And so it begins.

Afterwards I felt drained and miserable (the come down of anger will do that to you). I also felt confused. What had just happened? Who was that boy? Wheres my placid if energetic baby? Is this going to happen again? If so how am I best meant to deal with it? If he’d had a tantrum at home I’d have pretty much just ignored him, but I cant walk away from him in public at 18 months old. Can I? I realised, with some sadness, that we are entering the world of the unknown. The world of the Toddler (think dramatic music and Hammer Horror type sound effects). Its frightening!

When I later mentioned the situation to friends and in various social media, I was amazed and touched by the number of people who came to my side and told me it was going to be OK or told me about their own “incidents”. I realise that Oscar is not alone in this behaviour, that it is a normal part of growing up and pushing boundaries. I also realise that I am not alone in feeling helpless and frustrated. All first time parents do (if there are any of you who don’t, would you be interested in running classes to share your knowledge?). It just seems cruel that right when I started to feel confident as a parent of a baby, like I’d reached 98 on the Snakes and Ladders game of parenthood, that I rolled a one and slid all the way back to square 2.

Everything’s a changing.

New balls please.

Chim, chimineeee…..

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Practically Perfect in Every Way???
Practically Perfect in Every Way!

The days are getting distinctively darker and gloomier and the nights are drawing in. The children have gone back to school and even the toddler groups have started up. There’s no denying it any longer. Autumn is well and truly here.

And that’s fab! Don’t get me wrong, I love the sunshine, particularly the kind this past summer delivered. But my favourite season has to be Autumn (and December which is technically winter but hey, I’m among friends). It’s so full of purpose and there seems to be an unending list of things to do. Which I love. The fact that my birthday and Christmas also fall in this time probably helps 😉

One of my favourite things to do when it’s dark and miserable outside, is to curl up on the sofa and watch a film. But these times are not suitable for any old film and towards Christmas they will likely come from my small but quality collection of Christmas movies (Muppet’s Christmas Carol anyone?). But until then, I am a sucker for a feel good Disney movie. I’ve been trying to introduce the boy to Disney films pretty much since he was born. I even bought him some which have male protagonists, (Jungle Book and Monsters Inc) to temper my more female Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. But recently I decided it was time he was introduced to the world of Disney outside pure animation and showed him Mary Poppins.

I love Mary Poppins. I can remember the first time I ever saw it (Christmas Day, 1983) and its been a fixture in my life ever since; recorded off the telly, on the telly or (now in the 21st Century) on Netflix. I’ve been watching it practically all my life and I know all the lyrics to all the songs. I’ve been singing “Stay Awake” to soothe Oscar since he was born and now as soon as I start to sing it, he puts his head on my shoulder. I thought I knew this film.

Until I watched it the other day, with Oscar, through a mother’s eyes. I saw something in it I’d never noticed before and I’m still having trouble articulating what I saw so bare with me.

What I saw, for the first time, was not magic. What I saw, was a person, who comes into the lives of the children and provides them with the opportunity and ability to go on magical adventures using their own imagination. There was no Merry Go Round, there was no tea party on the ceiling. Rather an adult who enabled children to explore their own minds (I also saw a mother who, when she couldn’t find anyone else to look after the children when they had run away from the bank, was happy to leave them in the care of a stranger, a chimney sweep she’d never met, but that’s by the by). For the first time I saw a message to me as an adult; be the conduit through which children can explore and use their imaginations.

Was that message always there? Did I miss it before, because I had no children? Am I reading absolutely too much in to what is actually just a quaint story? Possibly. I mean, like I say I thought I knew this film upside down and back to front. Or do you take from films and books and media what I you need/want to? Probably.

But it’s made me think. Not just about the film itself and what the hell I was seeing from the first time, but about my role in Oscar’s development. When he was tiny it was all about the physical, helping him roll, crawl, walk, eat, keeping him physically safe. But now, I think, I need to turn our attention to the more internal aspects of his development. I’m not talking about ABC, 123 (although we do sing these every day!) I mean I think I need to concentrate on being that conduit, allowing him to develop that imagination. I look at his toys and I think it’s time to move away from those hand eye co-ordination, flashy light, musical thingamajigs and bring out the blocks and the hand size cars and things that make him play.

Being responsible for his physical well being suddenly seems like a doddle. Now I am responsible for encouraging something I have no control over. I can’t see what he’s imagining. I just have to go with him for the ride.

It’s funny. I always wanted to be Jane. She had such pretty dresses and got to dance on the rooftops of London. I never got to be her. But now, I get to be my own Mary Poppins. And that my friends is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!