Family

Different but the same….

11/11/2013 by MrsSavageAngel Leave a Comment

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.

In memory….

21/10/2013 by MrsSavageAngel Leave a Comment

When I was a little girl, my biggest dream was to go to Disney World. Now remember, I was a little girl loooooong before Disneyland Paris had been thought of. No I dearly wanted to go to Florida to experience the magical kingdom. A friend of mine went when I was about 9. I remember thinking, “how does she ever think about anything else, ever?” when she got back. Disney was the zenith of life experiences as far as I was concerned.

My Nanna, that is my maternal grandmother, used to play the pools every week when I was a child. And every week she told us that if she won, she would take us grandchildren to Disney World (of course there were only two of us when she started promising this – she must have been a bit nervous once it was a promise she was making to six of us!!) I truly believe she would have kept her word and I willed her on every week, sometimes choosing her numbers for her. She never won, but far from disappointment, it left me with a great memory of her.

My Nanna died in 2004. She had been incredibly ill and it had been hard to see her so frail, struggling for air as she tried to speak. She had always been this strong matriarch, quick to scold, but even quicker to cuddle. When she died, I read the bidding prayer at her funeral. I cried along with everyone else. I was sad. But then I got on with my life. It wasn’t until one drunken night in 2006, that it properly hit me that she’d gone. I cried so much and so hard Ben practically had to carry me home. She was gone and that was that.

When she died, we found out that she had left a small amount of money to each grandchild (there are six of us). I was shocked as I had no idea she had any money at all, but very touched. I then learnt that the money was in a trust that would only mature once the youngest grandchild turned 21. At the time I was 25, nearly 26. I was furious! I felt that she had snubbed me, treating us as a homogeneous lump of grandchildren, rather than individuals. And as the youngest grandchild at the time was only 12, and we had very little contact with the family now that Nanna was gone (a very loooong boring story I assure you), I fully expected never to see that money again.

What I didn’t bank on was the diligence of my second cousin John, who as an IFA, was managing the trust. This week he managed to contact us through his sister, who is friends with my sister on FB (thank goodness for social media huh!) to tell us that the trust has now matured and we are owed our inheritance. Having not thought of it for years I was completely shocked. Its not a huge amount, but as someone without an income it’s means I can do things like get a haircut and buy some boots. It’s made me very happy! It’s also made me very reflective.

I have been thinking about my childhood and my relationship with my wider family. Some memories are painful, some are awesome, but all of that adds up to be my history. Its unique and its mine. It’s made me feel sad (for the umpteenth time) that Oscar doesn’t see his grandparents as much as as I did. But mostly its forced me to apologise to my Nanna. With time (and age – come on lets not beat about the bush!) I understand things differently. I now understand, that she just wanted us all to be treated fairly and equally. Of course she saw us an individuals! She wanted each and every one of us to receive the same treatment at the same time. She was doing what was best for us.

I’m so sorry Nanna.

I wish I could tell her what she means to me and what I think of when I think of her. I think of the empty boxes she would save for me so I could play “shops”. I think of the day she let us draw all over her formica topped kitchen table with pens. I think about “my” room in her house. I think about her garden, whose path I used to run up and down and up and down, swinging myself round the washing line pole. I think about her love of massive and I mean MASSIVE hanging baskets, which she had made specially every year. I think about her stews and her mash. I think of her pinnies (half aprons) which she would always wear, made of well washed soft cotton, perfect for wiping a mucky face, or tears away. I think of her kitchen – the domain of the women, whilst the men stayed in the lounge. I think of going to Pete the greengrocer over the road with her, and being so proud that they knew her name.

I think how sad it is that she never met any of her great grandchildren and how much I know she would have loved Oscar. I don’t have enough to take him to Disney World (not yet!) but I do plan to buy him a gift from her money. Something that one day, we can take down together, and I can explain who it came from and who she was.

I think she would have liked that.

Christmas? Already!

14/10/2013 by MrsSavageAngel Leave a Comment

A couple of weeks ago, I started to write a great big ranty post about the long commercial run up to Christmas, having seen mince pies in the shops in September. I wrote so much, then lost my thread. I couldn’t work out what to say next. I was stumped and I had no idea why. Then, last week, I realised what my problem was. I couldn’t get indignant about the run up to Christmas because, actually, I love it! I love everything about the festive season, including the insanely long retail run up. I am one of those people. Sorry.

Last Sunday we went to a local garden centre (I know! I live the dream!). We walked through the store towards the onion sets, when I saw the Christmas decorations were out. I swear I may have even squealed, as I ran away from Ben and Oscar towards the glitter, shouting “I’ll see you later” without even turning my head. I had no plans to buy anything, just to look was enough for me. In October. I could not have been happier.

So anyway, since then, I’ve been wondering just why do I love the Christmas season so much? I say season as it’s not just the one day that gets me, but the planning (I love a good list as Ben will tell you) and the preparations. For me, I think it’s partly the aesthetics of the season (everything is just so much more beautiful at Christmas) and partly the the traditions. I love the the familiarity of old traditions, but I also love the excitement of creating new ones.

Ben and I were a family of two, for nearly 14 years and in that time we developed a couple of our own Christmas traditions. For example:

Decorating the tree before 12th December – kind of one I borrowed from my mum, but the tree must always be up in time for my birthday on 12th December. Decorating it usually involves me getting giddy with excitement and an argument about the lights. One thing it does not involve is tinsel. Despite my yearly protestations, Ben refuses to have tinsel on the tree – he thinks it looks tacky. And I married this man?

Starbucks list writing – we always used go to Starbucks to write the Christmas present list in about mid November. You cant beat a notebook, a cosy corner and a large Toffee Nut Latte to fill you with generous spirit.

Christmas chutney – making and giving chutney started one year when we were super broke, but still wanted to give presents to family and friends. It went down so well I’ve done it almost every Christmas ever since. I try and do a different recipe each year and October finds me looking through my Preserves and Pickles book. Chutney is culinary alchemy!

!cid__9FBE3D2837FA9D48850F8F60D8FD43C9@iqcloud — Chutney Choosing

Buying a new decoration – when we started out we had no Christmas decorations and very little money. We bought some cheap basics and a couple of really nice decorations, with the understanding we’d add to our collection as the years went by. Thankfully the red and silver cheap basics have now gone, but the mismatch of colours and styles grows every year and I love it. We often try to buy the decoration(s) from somewhere we’ve been that year. I’ve got a Welsh dragon from Swansea, a wooden Christmas Tree from Paris, a silver Alamo from, well, the Alamo (San Antonio, TX) and a patriotic state of Texas wearing a Santa hat from Dallas!

1338_53278405615_330_n — And you thought I was joking?

These are Savage Family traditions pre-Oscar or BtB (Before the Boy), but the question is how will things change now we have him, particularly as he becomes old enough to understand what the hell is going on? I’m so excited to create new traditions with him and for him. So for example I plan to buy him a Christmas Tree decoration every year, so when he leaves home he has a box of decs ready and waiting. When he’s old enough we’ll let him choose it (however awful it may be – kids have weird taste!), it will go on the tree that year and then be added to his collection. But what else will we do? I’d love to do something that has a particular smell. Scent can evoke such a hugely powerful memory and I’d love him to be able to smell something as an adult and be reminded of awesome family Christmases with us.

Then I guess we have to address our Christmas Mythology? Will we call the big man, Santa or Father Christmas? Will we leave Sherry & Mince pies or Whiskey & Flapjack (the best way to my husbands heart by a mile!)? Will I tell my child that if he gets out of bed and sees Father Christmas that he will take all the presents away, like I was told, to keep me in my room? Do we tell him anything at all? I think Ben would be quite happy to debunk the myth fairly early on. But I want to create just a little magic in Oscar’s life while he still believes. My most precious Christmas memory from my childhood was standing at the top of the stairs aged 5, with my mum and my brother, while my dad went downstairs to “see if Father Christmas had been”. He pretended to have walked in on The Big FC and I heard them have a conversation. I was beside myself at the top of the stairs, partly because my dad was talking to Santa and partly because I was scared Santa would take the presents away, having been ‘seen’. It was pure magic.

So yeah, yeah I’m getting carried away and I’d love to be this perfect mummy who creates the most memorable Christmases ever. But chances are Oscar’ll have a blast whatever I do. What kid being given new stuff and sugar doesn’t? I’m definitely excited about “doing” Christmas with the boy though, teaching him the familiar and developing the new, as the years go by.

One day, I just hope he’ll turn to his other half and say “because we never had tinsel when I was growing up, that’s why!”

When you’re having fun…

30/09/2013 by MrsSavageAngel Leave a Comment

We’ve been sorting through some old photos and videos this week. When I say old, they’re all of Oscar, so in fact not a one of them is older than 18 months. Yes, 18 months. Oscar will be 18 months on 2nd October. No I cant quite believe it either.

Anyway back to the pictures. As with most children these days Oscar is one photographed baby. Which child isn’t, with the advent of the camera phone? Last week I realised I was carrying over 1000 photos just on my Camera Roll alone. I had to download and delete hundreds, just to make space for the new IOS7. Ben also found some on his phone, ones I’d not seen before. Here was this tiny little baby, completely dependent and utterly different to the self assured toddler I have running round my legs now. I wont lie to you, it put me in rather a reflective mood.

Sometimes I wish I could go back and do his early days over again, but this time with the confidence I have now. I wouldn’t cry myself to pieces, when he refused to breast feed. I wouldn’t have evil dreams about my milk coming back in (sometimes as black as oil) and me trying to feed him again, when it dried up at 4 weeks. I wouldn’t beat myself up about leaving the room to have a drink or food or a wee. I would do this, I wouldn’t do that. Blah blah blah. Hindsight it a wonderful thing and I think most new mothers experience it in some way or another – its probably natures way of encouraging women to have more children.

But I can’t go back and wishing I’d done this or that really isn’t very helpful. He is who he is, because of how we managed the last 18 months. I came to the conclusion a while ago that Oscar will always find his own rhythm, and he really does. Guidelines are only ever that and, as a friend pointed out the other day, are really aimed at the lowest common denominator. You have to find a way to trust your own instincts as a mother (although I know I’ve had times when I’ve gone against my better judgement, and kicked myself for it later!). The only way you can move forward is by learning from the mistakes you make. It’s such a mean system – why cant things just go right first time round?!

Where am I going with this? I don’t really know, other than I sat and watched Oscar play and dance and run around in front of me yesterday and it made me cry. I’m so happy that he’s growing up to be a such a healthy, strong and sparky little man, a real character. Its all I ever wanted for my baby. But sometimes it breaks my heart when I see flashes of the boy he is becoming.

I was trying to take some photos of the clock this morning, all restored and gleaming, when I noticed the Latin on the face;

Tempus Fugit – Time Flies

It certainly does.

Diary of an Imperfect Mum: Flashback Friday

Chim, chimineeee…..

16/09/2013 by MrsSavageAngel Leave a Comment

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!