Sounds like a daft question, but it's one I've been asking myself a lot lately.
I think it's something that the majority of mothers go through within the first few months and years of parenthood. All of a sudden, the entire focus of your life changes. You find yourself in a world where you'll leave the house with no make-up on, dried weetabix in your hair, and stained clothing. And that's to go to work. In truth, I'm finding it hard to have an identity other than that of 'Mummy'.'
There's a number of reasons for this, other than the appearance in the world of someone who takes precedence over all else in my life. The first few months of Flo's life were stressful, for reasons still too raw to really dwell on, let alone write about. I felt like a failure as a mother, and wondered if I was actually going insane. Consequently, I ate. A lot. I put on more in the first 6 months of Flo's life than I did in 9 months of pregnancy. Her first xmas, I weighed the same as I did 5 days before giving birth. So I look in the mirror and see a swollen, saggy version of the person I still am in my head. Which doesn't help matters.
Also, I have zero social life. Not even with my darling husband. We live too far away from any potential babysitters, or indeed, anywhere you'd want to go out to. In truth, I'm glad of the excuse not to have to go out and leave Flo in the care of someone else. During the day is no problem, but leaving her at night... I don't know, it just feels like a step I'm not ready for. She's 26 months old! I need to get a grip. I don't want my own 'abandonment issues', to give them their wank-speak moniker, to turn me into an overprotective parent though, so I need to address this sooner rather than later. Hopefully this will change soon, as we are moving back to civilisation. I can't wait.
But rediscovering myself isn't going to be easy. I don't know where to look. I was never particularly self-assured in the first place, and part of me probably likes being able to give myself a narrow definition; a set role to play. I just want to look in the mirror and recognise myself again.
Here ends the pointless waffle. As you were.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Why does proud = smug?
I have a clever child.
There, I've said it. Cue metaphorical tumbleweed rolling across the blogosphere. It feels like an admission. Owning up to some kind of dirty secret; because for some reason, it is just not the done thing to say you have uncommonly bright offspring, let alone be proud of it. This makes me sad. It seems we can only be overtly proud of our kids when it comes to how much they eat or how well they sleep - anything more and you run the risk of being labelled 'smug' or worse, 'pushy'.
The latter was the accusation thrown at me a while ago. Not directly of course; oh no, behind my back. Our daughter, now aged 26 months, has shown an interest in 'knowing stuff' since she was old enough to support her own head and point at things. Before she could talk, her days consisted largely of pointing at things and going 'gah', then looking at you expectantly until you told her what it was. Words and letters have always been a favourite, and by the age of 20 months she recognised the entire alphabet, and could recite it by 22 months. It is almost impossible to quench her thirst for knowledge. By 12 months, asking her to point at things in a book ('where's the red car?' that kind of thing) was an easy peasy task for her, and by 15 months she could recognise and point out nearly 30 different species of bird (this now extends to umpteen species of dinosaur, more than I even knew existed, as well as insects, mammals and reptiles)
Apparently, 'not letting kids be kids' and 'forcing them to read text books', as we were so accused of doing is little short of child cruelty in some peoples minds, it seems. Just for the record, we have done neither of these things; we have only ever taken her lead and responded to her interests. Since a young age, I've been aware that Flo is going to be pretty intelligent, and have never really spoken much about her development, other than to her doting grandparents and uncles. But sometimes you're so proud of your little person, you can't help but share your awe. So to then hear that THAT is what folks have said about you is upsetting.
So, I rarely speak about her achievements any more. I have to keep my pride in check, and this saddens me. I take no credit for who she is and the aptitudes she has. She is her own person; I have merely passed on 50% or so of my genes to her; so when I want to tell the world how amazing I think she is, I'm not saying "hey, look at me, what GREAT parent I am!" I'm saying "How amazing is this little human being! I love her SO much!" All we have done as parents, is respond to that in which she had shown an interest, and 'knowing everything there is to know, as soon as is humanly possible' appears to be her aim. She is currently teaching herself to read (she already recognises quite a few logos and her own name) and will sit with a book whispering the letters in each word to herself, totally unaided by either of us. She can do basic subtraction too (she is VERY proud of herself when she does this!) yet despite this love for 'academic' pastimes, she is equally happy running, throwing, kicking, climbing, painting, drawing and pretend playing. We are letting her be a kid. The kid she wants to be; and if that means letting her be clever, then so be it.
Oh, and she's a great eater. And a pretty decent sleeper nowadays too, just in case you're interested in what really matters.
There, I've said it. Cue metaphorical tumbleweed rolling across the blogosphere. It feels like an admission. Owning up to some kind of dirty secret; because for some reason, it is just not the done thing to say you have uncommonly bright offspring, let alone be proud of it. This makes me sad. It seems we can only be overtly proud of our kids when it comes to how much they eat or how well they sleep - anything more and you run the risk of being labelled 'smug' or worse, 'pushy'.
The latter was the accusation thrown at me a while ago. Not directly of course; oh no, behind my back. Our daughter, now aged 26 months, has shown an interest in 'knowing stuff' since she was old enough to support her own head and point at things. Before she could talk, her days consisted largely of pointing at things and going 'gah', then looking at you expectantly until you told her what it was. Words and letters have always been a favourite, and by the age of 20 months she recognised the entire alphabet, and could recite it by 22 months. It is almost impossible to quench her thirst for knowledge. By 12 months, asking her to point at things in a book ('where's the red car?' that kind of thing) was an easy peasy task for her, and by 15 months she could recognise and point out nearly 30 different species of bird (this now extends to umpteen species of dinosaur, more than I even knew existed, as well as insects, mammals and reptiles)
Apparently, 'not letting kids be kids' and 'forcing them to read text books', as we were so accused of doing is little short of child cruelty in some peoples minds, it seems. Just for the record, we have done neither of these things; we have only ever taken her lead and responded to her interests. Since a young age, I've been aware that Flo is going to be pretty intelligent, and have never really spoken much about her development, other than to her doting grandparents and uncles. But sometimes you're so proud of your little person, you can't help but share your awe. So to then hear that THAT is what folks have said about you is upsetting.
So, I rarely speak about her achievements any more. I have to keep my pride in check, and this saddens me. I take no credit for who she is and the aptitudes she has. She is her own person; I have merely passed on 50% or so of my genes to her; so when I want to tell the world how amazing I think she is, I'm not saying "hey, look at me, what GREAT parent I am!" I'm saying "How amazing is this little human being! I love her SO much!" All we have done as parents, is respond to that in which she had shown an interest, and 'knowing everything there is to know, as soon as is humanly possible' appears to be her aim. She is currently teaching herself to read (she already recognises quite a few logos and her own name) and will sit with a book whispering the letters in each word to herself, totally unaided by either of us. She can do basic subtraction too (she is VERY proud of herself when she does this!) yet despite this love for 'academic' pastimes, she is equally happy running, throwing, kicking, climbing, painting, drawing and pretend playing. We are letting her be a kid. The kid she wants to be; and if that means letting her be clever, then so be it.
Oh, and she's a great eater. And a pretty decent sleeper nowadays too, just in case you're interested in what really matters.
Monday, September 12, 2011
New Look Blog
And here it is. Well, it's different from how it was, if a little fussy. I doubt any web designers are losing any sleep tonight, put it that way.
Normal blogging will resume imminently.
Normal blogging will resume imminently.
Work In Progress
My blog looks a bit odd at the moment (by 'odd' I mean 'rubbish') as I fancied a change.
However, I am rubbish with this kind of thing, so it's going to take a while to make it look pretty again. Sorry about that.
Once it's done though, I will be blogging more regularly - I average about 2 posts a year at the moment so that won't be difficult - but I mean properly, actually regularly. Ish.
However, I am rubbish with this kind of thing, so it's going to take a while to make it look pretty again. Sorry about that.
Once it's done though, I will be blogging more regularly - I average about 2 posts a year at the moment so that won't be difficult - but I mean properly, actually regularly. Ish.
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