The Thirty Eighth Month: December 2007

6th
Just realized it is St Nicholas day today. As children we used to put out our slippers, which would be filled with satsumas and chocolates, thinking about doing this for you, must find out who St Nicholas was. The original Father Christmas?

I had 4 days and 3 nights away from you last week. Left you at Wendys, where you gave me a wonderful afterthought of a hug as I left, and went swimming, feeling very free. It was nice to have a few days together with Grandpa. The course was so so (watercolour at Urchfont Manor), but it was great to have time in the early mornings and evenings to read, go for wet and windy walks in the nearby Oakfrith Wood. It was a bit like staying in a country house hotel and lovely to have time to myself, but I missed you and kept thinking of what you and Daddy would be doing.

When I came back on Sunday you were napping on the sofa after having been to the Advent festival at school, and being caught out in torrential rain. I was there as you woke up and you were quite grumpy, not wanting anything to do with me, until I mentioned the presents I had for you.

You spoke to me but were a bit off, refusing to cuddle me for a few hours. But you were different on Monday morning when you awoke, and Daddy had left for work. I was there as you woke up and you were a delight, obviously pleased to see me. You sat with me, cuddling into me, chatting. You let me dress you – and seemed to want that attention. You are out of the habit of choosing lots of layers and putting them on and seem to enjoy the attention and interaction of me dressing you.

When I collected you from Wendy’s you leapt out of the room and into my arms, barefoot and smiling (you had wet your trousers and socks). We went to have Indian lunch at Tiffins. You ate a whole plateful of rice, and the man was so impressed (‘what a good boy eating your dinner all up’) he gave you a papadum in a paper bag, which he called a ‘big crisp’ – which you were very excited about.

You got very upset when the wind ‘winded it away’, and insisted on picking all the broken bits off the pavement. I had an appointment at the hospital breast clinic, where you charmed the staff by lying in your pushchair and covering up your eyes and playing a kind of peepo game. The consultant thought you would be fascinated by the ultrasound monitor, but you watched me closely instead, then asked all about the ultrasound jelly and machinery afterwards. All was well, to my great relief.

We went home and you helped me clean out the car, sweeping and hoovering it and after supper we had a bath together. A lovely afternoon re-connecting with you.

Wednesday:
Tatty Bumpkin session at the pre-school – you lay on the floor the whole time, maybe because you had wet trousers, but I wondered if you were coming down with something ( a child at playgroup has scarlet fever). Then off we whizzed at Lucy time. Afterwards we went for lunch with Mary Walker, Esther and grandchildren Freddie and Arthur. You were a bit reticent at first, in a new house with new people, but you soon became interested in new toys and the pirate ship (an unfolded sofa bed). Mary was brilliant at conjuring up stories about the adventures you and Freddie were having, and as you stood on the wall outside she got you to be still as statues and pretended to read your title and great deeds below – King Theo the magnificent. You dropped off to sleep on the way home, when you were meant to be going to play at Evans – you were so excited about that too! I left you sleeping for an hour, and you woke up crying, and coldy, really upset about something I couldn’t fathom. Still tired and hungry you wanted to go to Evans, so we popped round for 10 minutes and Bearnie gave us some pannacotta puddings. You’ve developed a recent particular enthusiasm for puddings and chocolate, though we don’t have either of them very regularly.

Tues: you helped me clean the bathroom and hoover, becoming obsessed with the cloths and having the taps on, driving me slighty nuts in the process. Your insistences often wind me up, and then I feel bad that our happy experiences have ended with me becoming cross. I need to develop more tolerance and not waver in the face of your protests.

Sat 8th Dec
I went off to a choir rehearsal and you went to Hawks Gym with Daddy, I suggested that you get a Christmas tree together and that we would decorate it all together in the afternoon when returned. After breakfast you said to me: ‘you go now’ – you can’t wait to have your rare and special time with your Daddy. The minute I returned you ran to the door exclaiming excitedly ‘ you are going to decorate with me and Daddy is going to decorate.’ You couldn’t wait to do it with us altogether! Let’s tidy up first I said (your crayons on the floor) –‘ you help me Mummy, I am waiting for you’, you replied. I also swept the floor after supper and you immediately got your little broom out to help.


Thurs – Bearnie’s to make mini banana cakes and eat your tea with Evan
Sat 15th Dec

This week: Thursday I took you to playgroup, you didn’t want to leave the car; ‘I ‘m too tired,’ you kept saying. With a great deal of effort I persuaded you to leave. Then you clung to me when we got to Wendy’s, even though all the other children were ready to make Christmas biscuits, they waited around the little table sitting there with their aprons on. Wendy persuaded you to sit on her lap and have a cuddle, and I watched as your little grumpy/tired face melted into a cheeky, happy expression, and I knew you’d be alright. When I came to collect you , you were clutching your little brown paper bag of biscuits for dear life, and did so for the rest of the day, only eating them at about 6pm.

We went to Claire-Louise’s Tatty Bumpkin class in St Werburgh’s, and you enjoyed joining in, and also sitting in my lap and generally being with me, in a way that happens less and less these days, which was delightful. You wanted to hold my hand and jump around with me, although you would never do that when I am teaching the class to a group of pre-school children.

14th Friday
The alarm fitter came today, and provided you hours of fascinating entertainment. (You talked about the 'baddie alarm'. It was the only day of the week where we had nothing planned and I thought it would be a relaxed happy day together, so that was the first mistake – imagining something. We had a late breakfast, and you helped me polish my boots. Afterwards, I attempted to leave the house, but then realized we better have a snack – milk and Bearnie’s banana cake ‘this is nice ‘ you said.

Afterwards, we were going to Tescos to get shopping for Sunday’s mince pie party ( I was planning to make many mince pies with you, but realized what an exhausting effort it was).

I tried to persuade you to go upstairs for a wee before we left, but you stubbornly refused. I think I took you up there and went to the loo myself, by which time you were hitting out at me as I sat on the loo. I said I’d had enough of that and told you I was going to put you in your room, which I did., I closed the door – which is mean I know, and I suppose is more about dispersing my frustration. You didn’t protest, which is unlike you, and as I went out, I realized this was a stupid thing, because I knew you really did need a wee, even though you were in denial. I quickly went back into your room to find you standing there, holding onto the chair with a torrent of wee running down onto the carpet.....I got needlessly cross with you.

Eventually we went out shopping– I had walked off annoyed, because you wouldn’t go in the trolley and wanted to walk – more crying. This after you cried when you wanted to go on one of the play vehicles outside Tescos, but couldn’t because there was already another boy in there – more crying.

When I finally got you into the trolley – with some force and persuasion, you wanted to play with me, and talk to me while you sat in the supermarket trolley. I couldn’t believe you still wanted to engage with me when I had been so horrible to you, I felt that you would reject me. Earlier, I felt I had been watching myself from above - seeing myself as the mad mother in the supermarket with screaming child, both of us behaving badly. I realised how glad I was that I rarely have to go shopping with you, thankful that your Daddy does the supermarket shop.

I wondered afterwards if the day had gone badly because you are used to doing things with different people everyday, and that it was the process of re-connecting with me that didn’t quite work. You had been grumpy in the morning, saying ‘no, no to everything – breakfast etc, so the day did not initially start well.


Sol and the sharks. You had a little conversation about an imaginary adventure with Sol and the sharks, that you and Sol would ‘dead’ them and Leon would be alright, then you would get a sharp knife and cut off the sharks head. You were obviously protecting Leon from harm. You talk a lot about dead fish and fish with no heads – after your experience of trout fishing in the summer and a visit to Tovey’ s fishmongers where you asked if all the fish were dead.

23d December
This morning you awoke with a start crying out ‘Mummy, mummy’ and when I went in to you at about 6.45, you told me ‘you did run away’. You were in the middle of a dream and held on tightly to both my hands and then drifted quickly back to sleep.

Oddly I had woken this morning thinking about going away to have some time alone – this after our dreadful day together yesterday. You went Sainsbury’s shopping with Daddy and I braved pre-Christmas Waitrose. When I came home at 11am I started tidying the house, and two hours later I was still tidying it, getting rather stressed about it, and I should have just stopped.

You wanted to help me string up the Christmas cards, enjoying cutting up bits of string on the hallway carpet, which you then cleaned up with a broom and carpet sweeper, entirely un prompted by me.. We had no water for 5 hours because of a locally burst mains, and it felt rather depressing that we didn’t know when it would return. Lots of washing up, and I could n’t do any cooking.

Anyway, we swept the kitchen floor together, and there were a few other well connected moments, but I found myself getting irritated by you. Now you climb on chairs in the kitchen and take food out of the jars, and seem to be on an obsessive quest for sweet things. You have started a mantra recently ‘cake, chocolate, ice cream, sweeties, lollipops’, and also ‘raisins, I want raisins’. ‘I’m hungry, I want a mince pie etc’. Lunch was very late – 1.30pm, you and did your usual trick of pouring your water into the unfinished food, and threw all the tangerine peel on the floor.

I know you are testing me, and I got really cross with your, even though I know the best thing is to ignore this sort of thing. I made you cry a lot yesterday, and felt very aggressive towards you. I feel my anger erupts unchecked and I do all the things that I know are wrong and then feel totally depressed afterwards.

Thinking about it afterwards, I realized that we should have gone out earlier, and that I could have stopped tidying and done something specific with your, because you only misbehave when I haven’t given you enough attention.

In total contrast, the other morning I was in the hallway upstairs doing some yoga, when you woke up and came running towards me smiling. You curled up like a little cat in my lap and started telling me about ‘Wee Willie Winkie’ – a nursery rhyme you have learned from Grandpa. I was so pleased to see you and you looked so pleased to see me, it was a delight (usually you are Daddy’s boy in the morning).

We went to the theatre ‘featre’ the other day to see a production of the Ugly Duckling. You were completely riveted for the whole hour, although it was quite abstract and required a leap of imagination to realise that people were ducks (they were not dressed as ducks). But you enjoyed the music, lights and spectacle – there was a mirror ball in semi darkness, throwing specks of light around the room, which you said were bubbles. There was an underwater scene with silvery fish that you liked. I realized you are still too young to understand the conventions of theatre but you came out saying ‘Can we see the Ugking again?’ and ‘can we see the quack quacks another day’ though you rarely use such baby language.

When we got home and I was cooking supper – you standing next to me on the chair playing with the cheese slicer and two little teaspoons, you pretended the cheese slicer was the mummy duck and the teaspoons were the baby ducks, and you told a story which involved the mummy duck smacking the baby ducks. When I asked why, you said – with a big smiling face – ‘because they are naughtly!’

This week we have also gone swimming with Indi and Kate - you and I went down the flume together, it was wild, mad and like Niagara falls. I am sure there is more water than previously. I banged my knee as I fell out, trying to keep you from going underwater for too long. When you came out you looked so excited and said ‘that was fun’ and ‘oh my goodness’, imitating me. The swimming was great, inspite of your cold, and you fell asleep on the way home at 5.30, so it was a rapid turnaround to get you to bed by 7.30 when Rachel, the babysitter was coming and we were going out with Anna and Nick for a celebratory Christmas supper. Of course, you were totally awake when I left you, and had got out of bed a couple of times to ask me to hold your hand. I told you we were going to see Anna and Nick and you wanted to come, saying ‘me and Sol will stay downstairs and be very quiet.’ But I said we were going to a ‘rester ont’, as you call restaurant, and eventually we could leave.


K. and I had an emotional moment the other day. We had walked around the cemetery in the beautiful cold sunshine, everything covered in crisp frost. You had held my hand and walked, I. had cried the whole way, wanting to be carried. We had shared our recent difficult times I had told her about how angry I had got with you the previous week.

She had had an unexpected 24 hours in hospital, and had to take her daughter with her and had struggled to find someone to look after her. I had said that I would always help her out, and she said that she thought I was very loyal, and that I had been a good friend to her, inspite of not having known each other long. Lovely to be appreciated by friends.
We put our arms around each other and cried briefly and she said ‘it’s hard isn’t it.’

I think of Alfie Kohn’ book ‘Unconditional Parenting’ and how it is an ideal. It speaks of the effect of rewards and punishment and how they have a negative impact in the long term, and about how people parent conditionally, that they give love on condition of good behaviour. It is a challenge to conventional ideas of parenting, even the common practice of constantly praising good behaviour is challenged.

But it doesn’t account for how our personal histories affect the way we behave with our children, and that we are in a locked into our own history and experience of our own childhood. I am rarely the mother I would like to be.

31st December Monday
Liverpool – Grandad’s house
9.20 pm The last night of the year. You are in bed, Daddy has dropped off to sleep beside you no doubt. I have just finished washing up dinner and cleaning the loo. Fireworks are exploding outside and remind me of being here when you were 8 weeks old, when I held you on my shoulder trying to get you off to sleep.

Tonight we ate in the dining room, drinking wine from crystal glasses. ‘Mummy , I will sit next to you,’ you said, and picked at the crayfish cocktail starter your Grandad had made. Your verdict: mm this is yummy. . You said no to the main course and yes to the chocolate cheesecake, and spray cream, which I am trying to teach you how to say in a Liverpool accent, but you are not quite there yet. Your food today has been a haphazard selection of protein and puddings. We ate a late lunch at the Albert Docks after a trip to Sefton Park and a visit to an old girlfriend of papa’s.

At the park you chatted to the squirrels and tried to get them to take peanuts from your hand – they were very tame. At Lynne’s you took me by the hand and followed her grey fluffy cat around the house, hoping to stroke it.

We have been around more tv than usual – you become fascinated by the vehicles – cars, fire and planes in passing bits of Casualty that Grandad was watching. You watched about an hour of a Shrek film after we had lunch at Pauline’s yesterday and said to me ‘I am tired when I watch lots of telly.’ Still it was a rigamarole to get you to bed last night. Your latest mantra is ‘I don’t want to go to bed’ - you got up several times and took about an hour to settle, and I was up and down the stairs at Grandad’s til about 9.30 wondering if I was going to have any sort of evening. We are trying to plan our trip to New Zealand and getting a moment together alone with your father is impossible.

Christmas eve took a dramatic turn when you and your papa went out for a scooter ride together on the bicycle track, and you hit a hole or stone and went over the handle bars and landed on your face. Daddy carried you home, you crying. At first I just saw your grazed arms, but then caught sight of your face covered in blood. It looked worse than it was as you’d hit your nose and had a bad nosebleed. Your forehead was badly grazed and your lip swollen, you looked like a boxer after a fight. You fell asleep almost immediately in Papa’s arms and we took you to A & E. You were badly shaken but basically alright. You were a bit wobbly the next day but were soon back to your usual boisterous self.
You were still awake at 10:30 tonight. Excited by being in a new double bed – the spare bedroom here. Excited because you can get me upstairs immediately by your triumphant sing-song annnouncement of ‘I ‘ve got a poo-poo’. No sooner have I changed your nappy and you are back out of bed announcing another one. Except the last two nights you say to me’ ‘I will have a sleep then I will say ‘mummy I need a poo and a wee and I will go to the loo.’ So two minutes after you’ve laid back down, we hear running footsteps and you’ve gone to the loo taken your nappy off etc.

When I come up to find you demolishing a whole roll of loo paper you start telling me about how Grandpa is old and old people need to use the extra loo seat that is up there and how you are going to turn the taps on etc. you are enjoying the bidet, and even at this late hour you are still negoitiating that extra turn of the tap ‘ a bit more’, that extra bit of soap and telling me which is the cold tap and which is the hot tap...what are you like! I am quite amused and ready to laugh and still hoping for a sit down and a possible celebratory drink.

I wish I could find my humour more often. I find myself exasperated more frequently than I ideally should be. You and Daddy always have lots of fun, and he is more accepting and forgiving than I am, which leaves me feeling left out and you two seeming thick as thieves. Weekends and holidays you gravitate towards him. Yes he has scarcity value but it is more than that.

Maybe because I am less tolerant, less patient, more controlling than him. Maybe because historically whenever he was around I felt like taking a back seat and saw it as my time off, so didn’t get involved in the same way. Now you often say ‘ mummy you go away and do painting with Grandpa and my Daddy look after me.’ or like the other day you said ‘ You go to work and Daddy stay at home and look after me’.Which would be good if there was more of a balance of that – all our relationships would be more balanced.