My Blog

Pride and joy.

15/12/2010 21:14:00

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I know it’s natural to love your children, and be proud beyond reason at their simple existence.

I know it’s a love that you can’t describe until you have been there, I try not to be dismissive to those who are not parents, but no, it’s not like how you love your dog but more… it’s not the same as loving a niece or nephew… being a parent is a hands down once in a lifetime kind of love.

I remember when I first set eyes on Molly. I swear I felt my heart grow… it is, in hindsight possible that all the pethadene I had absorbed was doing the thinking for me but I remember thinking ahhh, so this is what life is all about… and I think I said there and then “I want more”.

Anyway, what I am wondering today is how is it possible to keep loving your children more every day, because I do, and Im sure everyone else does. Today I love the HUGE tooth that has replaced her baby teeth at the front, I love her fantastic use of vocabulary and the swirly curls that she is doing on the Y at the end of her name. I love that she tries to look after me when I am feeling ill. I didn’t know it was possible to keep loving someone more and more, I worry that if it keeps going I may actually burst, or overflow (or suffocate her with love!)

I don’t have a lot to say today besides this. All I want is for Molly to know that I can’t hear this song without crying because its how I feel about you. You give my life so much purpose and direction. I love you with all of my heart and I like you more that I could ever express.

Yep, you’re over emotional and strong minded whilst being the neediest creature I know… it’s a cracking combination Molly, don’t ever change. Your enthusiasm and lust for life are unique and wonderful.Your warmth and tenderness at such a young age makes me insane with pride and I simply hope that you know that I will always love you, you are my sunshine miss Mollymoo.

QWERTY (love that word)

01/12/2010 12:17:00

Why I hate technology is simple. It beats me hands down every time. I am minding my own business peeling potatoes and the 6 year old said "mummy I need you to record this on tv for me". I of course reply "err, Mummy doesnt know how to do that honey". 2 seconds later I get told that if I dont know how to record the programme then can I please pause it for her? Pause? a TV programme? Apparently this has been possible for years and it is equally apparent that its on the long list of technological things that Mummy doest know how to do.

I would like to defend myself here and state that the reasons for my inability to do these things is because I want to live a simple life, with simple pleasures, and pausing television is not up there with my list of priorities in the search for inner contentment. However, thats simply not true... if I had known how to pause the TV I am doubtless I would be doing it on a regular basis. I don't know how because I rely too much on "the husband" for this sort of thing. (Along with rather a few other 'sorts of things') Gosh... that does'nt read very well does it!

So it was time for me get a new phone and I was duly advised by the men in my life that what I needed was not an I phone but a HTC Android application HD Desire . I mean, really... what is an android? I got very excited at the prospect of thinking that my new phone may actually be a robot that could perform all the functions I fail at, such as Tv pausing.... but alas it appears to just be some sort of death trap technological device that is too big to hold, too big to understand and stares at me all day making me feel rather inferior to its single touch world wide web access and all singing all dancing applications. Now my daughter wants to play "angry birds" on it all the time and I just feel like a bit of an angry bird that doesnt seem to know how to make it actually function as a phone.

It has a touch pad qwerty keypad. Now I am a little bit excited about the fact that I know what a qwerty keypad is, and seeing as it is one word that I am possibly able to spell without making a spelling mistake as all the letters are together I quite enjoy writing qwerty and may refer to qwerty a bit more than actually neccersary. Anyway this qwerty keypad is clearly designed for someone whose fingers are the size of matchsticks and also designed for someone who has NO fingernails. I am completely unable to send a text without getting the letters utterly wrong and instantly wanted to change my phone.

The Husband sais to me, don't worry, it will over time,get used to the letters that your pressing and start to realise which ones you mean to be pressing and adjust itself accordingly. What fabulous news I think to myself... my phone is actually cleverer than me, but not only does it do this, but it auto corrects to the words that it thinks you mean and the ones that you use the most... simply amazing I hear you all gasp....

So I survive the first few weeks of the phone only making simple errors such as "Hi Missisippi" instead of "Hi Lizzi" and a couple of others such as Hey no problem suddenly becoming "herbicide" but generally people are undertanding that the phone is still learning who I am so no great drama.

Anyway to cut to the chase the phone is going back to whichever 17 year old nerd invented it. I do not love phone, phone does not love me. Phone wants to put me out of business and offend as many people as possible and blame it on my inadequate technological abilitys. The final straw was yesterday... I actually text a client that I would send her over her pregnancy sh*t .I sent it without looking at it and clearly the word was meant to be "shot". I wrote shot, the phone thought "here is an opportunity far too good to miss" and changed it to sh*t. And then had the audacity to remind me that the reason it changed the text is because it is in my list of top 20 "most used words".

I am a 33 year old woman with a lovely family , a great job and a reasonable IQ but have been beaten, hands down by a 8 inch rectangle. Smashing. For Christmas I am asking Santa for a landline....

ooooo the guilt

03/11/2010 16:49:00

I arrived at my daughters school today to be asked by one of the lovely Strathmore mums what I thought of the school photographs. Now perhaps what I should have done is have a decent conversation as to whether they were any good or not, instead I did a high pitched squealing sort of sound followed by the confession that I had not looked in my little mollys school bag since before half term and I then proceeded to rummage through her little school drawer which is full of stuff I possible should take home to try and find said photographs. (Feel free to send me a bad mother badge which I will wear with pride)

Now armed with exhibit A "photographs of child" I felt far more ready to have the conversation where we proceeded to digest and then dissect the quality and cost of the photographs. My bet is that at least half of the parents think the photographs are too expensive and Il also guess that the same parents think the quality is not great..... but equally at least half will buy them and there would be an uproar if schools stopped providing the service.

I think that the dexterity it must take to be a child school photographer deserves a medal... or at the very least a blue peter badge, similar to the role of a teacher which takes a very special sort of soul... I think the vast majority of us would reel at the thought of attempting to cajoul hundreds upon hundreds of children into wiping away the snot and smiling for the camera (or in my daughters case looking at the camera in a way that suggests she just stole something and is going to get caught)

All the while I am having this conversation the daughter (who I promised to be more approachable and attentive with ) is hanging off my arm reminding me at full volume that I am meant to be doing shared reading with her... having used her supersonic selective hearing she has noted me saying that I wont be buying them and proceeded to have a meltdown.

Molly: "Mummy but WHY wont you buy them"

Me : "Because I have hundreds of photos of you that are much better than that"

Molly : " But WHY"

Me :" Molly Im a photographer and it would be silly to spend money on pictures on you when I can take perfectly good pictures myself"

Molly : (whingy voice)"But everyone else is going to buy them"

Me : "I dont give a toss (yes...oops...said toss at school) what everyone else is going to do... if everyone jumped off a cliff would you think its a good idea too?" (clearly I was feeling a bit childish this morning and also prepared to lie and say I didnt care what everyone else was going to do)

Molly : "PURHLEEEESE mummy"

Me: "For heavens sake Molly, No.

I could continue but I am afraid that if I actually used the dialog that I used with Molly and wrote it down then I may never ever pass a CRB check should I need one. So, having not read story with my daughter and managing to make her feel unloved I walked home feeling guilty.

This is what my little rant for the day is about. Guilt. Perhaps schools shouldnt put the photographs of children in clear plastic bags and give them to the kids to give to us... is that not emotional blackmail.? Does that not scream "you unphotogenic unloved child" if you do what I do and dont buy them? The only advantage I can see of buying a photograph of a child that you dont like is the joy you can get in later years proudly showing them to every new boyfriend of theirs that passes through the door... but I sense that I will be embarrassment enough for Molly without having to add to her shame with dodgy old school photos.

So I draw the conclusion.... if you like them woo hoo, buy them and enjoy them.

If you dont like them, DONT buy them. Dont fall into the guilt trap of buying at least one... instead give some money to charity and get a happy healthy glow of doing something fab.. or use the 10 or 15 quid to let your kid go mad in a sweet shop, or go and eat pizza together just the two of you... or anything at all that makes you both smile.

Alternatively come to the shop and have some taken by me, and Il try really hard not to swear this time......

a little lesson for me.

19/10/2010 15:19:00

Perhaps a daily blog is going to prove too much for me, and too much for any poor soul who feels such loyalty as to read them, but today, seeing as I have a HUGE pile of laundry to do I have decided to prioritise the blog....

(I wonder if there are any other mothers out there who has searched through a laundry basket at 8 in the morning praying that they will find a school shirt for their child as they have failed their motherly duties of washing clothes!) I stand my ground when I say some things in life matter and some things dont... Molly and I have way too much fun together to remember to do basic chores.

So, todays little piece of me (I can sense the anticipation already).... (gosh I hope people realise thats sarcasm and not an inflated ego) I think I have to write about parenting today, and how sometimes the little things that happen can catch you off guard and maybe make you realise that you could be doing things differently (in my case definately "better/differently" )

I was busy attempting to be a loving nurturing mother last night and tucked Molly up in bed at a half reasonable time and read not one but TWO stories (please no one ever tell her thats still less than the average child gets!)

So, its lights out time and I tell her Il come check on her in a few minutes, which I duly do. She looks at me with big wide eyes when I go back in and she looks a little concerned so I ask if she is ok. I get a little nod in response so I wander off. A few seconds later I hear a little sob emerge.... now anyone who knows my daughter knows she isn't the "little sobbing" type. Its is either full volume or nothing... so at this point I get worried and stomp back in demanding to know what the matter is.

Well my inquisitive little darling starts of by saying "sorry mummy I did'nt mean to!" in between little hiccups of tears, and it was only then that I noticed she has managed to completely and utterly wedge her little finger into a hole in her dollhouse next to the bed and could not get it out again.

I wrestled with the finger for a full five minutes before managing to remove it from said hole in dollshouse, and I honestly didnt have even the smallest most fleeting fantasy about having to call the lovely firemen to help me. Anyway, when the tears had subsided and the giggling (on my part) had stopped, it dawned on me that she chose to lie there with her finger stuck rather than call me for help. I know Im not a hideous parent, but I think in that moment I realised that my reactions must sometimes be overwhelming for her, she assumed I would shout or be cross so she didnt ask for my help.

Today I vow I will think before I speak to my molly. She learned the lesson of "not to squeeze body parts into tiny gaps" which is to be fair a childhood rite of passage, and I learned that if I dont start being more approachable around my daughter then she simply wont approach me.... on that note I am going to do some washing so that she doesnt have to suffer the further humiliation of going to school in her pyjamas tomorrow.