Showing posts with label being grown-up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being grown-up. Show all posts
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Things that make me feel like a mum #1: Having a present cupboard
It's not literally a cupboard, but only because our house is small and there's not a lot of storage space, but I do have a shelf of presents appropriate for different ages all ready for a forgotten birthday, an unexpected Christmas gift needing reciprocity or a last minute invite. I also have sellotape, wrapping paper and various gift bags and a stash of all purpose cards. Get me - I'm totally grown up!
Saturday, 12 November 2011
Should you cry in front of your children?
After a difficult phonecall this week I was in left in tears and left with a quandary - should I let my daughter see I was crying. She's only a baby but she can definitely tell when I'm upset, getting upset herself at the sight of me crying.
Parents are supposed to be strong and capable of anything. We are the sorter-outers not the quivering wrecks. And though I'm good in a crisis I'm a crier the rest of the time.
The first time I cried in front of my daughter was during one of our nights in hospital when in the middle of the night, both of us beaten by attempts to get my breasts to work, I sat on the bed with her in my arms and we both bawled, possibly for hours. But that was us against the world together. This time it was her normally happy encouraging mummy having a moment. And while children need to learn that not everything goes well all the time, some problems in the adult world should be kept adult.
So all I could do was brush the tears away, force my voice to normal and get on with our day. And because nothing else actually matters to me as much as the wellbeing of my family, this made me feel better anyway.
Wow - it's a powerful protection having a family. I felt it when I met my husband, and remember thinking that if things went badly at work or in friendships or anywhere else, it was okay now because someone loved me and I loved them and that's what mattered. And now the baby is here that feeling has multiplied.
This protection makes everything else less powerful and I think sometimes people sense that and can feel threatened by it. They can only hurt you a little bit, unless they hurt your family also. It's why films are right when good people will do bad things if the baddies have their child or their partner. I had always thought this was just a cheap plot device, but I see now that it is true. For you are there to protect your family, but they protect you too. Which means there should have been no need to question whether my daughter should see me cry, because there really was no need to cry in the first place.
(Now I just have to put this into practise. I am a crier. From sad things on the telly to stubbing my toe to thinking about mortality to seeing a pretty picture to having a frustrating conversation with someone being stupid. I must learn to take my own advice.)
Parents are supposed to be strong and capable of anything. We are the sorter-outers not the quivering wrecks. And though I'm good in a crisis I'm a crier the rest of the time.
The first time I cried in front of my daughter was during one of our nights in hospital when in the middle of the night, both of us beaten by attempts to get my breasts to work, I sat on the bed with her in my arms and we both bawled, possibly for hours. But that was us against the world together. This time it was her normally happy encouraging mummy having a moment. And while children need to learn that not everything goes well all the time, some problems in the adult world should be kept adult.
So all I could do was brush the tears away, force my voice to normal and get on with our day. And because nothing else actually matters to me as much as the wellbeing of my family, this made me feel better anyway.
Wow - it's a powerful protection having a family. I felt it when I met my husband, and remember thinking that if things went badly at work or in friendships or anywhere else, it was okay now because someone loved me and I loved them and that's what mattered. And now the baby is here that feeling has multiplied.
This protection makes everything else less powerful and I think sometimes people sense that and can feel threatened by it. They can only hurt you a little bit, unless they hurt your family also. It's why films are right when good people will do bad things if the baddies have their child or their partner. I had always thought this was just a cheap plot device, but I see now that it is true. For you are there to protect your family, but they protect you too. Which means there should have been no need to question whether my daughter should see me cry, because there really was no need to cry in the first place.
(Now I just have to put this into practise. I am a crier. From sad things on the telly to stubbing my toe to thinking about mortality to seeing a pretty picture to having a frustrating conversation with someone being stupid. I must learn to take my own advice.)
Sunday, 23 October 2011
Being a parent does change you
One of the compliments non parents often say about new parents is that "having a baby hasn't changed them". They mean it nicely - they mean you can still talk about things other than babies, that you manage to go to the occasional party, that you are still the kind of person they want to be friends with - but they are wrong. Becoming a parent does change you, absolutely and entirely.
It's not just that your responsibilities and priorities change, though they do. It's that something changes your very being to the core.
The experience of having a baby changes you physiologically and emotionally. You carry the weight of responsibility for another person, and a responsibility towards society to do a good job bringing up that person. But more than that, it changes your identity. However good or bad a job you do of it, the answer to whether or not you are a parent irreversibly changes and with it the way other people look at you and judge you and analyse who your are.
Your personality may stay the same, you may (if you are lucky) look the same. You may do the same job and read the same books and laugh at the same jokes, but fundamentally and profoundly who you are has changed. You are a different person. You are a parent and with that comes all the judgements and responsibilities we associate with that word as well as a sense of complete untouchability, for though you are vulnerable now in a way you have not been before you are also untouchable, for as long as your child is okay you know you will be okay.
So when people say "you haven't changed" it's not really a compliment, but it also cannot possibly be true. You have changed, utterly and completely, and so you should.
Related post: My baby, my daemon
It's not just that your responsibilities and priorities change, though they do. It's that something changes your very being to the core.
The experience of having a baby changes you physiologically and emotionally. You carry the weight of responsibility for another person, and a responsibility towards society to do a good job bringing up that person. But more than that, it changes your identity. However good or bad a job you do of it, the answer to whether or not you are a parent irreversibly changes and with it the way other people look at you and judge you and analyse who your are.
Your personality may stay the same, you may (if you are lucky) look the same. You may do the same job and read the same books and laugh at the same jokes, but fundamentally and profoundly who you are has changed. You are a different person. You are a parent and with that comes all the judgements and responsibilities we associate with that word as well as a sense of complete untouchability, for though you are vulnerable now in a way you have not been before you are also untouchable, for as long as your child is okay you know you will be okay.
So when people say "you haven't changed" it's not really a compliment, but it also cannot possibly be true. You have changed, utterly and completely, and so you should.
Related post: My baby, my daemon
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
How to tell you are a grown-up
One of my favourite things about being grown up, in fact the thing that makes me feel like a grown-up, is the knowledge that if I want to I can eat my dessert first, before the main course. Now this is something I don't do very often, in fact I am struggling to remember whether I ever have actually done that, but I do like knowing that I can, if I want to.
I was thinking about that this evening as I ate Charbonnel et Walker drinking chocolate with a spoon direct from the tin (try it - it is very good) to satisfy my post dinner urge for something sweet. It's another thing you can only really do as a grown up. And I realised that the ability to do this kind of thing at will disappears somewhat once you have children.
I already have to eat my treats when the baby is napping or in the buggy and I am hidden from view, otherwise she wants to share it. It's not that sharing it would be a problem, but I am not about to give my ten month old any salty or sugary snacks, even though various relatives have tried to feed her chocolate buttons, KFC and wine. No, we'll save that for when she is old enough to actually want them, and even then we'll try to get away with the trick my mum managed of persuading me that chocolate was only allowed on Tuesdays and Fridays. So successful was she at this that if I went to a friend's house on, say, a Wednesday, I would turn down any chocolate because I wasn't allowed it on that day.
Anyway, I realised that the dessert first thing has come full circle. Because it's not my parents that I need to hide such wanton disregard for order from, but my daughter, and that being grown-up isn't about being able to have dessert first, it's about being able not to.
Related post: The secret life of parents
I was thinking about that this evening as I ate Charbonnel et Walker drinking chocolate with a spoon direct from the tin (try it - it is very good) to satisfy my post dinner urge for something sweet. It's another thing you can only really do as a grown up. And I realised that the ability to do this kind of thing at will disappears somewhat once you have children.
I already have to eat my treats when the baby is napping or in the buggy and I am hidden from view, otherwise she wants to share it. It's not that sharing it would be a problem, but I am not about to give my ten month old any salty or sugary snacks, even though various relatives have tried to feed her chocolate buttons, KFC and wine. No, we'll save that for when she is old enough to actually want them, and even then we'll try to get away with the trick my mum managed of persuading me that chocolate was only allowed on Tuesdays and Fridays. So successful was she at this that if I went to a friend's house on, say, a Wednesday, I would turn down any chocolate because I wasn't allowed it on that day.
Anyway, I realised that the dessert first thing has come full circle. Because it's not my parents that I need to hide such wanton disregard for order from, but my daughter, and that being grown-up isn't about being able to have dessert first, it's about being able not to.
Related post: The secret life of parents
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