Tag Archives: #parenting

Dreaming of a Sunday ?!?

AHHH my day today.. Sundays, a day of rest and relaxation. Supping coffee in a comfy chair with the sun dappling across the morning papers. Birds chirping in the trees as you do your Sunday meditation and yoga in complete silence. Maybe some lazy Sunday copulating with your significant other and a delicious,home cooked meal with a delightful glass of wine…

UM NO FUCKING WAY …. My day… I was woken up at 6am by a naked toddler, playing with his penis, demanding breakfast and shouting “I am HUNGRRRYYYYY”. coffee, was heated from the day before whilst I shovel my breakfast down to the 7 am whine, ” What do you mean no TV, man that sucks, and I’m so bored, this house is soooo boring”. My reply ” well best you go and find something to do”. While I put on 3 million loads of washing and clean the kitchen, make lunches for tomorrow and clear up the 6.30 am painting session you all decided to indulge in.

Then I have to put on my Sergeant Major hat, to conduct peace talks at least 20 times between a 9 and 6 year old as they repeatedly re enact “The Lord of The Flies”, ” other wise I may be watching “Armageddon” or “Fight Club”

Later I cringe under the back handed “you suck’ comments at our Sunday basketball, because I did not bring the right water bottle and I use all my strength and yoga will power to swallow down the wrath of mama building up inside. Instead I weep the whole way home in the car and march them to bed. As they apologise profusely and are heart broken that they have broken my heart by their inappropriate behaviour and rudeness to myself and our hostess….

Now I sit here with the much needed “that glass of wine” Ahhh at least something rang true to the ideology of the perfect Sunday.

Flu, have an opinion?

With the current flu pandemic effecting most states, the topic of vaccinations and children, once again raises its head.

Whether you do or do not, get a trained medical professional to stick a needle into your kids arm or thigh and administer a clear (potentially life saving) liquid into your child’s tiny little body, that is your right to do so.  I have many friends who do not vaccinate and I have many friends who do.

It’s such a personal choice and we may not agree on each others choices, but its ours, we have to remember that. I vaccinate, my personal belief that, way over the idea of metals being placed in my kids bodies and the potential side effects, I would rather that, than them, getting flu or polio or some other eradicated, previously life threatening disease. You can tell me I am dumb or pour out some spiel from some study, by some person. But I will never not vaccinate, like I could never convince someone to vaccinate who has chosen not to. The fallacy or reality (as remember it has not ever been really proven) that they can cause autism is a chance I will (repeatedly) take if it saves my kids life and the life of a sick child or a child too young to be vaccinated. My eldest, which is common knowledge, has high functioning Autism. Was it his shots at birth that caused this, who the hell knows? Is it genetic, or the way he was born, we will never know? But, I feel he has a far better chance to best the odds if he ever gets sick, which currently he has not. He is brilliant and healthy.

The thing is I will vaccinate and take the supposed risks, as I believe there are far worse threats to my kids life, food dyes in food (banned in Europe) as its proven they cause hyperactivity and cancer. I will never ever let my kids drink a Gatorade, Froot loops, MnM’s – again my choice, my belief, my opinion, good or bad. My kids will always wear a bike helmet when they cycle, I avoid hard candy (coloring’s and choking threats) and the list continues.

We all do what is best for our children and we may never agree, but we must respect, I will always love a person for their hearts and kindness. You may believe in God, I believe in science. You may like Trump, I do not. You believe in the right to own a gun, I never will. I love you and and I may never agree with you, but I value your ideas and thoughts. As long as you are not a racist, chauvinist, a bigot or narcissist, I will always sit and wait for your side, your thought out idea and the argument for or against. I hope people can always do this and not be blinkered to shut down and push out friends for having opposing beliefs. It makes us unique. Listening, not accusing or shouting creates community and understanding, respect and kindness. I will always like/love a friend if they just have the ability to listen and not bombard, accuse or demean a thought or another person.

We all do our best by our children and our fear and love for them is what drives us to keep them happy, loved, well and safe. For me that is one thing and that includes a shot to the arm every year from Flu, to you that is not, to me that is science at its best, to you that is a money making machine. We will always beg to differ.

Aging

Age is but a number? Sure! 

But I’m struggling with my age. It does not help that someone asked me if I was K3s grandma (WTF – I almost punched him) and K1 said “mummy even though you are old, you don’t look old.” I’m not sure if I should kick him or hug him tight.

40 is not old people. It is not even Middle Aged just yet.

Wanted! – A better parent?

In a million, trillion years I am not a great parent, a goodish one, yes, a moderately passable one, yes-ish. So for me to achieve greatness, I have a long way to go. A super, loooooonnnngggg way. Like 30 thousand miles plus, of an arduous and highly lengthy journey. In reality I totally do not have my shit together in the semblance of any form of an acceptable package.

I swear too much in front of my kids, always with the caveat that, only I can do that and it is not until they leave my home can a “fuck you, you ass hole” ever pass their lips. After 5 pm, it is not the witching hour for my kids, but for me. Excessive noise, screaming and shouting, too much homework, will send me into a whirling dervish melt down, frenzy, maybe a little wall kick or two. I too am a mere human, with an extreme sensitivity to too many people and too much noise> Therefore, technically I am kinda buggered, that I gave birth to 3 boys, hence 2 kids too many and 2 boys too many, if any shred of sanity was going to survive. Swimming, counselling, lots of love, hugs and the occasional bottle of wine, will sooth the pain.

So then, it got me to thinking, would I be a better parent if I lived closer to my parents and family. If all that pressure was taken off my shoulders and I could drop them off for an afternoon or evening and decompress. So I could readjust and just be. Even pee without an audience would be awesome, “mama can I see your poo poo?” the resounding answer BTW is a ” HELL NO”. I feel there are so many positives for being closer to family and not living 5000 miles away. However, is it any easier for those who do live near their folks, are some decisions made for you, without you knowing, do you feel obliged to have to conform to family traditions that you may not like or even agree with? I do think a lot of guilt could also play a part on not wanting to conform, are there too many influences in the kids life, your life, too much can be as tiring as too little? That type of pressure must be immense.

However,I  do feel my kids miss out hugely on extended family, cousins and grandparents and I miss out on a web of love to fall back on. I believe, I would parent more effectively and a touch calmer maybe, if the support was there. I know for sure, I would be richer, if we did not have to pay babysitters just to get adult time. Yet on the flip side, my children get all of me, the good, bad and ugly. They understand my humanity and they also know, I am not always right and that I am flawed and love them until I hurt and that is OK, it is OK not to cope and cry and release their emotions, maybe that is why my house is SO LOUD, wild, raucous and emotional.

Yet, parenting is not a walk in the park, no matter what situation you are in. You are perpetually tired, stressed, bombarded emotionally from all angles, no kid is perfect and neither are we. We do the best we can with the village and tools provided to us. People ask  how you do it, but the answer for all, is you have to, there is no alternative, if we do not do it, who will? No one ever knows the full situation, of your life, what lies beneath the skin, at the core of you, its still you, a person, a parent, someone who needs love and care as well.

The up shot is, I think I would be a better mother if I were near my family, but I also do not dislike the way I do parent, I am constantly working at it, I have made all my own decisions for good and bad. This was my choice and I live with it every day and every day I do feel guilty for my kids that we are so far away, but, I remember they also have a quality of life, that we could not have provided for them in England. They have so many opportunities that I never had as a kid and I want them to play golf, tennis, hockey, learn to ski, sail boats etc etc, we could never have given them that back home, we just would not have had the money. We get to see daddy ever night, in the UK he would be commuting and never home. So I do not feel sorry for our choices, yet always,a little sad we are so far away, as I miss our families deeply ,their love, laughter and eccentricities.

However, to all parents, I say this. To those who do it alone, the single parent homes, the homes who also look after the grandparents, the homes with help, no help, money, no money, the homes where parents have their own issues, kids with disabilities, illnesses. Remember,we are all the same. Be kind to each other, help each other on this journey we are on, it can get long and it can be lonely, talk to each other, share the greatness and the shitness of your day, as we have all been there at some point.

We love our kids, we do our best, we fail, we succeed, we laugh, we cry, we do the fucking best job we can and then try to do it better and that is what parenting is all about.

 

 

A first !?! Bottom Cheese.

Today K1 told me the cream cheese on his toast, was disgusting. “It tastes like butt!, I am not eating that.”

Okaaayyyy. So I am not sure, how he knows it tastes like “butt” or that butt tastes like cream cheese . I’m totally sure I have ever tasted cream cheese that actually tastes like a butt and I have never licked or eaten butt to found out if there lies some similarities between the two. 

So we actually have butt cheese in the fridge, so if you want a taste, come on over,  or go visit your nearest Trader Joe’s and you’ll find it next to the milk and above the sour cream.

I must admit I like this cream cheese. So I gather that means I like the taste of butt. 🙂 But only clean ones. 

He will be eating butt cheese until it’s gone, so maybe he will acquire a taste.

Favorite dirty secret.

I’ll just throw it out there. We may all lie to ourselves and to every human we meet, but deep down in the depths of our hearts , we all know we share a guilty secret. A secret that can never be voiced, a dirty lie we repeat over and over again, hoping that someday the truth will just Rest In Peace in the recess of our soul. But, it will always be there at the edge prodding you, reminding you, I’ll say it quickly and quietly, “we all have a favorite child” … gulp , shit, did I say that out loud, but hey, there, I said it . STRIKE ME DOWN and don’t fucking deny it, we all have that kid that is truly part of you, who gets you, wants to be with you, loves you like no other, who resonates with every ounce of your body, it’s like they are the other half of what you could have, should have been, a far better you, they took the best of you and made it amazing in their own wonderful bodies.

Of course we all love our kids equally but differently and would split the world apart to keep them safe, happy and nourished, but there is that one who is a little cuter than the rest… now be honest !

I dare you to deny it, we all know in our families who has been the favorite, it’s the adult you connected with the most. I adore my parents but I truly connected with my nanny, my mums mum and yes I’ll just say it, I was her favorite, we were similar and familiar to each other and a part of me is forever missing now she has left this world. 

Love is so present, but it changes, the love of my husband, K1/2/3, damn cat, friends and my family. It morphs and moulds to the feeling and connection you have with these people and YES we have favorites and I’ll never truly trust anyone who says otherwise .

Bloody liars .. 

Highly Functioning Autistic Kid

Let me begin by re iterating that I do not write for sympathy or help, but to provide clarity and space for my tumultuous mind. Its a wild, frenetic land in the recesses of my medulla.

This week has been a mountain of a climb, “no rest for the wicked”, so they say and as a child I was pretty wicked, to all who cared for me, from parents, family and hospital staff. But I digress, remember its a frenetic place I am reaching out from to even verbalize the shit that goes on in my head.

I write today from my perspective, my families perspective and the perspective of Kid 1 (K1). K1 as you may remember or not even care, was diagnosed a year ago with high functioning autism or Asperger’s. Although he is not severely affected, he definitely has traits and tendencies that smack him on that imaginary line of whatever it is..

Sometimes I wonder whether its a good thing we know or not? Yet, it is a very bumpy road, one I often want to get off, to take a smoother path and I am sure he does also. A path where he does his homework without screaming daily (he is now 8),  a path where he does not constantly harass his brothers and scream at them, a path that is not always black and white, a path that is not literal but has some bend, a place where he can sit still, or make wild noise, where he can cope with activities, changes in routine, school parties and holidays without imploding and losing all control of his behavior and screaming he hates us.

It is because he gets over stimulated and I have learnt his brain scrambles and he cannot calm it down. Life would be calmer, less noisy and explosive, I would not internally dread every time we go out, or go places as I am never sure which kid I will have? The sullen monotone, willful, stubborn, unresponsive child, or the wild hyperactive kid who bounces all over the place shouting in faces and using baby voices, or I may get K1 where I can see him through the forest of his mind, that amazingly brave, strong, powerful kid who really will take over the world.

My greatest fear is that I parent him incorrectly, as my strategies to help him are very different to K2 and K3. Sometimes I cannot even get to parenting the other two as I am spending all my time managing and helping my eldest. Am I failing, I feel like I am , but I remember that I love them so much and I too am a mentally flawed human, who too deals with her own issues on a daily basis, so I am truly doing the very best I can , all the time. Yes I openly cry a lot, but I think its good for them to understand emotion and that I too need help and love. I have always tried to parent with love, transparency, kindness and honesty.

The hardest thing we deal with as a family is the fact that K1 does not seem different or have this alternative way of learning, unless you are with him 24/7. It is like being beaten over the head with a sledgehammer, it never leaves or goes away it is always there to be dealt with. Learning that people do not want to be touched in the face and that homework needs to be done, that running around at school, because you feel like it, is not what the teacher requires. That he forgets his work every day and we have to drive back to school everyday to get it. Yes he genuinely does not remember, repeatedly, its traits of his HFA. People think he is naughty, insolent, he is always at the Principals office, I get letters home, phone calls about behavior, (its him coping with the demands of his day, its busy and loud and full of stimulus, of course he implodes).

This week, we have had one meeting with the school, I have driven back 3 times to school to get home work, he actually forgot it a total of 4 times, he decided that he would not do hockey (there is never any convincing) he got out of the pool during his swimming lesson as he had had enough, he lost recess for two days at school for something that was not his fault , as the school seems to like to jump to the conclusion, that it must be he who is responsible, he was banned from the school garden because he decided that running and jumping over a bench was a far more exciting thing to do rather than listen to the teacher ( I may have to mildly agree with him here). This has all happened in a mere 5 days and this does not include all the little things that happen. Thank Fuck for the weekend ..

The thing is I totally understand everything he does, yes homework sucks and I forget things, listening to a teacher is not the most exciting thing about a day, yes a kid is a “ass hole” if they trip you over and sometimes you really do not want to play games or swim, so why should you? As adults we do not?!

I am not articulate enough to fully describe what our home life is like, its explosive, we wade through parent hood rather than skip. The little two are frequently waiting for their turn to be seen or heard. It is tough and wondrous and I will not lie, sometimes I do wish he were different and easier, but that is my selfishness and desire for a calmer life. Truly, though I am in awe of him, his drive, passion and ability, he is 100 x smarter than I could ever dream to be. I am exhausted by him and I am scared I will never be the parent he needs me to be. I am reaching out for guidance and help and reading as much as I can. We are looking for groups of parents for support. Its harder because he is high functioning, we are not given help or advice, because he is gifted the school fail to recognize his Asperger traits and coping mechanisms, our medical insurance will not pay for therapy, because he is not fully autistic, but he still needs some degree of Applied Behavior Analysis therapy, to help him cope with the demands, routines and sociability of life.

It saddens me, that with the rigorous, normalcy of life, that is peddled to our kids, we fail to see the wondrous differences. K1 is a beautiful artist, a natural with music, his physicality for sport is limitless, he can add huge numbers in his head and he sees beyond the regular. He is quick to see the beauty in nature and to care for the weakness in others. He is articulate and dexterous, he can build Lego like no other, with patience and tenacity. But school fails to see the way we can use these skills in a multitude of arenas and to nurture them. They see him as a thorn in their side, he slows them down. Maybe I should move him to a smaller, private school, but he loves his school and his friends and he knows the routine.

I am not really sure what I am trying to share here, and I am sure no one really gives a shit. But we do, I do, if any part of this helps another realize,  others struggle too, that we all need help and no one is perfect, but what the fuck is perfect? who wrote that manual ? Clearly not me and my family. But if you need to share anything I am here. I am also looking for help and advice if you have any to share?

I will continue to love and learn from my son, I clearly will fuck him up, as I feel all of us were a little fucked up by our parents and in the words of Dr House ” No parent is perfect, we all, ultimately fuck our children up “. Me, I just started early with my genetics.

 

Agnostic Catholic

My eldest son is merely eight and he has already come to the opinion, with very little guidance from myself, that he flatly refuses to believe in God, Jesus or the teachings of the holy bible. Sacrilege, I hear you cry, what awful parents, how dare they subject their son to such morality lows. In my defense, he has come to this opinion, all on his own, I will not lie that I am not on the same page as he (but yes I am ) but my approach is softer and appreciative of a persons right to believe in whatever the fuck they want. As long as you do not judge another for not accepting or following that belief. We all have the ability and right to make our own choices. This is where my parenting begins with K1’s religious education. No matter WHAT he believes, he must never demean another persons right to chose and to have an opinion. As he has called his brother an idiot for thinking that we will go to hell if we do not believe in Jesus, to quote his words, “Jesus does not exist and neither does hell, that is just stupid”! We have worked hard on tempering this attitude and harsh delivery of his belief 🙂

K1 is head strong, willful, pig headed, intelligent, he also sits on the autistic spectrum, so he struggles with areas that are grey. The world is black or white., God or no God. He believes in science, planets, evolution, Darwin, dinosaurs, he also believes that the earth is his guidance, nature his energy source, what he must believe in and nurture, kindness is his road to enlightenment and rocks are mystical and sacred. He always carries a semi precious rock in his pocket or bag, to hold, to manipulate or peek at, to wonder at.

So imagine my surprise when he agreed to go to church with his best friend, who is catholic. He had to sit in church, through the sermon in silence, for a FULL hour. Not a peep did he make. I am pleased he went, it is important for him to understand how others believe and for him to be able to make an informative decision on where he wants to sit (if ever) on the belief spectrum. It was kind of my friend to share this family experience with him (she said he was a very good boy, I was slightly panicking that he would announce that they were all fucking dumb and god never existed). But he stayed silent, he listened and he appreciated. When I asked him how it was? He said “I kinda liked it, it was nice and quiet and we listened to music”, “do you believe now”? I asked, “no”, he said, “but I enjoyed listening”. he even said he would go back. I was so proud of him, he chose for the love of his friend, to respect and share this experience with him, he realized it made his friend feel accepted and respected and that although their religious differences, it meant no divide, or hate or heart break.

Then they went and played Lego, a whole new religion.

 

Penis Party

As a mother of boys I am surrounded by my fair share of penises, no big deal. Also, through my informative youth I became quite accustomed to and up close and personal to enough penises, to know the general biology and structure of the “willie, cock, third leg, brain, the old man, weinus” hanging proudly between each mans thighs.

However, since having my boys, my nonchalance of this appendage has changed to confusion, fear and wonderment. My first major penis decision was to keep them all intact and not circumcised. No one is chopping my kids bell end off and definitely not because I am told to or for any cosmetic reasons. My second rite of passage was to clean that ‘little bean’ daily for them until they were of an age to take this on for themselves, I am kind of relieved when this happens, as you never know how much urine is wrapped round those things when they are young, bleuch. Thirdly I have to make sure that the skin pulls back nicely exposing their tiny little purple ends, I discover I am squeamish about this and I was even kindly showed by the pediatrician how to do it. Now this I find terrifying, surely that stretching of skin is not physically possible. Apparently it really is, as my kids like to show me daily in the bath, the little beasts that they are.

Watching my boys get acquainted to their “best friend” to say the least has been interesting and entertaining. The fact that the are always, playing with it, pulling it so far out of their bodies it twangs back and making it disappear between their legs and shouting “I’m a girl, look at me Mama, I’m a girl” and then laughing hysterically, I truly cannot believe that does not cause excruciating pain, they all ensure me it does not, as they windmill that thing at me, waggling it like a fish out of water.

Obviously it is an amazing thing, it has its own cooling system for its baby making tadpoles and it likes to stand to attention at inappropriate moments as it practices for when it is a big boy. Many a time I have had to push that thing down, to attempt to get a diaper over it, whilst screaming at my husband “are you SURE this does not hurt them?” He bellows back “NO”

This is clearly only the start of my penis odyssey and I am sure these little guys will throw a few curve “balls” 🙂 at me along the way. I am hoping this is not a teenage pregnancy or an STD. But until then I will continue to help them on their penis perfecting journey and realize that their brains really should stay within their heads.

 

Mama Mia – Mi

So last weekend was my belated 40th celebratory “Mamas on the loose” weekend in Miami.

This marked my first all girls weekend, NO kids, NO husband, No responsibilities. There was NO cleaning up after everyone, NO cooking dinners that small child like noses turn up to, NO kid piss, shit or snot clear up. Plus, I left the Air B n B for the full 48 Hrs we were there, with my grown up clothes on, that I cannot wear as I usually have some dirty snot sheen or grubby hand print on me somewhere and….. wait for it …… OMG I actually wore mascara and blusher for two whole days, as I had time to apply, clean off and wow reapply the following day. Can you actual imagine that for a moment? From the cocoon of mother I emerged as a fully grown “Me” not K1 / 2 and 3s mum or the darling husbands wife, but fuck me, I was actually me, the full technicolor version, with matching bra and knickers.

We did really weird things together, like talked to each other for a whole 10 minutes without a whiny voice interrupting, or being rammed in the stomach by a 2 year old head mid sentence. I ACTUALLY lay by the pool for 4 Hrs (yup you so read that right, a whole 4 hours) and READ A MAGAZINE and slept!?! WOAH so fucking crazy, us gals went mad for it. I not once asked for the children’s menu or a high chair, I did not carry wipes, binkies or a spare set of clothes.

We danced until 1 am and did not have to wake at 6 am. I could actually look at things, browse in shops, admire art and not miss a thing, because I did not have to consistently keep my head down to break up fights and count that my kids are by my side, muttering 123, 123, 123 as I counted them and recounted every other step.

It was like real, grown up, proper adulting.  Imagine that!