The thing about motherhood, is that you never quite have it sussed. That is the only thing, above all else, that is guaranteed.
Of course, like many mothers, I am in constant denial of this fact, telling myself I really know my daughter. Above all others. And better than all others.
But I don’t think this is really true. Continue reading
I’ll never forget the first time Frog smiled at me. A proper smile, I mean. She was about seven weeks old and was full to bursting with milk. Sitting on my knee, she looked me straight in the eye and flashed the most dazzling, gummy grin I’ve ever seen….
I remember this clearly, because I’d been worried she would never smile. Just as with everything else, Frog was the last of her baby peers to reach the smiling milestone. Continue reading
It’s been dawning on me for a while now. There’s something missing in my approach to motherhood.
I will never be perfect mother material. And when I say perfect, I mean perfect.
I’m not on about the obvious stuff, like regularly forgetting to make Frog brush her teeth, or occasionally letting her smear ketchup over her vegetables.
No, I’m on about something altogether different.
It’s a quality that starts for many women during pregnancy. These women are natural mothers. They are good at motherhood before their offspring are even born. The calm descends and they sit, zen-like, in a beautiful state of blooming fertility.
And as their child grows within them, they metamorphose into a Butlins Red Coat. Continue reading
Photo Credit: Sky Symphony by Kevin Dooley
The clouds gather, droplets of rain begin to fall. A toy is thrown and the sky blackens.
It’s mild at first, a shout and a scream. A prelude to the main event.
It was so easy when she was this small.
But somehow, this tiny little bundle has magically transformed into an 18 month old. An 18 month old who knows what she wants. An 18 month old who knows how to push all her mother’s buttons.
It’s a cliche, the whole “they don’t come with an instruction manual” thing. But that’s all I’ve thought about today. Continue reading
For me, this is the best thing about being a mum. It’s those moments of pure glee, when your child does something that makes you laugh, or accepts a cuddle willingly.
I have to remind myself of this fact today, after a difficult afternoon with a grumpy baby. Generally, I would be able to handle the tantrums, but they become a little more tricky when you’ve been up since 3.45am. Continue reading
Smiling for the camera in true diva fashion.
My daughter is a diva. Not in a good way.
This has never been more evident than in her behaviour this week. At times I thought she was actually going to put a pair of sunglasses on her 18 month old face and strut out of the room shouting “Talk to the hand, ‘cos the face ain’t listenin’…”.
Thursday was the pinnacle of the superstar behaviour. At around 2.30pm I received a text from the childminder saying “Please call me when you receive this message”. With my heart racing and my stomach churning I found out my daughter needed collecting. Immediately. Continue reading
Life is soon to get a whole lot easier. You see, an unwanted visitor will soon be making a disappearance. For another year at least.
This visitor makes me stressed, causes arguments between myself and my husband and winds up my daughter a treat.
This visitor picks one moment during Every. Single. Day to wave their hands and shout “Cooeeee, I’m over here!” before taunting my soon-to-be 18 month old with a big fat raspberry.This causes tears and shouts of indignation on her part, followed by angry grumbles from the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and protective snarls from me. Continue reading
1. She (allegedly) likes to hit her
servants parents with blunt objects. In the face.
2. She likes to wear sunglasses… Continue reading
It’s started already.
I thought I had at least a year or so. But no. It looks like my daughter’s inherited my diva streak and is prone to fully fledged tantrums, the likes of which Mariah Carey would be proud of.
Frog’s only eight and a half months, but she’s already learnt to stamp her feet and wave her arms in protest. Just like me. She shakes her head violently if she doesn’t want something. And squeaks. The squeaking is the worst. Especially when it happens at baby and toddler group in front of a roomful of other mothers.
She’s also learnt how to fake a cough to get attention. Clever girl.
So what do I do about it? Should I accept that she’s a Madonna in the making, shrug my shoulders and let her get on with it? She is just like me after all. Or do I do something else…I have no idea what, but I’m open to suggestions.
The thing is, I rather like the fact she’s got style. Lady Gaga style it may be, but it’s style all the same. Yes, I’m aware it will probably get a little grating (it already is if I’m honest), but then what do I expect? This is the daughter of the woman who used to make all visitors sit on the sofa while she performed a dance. This is the daughter of the woman who has been known to scream “it’s my limelight – get out of it” on various occasions. This is the daughter of the woman who perfected the “pig face” just to get a bit of extra attention.
Oh bugger. I’m in for a long haul aren’t I?
Diva in the making