Perfectly Happy Mum

Sorting family issues...

BOYS!  

There is something that you do at the moment that is driving me insane, bonkers, potty, pick the word, I DON’T CARE!

Will you please stop wanting the same thing, at the same time, ALL THE TIME!

I have had enough of that! We have enough toys in the house to re-stock Hamleys! Honestly I can’t cope with the whinging and the tears and the roll around like the end of the world has just happened!

I knew this would happen one day or the other, we used to fight all the time with my sister. Actually being 4 years older I was supposed to be the responsible one who would share. My sister on the other hand was allowed to beg and take my stuff because I was “old enough” to understand. So I thought I was ready for this issue and promised myself to be fair as much as I could and you know what, being fair is tiring.

Shall I start counting the number of times a day I say things like:

“Wait for your turn!”

“He had it first”

“Who had it first then?”

“Well ask nicely if you want it”

“No, don’t pull it from him!”

“Oh and you stop crying!”

“Have that instead, see, ooohh, looks really nice… no don’t hit it! or HIM!”

“Why do you want that one ONLY?!”

Elliott, I am asking you to stop jumping on your brother every time is carrying a toy you like, because the same toy has been lying around for hours and sometime days before you even noticed it. Now that Victor has it, it is the most precious one of all! 

Victor, please stop stealing toys from your brother when he is looking away and throw them across the room as soon as he’s noticed and want it back. He drives him and ME mad!

We are talking about my SANITY, so please STOP this business!!!

I am not petrified...

No really, I am not worried at all…

It is only a 2 hour flight, it can’t be that bad. Of course they will behave. They are used to being alone with me… maybe not in a plane though…

Victor will probably be so taken by the amazing views through the plane window that he will forget that he has to be strapped to me because he is not two yet. I am sure he will understand that he can’t have his own seat because he is another three months away from the magic number, the one that will give him access to his OWN seat. But then flying will be more expensive of course.

There is a slight problem, there is only one window and I have promised it to Elliott already. I will just have to ignore the piercing screech in my ear when Victor wants to sit there and ONLY there. Do I need to apologise to the other passengers do you think? I really should, shouldn’t I? Or maybe I will just ignore them!

Why did I decide to take a flight on my own with a 3 year old and a nearly two years old. NEARLY makes all the difference!

What am I talking about anyway? It might be all perfectly ok. Let’s hope that Victor will happily take the harness this time, not like the last attempt. People really didn’t like looking at a child being dragged around. What was best? Discussing it? Try it with Victor! Or maybe leave him there? I thought about it, but it really doesn’t take much before you are branded a bad mum…

So maybe all I need is to order a few glasses of wine and let it all wash over me… after all I might not see these people again… 

If someone mentions "School Choice" again...

I will either cry or slap that person! IS THAT CLEAR?!

Now that we have gone past the conversations about breast or bottle, sitting unaided, saying “mama”, walking, POTTY TRAINING, we are on the subject of “Alphabet learning” and SCHOOLS!

Wherever I go I hear: “Have you chosen the school you would like him to go to?” “Have you put his name down?” “What are you going to do if you don’t get your first choice and get sent to the worst school of the area?!” Blah, blah, blaaaahhhh!

Here is the situation: Where we live the best school, the one everyone wants is Catholic. I am Catholic, so that works well. We would quite like him to go there then. Except that it doesn’t work like that. We need to attend Church regularly and that’s fine.

At first I have to confess that I was a bit put off by the whole process.

Anyway I am French and in France any religious school is private. It is a laic country and no public organisation is allowed to show any sign of religion at all. At best it is tolerated. So you don’t have to prove yourself and your faith by going to Church every Sunday and attend every Church events.

As long as they have space and you are Catholic, you are in. 

So anyway we are doing as we were told and we go to mass on Sunday as often as we can and we MAKE SURE we sign the register.

Here’s the dilemma: the more we go, the more I am having doubts about the place and about my own feelings regarding this school. Don’t ask me to tell you what it is, because I am unable to put my finger on it. I think it is a combination of the distance, having to drive most of the time, wasting time trying to park along with all the other parents at the SAME time, and in the same breath pollute the world a bit more. Or maybe it is because every time I go I am being told off by someone for chatting. Or maybe I don’t really want my son to come home and tell me that if something goes wrong “it is God’s will”…

I am all for having a spiritual side (after all I do) if it helps you through challenges and makes you do good things for others. However I want to teach my children that they are in charge of their life. If they don’t like something then THEY change it, God will help them I am sure, but at the end of the day only they can make the decision.

I would rather not get into this in depth right here because we will be here for a while. And we are talking about school not religion.

So now the rest of the dilemma…

We live in the catchment area of the school with THE BAD report!

The overall grade is 2, ie Good, with one grade 3 in the foundation because children are not left to spend enough time finding stuff by themselves. Now I don’t know you but there are worse things really. I mean, sure it is good to develop their independent side and I hope that they are making efforts to improve this, but it not like bringing guns at school or something similar. 

Anyway I visited the school and I liked it. Actually Elliott will be at their nursery next year for 5 half days a week and it is five minute walk from home. WALK, did you hear that? Heaven!

But that still wouldn’t be my first choice. If I listen to what my gut feeling is saying I would like the other school at the back of my house which is also 5 min in the other direction. That one is lodged into a park and is brand new purpose build. It is lovely. I can already picture myself walking to the school with Nala so she can also have a nice walk in the park after drop off…

I know it sounds like my decision is made. But NO it isn’t! I feel selfish for not wanting to make more of an effort to obtain a space at the much desired school. What if they don’t get a space because I make the wrong decision? What if they can’t get a good secondary school because of that and end up mixing with the wrong crowd. What if I RUIN their life for not making the RIGHT DECISION??!!

I feel so torn. Deep down I know that we can provide a good support to them and educate them culturally and challenge them to get them to think bigger and higher.

How much of an influence is the school if it isn’t for the people they are mixing with? Is it because an OFSTED report is just “good” compared to an “outstanding” that I shouldn’t consider putting that school as my first choice? Am I a selfish mother for wanting to cut the distance to the school?!

ARRRGGHHHH!!!! This is what I think!

Help me please… have you had to make a similar choice?

So we are potty training...

I know you have been waiting to hear about our potty training experience since the day I announced that we were going to start. Remember? The day I didn't enjoy being a mummy. 

It has been 3 weeks and I can say that we are doing fantastically well! 

He is a boy and I was told on lots of occasions that boys are lazy, and not referring to their potty skills only by the way. Many people recommended that I waited for him to be 3 to start because all my previous attempts ended rather dramatically and always with a wet sofa. 

So after a long mental preparation and with the "Third Birthday" deadline looming, I started feeling the anguish of "The wet sofa, the return"... 

We started on a Monday morning. When he woke up and we announced cheerfully: "the day has come! Let's burn the nappies!!" Although he didn't like the idea of burning the nappies, he didn't complain about wearing pants. And that was it! No more nappies apart from at nap time and night time. 

Yes we are having some accidents, of course, but after 3 days from starting we were out and about and rarely had to change his pants and trousers. Actually only once it happened. AND he now asks to go to toilet and wakes up with a dry nappy after nap time.  

I am so proud of him! The only trouble his "poppey" if you know what I mean... 

He refuses to do it anywhere else than in his pants or nappy and I am a little confused and not sure about what I should do... 

Just earlier it was the first time he did IT in the potty (because he started it in his trousers and I caught him on time) and when he looked at IT, he looked at me with a distressed expression and said: "Mummy, where is my willy?!" (what is it with men and their willy? Do we go around scratching our boobs and checking they are there all the time?!)

So here went the explanation that he hasn't lost his willy and despite the praises, cheers and the dance with TWO HUGE chocolate buttons he still seemed very unhappy.

Any tips experienced mummies and daddies out there?! I'll send you a chocolate button! I seem to be distributing them like mad at the moment... 

You are 3 years old today...

And I am not going to bore you with the same old story that says: “Exactly three years ago, right now at 8.35 AM, I was wide awake like a girl on class A drugs and Red Bull, because I was so excited to have given birth to the most gorgeous baby on the ward! In the UNIVERSE I mean!”

Fast forward to today and you are in front of me sitting on your bean bag arms crossed behind your head, watching the Scooby-doo DVD that your brother gave you for your birthday.

You are proudly wearing your “3 today!” badge and your hair is definitely far too long. Yesterday I tried to put a hair clip in your hair but you told me off for even thinking about it. The same way you tell me off for offering a pink plate and pink cutlery “THAT’S FOR GIRLS!” You are only 3 and you already think pink is for girls. What’s coming next? Ironing, cleaning and cooking is JUST for girls too?!

I look at your gorgeous little face and see the marks of the chickenpox you had a couple of weeks ago and the results of a nasty cold on your cheeks. How many time this week have I said “Do not wipe your nose with your sleeves!!”? So often that I am now saying it in my sleep!

I can’t wait for you to unwrap the coolest present ever. The one that is going to make your eyes pop and love us FOREVER… your first SCOOTER! You have been dreaming of this scooter and occasionally tried to borrow your school friend’s but without success. A scooter is not something you share that easily. But that’s OK because now you will have yours! We kept it from you right now, because we know that in a 3 years old mind you will want to ride it then and there and unfortunately Maman and Papa haven’t had the chance to upgrade to a bigger house yet.

You are so big now, and the proof is that Iggle Piggle has been replaced by Ben 10, Dinosaurs and Superheroes! I am not sure I can say if I like it or not, although I am quite glad not to be singing the Iggle Piggle song in the shower anymore.

We have started proper potty training this week and you are doing really well for someone who has a mother who doesn’t know what she is doing. I am very confused with all the advice around and how we should go about it, but you, you don’t care. “Whatever” is your attitude, “pants OR nappies, as long as I can watch Scooby-doo and play, life is good”.

One of your big milestone this year is when you started preschool. We both cried a bit but you now love it. You have friends and you make cakes and paint. Once again, in a 3 year old life this equals to having a blast, like the BEST LIFE EVER!

I wish I could bottle up that innocence and be able to give it back to you when life and all its worries hits you in the face… Unfortunately this is part of growing up and it has its really good sides to it. Probably the best one is that one day when you grow up (not before you are least 35 with a good career and a lovely wife your mum likes) you will have your own children and you will understand the depth and intensity of the love we have for both of you as well as the excitement to watch you grow everyday.

There are still some days when I look at you both and I am amazed that you are MINE! I feel pride, like when you are at school and you show off your new pen or new shoes, but a million times deeper.

I promise that from now on I will call you BIG boy but for this one last time: “I love you my little boy and I hope you will have a great birthday!”

I am not enjoying being a mummy today...

Well I haven’t enjoyed it one single bit this week and to be totally truthful my favourite time of the day, EVERY SINGLE DAY has been bedtime. Not the fight to get them into their pyjamas or coming back for the hundredth time to say “NO! no more milk!”. No, my favourite time of all was MY bedtime when I walk upstairs only to find them both snoring mouth wide open and not batting an eye lid…

I feel guilty for saying this but this week they have annoyed me, pulled my hair, broke my stuff, made a mess, tore pages of my magazine, had fights, huge ones!

They made towers of toilet rolls, then destroyed the toilet rolls, and refused to pick up the confettis.

They got us late out of the house everyday.

They refused to eat what I cooked for them everyday. Would it bother them that I stood in front of the hob for much longer than I would have liked to? Of course not!

Every little request has turned into a loud command.

I had to run after them to get them dressed, to put their shoes on or to strap them into the buggy.

They logged me out of my laptop god knows how many times and froze my applications as often.

They lost the remote control of the digital TV and now NOW WE ARE STUCK ON CBEEBIES!!!

Thank heaven it is the weekend!!!

OH CRAP!!! Next week is half term and our official “strictly potty training week”… Can I get drunk right now?! 

Do you stay awake at the cinema?

When is the last time you saw a film at the cinema? Since having our first child three years ago, we have been three times... Three only! 

I love going to the cinema and I could go every week the problem is that it always turns into the biggest event which includes booking a babysitter, then making sure they are in bed before we leave and preferably asleep. If not Elliott turns his lovely smile into the biggest screaming fit. You know the kind that says "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!! Leaving me at home in my bed asleep, WITH A STRANGER, when you are away HAVING SOME FUN WITHOUT ME!!!". This usually results in me sitting at the cinema texting our babysitter every five minutes for the first hour asking 

"Is everything ok? Are they asleep yet?"

"And now are they sleeping?"

"Do you need us to come home? Because if you really need us to we will!"

Let's just say it exasperates everyone and the babysitter might tell me to go to hell the next time we need her. 

Anyway yesterday we went to see Avatar in 3D. The 3D experience was definitely great. The plot is very predictable. Actually if you've seen Pocahontas, you've seen Avatar:

The indians are the big blue "alien" people

The American Continent is Pandora planet

Pocahontas is Neytiri, the daughter of the chief of the warriors

John Smith is Jake Sully an ex marine 

The Colonial settlers are American GIs

The gold is the rare mineral on that planet

OH MY GOD this is Pocahontas!! 

Sorry if I have given away the story and if you were intending to see it soon. It is still worth seeing though, especially if you go to the 3D version. 3D came a long way I tell you, they even replaced the distasteful paper glasses with geeky-style plastic ones! 

Anyway despite all the action, the fast paced story, the popcorn and the sweets (lots of them) I still managed to fall asleep for a good 20 minutes of the film. In the last 3 films I saw in the last three years there is NOT ONE I stayed awake for the whole length of time... I am worried to turn into my Grandad who would start snoring within 5 minutes of the start of any TV programme...

So how about you? Do you manage to stay awake at the cinema? 

In order to assess scientifically the capacity of parents to stay awake in absence of their children, I have created that poll and ask you to be TOTALLY honest with me...  

Now vote! 

Why did my parents fight all the time?

When I was growing up my parents used to fight as bad as the neighbours next door and everytime they start fighting next door I can't help thinking of the 2 little boys growing up in that house. 

I remember the fights, the anxiety, the worry that they would hurt each other. I remember thinking "what is the point in being a couple and having children?" "what is the point of staying together in this sort of relationship...?" 

When I was about 12, I begged my mother to divorce my dad. I wanted them apart. I couldn't do what my sister was doing. She had that marvelous ability to switch off from the screams and the insults they were throwing at each other. She would pick her barbies and she would make up a world of love and fun with them. Most of the time I remember how she was trying to engage me into this world, but I was too worried and didn't want to miss a bit of the conversation. So I used to curl up on my bed and tried to listen as well as I could. Of course I heard things that children should never hear but I had to. Even now I am not sure why it was so important for me to hear the whole conversation. Maybe it was a way of being in control. Maybe it was a way of protecting them thinking that I could interfere if it ever became too bad... I am not sure... 

What I know is that I remember thinking "when I  grow up I want children, but I don't want a husband". So I used to dream that maybe I could marry someone like a long haul pilot. Yes that was my ideal man: the long travel, rarely there and probably the uniform... 

What I remember of my childhood was my mum crying regularly, always stressed and very short tempered with us. I used to hate how she would talk to us but I never stopped loving her. Now I know that was how she expressed her frustration. 

I had to grow up to understand why she never divorced and why she never did something to make it better. I used to think she was selfish for not wanting the best for us. Now I know she was doing what she thought was best for us. She wanted us to have our dad in our life but mostly she was petrified of not doing well enough for us on her own. 

Her relationship with my dad had completely knocked her confidence and her self esteem. and she believed she was nothing without a husband and a "proper married status". She was scared of being alone with 2 children. 

She divorced my dad after 28 years of marriage. She knew it would never get better or that they would never grow old together. I am not a person who dwells or regrets so my belief is that there was a reason for her to stay this long but I often wonder what it would have been like to grow up with parents who loved each other and who respected one another. And I also think of how much better her own life would have been if she had done something. 

I wish I could do something for the 2 little boys next door... 

If you are in abusive relationship, whether physical or psychological talk to someone, it can get better. You do not have to wait for years to get better. If you have children think about them too. Parents who stay together for the sake of their kids do more arm to themselves and the children than good. Don't feel guilty because you feel useless, you are not useless! If you feel like life is a black hole only YOU can find the torch to guide you to the light... 

Here's to the best Christmas ever!

Apart from the great disappointment of my mum not being able to travel on the Eurostar and bring the long waited for Foie Gras, we managed to have our best Christmas ever!

Totally stress free, food fueled and so chilled it almost didn't feel like Christmas at all...

Of course I did have my little stress injection when I found myself wandering around busy shop aisles, way before the sun even bothered coming out. How did this happen? If you had told me just a couple of years ago that I would, one frosty morning, wake up at the crack of dawn, get dressed, have the STRONGEST COFFEE and head for Sainsbury's, I would have answered : "Yeah Dude... and if that ever happens make sure you dial the psychiatrist emergencies promptly because something has gone HORRIBLY WRONG!!".

Starbucks wasn't even open by the time I got there, and I could see desperate people pressing their faces at the door probably in desperate need of caffeine.

Did you know that by 8 AM, the week before Christmas, it looks like a full on Saturday afternoon shopping! That's just plain shocking!

When I got out of the shop it was about 9 AM and it was like coming out into a different world. You go in it is dark, you come out it is bright daylight. Not the way it should be at all.

Anyway once that was done, Christmas could begin!

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without lots of baking and cooking and Craig decided to bake us out of the house. We had cardamom swirls, panetone, pate (to make up for the foie gras), smoked haddocks mousse, pane cottas, roast beef, roast lamb, ALL the trimmings... I managed to claim some time, sparsely allocated to make my chocolate mousse... it wasn't easy...

On Christmas eve, Elliott decided to show is entertainment skills at the family mass. The whole congregation was offered a special performance of break dancing with "Silent Night" as musical background. Shoes and socks came off, trousers were rolled to the knees and dancing on the head started... some laughed, some looked offended "OH MY WORD that kid is showing so much disrespect to GOD!"... I did what I now do best: ignored him and pretended he wasn't my son... OK not really, I stopped him when the tee shirt was about to fly off into the hands of an old lady about to scream "You ROCK kiddo!". He stopped his performance with a bow and decided to hate us for the rest of the mass...

Back home there was just time to put the shoes at the bottom of the tree and they were asleep. We forgot the carrot, mince pies and Brandy for Santa and Rudolph (sorry Santa, come back next year, you'll get double!), but hey, peace was restored and that's a result!

Christmas day went like a breeze. The upside of being just your own little family that day, is that you do just what you want!

The boys woke up at the usual time. When Elliott was quizzed about what special event was taking place that night he replied "nothing", so we said "Santa is coming to give you some presents" and he replied "NOOOOOOO!!!!" to which I replied "Are you sure you are my son and not some weird alien having impersonated him, in the hope of extinguishing the Christmas fun??!!"

In the morning that's when it hit home: Presents GROW at the bottom of the tree!
"No honey, Santa brings them"
"NOOOOOO!!"
"OK... weirdo!"

Presents were opened all day and in between each one of them lots of playing was done. Santa was very generous. He brought lots of new DVDs because he knows that Mummy and Daddy are sort of bored of watching "The Polar Express". Brilliant film the first couple of times, quite boring after 122 viewings.

The garage set and ALL the cars are great fun, and all the helicopters, the puzzles, books, planes, ambulances all top awesome.
So why was "The Polar Express" still favourite and the old train set the only toy we wanted out?

In between the presents we watched lots of TV and ate lots of chocolate. Just how Christmas should be.

One little thing Santa though... Did you really need to drop chicken pox as you visited? Was it in an attempt to make us pay for so much fun? If so well done! We haven't slept in 3 days, so you know what, maybe next year there won't be any Brandy for you afterall...

That thing called stage fright

A couple of weeks ago I was given this note from Elliott's Preschool:

"Please note that the school Nativity play will take place on Tuesday 08th of December at 11.30. Elliott will play a sheep... "

A SHEEP??!! My son a sheep! You must be joking! Surely he should at least be a Wise Man, if not Joseph.

How on earth was I going to make him look like a sheep. I am fairly crafty but there was a complete blank when I read "Please make sure he is wearing something white, black or brown" and forgot to add "and make it look like a sheep". Anyway, totally defeated a couple of days later we headed off to the shops to buy the sheep outfit.

In retrospective it wasn't such a good idea to go with him. All he wanted was the Transformer outfit or the Ben 10 pyjamas! How do they do that?! Do they mysteriously implant a trend detector at birth? Elliott has NEVER watched Ben 10 in his life, let alone Transformers!

Of course I can understand that a sheep looks pretty dull next to a Transformer, but he is not 3 yet so how can he have such a strong idea of what is cool and what is not. And who said a sheep is not cool? Ok I did.

I tried my best to make Timmy from Timmy Time sound EXTRA cool, like cooler than the coolest and all we had in return was a child rolling around, firing snot and spitting as if he was possessed! In the end the compromise was that he could have Scooby Doo socks BUT no Transformers Robot head, outfit or even Ben 10 Pyjamas. We finally managed to leave the shop with the sheep outfit tucked into a bag, thrown into the boot of the car, to be forgotten about until Tuesday.

That day he went to school as normal, completely oblivious that in his bag was resting THE sheep.

I dropped him off and as I left a wave of anxiety filled me. How was he going to react when his teacher was going make him wear the costume?

Two hours later Craig, Victor and I were back ready to give a proud round of applause to our actor.

As soon as we arrived, he spotted me. This is what happened next:

Uh uh he runs to me.
Uh uh he won't go back.
I try to persuade him to go back on the stage, but he won't.

OK let's not make a scene here, surely when it starts he will want to join.

It is going to start,still won't. 
It is starting. I start begging him to go back on stage.
He refuses, sits comfortably next to us to watch the show! Sh*t!

After a while he starts getting bored. I try to distract him and mention that maybe he could go back to the play and join his friends. Still a "NO!" so quite proud of myself I find something that might make him want to join. I point out the camel picture at the back of the stage and say "maybe you could go and catch it?".

YES I know that was utterly stupid!

The next minute he runs through the crowed and on the stage! People watch him as he appears from nowhere. He runs to the camel and try to jump AT it!

The teacher is there and catches him in his jump and for one split second (or probably longer if I am being honest) I wanted to get out of the room. I wanted to pretend I had never EVER met this kid in my life but I seem to remember seeing him at Tesco's one day, rolling around the floor. It was horrendous to watch, poor parents. Maybe it is time someone started controlling this child?! Actually deep down I was the proudest mum: my son had some amazing gut! I love this little boy and he was by far the cutest sheep!

Now would you have some good gossips to share from your children's Nativity plays?