Tag Archives: parenting

Settling In: a Butcher, a big pink slide and Benny plays the Blues

November 7, 2011 By in Harpenden Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments

blues harmonica

We’ve been in our new place just over a week now, and it’s starting to really take shape. DorkyDad spent much of the weekend putting pictures up – how could we not feel at home with Benny the Blues Harmonica Player on our living room wall – and DorkySon and I took advantage of the good weather to get out and explore some more.

We are in a residential neighbourhood; it’s very quiet and feels very safe. There is a beautiful wee park right beside us, filled with crunchy autumn leaves, squirrels and dog walkers. That makes me happy. There is a petrol station across the road, so DorkySon has spent a lot of the last week standing in the window, mesmerised by the constant movement of cars, trucks and tankers. That makes him happy. And on Saturday we finally found two very important things; a wine store and a butcher right beside each other. So that’s DorkyDad happy now too.

DorkySon and I joined the library last week. It took quite a long time… while I sat trying to fill in our forms, and the very patient woman on the desk entered our details into her computer, DorkySon sat and worked his way through a copy of ‘What Car’ magazine, announcing to everyone in the library (at full volume) what his favourite car was on each page. We got there eventually though, and it was well worth the wait. All the children’s books are stored in the ‘carriages’ of a red wooden train, with little benches for sitting on between each carriage. I think we’ll be spending a lot of time in there this winter.

We also found another playground, and met up with two brilliant mums and their kids in an indoor adventure play area. DorkySon spent all morning scooting down an enormous pink slide. Graceful he was not, but his enthusiasm couldn’t be faulted. Later this week we are off to meet another mum (another Edinburgh exile) at something called the Kangaroo Club. I am assured that it doesn’t involve any actual marsupials – just lots of toys and a big space to run around, with unlimited coffee and friendly chat for the parents.

So yes, in short, DorkySon is in toddler heaven. He’s spoilt for choice with fun things to do. He’s also working hard to get his head around DorkyDad’s new job. Earlier in the week he asked if Daddy was out reading poetry all day. ‘No,’ we said. ‘He’s working in an office, asking people for money so that other children can have food and be happy like you are.’

DorkySon let this ferment in his brain for a day or two, and then over the weekend he said ‘Maybe next week I could go with Daddy to his office and meet all the children that he is looking after…’

Bless.

Transition

November 2, 2011 By in Family, Harpenden, Scotland Tags: , , , , , , , , , , 8 Comments

This time a week ago, we were tucked into a wonderful – really wonderful – room at the Malmaison in Edinburgh. DorkyDad was using the free WiFi to check his emails; I was chilling out on the massive bed. Our request for breakfast in the room was hanging outside the door.

Our ‘last supper’ that evening had been at Fishers in Leith. DorkySon tasted sticky toffee pudding for the first time in his life. We drank wine, and had a wee wander along the Shore before heading back to our room, which looked out onto the twinkling water. Someone, somewhere, was setting off fireworks.

Earlier that day, a big truck had pulled up outside our house. DorkySon was beside himself with excitement. He said hello and shook hands with Andy, Mickey and Norrie – three perfectly named removal men – before I took him to spend the day down in Portobello with his Granny. I didn’t think he needed to see his life being packed into boxes.

We didn’t need to see that either, really. I distracted myself by making the guys endless cups of tea, and hoovering the empty rooms. DorkyDad and I went to say cheerio to some of the shopkeepers in Marchmont who have become good friends. There was a lot of backslapping and ‘it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later’.

I can’t believe that was only a week ago. Tonight we are sitting in the living room in our new place. I haven’t committed our new address to memory yet, but when I emailed it out to friends I got several replies saying that even Eliza Doolittle would struggle to say it correctly. There are a lot of aitches.

It has been a busy week. Two hotels, two trains, too many taxis to count, DorkySon’s first sighting of a red London bus, several large glasses of wine, and a lot of Peppa Pig videos on the iPad.

Mickey came back tonight – and packed some of our stuff back into the truck. Our table wouldn’t fit through the door of the new flat. Nor would my wardrobe; and there is no room for most of our books. They are going into storage for six months, somewhere near Dartford, until we find our forever house.

This is not a forever house, but it is fine, for now. It is comfy, and cosy. DorkySon has already taken over the hallway with his trucks. We have music in the kitchen; fresh flowers in the window (thanks Mum), and some of our pictures are up on the walls.

A new place always takes time to get used to. I planned today’s activities around a trip to the library, and DorkySon was jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of finding some new truck books. When we got there we discovered that it is, inexplicably, closed on Wednesdays. But instead we went for a walk and found a duck pond, and then a grand wee playground with a pirate ship.

I have been bowled over by the generous welcome of other mums in the area. We only got our internet connected yesterday, and from the one email I sent introducing myself on the local NCT list, I’ve already had a dozen replies with offers of coffee and walks to the park. I got chatting to someone in the queue at WH Smith this morning, and came away with a nursery recommendation.

God knows there have been a couple of wobbly moments. I am trying hard to define this new place by what it is – and the kindness of strangers makes that so much easier, I can’t wait to hear some personal recommendations for places to go – but I have had one or two moments when I’ve only been able to define it by what it’s not. It’s not the house I’m used to. Michael is not my butcher any more, Eddie is not my fishmonger anymore, and after tonight, the removal men are not coming back. It’s not Edinburgh. Not Scotland. And my Mum doesn’t live down the road anymore.

As DorkySon would say, that smells like poo.

But I think if we get some more pictures on the walls, and I reply to all those lovely friendly emails, and we go to the library on Thursday next time instead of Wednesday, we might just be alright here. It’s a big old adventure, and I’m willing to give it a shot.

 

I was planning on having a load of photos to go with this post – I kept my camera away from the removal men, with the intention of documenting our journey – but then I left it switched on all night by accident and ran the battery down before we’d even left the hotel in Edinburgh. I discovered that on the train, just as we were passing Cockenzie and DorkySon jumped up, pointed out the window and said “Look, look, it’s Granny’s ocean!”

That was the first of the wobbly moments. I’m hoping there aren’t too many more to come.

The One Where My Son Says He Doesn’t Love Me

October 19, 2011 By in Family Tags: , , , , , 21 Comments

‘I don’t love you, Mummy.’

‘That dress is ugly, Mummy.’

‘My dinner is disgusting, Mummy.’

‘I don’t want any more of this horrible juice.’

Last week, I spent a couple of nights down in London, continuing our flat-hunt. DorkySon stayed up in Edinburgh with my Mum, and by all accounts had a brilliant time. She texted me a picture of him on the first day, sitting on a bench, smiling and clutching an ice cream, and a picture on the second day of him sitting in the big red tractor at Gorgie City Farm, waving brightly at the camera. There is no one on earth he loves more than DorkyGranny – they are incredibly close – and I knew he would be absolutely fine.

But I don’t spend nights away from DorkySon that often – this was only the fourth or fifth time ever – so it always takes a bit of readjustment when I return. And this was by far the most difficult time ever. I’d brought him back a wee George Pig keyring that I spotted in a shop and thought he’d like.

‘It’s rubbish,’ he said, walking over to the bin and dropping it in.

Where had my sweet wee boy gone? It was as though I’d just skipped ahead fourteen years and was living with a short, angry teenager. He kept coming up to me as though he wanted a cuddle, and then swerving, pushing me away at the last minute.

It was a new thing for DorkySon to be deliberately mean – that’s just not his nature – so it hurt. But I also recognised myself in him. My parents separated when I was eight and, although I would never have seen it in myself at the time, I can admit now that I used to be completely horrible to both of them at changeover times, when I was switching from one house to the other. It was as thought I thought I would miss them less and find it easier to go if I fell out with them first.

DorkySon is doing brilliantly during a very unsettled time. He has had all manner of new people coming to his house, his belongings are being given away or packed into boxes around him, and his Mummy keeps disappearing for days at a time to ‘find a new house’.

I can at least try and articulate everything that’s in my head – all those mixed feelings of excitement and anticipation and nervousness – but even so I’m pretty tense and crabby and tired. It is no wonder that he has been feeling a little off too, and it’s expressing itself in a negative way. I take it as a compliment that I am the person he trusts enough to let off some steam with.

DorkyDad says that when he looks at me and DorkySon we are so close you couldn’t slide a sheet of paper between us. It is true. We love each other fiercely. Sometimes we are all tangled up in a mess of laughing and cuddles, other times we are pressing our foreheads against each other, locked eyes, trying to out-stubborn each other. ‘No,’ we say to each other. ‘No, no, no, no, NO.’

I had always imagined that I would be the calm parent, compromising, breaking up arguments, providing the necessary voice of reason. Not so. DorkyDad is the diffuser, the diplomat, and the joker who comes into the room to distract us both from whatever nonsense argument we are engaged in.

Anyway, it has taken a few days, but we are back to normal. DorkySon has returned to his usual, joyful self. When I threw on a scabby old fleece to drop him off at nursery yesterday, he said ‘You look beautiful in pink, Mummy’. Today I fixed one of his broken trucks with a dab of superglue, and he said ‘It’s great to have such a clever Mummy.’ And tonight, when I tucked him into bed, he smiled up at me and said ‘I love you so much.’

His language skills, his sense of humour, and his crazy wee brain are all developing so quickly, right now. He sings all day, and then lies in his cot before he falls asleep and recites as many letters of the alphabet as he can remember. He loves jokes about sausages and bananas. Yesterday he was very disappointed when he found a shoehorn in the wardrobe and it didn’t go ‘beep beep’ as all good horns should. He has discovered the word ‘why’, which is every bit as bad as I had been warned about. When we walk along the street he can identify a dozen different makes of car by looking at their badges (his favourites are Volkswagens and Mercedes, I’m not sure why). Today, in the space of a few hours, he asked me if it was winter yet, called me to the window to look at the sunrise, and greeted the rep from our removal company by saying ‘Hello man, I like your red tie!’

I wish I could bottle his laughter, and gift it to people to make them smile.

I am deeply, deeply sorry that DorkySon has learned at such a young age that he can say hurtful things. But I am so glad that all it takes to teach him that that’s not necessary is a couple of quiet days, reading books on the sofa with his Mum, remembering how much he is loved. And thank goodness I finally found the new house; next time I go away, he’ll be coming with me.

Sorry this was another very long post! The recommended length for a blog post is around 500 words, and this one was nearly 1000. Well done if you made it this far. If you’d like to keep up with me in a more concise way, then why not like my DorkyMum Facebook page for some shorter updates.

Reasons to be Cheerful

October 1, 2011 By in Family Tags: , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

We are celebrating two anniversaries in the Dorky House this week. If that’s not a reason to be cheerful (and an excuse for lots of cake and champagne) I don’t know what is!

Yesterday was our fourth wedding anniversary. In honour of the occasion, I finally hauled my mud and beer stained wedding dress out of the wardrobe, and sent it to be cleaned and boxed. I’m struggling to decide what to do with it next – I’m tempted to shove the box under the bed and keep it for some ‘just in case’ moment in the future. But I also think it’d be nice to give it to charity and let someone else get some use out of it. I’m going to keep pondering it for a while.

We took some during the week to look back through our wedding photos, which were taken by the lovely and brilliant guys at Jack Photography. And by happy coincidence, when I was rearranging some computer files, I found the epic wedding recap that I wrote shortly afterwards… all 2000 words of it!

I can’t believe how many things I’d forgotten; like the fact that I broke the zip on my bridesmaid’s dress half an hour before we were due to leave; and that the minister messed up the words and asked me if I’d take DorkyDad to be my ‘lawful wedded wife’. “Umm, no,” I said. “But I’ll take him to be my lawful wedded husband!” I’d forgotten that one of our guests joined the band for an impromptu session playing the spoons, and that shortly after leaving the wedding he was dragged back by his wife, having pocketed those spoons and forgotten about them. I’d forgotten just how good our food was, how my feet hurt from dancing and how my cheeks ached from smiling.

I’m one of those annoying people who can honestly say that their wedding day was one of the happiest of their life. No drama, very little stress, just a lovely time surrounded by family and friends… and the knowledge that it was the start of something special. The last four years have passed so quickly, and been packed so full of interesting events – I can’t wait to see where we are another four from now.

Our second anniversary this week was marking 6 months since DorkySon started nursery. It seems strange to admit it now, because those two mornings a week at nursery are so much part of our routine, but at the time it was definitely the hardest decision I’d made as a parent.

I had intended to stay a full time parent until he turned three and started his funded nursery place, but as he approached 2nd birthday in March it was becoming clear that he needed more stimulation, socialising and challenges than I was providing, and I needed a few hours a week to myself otherwise I was going to go nuts. I think the awful weather last winter exacerbated the situation – there were too many days when we were stuck inside and full of pent up energy.

We were so lucky to find a good nursery nearby – it’s small enough that all the kids and staff get to know each other, and has a lot of outdoor space. It is reasonably priced and is literally a five-minute walk from home. Despite the fact that there were a lot of staff changes soon after DorkySon starting, he settled in quickly and seems to have had a blast. He’s had the chance to do lots of activities that he wouldn’t have done at home (they had a fire engine visit last week…), his confidence has grown massively, and he never stops talking about how much he likes the people there.

From my point of view, it has been brilliant to have two mornings a week to do some bits and pieces of freelance writing, schedule appointments, do paperwork and even *pulls guilty Mummy face* go for the occasional coffee or take a nap.

I’m not sure why starting DorkySon at nursery stressed me out so much. I was deeply aware of how lucky we were to be in a position where it was through choice and not necessity. I guess part of me felt like I was somehow failing in my motherly duties by admitting that need for some time to myself, and part of me was worried that he wouldn’t adjust well to it and would be unhappy. I’m thrilled that hasn’t been the case, and now I’m just hoping desperately that when we move we can find a new nursery where he settles as quickly as he did at this one. (I’m also hoping I can pick up some more paid freelance work to justify it!).

So yes, two big occasions being marked this week, and two big reasons to be cheerful. Happy anniversaries to us!

To see other bloggers reasons to be cheerful, check out the linky over at Mummy from the Heart.

Reasons to be Cheerful at Mummy from the Heart

Boxes, books and a serious case of Lady Flu.

September 25, 2011 By in Family Tags: , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

I’m having one of those nights where I’ve started a post and deleted it about half a dozen times. The words just aren’t flowing, maybe because I’ve had a stinky old head cold and a stomach bug this weekend. I’ve got a hot toddy to get me through X Factor, then it’s two Night Nurse and off to bed. I know I posted a few months ago saying that mummies aren’t allowed to get ill, but occasionally even we have to admit defeat.

I think the cold might be a London one – I was down earlier in the week having a look round some areas – nine hours up and down the East Coast main line and several hours on the tube probably exposed me to numerous foreign nasties. So there’s a lesson; get the whole family dosed up on Echinacea and Vitamin C before we move!

Snuffles aside, it has been a productive week. After four years of marriage (almost exactly – it’s our anniversary this week!), I’ve finally sent my wedding dress to be cleaned. In preparation for the move I’ve offloaded a few bits and pieces of superfluous stuff onto friends. Mainly, it was a good excuse to catch up with some lovely folk that I’ve not seen in a while, but it has also helped free up some cupboard space. I hope our shredder, coffee machine, and Moses Basket are enjoying life in their new homes. All the clothes and toys that DorkySon has outgrown are boxed up and ready to go to another friend, assuming she doesn’t go into labour before she can come and collect them. So far, the great wardrobe clear out has yielded three big bags of clothes which are now waiting to be taken to the charity shop (it may turn into four bags… I’ve got some dresses that I know I’ll never fit into again, but can’t quite bear to part with yet).

Next come the books. I am rubbish at getting rid of books. I know I’ll never sit down and re-read any of the tomes on body art that I needed for my honours dissertation, or the book about David Jason swimming with dolphins, which mysteriously appeared on my shelves. We probably don’t need three copies of the Catcher in the Rye, or two copies of every Harry Potter book. I can tell you right now that I will never get beyond page 20 of Ulysses. But still… I find books impossible to get rid of. They are the only things I can spend vast amounts of money on without even a tinge of guilt. I was lucky enough to grow up in a house where books could be found everywhere, and had always envisaged bringing DorkySon up in a place where he too would find interesting books in every corner and cupboard.

If we end up moving somewhere with limited storage space, and it comes down to a choice between the dresses and the books, I know already that the books will win.

But anyway, before I succumb to my lady-flu and disappear under the duvet, let me remind myself of the many other things that were good this week:

1. We had another flat viewing today, with a relatively normal prospective buyer (I can’t wait until we’ve sold, so I can blog about some of the bonkers folk we’ve had in previously…).

2. DorkySon is slowly getting to grips with his new scooter, and when he’s not busy doing that he’s dazzling us with his ever-expanding repertoire of songs. ‘Twinkle Twinkle Traffic Light’ seems to be the current favourite.

3. I had a grand old time wandering around London and scouting out some possible areas to live, although somewhat predictably I fell in love with the two most expensive areas on our list. Fingers crossed we can find a suitable flat in the next six weeks, with room for plenty of books. Did I mention the books?

4. My tiny-violin nostalgia piece about moving was featured on Offbeat Home.

5. I’ve got 97 Fans on my DorkyMum Facebook Page! Which is nearly 100… Which would be marvellous. If I can get to 100 by Monday morning it might, just, compensate for the awfulness of the new Facebook layout.

Hope you all have a ruddy marvellous week. If you don’t want to come back here for more paracetamol-powered ramblings I completely understand. I am hopeful that normal service will resume soon. Meantime check out Letters from Your Mum, DoodleMum and Mental Political Parent for some other interesting and often amusing takes on parenting. And check out the excellent Love New Blogs tomorrow morning for their weekly showcase of newer blogs.

Okay. Night night all. I’m done.