Tag Archives: Mum

Will I ever not need my mum?

28 Friday Mar 2014

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Grandma and granddaughter

“Hi Mum”. The conversation always starts the same. She can immediately tell if I’m ringing just for a chat or if there’s a specific purpose to the call. She has me sussed from those two words alone.

There was a period a few months back when I was ringing once, sometimes even twice a day. I’d always be apologetic, but life was so stressful with work and the house that I needed to either vent or ask for advice. She was always there to listen and offer whatever it was I needed. One time I just broke down sobbing, when I thought we’d lost the house we now live in, and she cried too. I feel guilty for that.

I remember ringing her in the midst of some crisis or other when I was at university. She dropped everything and drove to Cardiff, bringing a picnic full of my favourite treats. We chatted as we ate sandwiches in a sunny park. I felt better afterwards and the supposed crisis didn’t seem like so much of a crisis any more.  Continue reading »

Getting all deep and meaningful on you

29 Wednesday Aug 2012

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I had my hair cut today.

It was a rare couple of hours of solitude in an otherwise hectic schedule. As I sat under a pile of foils, hoping my hair wouldn’t turn green, I ignored the lump of mother guilt sitting in the pit of my stomach, choosing instead to concentrate on my showbiz current affairs magazine.

On being ushered to the basin for my rinse, I brushed away thoughts of not spending enough time that day with my toddler, turning my attention to the twinkly lights set deep in the ceiling. Continue reading »

A letter from a very fat woman to a very tiny person

31 Tuesday May 2011

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I’ve been pondering all day whether to put this on the blog. And then I remembered that I shared my pants wetting incident with you. Not to mention the time I was found naked by a bunch of fireman. Oh yes, and the time I farted at boot camp.

So I suppose I’ve got nothing left to hide.

Here it is then. The letter I wrote almost a year ago, as I was going out of my mind with boredom waiting for Frog to hurry up and be born. I really should have started this blog much sooner. Continue reading »

Gypsy mum

04 Friday Feb 2011

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I want to be a Gypsy.

Not just any Gypsy, you understand. A Gypsy from My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.

What a fascinating programme (on Channel Four, if you missed it). It gives a real insight into how the Traveller community live – and the role of Traveller women. Which seems, to me, to be a much simpler one than “country” women like me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I want to live in a caravan and be taken out of school at thirteen. But the women interviewed on this programme didn’t seem to struggle with any of the issues myself and other mums I know are currently grappling with. They have a clearly defined role. Their job is to stay at home and look after the babies while the men go out to work.

Now, I realise this could get me a lot of stick with Women’s Lib types. And I am all for female independence as much as the next person. Before I had baby Frog I never dreamed I would want to give up full time work in a fast-paced exciting job. But now I’m considering doing just that. And it’s making me feel really torn. Am I a second-class citizen if I choose to spend more time at home with my baby? Am I just being a wet new mum? Isn’t it a waste of those two expensive degrees (get me!)?

Traveller women don’t have any of these concerns. Going back to work isn’t an option, because they never left for work in the first place.

But then we meet Bridget. She is in a huge minority in that she left a violent husband to bring her children up solo. And we discover this just isn’t an option for many other women in the travelling community. They can’t leave abusive relationships because if they do, they can’t provide for their children. Many of them can’t even read and write.

And we also meet Lizzie and her twelve year old sister Margaret. Lizzie hasn’t gone to school since she was eleven. Now she’s getting married and it’s Margaret’s turn to stay at home.

And it all seems so incredibly sad. These girls have never been given the option to go out to work. They weren’t even allowed to stay on at school.

So I suppose I don’t really want to be a Gypsy after all. But having lots of money and the option to go part-time would be rather nice.

Sitting Envy

03 Thursday Feb 2011

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I have a confession to make. I’m a Competitive Mum. 

I try not to be. I know it’s not healthy. But I think it’s the journalist in me, the one who has to be first to the story.

Anyway, I think Competitive Mum Syndrome is something a lot of us first time mums experience at one time or another. We want everyone to see we’re doing a good job, so when our baby does something new, our first impulse is to shout about it from the rooftops (and be secretly pleased they “beat” the other babies).

Except baby Frog never does “beat” the others. She’s always the last to do everything, bless her. At four months, all the other babies in our various baby classes were happily rolling over. Frog looked at them with something verging on pity, as if to say “why bother”. At five months, many of them were sitting unsupported. And now we’re at seven and a half months, some of them are making tentative attempts at crawling.

But not my baby girl. Oh no. She’s still trying to master the art of sitting. She’s almost got it. Almost. But not quite. She still needs a circle of cushions around her to protect against injury in those Face Planting moments.

The rational side of me knows she will do it “when she’s ready”. And that all babies develop at a different pace. But I want mine to develop faster! Why isn’t she reciting the alphabet back to me yet?! Why hasn’t she learnt how to play the piano yet?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER?!!!!

And then I look at her. And I realise how clever she actually is. She’s worked out how to suck her toes and shake her rattle at the same time. And that takes some doing.

Yum....toes.