Category Archives: parenting in 21st century

Mar28

Book stack – kids age 9-12

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kids book stack march 20

Books are solace, escape, excitement. In times such as these (which none of us have ever seen before, but by that I mean strange, scary, unsettling times) I think books are more important than ever.

Over the next while I’ll put various stacks of books up for different groups, of different genres. If there is a stack you’d especially like to see please let me know!

Here are the descriptions of these six (bottom to top). Happy reading!

Polar Bear Explorers Club by Alex Bell. This is actually not new, being the first in the series but we’ve been slow to discover Alex Bell’s brilliant series and number three has just come out. Stella, Shay, Beanie and Ethan are junior explorers – with Stella being the first ever girl to be allowed on an expedition. During their expedition to the frozen north they endure one mishap after another, having to help each other despite their apparent differences. Danger, excitement and loyalty go hand in hand as the group journeys onwards.

The Umbrella Mouse by Anna Fargher. I am a sucker for world war two books and this wonderfully imaginative debut looks quite delightful. in 1944 London Pip’s umbrella shop home is destroyed in the blitz. Setting off find safety she ends up joining a team of animals working for the resistance. Drawing on true stories of animals caught in the conflict it looks like a perfect story to introduce children to the history of WWII. With brilliant drawings by favourite author/illustrator Sam Usher this looks just wonderful.

The Boy who Fooled the World by Lisa Thompson. We are always super excited when Lisa releases a new book. One of my all time favourites is The Light Jar and this new story about Cole and his family sounds full of the gorgeous and familiar characters Lisa does so well. There is usually an gentle lesson woven into the fabric of the story but couched in fun and humour meaning that kids are subtly prompted to explore their emotional response to the action and issues.

Beyond Belief by Dee White. Another WWII book for children slightly older. Based on true events, the book is set in 1942 France where Jews are being rounded up and a family are desperately trying to outrun the Nazi forces. Ruben becomes separated and is protected at great risk by the local muslims. I’m imagining this will be heart-in-mouth exciting and ultimately a reminder of the potential beauty in humanity.

Wink by Rob Harrell. Semi auto biographical, this contemporary novel features Ross, diagnosed in the first year of high school with a rare eye cancer. He’s determined not to let it define him but of course is immediately the centre of attention and object of curiosity and pity. I can’t wait to see how Ross navigates such a massive challenge while holding on to his sense of humour despite the loss of lots of other things.

The Unteachables by Gordon Korman. Also set in a school, this looks hilarious and ultimately uplifting. The reader joins a class of ‘misfits, delinquents and academic train wrecks’ who have been lumped together with a teacher whose passion for the job has long burnt out. I imagine the maelstrom of accidents and misdeeds will be many but I’m hoping for an ending full of hope for teacher and students.

Feb11

The ‘I did…’ list.

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Are you a ‘to do’ list person?

I set myself reminders on my phone and make lists in the notes app. I write bullet points in a notebook, stick neon notes on walls and chalk up chores on the blackboard.

The determination is always there to get through it, to enjoy ticking things off. But frequently I find I am frustrated with myself about the things that have gone unticked as I get distracted from the plan. I include things I’ve already completed, or ridiculous items like ‘get the boys to school’ in order to redress the balance. But then I just feel bad about cheating – unlike Pastor Shep!

to-do-list-2-w750-o

Today I had a couple of reminders hanging over from yesterday and I woke up in a super energetic and upbeat mood. Half an hour after the boys had gone to school I had aced my list. So I kept going with no list. The chores are mainly (all) really boring. But somehow having the peace and space to do everything in its own time made it weirdly relaxing.

So rather than beating myself about the head with reminders and ‘to-do’s I’m going to write an ‘I did…’ list from time to time and remind myself how much I achieve, however small and whether for others (much much washing in my life) or for me when I acknowledge the importance of taking time out for me and being glad of that.

So, today I did…

…begin the day watching the sunrise on the beach. I meditated (badly) and swam (not very far).

…make a green juice that all the boys drank – mum win!

…reply to the emails I’d been putting off.

…listen to a live lecture of the course I’m taking (usually I manage a recording if I’m lucky).

…stew the plums that looked like they’d been forgotten at the back of the fridge.

…prep supper during the day – something I always mean to do but never manage.

…four loads of washing. And dried, folded and put them away. Felt great!

…tidy my desk.

…apply liberal amounts of aftersun to my poor sunburnt body!

…not get to yoga because of the sunburn, silly me.

…make a phone-call I’ve been putting off.

…sit and enjoy a coffee while reading a new book at my fave cafe.

…take a book back to library on time.

…send out four pitches to editors (fingers crossed!).

…not drink any of the wine I was putting in the risotto.

…not make up an excuse about missing an ingredient in order to buy wine.

…sit and eat supper with my beautiful sons.

…read with all of them before bed.

…have a really early night.

…write this blogpost.

…thank the universe for having my back today.

I do…feel great satisfaction.

Let me know how and if you write lists. Share your ‘I did’ list!

Julia x

pink panther list

Sorry, you’ll now have that in your head all day!

 

Dec17

Allowing the apron strings to fray.

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Like many mums, the apron strings between myself and my kids have always been tightly bound and double knotted. They are growing up far too fast and every day I wish I could stop time, preserve them as my – mostly – delightful little boys. My eldest would definitely take umbrage at being called little but in my eyes he and his brothers will always display that kernel of babyhood, however tall and hairy they become. For years they are our shadows, having no choice but to be wherever we are, in the trolly while we shop, playing in the corner of the doctor’s room on the rare occasion we’re there for ourselves, in the creche at the gym while we claw back some ‘me’ time, even squashed into the cubicle of a public loo.

Of course we know from the moment they are born that the day will come when their reliance on us will be at an end, the hope being that our efforts are rewarded with the emergence of a thoughtful, articulate, well rounded and capable individual. Knowing this makes the stark truth no less horrifying: ultimately I will no longer be needed. So I have decided to put myself into training. Independence will not be an overnight severing of the apron strings, more of a gradual fraying as the boys slowly start forging their own path in a organic way.

I have always been guilty of doing things for them that they should probably be doing themselves since doing it myself is quicker and easier. Uniforms are put out the night before, I make their lunches, pack their bags. I’m sure it would teach them all sorts of life lessons were I to ask them to do these and many other pesky tasks of daily living but I know my stress levels would go through the roof. They are so easily distracted that it’s a battle just persuading them to put the damn clothes on most of the time.  With a little planning I am changing things up. Before they go to bed their uniform has to be looked out, before the tv goes on in the afternoon their bag must be unpacked. I deliver a pile of clothes to their room and ask them to put it away. Baby steps.

I used to walk them to school, delivering them to the gate with reminders and hugs. When I went back to work last year I began sometimes only taking them halfway, peeling off towards the bus stop. They were, of course absolutely fine. They stayed together, adhered to road rules, my eldest making sure the younger two stayed safe. It turned out he relished the responsibility and it wasn’t long before he suggested they could go all the way by themselves. The first time I followed them. Yup, I felt utterly foolish but somehow compelled to shadow them back as they had me for so long. These days none of us thinks twice about it and they are always raring to get to school for half an hour of playtime.  The only stipulation is that they have to give me a hug first, something my twelve year old is unsurprisingly much more comfortable doing away from his mates –  wins all round.

The boys recently upped the ante when they suggested they could go and buy the milk we needed to save me a trip. That they also took their own money and added chocolate to their shopping made the experience all the sweeter! I came home from work one day to find they had decided to bake their own afternoon tea (my husband was working at home). Muffins and pancakes had been made and half the fruit in the house cut up. Hot ovens, open flames and knives, OMG what was my husband thinking? However there were no burns or cuts, just three very self-satisfied boys and a kitchen on which a flour bomb had dropped.

With my eldest moving from primary to high school next year there is no doubt the time is absolutely right for him to be emerging from beneath my wings, his brothers following in his wake. The knots are still holding for now, just fraying ever so slowly. And at the end of the day they all still ask to be tucked in and once they’re asleep are still my delightful little boys.

Nov3

Working Girl

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Working Girl

melanie-griffith-working-girl-big-hair-ftr (1)

Sadly I’ve missed the 80’s boat – even the second time around – so don’t have the chance to take on the best back to work look ever. But in terms of that feeling of empowerment and desire to succeed, I’m giving it my best shot.

And seriously, oh my god, everything a lot of people say is true! Going back to work after taking time off to concentrate on motherhood is the best bloody feeling in the world! The fact that I am working in my first regular paid job in sixteen years may have some bearing on my ridiculous sense of excitement as might the fact that I have landed my absolute dream job but the changes it has brought me, and by definition, the whole family are massive and nearly all positive.

After over a month the novelty has yet to wear off. A regular income of my own, getting dressed in an outfit I’ve thought through instead of chucking on active wear (and sometimes actually doing something active) or scruffy jeans and a tee because all I have planned is time with a reading group at school followed chores. There are so many reasons for the whole change in my mindset. Following are a few.

Being seen as something other than the mother, the shopper, the coffee drinker, the wife, the referee, the chef, the nurse, the cleaner, the party pooper…

Being seen as a person who knows about something other than earaches, kids suppers, the place to find the best value organic bloody meat.

diane ackerman quote life

Being able to direct and advise people on what to buy for their seven year old grandchild (boys at least – I’m still getting to grips with girl reading past the Worst Witch – all suggestions gratefully received).

Being in on book news, reading reviews in the paper having seen the book already.

Being part of a team that doesn’t include anything else my life – that is mine.

Being appreciated by my boys, who when I first started threw their arms around me at the end of the day like I’d been away a week (this has somewhat worn off).

Being challenged to plan and organise more. Coordinating diaries with Andrew around school pick up and after school sports.

Being able to buy myself flowers (I actually often did this but felt like I was taking the food from my children’s mouths – or at least putting fish fingers instead of flathead in).

Being part of the workforce, a woman who feels empowered and knows her worth rather than telling her family they have no idea of it.

Being really bloody grateful of my decades old make up regime. Seriously, I still have the same eyebrow compact I bought at uni – think this simply shows how seldom I used to bother with my appearance.

Being able to buy myself a pair of earrings that I never would have done before – it took three times in and out of the shop before I committed. Also the savvy saleswoman going from telling me that the 30% off deal would be finishing soon to finishing in about five minutes in order just to get me the hell out.

Being able to share bus chat with my husband. Honestly. We swap stories about the most irritating of irritating passengers flirting excruciatingly with his paramour (describing what he was wearing was the least of it), to sharing our incredulity at other passengers rudeness, or the fact that they are bold enough to apply their full face of make up in public.

Being able, on my days off, to read and read, when previously if I sat down and opened a book the dark cloud of ‘should be doing x, y and z’ would look large bringing on a massive sense of guilt and probably a bout of really bad baking.

Being able to be around books all day, obvs! Seriously, I walk through the door at the beginning of my shift, inhale deeply and feel happy.

Being unable of containing my the small kernel of smugness when people tell me that working in a bookshop is their absolute dream and I do a little happy dance inside thinking ‘I know, but I”m doing it!’

I’ve said to friends I wished I’d known this sooner, that the satisfaction I am getting from being both mum and worker is a feeling I could have done with ages ago. I wrote, I know, and that did bring me happiness when it was going well. But I didn’t cope well with the insecurity, the rejections, the having to pick myself up after a disappointment. However, I do believe life is all about timing and opportunities and that while we make many of them ourselves, often our paths have to cross with another’s at an auspicious moment.

It is an amazing and lucky feeling – I just wish I could pull off Melanie’s hair.

mascara quote

Try a few years…

Sep13

The unexpected benefits of (mildly) sick kids

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off schoolI remember when my youngest started school, “you won’t know yourself” was the common refrain. Of course rather than the inferred endless time to myself, I instead managed to fill my time with chores, as much writing as I could find motivation for and, I’ll admit, quite a lot of faffing about.

It is a well-documented curse of our age that we all feel permanently run off our feet, pulled in different directions by myriad demands. This can then lead to a complete lack of appreciation for the things we are able to do once our children are out of the house for six hours a day. Like go to a yoga class, eat a sandwich while reading the paper, grab a coffee with a friend for an hour, make a phone call involving a call centre (have you ever tried this with children anywhere near you? It’s as though they have a radar alerting them to the most rewarding time to bug you).

Last week I had one or more children at home Every. Single.Day. I had to make the call to school daily, sounding no doubt more and more unhinged as I laughed manically, “Me, again, you’ll never guess what….”. A friend tried to bolster me midweek when I described the week as a write off – “it’s only Wednesday!” she reminded me – yeah, you don’t have the parental power of insight that somehow lets you know optimism will be wasted here, you just need to give up, focus on next Monday and breath deeply.

However, it had its surprises too. On Tuesday my son felt well enough to play so we made a train track, played Jenga, hide and seek, eye spy over lunch, had a teddy party and to top it off I taught him patience, a game I haven’t played for years and which reminds me of being little and poorly. We connected in a way that we never really do at the weekends when the rest of the family is around. We enjoyed each other’s company. Once I had come to terms with not getting a thing done, (and I mean not a thing of use – we all had fish fingers for supper) – it really was quite relaxing.

calvin and hobbes sickness

After three days of course the playing vibe was threadbare. Money was chucked at the problem – a new comic, a jigsaw puzzle, and the latest Weird Oh book were grimly chucked into the shopping basket in an attempt to claw back some quiet time at my desk. And when the novelty of those wore off I turned on the TV.

When I found him watching the ABC educational channel – about women’s working conditions in 1950’s Britain I almost frogmarched him to school. Clearly his mind was in dire need of sustenance. But then his brother was off the next day and the whole cycle began again.

At least on Friday they were both off and managed, thank you universe, to play harmoniously – with the new toy monkey and another jigsaw. At least the local shops will be happy with me.

So, unexpected though it was, the week wasn’t wasted as it both helped me have fun with my kids in a way I haven’t for ages and most definitely made me appreciate those precious few hours I have without them most days. In the week to come I imagine I won’t know myself.

let board game end

 

*While I wrote this very lightheartedly I do want to acknowledge that my kids simply had a virus. I can’t imagine what it must be like to care for and worry about a chronically or seriously ill child and honour and admire those parents who do.

Mar7

Motherhood Survival Club

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Yesterday I saw a mum sitting with her two sons outside a café burst into tears as one of them dropped a piece of the jigsaw puzzle he was tackling for what must have been the umpteenth time.  His wails of frustration combined with her unchecked tears told me a very familiar story.  I considered asking if she was ok but resisted as she almost visibly pulled herself together, regaining her composure and possibly re-applying the mask that she turns outwards to the world.  She could have been any one of us, mothers holding everything in the most delicate balance, working so hard simply to cope with the everyday pressures while the world calls us ‘capable’ and ‘clever’ and ‘super’.

Oh to be able to let our guard down sometimes.  To be able to say, ‘I really need a break’ without being judged a basket-case or a failure.  And more importantly, not judging ourselves as such.  Whether working or stay-at-home, we are all simply trying to do the best by these funny, engaging and beautiful little individuals.  Their reliance on us is absolute (even though from the age of about seven it seems they would hotly deny it), our moral compass is their indication of right and wrong, our values their touchstones.

My parents jokingly say that my brother and I turned out alright despite them (with a few bumps along the way).  I now know this to mean that they did not obsess over the minutiae of our extra-curricular learning or whether we were learning vital social skills, these would come simply through our being a part of their world and learning as we went along.  There was so much less chatter about how to do everything and what was right and wrong and therefore, I wonder, fewer judgements of each other?

Don’t get me wrong, I know the resources available to parents now are quite amazing and provide a very real support to many many parents, as the use of online sites such as Mumsnet and Kidspot attest.  It is all too easy though to allow the constant flow of advice and information to overwhelm you, to feel as though you are the only one who doesn’t know how best to sooth a colicky baby, discipline a belligerent toddler, guide an older child through the rough and tumble of the playground.

We all have our inner voice, our gut instinct and the knowledge that there is no-one on earth who knows our children as we do.  We should perhaps turn inwards a bit more, listen to ourselves and not bow to the pressure of others’ perception.  We all deserve membership of the Motherhood Survival Club, a place of no-holds-barred mutual congratulation and understanding.  Life with small children is exhausting, bewildering and exhilarating.  There are no prizes for heroics and probably not a great deal of thanks at the end.  However, as we tell our children, as long as we try our best, are kind, and remember the old adage ‘do as you would be done by’, we should all come out relatively unscathed.

If you have managed to stomach my pontificating (as my Dad would call it), have a look at the post on Children’s Books, please add your own list, the diversity of favourites is amazing!

May29
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The pile of books beside my bed - a tad optimistic? Borne of a compulsion for borrowing from the library that has got out of hand!

The pile of books beside my bed – a tad optimistic? Borne of a compulsion for borrowing from the library that has got out of hand!

It’s been all about me this week!  The boys have been fed, watered, clothed and ferried about to wherever they have needed to be, homework has happened, stars and black marks doled out but while all of this has been going on my internal focus has been on all the bits and pieces I’ve got going on.  I’m going to call this distracted parenting.  It’s new to me as until this year the boys pretty much ruled the roost in terms of time and energy – that’s collective family energy.  Perhaps this is more akin to life as a working mum (which I actually a now too!) in which case, wow, I truly take my hat off to everyone who has juggled all these components of life from the word go with kids.

I am trying to teach myself to compartmentalise which is hard.  I am realising it is not so easy to try and do a million things at once these days even or especially with constant global communication literally at our fingertips (sorry, I know as a woman I am able to multi-task, I’m just finding that these days it results in difficulties…bad feminist?).  Yesterday we had two very similar incidents to highlight this:

  1. On arriving at pre-school I just had to finish off a tiny email I had started while waiting at a red light while Sam and Edward hung on in the back.

Me:  Won’t be a minute boys.

Boys:  Silence (happily doing sticker books).

Ten seconds later.

Sam:   Argh, Mummy, when are you going to be FINISHED?

 Me:  Almost there, just a second.

 Sam:  BUT I WANT TO GET OUT (shouted loudly).

Me:  OK, alright, I was just…realise they couldn’t care less what I was ‘just’ doing.  I probably always seem to be ‘just doing’ something.  This time was Sam’s time, he adores Northern Nursery and I felt rotten for spoiling his arrival there.  Of course, my email could have waited, it’s just too easy to think I can fit another little thing in.

2.  While the soup was cooking (yes, I know that’s a bit show-offy, forgive me, I’m trying to redeem a pinch of self-worth while I admit to my faults) I thought I’d check to see whether my article had been published.  It had which meant I had to phone Andrew (who was wonderfully, joyfully supportive and proud, thank you) which went on for a bit during which Edward (who had been happily watching Rupert the Bear I’m ashamed to admit – but it’s Rupert right?  Could have been worse, could have been Seseme street!) appeared to say ‘I hungry’ in a plaintive voice.  I said, of course, ‘I’ll be there in a minute poppet’ and continued to chat and revel in my new-found, hard-earned writerly ‘fame’.  A minute later he came back and began physically tugging on my arm to wrest me free of the technology that was binding me.  I felt dreadful so allowed him nutella on toast and apple juice for lunch.  Rubbish.

We are a bit of a technophobic household it has to be said.  We have no ipad, ipod, foxtel.  But perhaps I’m kidding myself and it is simply down to finances as opposed to my strict moral compass (you can get up now from rolling about in hysterics) or rather old-fashionedness.  Those technologies we do have are getting in the way.  They are stretching themselves over the compartments I mean to impose.   I don’t think I’m alone.  I go to a soft-play centre or park with the boys and find it hard not to get my phone out just to check if there’s anything that I need to attend to. What?  I am not a member of the UN,  nor am I a medical or legal professional on-call.  The most important communication I might have will be something from a member of the preschool social committee.  So nothing that cannot wait for me to have some time with my amazing boys.  I have taken to leaving the distraction in the car – not Edward, the phone.

reliant on technology

 I give Andrew a row for working on his laptop in bed.  Not only is it deeply unsexy, he works until he’s cross-eyed then wonders why he sleeps so badly.  I use my phone as alarm which means the first thing I do after hitting snooze is check my emails.

As if to prove my point, Andrew has just appeared (it’s 6.47am) to replenish my tea with Blackberry in hand which he insisted on checking to see what had come in overnight, phew the email he wanted was there.  It really couldn’t have waited, certainly not until the office and his work time officially begins.  I have 13 minutes of my allotted work time left before the hand ticks over to the next compartment and today I don’t want to be late, or distracted.

Since when were these not enough?

Since when were these not enough?

Edward demanded this be put in, starting young.

Edward demanded this be put in, starting young.

Incessant technological interuption.