~ I would be free from little bits of plastic.
~ I would spend a lot more on toys and clothes for me.
~ I would have two families to understand, the one I was born into and the one into which I married.
~ I would have less discussions about childhood special needs, attachment, trauma and loss.
~ I would have experienced less judgement about children and their behaviour.
~ I would be child-less. Not child-free in my case but child-less.
With adoption...
~ I continue to experience new and exciting toys and games without embarrassment.
~ I get to buy cool miniture clothes and marvel at the speed a child can grow at the same time.
~ I am aware of my connection through my son, to another family. Our ties are broader and have more depth. I ask questions about him in the light of them.
~ I am aware of the obstacles, the children who are different. Not odd, not wonky, not weird, just different. I accept my son's complexities and work with them. I feel empathy towards other parents with different children.
~ My shoulders are broader, I take criticism less personally, and I have become a tiger protector for my son. I am his strongest, loudest and most persistant advocate.
~ I have a person in my life who offers me so much joy, love and appreciation, alongside a healthy (for us) dose of defiant, obstinate behaviour.
~ I am a Mum, not super Mum, wonder Mum, uber Mum or yummy Mum - just Mummy.
In the wonderful words of Todd Parr:
"We belong together because you needed a home and we had one to share. Now we are a family"
National Adoption Week 2011
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
Complicated Change
The school holidays have begun in earnest and for the last couple of days Little Bear has been testing the water. I would say that he is 50% emotional and defiant and 50% bloomin' lovely. Change doesn't suit Little Bear at all.
We are back to square one with the "good thinking", he is conveniently deaf and conveniently mute at times, and when all else fails he bursts into tears!
In between the drama, he is brilliant. He showcases all his newly developed talents. Intricately drawn lizards and dinosaurs, imaginative stories about made-up adventures involving his teachers, hugs and kisses and gentleness with the animals.
Heres to another 5 and a half weeks of unpredicatable brilliance with my Little Bear!
We are back to square one with the "good thinking", he is conveniently deaf and conveniently mute at times, and when all else fails he bursts into tears!
In between the drama, he is brilliant. He showcases all his newly developed talents. Intricately drawn lizards and dinosaurs, imaginative stories about made-up adventures involving his teachers, hugs and kisses and gentleness with the animals.
Heres to another 5 and a half weeks of unpredicatable brilliance with my Little Bear!
Friday, 22 July 2011
We made it!
I have reflected on Reception already so this post is just a last day of term offering, of top tips. Tips for ensuring your child (particularly if that child is not neurotypical) has a good year at school.
Tip 1: Preparation is the key - visual calenders marking down the days to the next change. Talking about school, talking about expectations positively (even when you know deep down there may be some difficulty in achieving them).
Tip 2: Work with the school - if they are great and helpful co-operate. Ask what you can do, offer ideas from home. If they are not so helpful... well, this is a situation that sadly many people struggle with but I am not qualified to offer advice as Little Bear's school have fallen over themselves to be accomodating.
Tip 3: Broad shoulders - easier said than done. Cultivate the broadest shoulders you can manage. It is hard to hear people criticise you or your child because of their behaviour. It becomes a problem when you are taking the criticism onto yourself personally. This leads to some level of resentment towards your child, and a vicious cycle begins. They do know when you are embarrassed and ashamed of their behaviour, and for a child like Little Bear the shame was a hideous knock to his self-esteem.
Tip 4 The only way for me personally to manage the above, was to leave all problems at school. No recriminations at home for behaviour in school. School had disciplined and apart from a brief relaxed converstaion so that he knew we were aware and had the same expectations, what happened at school stayed at school. The following day was always "another day".
Tip 5 Have a sense of humour. My sense of humour is rather silly, I don't mind admitting. It helps me not to take myself or any hard knocks too seriously.
Tip 6 Now I realise for this one, a person needs to be keen on the God fella to be comfortable but I am and these are my tips! So tough! :) Prayer! Never forget to pray, as I walked away from the school each morning after drop off, I prayed that God would be with Little Bear that day. This is not something reserved for kids with difficulties either. Everyone could do with a few arrow prayers on their behalf at the start of a busy day. Myself included.
So we have come to the end of my no means exhaustive and very personal list of tips. Thank you to all who remembered Little Bear and indeed my family as a whole in their prayers this year. We hope for a happy transition into Year 1 for my bear and school have certainly been working with him to help achieve this.
My thoughts and prayers are with all those in transitional periods of their lives. Particularly thinking of new schools, new year groups and new teachers.
Have a lovely summer!
Tip 1: Preparation is the key - visual calenders marking down the days to the next change. Talking about school, talking about expectations positively (even when you know deep down there may be some difficulty in achieving them).
Tip 2: Work with the school - if they are great and helpful co-operate. Ask what you can do, offer ideas from home. If they are not so helpful... well, this is a situation that sadly many people struggle with but I am not qualified to offer advice as Little Bear's school have fallen over themselves to be accomodating.
Tip 3: Broad shoulders - easier said than done. Cultivate the broadest shoulders you can manage. It is hard to hear people criticise you or your child because of their behaviour. It becomes a problem when you are taking the criticism onto yourself personally. This leads to some level of resentment towards your child, and a vicious cycle begins. They do know when you are embarrassed and ashamed of their behaviour, and for a child like Little Bear the shame was a hideous knock to his self-esteem.
Tip 4 The only way for me personally to manage the above, was to leave all problems at school. No recriminations at home for behaviour in school. School had disciplined and apart from a brief relaxed converstaion so that he knew we were aware and had the same expectations, what happened at school stayed at school. The following day was always "another day".
Tip 5 Have a sense of humour. My sense of humour is rather silly, I don't mind admitting. It helps me not to take myself or any hard knocks too seriously.
Tip 6 Now I realise for this one, a person needs to be keen on the God fella to be comfortable but I am and these are my tips! So tough! :) Prayer! Never forget to pray, as I walked away from the school each morning after drop off, I prayed that God would be with Little Bear that day. This is not something reserved for kids with difficulties either. Everyone could do with a few arrow prayers on their behalf at the start of a busy day. Myself included.
So we have come to the end of my no means exhaustive and very personal list of tips. Thank you to all who remembered Little Bear and indeed my family as a whole in their prayers this year. We hope for a happy transition into Year 1 for my bear and school have certainly been working with him to help achieve this.
My thoughts and prayers are with all those in transitional periods of their lives. Particularly thinking of new schools, new year groups and new teachers.
Have a lovely summer!
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Beanbag on your head!
A tall, athletic teacher leads he group of gangly Year 6 children out on to the field. For Miss P this is one of the highlights of the teaching year, a chance to demonstate her P.E. prowess, to show how well her class can perform on the field.
In that class is a tall gangly 10 year old, one of the youngest in the class and still head and shoulders taller than them all. She walks on to the field looking down at her P.E. pumps, and out of the corner of her eye straining to see if her mum is there to watch. She sits down on the damp grass and waits her turn, her turn to demonstrate how she hasn't really gained enough contol of her longer than average limbs yet. Her little self esteem ready to take another knock when she yet again comes last.
Soon it is time to line up on the start, may as well get it over with. She looks over to the table of medals and trophies and would dearly love to win one herself. Off they go! She runs and runs as if her legs depended on it, but of course the egg falls off the spoon, the skipping rope tangles and she is always last. No medal for her again this year, Miss P shakes her head, but at least it's over.
Now this girl has become the Mum watching on the sidelines. Anxious, and experiencing the same sense of dread and doom as she did over 20 years ago. This time it's different, the child is a boy for a start. He walks out confidently on to the field, waving. He giggles excitedly and wiggles about because he can never stand still,. It's noisy and out of routine and he sits with his house not with his class. His turn arrives and he lines up ready. Off they go! He runs and runs but like his Mum his gangly limbs aren't athletic just yet and like his Mum he is last. Last but happy, a hug from an older child and a sticker for particpating for everyone (winner gets house points). His Mum sheds tears of joy and pride.
Then it's time to exercise some demons. The Mums race is announced and now is the time to say goodbye to memories of Miss P and school sports days of old and bring it back into the now. A tennis racket is produced and a ball to balance on it, oh and a beanbag for her head. Off they go! She runs and balances and comes in last behind the sporty mums and their trainers and shorts. She did it! It was fun! Most importantly her smiley boy was pleased she had tried.
In that class is a tall gangly 10 year old, one of the youngest in the class and still head and shoulders taller than them all. She walks on to the field looking down at her P.E. pumps, and out of the corner of her eye straining to see if her mum is there to watch. She sits down on the damp grass and waits her turn, her turn to demonstrate how she hasn't really gained enough contol of her longer than average limbs yet. Her little self esteem ready to take another knock when she yet again comes last.
Soon it is time to line up on the start, may as well get it over with. She looks over to the table of medals and trophies and would dearly love to win one herself. Off they go! She runs and runs as if her legs depended on it, but of course the egg falls off the spoon, the skipping rope tangles and she is always last. No medal for her again this year, Miss P shakes her head, but at least it's over.
Now this girl has become the Mum watching on the sidelines. Anxious, and experiencing the same sense of dread and doom as she did over 20 years ago. This time it's different, the child is a boy for a start. He walks out confidently on to the field, waving. He giggles excitedly and wiggles about because he can never stand still,. It's noisy and out of routine and he sits with his house not with his class. His turn arrives and he lines up ready. Off they go! He runs and runs but like his Mum his gangly limbs aren't athletic just yet and like his Mum he is last. Last but happy, a hug from an older child and a sticker for particpating for everyone (winner gets house points). His Mum sheds tears of joy and pride.
Then it's time to exercise some demons. The Mums race is announced and now is the time to say goodbye to memories of Miss P and school sports days of old and bring it back into the now. A tennis racket is produced and a ball to balance on it, oh and a beanbag for her head. Off they go! She runs and balances and comes in last behind the sporty mums and their trainers and shorts. She did it! It was fun! Most importantly her smiley boy was pleased she had tried.
Friday, 10 June 2011
Reflecting on Birthdays
Little Bear is 5 today, a time of great excitement for him and great joy at the extra attention and presents he receives and rightly so. He asked this morning if he had any more birthdays this year, and it was explained that we all have one birthday celebration - it is on the day we were born. This was accepted and he continued to admire his presents pile. This is the only birthday which Little Bear has celebrated with us, which has passed (so far) without any behaviour meltdowns, and for a child who is adopted this aspect of birthdays is not unusual, so therefore I have lots more reason personally to celebrate this year.
It did get me thinking about what a birthday celebration means, and I would like to share my own personal thoughts.
As a child a birthday was to celebrate getting a year older, I counted through the year in fractions until the day dawned and the postman arrived with my lovely cards. That was it.
As a adult a birthday still means another year older, but that isn't greeted with as much relish as those childhood birthdays. A birthday also offers me a chance to look back nostalgicly to my own birth, and root through my photographs of babyhood giving thanks for the people who helped (giving God some credit there) to give me life.
As a married woman my birthday is also my wedding anniversary and I get the chance to admire the wedding video (in private). Two doses of nostalgia for the price of one!
As a Mum, and particularly as an adoptive Mum, my child's birthday is a real source of mixed emotions. I am proud of the person my Little Bear is growing into, and of the great changes that occured in the preceeding year. I rightly celebrate his excitement, and do not shirk from explaining the meaning of the day to him, even when I was not a factor in that part of his life. Equally, whilst baking his cake this morning, I shed a tear for the woman who gave him life, and in whose womb he was formed. I thought about her, and whether she was thinking of Little Bear, and feeling sadness. I thought of the siblings he has and whether they are thinking of him, and in a brief prayer I joined my thoughts with theirs. "Tell them he is safe Lord, he is happy, he knows the love him and think of him."
Lastly in a moment of purely selfish emotion I shed a tear for me, when I went to use the bathroom and discovered that on this day, the day we celebrate our darling son emerging safely from 38 weeks in his mother's womb, I have started my monthly bleed. My womb will not ever help to bring a child to birth.
The last paragraph is in many ways irrelevant, it is a glimpse into a private pain which although long since reconciled, still has occasion to move me. It's irrelevant because I have the joy and pleasure of seeing Little Bear grow into a very special child, for whom both sets of parents should be rightly very proud. He grew under his mother's heart, and in mine.
Happy Birthday Little Bear.
It did get me thinking about what a birthday celebration means, and I would like to share my own personal thoughts.
As a child a birthday was to celebrate getting a year older, I counted through the year in fractions until the day dawned and the postman arrived with my lovely cards. That was it.
As a adult a birthday still means another year older, but that isn't greeted with as much relish as those childhood birthdays. A birthday also offers me a chance to look back nostalgicly to my own birth, and root through my photographs of babyhood giving thanks for the people who helped (giving God some credit there) to give me life.
As a married woman my birthday is also my wedding anniversary and I get the chance to admire the wedding video (in private). Two doses of nostalgia for the price of one!
As a Mum, and particularly as an adoptive Mum, my child's birthday is a real source of mixed emotions. I am proud of the person my Little Bear is growing into, and of the great changes that occured in the preceeding year. I rightly celebrate his excitement, and do not shirk from explaining the meaning of the day to him, even when I was not a factor in that part of his life. Equally, whilst baking his cake this morning, I shed a tear for the woman who gave him life, and in whose womb he was formed. I thought about her, and whether she was thinking of Little Bear, and feeling sadness. I thought of the siblings he has and whether they are thinking of him, and in a brief prayer I joined my thoughts with theirs. "Tell them he is safe Lord, he is happy, he knows the love him and think of him."
Lastly in a moment of purely selfish emotion I shed a tear for me, when I went to use the bathroom and discovered that on this day, the day we celebrate our darling son emerging safely from 38 weeks in his mother's womb, I have started my monthly bleed. My womb will not ever help to bring a child to birth.
The last paragraph is in many ways irrelevant, it is a glimpse into a private pain which although long since reconciled, still has occasion to move me. It's irrelevant because I have the joy and pleasure of seeing Little Bear grow into a very special child, for whom both sets of parents should be rightly very proud. He grew under his mother's heart, and in mine.
Happy Birthday Little Bear.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
My child, my choice?
"Sarah Burge has boasted how she gave a voucher for the procedure to her daughter, Poppy, to use when she is 16.
The 50-year-old, whose comments come in the week ministers vowed to crack down on the sexualisation of children, said her girl ‘squealed with delight’ when given the £6,000 gift.
Poppy said: ‘I wanted a new computer, a holiday and a voucher for surgery. When I got it all, it was a dream come true. I can’t wait to be like mummy with big boobs.’
Her mother, from St Neots, Cambridgeshire, has spent more than £500,000 on her own surgery so she looks like Barbie.
She hit the headlines last year when she revealed she was giving Poppy pole-dancing lessons."
Read more: http://www.metro.co.uk/news/865754-human-barbie-buys-7-year-old-daughter-boob-job-for-her-birthday#ixzz1Omi5s9CB
Needless to say, the £6,000 would have been better placed in a bond for Poppy to do with as she saw fit when she herself becomes an adult. However the issue here is not the money spent but the gifts on which the mother saw fit to spend it.
Sarah is well within her rights to spend her money on her daughter what parent wouldn't wish to indulge their child on their birthday, but by giving Poppy this gift, in my opinion she undermines her love for her daughter. She has sent a clear message to her 7 year old, not that she should be proud of who she is and how she has been created, but rather she should be confident in her mother's ability to provide the money to fund any alterations.
I truly feel sad for Sarah and young Poppy, they can't possibly understand the words of Psalm 139 verse 14:
"The best way to stop this is for parents to take control - Don't buy the clothes! #nobrainer"
Foolish and naive I realise because, for some parents, these clothes are exactly what they wish to buy! If they are available there will be a market for them, just as a voucher for a boob job can be bought for a 7 year old girl.
Suddenly I feel very old.
I was completely out of the loop regarding sex education until at least senior school, I wouldn't have ever been bought a figure hugging top or micro mini by my parents at any time. Neither were my friends or acquaintances at primary school (I would have remembered as Mum would have complained voiciferously and embarrassingly). Experimentation with make-up, skirt lengths, push up bras etc all happened at senior school in those rights of passage years. I left primary school only 20 years ago. When did it suddenly become fashionable to tart up your toddler if you are so inclined? I don't remember. However I am very glad that organisations such as Mother's Union, and Mumsnet, are continuing to put pressure on the government and retailers with their campaigns.
The 50-year-old, whose comments come in the week ministers vowed to crack down on the sexualisation of children, said her girl ‘squealed with delight’ when given the £6,000 gift.
Poppy said: ‘I wanted a new computer, a holiday and a voucher for surgery. When I got it all, it was a dream come true. I can’t wait to be like mummy with big boobs.’
Her mother, from St Neots, Cambridgeshire, has spent more than £500,000 on her own surgery so she looks like Barbie.
She hit the headlines last year when she revealed she was giving Poppy pole-dancing lessons."
Read more: http://www.metro.co.uk/news/865754-human-barbie-buys-7-year-old-daughter-boob-job-for-her-birthday#ixzz1Omi5s9CB
Needless to say, the £6,000 would have been better placed in a bond for Poppy to do with as she saw fit when she herself becomes an adult. However the issue here is not the money spent but the gifts on which the mother saw fit to spend it.
Sarah is well within her rights to spend her money on her daughter what parent wouldn't wish to indulge their child on their birthday, but by giving Poppy this gift, in my opinion she undermines her love for her daughter. She has sent a clear message to her 7 year old, not that she should be proud of who she is and how she has been created, but rather she should be confident in her mother's ability to provide the money to fund any alterations.
I truly feel sad for Sarah and young Poppy, they can't possibly understand the words of Psalm 139 verse 14:
"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;Earlier in the week, I got involved in the Radio 2 debate via Twitter on the sexualisation of children by clothing retailers. I made a naive and foolish comment.your works are wonderful,I know that full well."
"The best way to stop this is for parents to take control - Don't buy the clothes! #nobrainer"
Foolish and naive I realise because, for some parents, these clothes are exactly what they wish to buy! If they are available there will be a market for them, just as a voucher for a boob job can be bought for a 7 year old girl.
Suddenly I feel very old.
I was completely out of the loop regarding sex education until at least senior school, I wouldn't have ever been bought a figure hugging top or micro mini by my parents at any time. Neither were my friends or acquaintances at primary school (I would have remembered as Mum would have complained voiciferously and embarrassingly). Experimentation with make-up, skirt lengths, push up bras etc all happened at senior school in those rights of passage years. I left primary school only 20 years ago. When did it suddenly become fashionable to tart up your toddler if you are so inclined? I don't remember. However I am very glad that organisations such as Mother's Union, and Mumsnet, are continuing to put pressure on the government and retailers with their campaigns.
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Assembly Joy
'We wish you many happy returns of the day, we hope you will be healthy and strong all the way, strong to do right, slow to do wrong, and thoughtful for others all they day long'The same song was sung by my primary school to children with birthdays coming up, and the words are as appropriate today as they were 26 years ago when I heard it for the first time.
Today was Little Bear's birthday assembly, and we were invited to be there to celebrate it with him, (and the other reception child who had a recent birthday). As all the children were gathering in the hall, a stage whisper was heard from the gathered reception children "This is sooooooooo exciting!". The next noise was Little Bear's teacher attempting to stifle her giggles.
My beautiful boy stood up proudly with the teacher in front of the whole of Key Stage One and answered her questions without fear or over excited silliness. I am so pleased with him, and for him, he was beaming with pride all the way through. He then sat quietly whilst the teacher went through the other birthday and a few certificates and other achievements.
For a child who started Reception with very low self esteem and an inibility to be still at any point, this was quite an achievement... I am not going to mention the rest of the assembly was spent rolling the piece of blutack his class teacher provides for these occasions, on the hall floor.
Friday, 3 June 2011
A Lovely Holiday
I have just come back from my 2nd holiday of the year (I am a very fortunate girl this year). This holiday was different, as it was just The Curate, Little Bear and Myself. No extended family, not even the gorgeous and extremely lovable Monty the doodle.
Little Bear was very well behaved and in control on the journey down to my mum's (from here on in known as Nanna) house. We had a lunch which Nanna had lovingly prepared, and LB went to check out his room, and make sure all the toys Nanna keeps there were present and correct. He came down and announced "Nanna's house will always be the same." which is Little Bear speak for "I feel safe and secure knowing that Nanna has these things she keeps for me." Over lunch, Little Bear quizzed Nanna on whether she was "lonely being here on your own?" Wise words from my almost 5 year old. He was over joyed when he asked whether Nanna missed Monty dog and she replied "I miss you!" though.
We left Monty dog at Mums and went on our way to our holiday accommodation, a caravan, compact and bijoux on a Bunns Leisure holiday park. Now, I think holiday parks are extremely under-rated. The caravan was big enough for us 3 (although would have been tight with the maximum 6 plus luggage allowed). The children's funfair had well priced and sensible speed rides for a 'children's funfair'. The Go Karts were reasonably priced and entertaining - although much fun was had (by LB and I) watching the Curate try on every single helmet in the place before settling on one which fitted but left a red welt on his forehead after. The boys had a great time on crazy golf (Little Bear's favourite activity). It was worth the sheer hell of the noisy overcrowded changing rooms to see LBs smiling face beaming with enjoyment the whole time we were in the pool. We flew a kite on the beach and had a quiet afternoon of watching LB paddle in the sea.
I have sung the praises of a park based caravan holiday so for balance some of the irksome bits.
Little Bear hardly slept (usual on a first night on hols but lasted all week this time) the noise, the light evenings (which the holiday camp can't help with I know), and the narrow caravan bed, all resulted in seriously diminished sleep for LB. I slept fine, the Curate tells me nights were noisy!
Being just the three of us meant evening entertainment was limited to the 4 channels on the tiny telly, and twitter on our phones. Although the programme at the pubs and bars looked good...
Seriously though...
The holiday was fab! Good fun, just the three of us, and Nanna had Monty for company - everyone's a winner. Although Monty may disagree, at 2 years old he had never had a professional groom - until Nanna got involved!!
He looks even more gorgeous though!
Little Bear was very well behaved and in control on the journey down to my mum's (from here on in known as Nanna) house. We had a lunch which Nanna had lovingly prepared, and LB went to check out his room, and make sure all the toys Nanna keeps there were present and correct. He came down and announced "Nanna's house will always be the same." which is Little Bear speak for "I feel safe and secure knowing that Nanna has these things she keeps for me." Over lunch, Little Bear quizzed Nanna on whether she was "lonely being here on your own?" Wise words from my almost 5 year old. He was over joyed when he asked whether Nanna missed Monty dog and she replied "I miss you!" though.
We left Monty dog at Mums and went on our way to our holiday accommodation, a caravan, compact and bijoux on a Bunns Leisure holiday park. Now, I think holiday parks are extremely under-rated. The caravan was big enough for us 3 (although would have been tight with the maximum 6 plus luggage allowed). The children's funfair had well priced and sensible speed rides for a 'children's funfair'. The Go Karts were reasonably priced and entertaining - although much fun was had (by LB and I) watching the Curate try on every single helmet in the place before settling on one which fitted but left a red welt on his forehead after. The boys had a great time on crazy golf (Little Bear's favourite activity). It was worth the sheer hell of the noisy overcrowded changing rooms to see LBs smiling face beaming with enjoyment the whole time we were in the pool. We flew a kite on the beach and had a quiet afternoon of watching LB paddle in the sea.
I have sung the praises of a park based caravan holiday so for balance some of the irksome bits.
Little Bear hardly slept (usual on a first night on hols but lasted all week this time) the noise, the light evenings (which the holiday camp can't help with I know), and the narrow caravan bed, all resulted in seriously diminished sleep for LB. I slept fine, the Curate tells me nights were noisy!
Being just the three of us meant evening entertainment was limited to the 4 channels on the tiny telly, and twitter on our phones. Although the programme at the pubs and bars looked good...
Seriously though...
The holiday was fab! Good fun, just the three of us, and Nanna had Monty for company - everyone's a winner. Although Monty may disagree, at 2 years old he had never had a professional groom - until Nanna got involved!!
He looks even more gorgeous though!
Monday, 9 May 2011
Keeping it personal
When I was a child, one of the most exciting things that could possibly happen was to receive visitors to our house. My brother and I would make signs saying "Welcome" for any overnight guests and lovingly decorate them with our felt tip pens. I would very nearly implode with excitement when the moment arrived and the doorbell rang...and then I would freeze.
The terrifying moment would overwhelm me. I loved having guests to visit, and I loved the attention they gave us while they stayed with us, but I absolutely hated being kissed and cuddled by them in greeting or as a goodbye ritual.
It's quite strange really, I have no idea why I reacted in such a way. My parents were very good at showing affection and I was happy to held and kissed by my parents, and they were responsive to us children. In adulthood I have a loving demonstrative relationship with my husband and son. I am still uncomfortable with showing physical affection to anyone other than my immediate family. Although I recognise that there are times when other people would appreciate a hug and that this action, for them, speaks louder than any words. Anyone who knows me well, knows also that there are times when I have very much appreciated the physical show of affection, and I wish to thank them for their support at those times.
As a general rule my personal space is indeed personal. Now I am an adult I can choose who to keep at arms length and when. Thank goodness. I will always require my own son to be polite and respectful, but I will never insist he shows affection physically to anyone. If you are in receipt of a hug from my son or myself, you are highly favoured.
The terrifying moment would overwhelm me. I loved having guests to visit, and I loved the attention they gave us while they stayed with us, but I absolutely hated being kissed and cuddled by them in greeting or as a goodbye ritual.
It's quite strange really, I have no idea why I reacted in such a way. My parents were very good at showing affection and I was happy to held and kissed by my parents, and they were responsive to us children. In adulthood I have a loving demonstrative relationship with my husband and son. I am still uncomfortable with showing physical affection to anyone other than my immediate family. Although I recognise that there are times when other people would appreciate a hug and that this action, for them, speaks louder than any words. Anyone who knows me well, knows also that there are times when I have very much appreciated the physical show of affection, and I wish to thank them for their support at those times.
As a general rule my personal space is indeed personal. Now I am an adult I can choose who to keep at arms length and when. Thank goodness. I will always require my own son to be polite and respectful, but I will never insist he shows affection physically to anyone. If you are in receipt of a hug from my son or myself, you are highly favoured.
Friday, 25 February 2011
When kids have cameras...
A dear friend of mine came here with her 4 lovely children on Tuesday. They were all playing with my son's Kidizoom camera. I have just sorted through the photos and come across some corkers but because I love the woman in question I shall share some favourites here rather than on facebook:
A rare and deeply attractive picture of me to start!
My friend tried to hide...
...and then this happened when they caught her!
And finally her youngest son (who will be officially my God-son tomorrow if I get away with this) didn't seem impressed:
Friday, 11 February 2011
STOP - Children Crossing
According to the Office for National Statistics, in 2008, 48 per cent of 5 to 10-year olds walked to school, 5 percentage points lower than those walking to school in 1995–1997.
In Ghana, a tricycle project has been set up for children to be transported to school. They had been understandably struggling with the 9 mile round trip walk to school daily and this scheme has helped some children keep up their school attendance. It certainly puts my 1.8 mile childhood round trip into perspective!
In this country we are blessed with many choices. We have not one school but a choice of possible schools for our children to attend, we have the opportunity to choose our lifestyle, we have access to cars, public transport, bikes and scooters not just the ability to walk to school.
Is it this level of choice which has made some of us selfish?
Today we received a communication from school to all parents. It informed us that their had been an incident outside school in which a child had been hit by a car. Mercifully the child escaped injury. This is horrendous.
I know from friends of mine that the problem of inconsiderate parking and driving is not just restricted to my son's school gates. Many schools up and down the country, in little country villages with little parking opportunities at all, in town centres, and on main roads in leafy suburbs such as ours are plagued with parking/picking up/dropping off disasters.
I refuse to allow my son to let go of my hand on the pavement outside school. This is because there have been at least three near misses where people have mounted the pavement at speed as we walked along, he has also hit his head on a car wing mirror the car which it was attached to was taking up so much of the pavement that my son could not miss it! The parking situation has calmed down a bit in recent months, the issue here really is parents mounting the kerb at speed and dropping off their children and rejoining the traffic in an equally reckless manner. This is before we even consider the impact on wheelchair users or parents with pushchairs.
This behaviour is pure selfishness. The person concerned is not thinking for one minute about the impact on pedestrians, or other road users for that matter. All that concerns them is that their child gets to school on time, and their day goes as planned.
I realise for some parents it is a case of dropping children to school on the way to work. If so, park further away as many do and allow 5 mins extra in the morning, use wrap around childcare as required, walk to school and walk back for the car if close enough. But please don't screech to a halt on the pavement outside the school gate, allow your child to open the front passenger door without checking for pedestrians coming up behind (I have been hit by a car door), and barge back into the traffic again. There is NO excuse.
There you go then rant over! I feel better, I hope the child who was hit by a car feels better too.
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