In defence of the only...

Only the Lonely

Only children are spoilt, socially inept, lonely and odd, right? Some children are spoilt, some are socially inept, some are lonely and some (take it from me, I’m a teacher) are certainly odd, but I don’t think this has anything to do with being an ‘only’. I’m sure some onlies fit into these categories, but some of the sibling-rich do too.

I grew up as an only child (technically, I wasn’t an only child til I was two when my brother died - so maybe I don’t count?!) and I had an amazing experience of childhood. I suppose I was ‘spoilt’ - I travelled with my parents, ate in proper restaurants (not just Little Chef roadside pitstops, or Wimpys while out shopping - although I secretly pined for these culinary delights!), and had the saxophone I wanted. But I wasn’t spoilt, I knew my manners, knew I was lucky, and I never expected anything. I wasn’t once lonely as I always had friends around me (who by the way I could choose, unlike siblings). I don’t think I am socially inept, and could always make believe with other kids as well as being able to chat with adults. I admit, I am probably odd, but that has nothing to do with being an only.

So I am writing this in defence of my decision to make CK a little odd, inept, spoilt, lonely only. This post is addressed to everyone who has been saying (just a tad smugly) to me for the last year “I said that, and then I went on to have another 3 children!”. No, when I say I don’t want anymore, I really mean it. I don’t want the 9 months of morning sickness, the 9 months of indigestion, the 9 months of feeling blue. I don’t want anymore stretch marks to compliment the ones I already have. I don’t want my body to be any more deformed that it already is. And I don’t want to share my time or my heart.

I have the confidence that I can make CK a rounded, happy, normal individual without providing another child, without her having someone to squabble with, without her having to share the toy/book/remote control.

And if she turns out a little odd, that is fine too - she will fit in with the rest of the human race!

Mummatron

Get Over It!!

Only Children are just children without siblings, it’s no big deal, get over it!

Families these days come in all shapes and sizes and their dynamics are always changing. Children can be surrounded by ‘siblings’ one day and find themselves ‘only children’ the next, sometimes swiftly joined by a bunch of new ‘siblings’, … with some of these being part time ‘siblings’. Life these days is complicated and children have to learn to live with all sorts of relationships.

I did not set out to have just one child but after our son died, we started to discover the advantages to having just one little girl to introduce to the world. We had the time, the space, and our limited budget could stretch to all sorts of things like museum visits and books, but mostly we had the time. Time to think about how to handle our daughters’ up-bringing; time to answer her questions, time to explain things to her, time to listen to her questions, time to fetch and carry her playmates to our house and her to theirs, time to educate her, time to pay attention to her development as a socially adept little person, and time to talk to her about the birds and the bees when the perfect moment came.

If this is what you call spoiling a child then I say bring it on! In my book the only way you can ‘spoil’ a child is to bring it up to be bad mannered, uncaring, rude, anti-social and selfish, and the best way to do that, is to bring it up with no guide lines or rules which will lead to a complete lack of self discipline and a false perception of their importance in the world.

Let’s face it ‘there’s nowt so queer as folk’, we’re all different thank goodness, because we are all a product of our individual up-bringing, and that’s what makes the world such a wonderfully diverse place full of such wonderfully diverse people.

Granny Bloggings

Meow - Make way for this Tiger Mummy!

Tiger Mummy - Loud and Proud

Good for Amy Chua. She published an article recently in the WSJ about Chinese Mummies and their attitude to child rearing. For those of you who don’t want to bother to wade through the article here is a potted version; a Chinese mother is the best mother because they zealously guard their children’s future by enforcing strict rules designed to create the most wonderful human being possible. Nothing major, just rules such as practising your chosen musical instrument (either violin or piano and no other) for at least three hours a day; never coming home with anything less than an ‘A’; never watching TV or taking part in a school play; and never (and I mean never) complaining about any of the rules.

As you can imagine, it has provoked quite a stir. But I say good for her. It’s great that she is so confident that she is doing the right thing for her children and that she feels she wants to spread a little of her success to the rest of us. She calls it being a Tiger Mother (not to be confused with a Tiger Moth - a whole different, but I am sure equally intimidating thing).

I have been inspired by her methods and have decided to become a Tiger Mother myself. Well, CK is 10 months now, and that isn’t too young to start...right? So here are my rules for successful parenthood which will be rigidly adhered to:
1. CK will be forced to enjoy herself for at least 70-95% of her waking hours. Everything will be made to be fun and games, and there will be no complaining about it.
2. Mess is a big part of the regime. I expect grubbiness and stains on all clothes and a clean face will be a disappointment - if there isn’t food all around her gob then she clearly isn’t fully engaging with her meals.
3. Music is key to producing a well rounded individual so we shall sing and dance our way through each day (I have already made a start - please see Brain. Mush. Bleugh.)
4. Just as Ms Chua recognises the major effect of the peer group on the development of her girls and so forbids sleepovers and playdates, I too believe that colleagues can have a formative influence over my little one. That is why we will strive every day to see at least one friend, we will always take someone on holiday for Little to play with and I will commit to driving her from one social event to the next.
So there it is folks, the game plan. I like to think of myself as a Lioness, ensuring that my child gets the best of everything in life. Fun, Happiness and the freedom to be who she wants to be.

Mummatron

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!

Tiger mothers? Well, I honestly think there is only one comment I can make on this:

I am SO proud of my daughter for her comments! She has said it all!!

(Do you think I could take a little credit though for bringing up my daughter to be able to see what is truly important in child rearing?) Also, because although I said that she has said it all, when have I ever managed to just be quiet? If asked my philosophy of child rearing I always say, ‘save it for the drugs, sex and rock and roll, and don’t worry about the sex and rock and roll.’

Granny Bloggins

Watch where you step...

Little Miss Independant

I am such a fool. I have totally wished away the last 10 months.

I'll admit it, I have felt somewhat inadequate since becoming a mummy due to the fact that I haven’t been filled with a ‘Sound Of Music’ style joy, revelling in my new found mummy status. No, that’s right folks, I haven’t been skipping through fields in bloom, flipping my dirndl (sp?) with one hand and swinging my picnic basket with the other, singing about the wonders of being at home with a baby all day long. I have spent the last few months saying “It’ll be easier once she can roll over/eat solids/nap properly/ sit unaided /crawl/stand/ walk/complete an open university course.”

And now she is crawling and I realise that I was wrong - for everyone of these milestones a new challenge comes along. What I wasn’t prepared for is the hard work involved in keeping her safe now that she is into everything, checking what scraps off the floor she is shoving in her mouth (such as ladybirds), and childproofing every door, shelf, cupboard and corner. Why didn't I make more of the last 10 months when she was a (cute) static blob?

I do, however, LOVE that she can now follow me from place to place, I love that she is Missy Independant (takes after her mother), and I love that she can find the cereal box cupboard and unpack every weetabix onto the floor. No I do, I love it *grits teeth*.

I even love that her favourite place in the house now is sitting on the inside of the dishwasher door. She stares at me with real glee every time on her face, "Look at me Mummy! I'm in the dishwasher" she seems to be saying, a dirty spoon clutched tightly in each hand and grubby, indeterminate food scraps stuck to her little derrière. Precious.

Love in a Larder Cupboard

So little CK has started crawling and I have just realised how slow I am these days. Obviously, over the festive season I spent quite a bit of time in the kitchen, little CK following me like Marys’ proverbial lamb. She spent hours playing with an empty syrup tin and enjoyed chowing down on a silicone baking tray. However, it seems that all that time she was in fact as alert as a wolf in a lambing shed. Whenever I thought she was completely absorbed in her tin or her tray and I tried to slip away into the larder, she achieved light speed and was in through the door at warp factor five. She would have her gums wrapped around an onion or an apple before you could say, “Nigella!”, Then she would sit back, clutching her contraband, and look up at me with a cheeky little grin on her adorable face. Of course I am a complete push-over and thought her capers cute in the extreme. That’s not to say that granny is a complete idiot and I can reach the high shelves so everything migrated upwards except for the fruit and plastic boxes – hah!

Granny Bloggins

Christmas Traditions

Every family has their own yuletide traditions, whether it be a simultaneous assault on the presents, shredding paper and squealing with delight, or a decorous morning imbibing sherry while each gift is enjoyed in turn. Some are about the spiritual meanings of the holidays, while some are solely about consumer culture. Whatever works for you. I have been thinking about what I want for my little monkey when it comes to Christmas so here are a few traditions I will be forcing upon her.

Hats: Christmas is not complete without them (and if you knew me in my teen years you will know that I feel life is not complete without a few good hat opportunities). Sweaty cracker hats is a good start but basically anything festive, sparkly, or with ears/antlers will do the job.

Celebrating through the medium of song: I start amping up the singing of Xmas ditties around the end of October so that by now, when finishing up my Crimbo shopping I am singing along, full bore without a care in the world. Keeps me sane and ensures I have enough space to move around the crowded shops as other buyers shrink from my dulcet tones.

Cartoons: I have to get one on DVD every Christmas for watching on the afternoon, after the turkey. Last year it was Wall-E and I slept through most of it... This year is cheap - Wall-E again!

Letters to Father C: I was born a skeptic, I grew up a skeptic and am a skeptic now. Does it stop me writing to Santa on Christmas Eve? Does it stop me leaving out a mince pie, some sherry and a carrot for Rudolph? No. The charade is part of the fun.

House arrest: In my family Christmas is about being together (and eating all the food that has been bought whether you want to or not) and so we get together from about the 23rd and don't leave the house again until (on a good year) about 4th January. By that time we are all ready to leave and face another year!

I think that pretty much covers it. Is there anything I have forgotten that I need to foist upon her? Anything that will enrich her experience year on year? I don't think so - as long as she is in a silly hat, she can face pretty much anything!

Week 12: MummyHalved

Very rudely, my parents have buggered off and left me. Yes, that’s right people, this week I am Mummyhalved. I am not sure that holidaying was in the grandparent contract. Let me see... Bringing bacon sarnies to the hospital while the labour is under way - check. Making endless cups of tea and meals and stacking and unstacking the dishwasher for at least a month after mummy and baby return home from the hospital - check. Doing any general DIY that has been required for the last three years that we have never got around to - check. Night feeds - check. Walking for miles trying to get the baby to sleep - check. Changing pooey nappies - check. Going off on holiday and leaving mummy to look after her 7 month old child all by her poor old self - nope, definitely not in the contract.

I have always been a very independant individual. I chose my own outfits from about the age of 2 (which accounts for the orange nylon shorts and the penchant for hats), I cooked for myself from about the age of 12 (pasta with peanut butter and sausages anyone?) and went off to uni at the age of 17 (a uni that was 5000 miles away from The Mothership). As an only child (oh yes, don’t worry, there will be a blog post coming up on that little gem) I guess it was always in my nature. So really, this should be a breeze.

Something strange happened when I got preggers though - my phone bills are testament to this. It is as if, by creating a new generation, somehow the family has been knit tighter together - I have always been close to my parents, but I never thought I would want them to move in next door. Now, I am thinking of converting the garage. I lean on them for everything - advice on weaning, teething, routines, whether CK needs a hat in this cold weather, the consistancy of those nappies I mentioned earlier, and the list goes on.

What amazes me is that they not only put up with this, but that they seem to enjoy it. I know they want to spend as much time as possible with their grandchild, but indulging my DIY demands, and cleaning my toilet is possibly a little extreme. Not to mention the phone calls discussing bowel movements in great detail (not just CK’s, anyone’s really, I’m not picky).

So lets raise a toast to grandparent far and wide - whatever you’re tipple (mine’s a nice cup of Horlicks). If you’re lucky enough to have some good ‘uns like me then drink to their health. If you have not been thus blessed you may like to propose a slightly different toast and I will support you with that every step of the way. I’ll just say this to my mum and dad; Cheers folks... and COME HOME SOON!