What was I worried about?

Gentle reader, I apologise for my last self-pitying entry- we all have our moments. I have pulled myself together and realised that no one is perfect. I must stop being hard on myself, eat more chocolate and drink more tea.

Back to a previous topic of my eldest starting school- I was worried, she wasn't.

The first few weeks of school are now behind me and what was the fuss all about? My daughter is in a nurturing environment which she loves and is steadily making new friends. She is having a blast and is so excited to be there that each morning is greeted by her pleas to go to school. You cannot ask for more.

Her first day of school was not as emotional as I had imagined. My daughter saw one of her little friends from camp and off she trotted unaware that this was the first day of her school life. This was the right start- no crying parents and tortured good byes just a child who was ready to learn and start a new adventure. I am not entirely sure what they are learning just yet so the jury is out. So far so good.

One of the perks of this school is the principal; I have yet another crush. I was met with this glorious vision of a sculptured back with a perfect triangular shape pointing down to a pert bum- I almost drooled! I will add him to the list which includes James McAvoy, Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt to name a few. I have a feeling that several ladies have the latter if not all of these fine specimens on their to-do list.

I am happily married and will remain that way but I still have a pulse if you get my drift. Who am I not to admire the scenery ?

I have always had a thing for older men- so my husband fits the bill. My first serious crush was when I was 17 and an au-pair in Switzerland. He was 40, Italian and quite simply gorgeous. Nothing happened as he was the father of the children under my care but my nights were spent in serious fantasy.

To return to the topic. I am guilty of imagining the worst and ending up with an anti-climax. So I should just chill.

Talking of worrying the world is on the verge of financial collapse but something tells me that as long as Victoria Beckham has a new haircut and tight outfit we shall all be happy and forget these woes.

I am not the parent I thought I would be

I was never one to coo over babies I preferred puppies with their soft fur. Babies seemed loud, stinky, tiresome and tiring. I was not wrong.

Having children was something I had not really considered until I was 30. There was a slight concern that having a baby might not happen so having a child was my priority and I was determined to be a wonderful mother.

Raising a child would always be amazing and delightful- wrong!To say that child-rearing has been challenging would be saying that the Atlantic Ocean is quite big. I was utterly unprepared for the physical and emotional demands. I was, and am, at times a wreck. Should I admit this? Yes.

I had hoped to be able to reason with my offspring and do all those fabulous Mary Poppins inspired activities with a smile on my face. Wrong again- there seems to be a pattern. I have become a fish-wife at times bellowing commands and watching my own temper fizzle before my eyes.

I have become the nightmare neighbour who seems incapable of calm interactions between herself and her children- I shout. Is this the best approach? Probably not. Do I feel guilty when I shout? Yes. I never wanted to shout figuring that gentle directing, choice and positive responses would make loud voices unnecessary. Wrong again. I am getting good at being wrong.

I thought I would always be punctual but alas. My children do not see time the way I do- they dawdle when speed is needed and drive me nuts by needing to search for a blankie just as we are leaving even though I could have sworn it was in their hand. We, adults, see time as a constraint with a mental list of things to do in an alloted space- they see time like a flowing river; it gets where it is going no need to worry about the whys and wherefores. I should really see things their way more often. Maybe therein lies the crux of the matter- I expect them to be what they are not.

Child-rearing has not been the fluffy ride I thought it would be. It has been hard work and the hardest job I have ever done and will ever do. Every day should bring joy and there are moments but today is a day when I curse my generation for making women so competitive in all spheres. I give myself a C as a parent and know there is much to be learned.

I am learning way too much about myself and I am not sure I like what I find. I have less patience and tolerance than I had thought and there are days when I wonder if all the mothers around me who seem to be happy all the time are lying, Stepfordian in some way or they just have better drugs than us mere mortals.

I love my girls don't get me wrong but I find at times that I am unable to step back and watch them grow and enjoy these precious years. I feel trapped like serving time for being a mother- no chance of parole.

This is tonight and tomorrow morning when my littlest climbs into bed with me for a cuddle I will thank everything that I am who she wants and her warm little body against mine will remind me that these snuggles are just for a short time.

Each day brings new starts and tomorrow I will start not to shout as much and remember they are children after all and it is their job to bug me but mine to love them.

The "C" word

Before you get too irate, excited or plain irritated the "c" word here refers to that luscious velvety substance that once was intimately connected to the cocoa bean. What else could it mean?

There are times in a girl's life when only chocolate, chocolate fudge or chocolate cake will do. Maybe that should read in this girl's life. Once a month there is an all consuming desire to destroy any semblance of weight control and eat as much chocolate as I can to keep the demons at bay.

Chocolate acts as a pacifier and eases the mind and temper. Just the mere waving of a bar of the good stuff can bring a smile to the face and an inner calmness when there had been a dormant volcano about to explode.

I admit too that I am a chocolate snob. I was raised in England and grew up being weaned onto Cadbury's- the original and not this made by Hershey's imitation. I can discern Swiss and Belgian chocolate and have scant regard for American chocolate as it is too gritty ,has a poor cocoa content and lacks richness. Trader Joe's milk and dark pound plus are delightful and have been used in fudge, cakes and to enjoyably pass an evening stuffing my face.

See's candies -I shiver as I type- is an abomination and should only be given when the recipient is not much loved; I doubt there are any who could not conjure up but a few deserving names.

I needed chocolate cake yesterday and this leads leads me to yesterday's baking efforts. I came to baking quite late. My brother bought me Nigella Lawson's "How To Be A Domestic Goddess" as a joke. He could not, at the time, think of anyone less suited for such gift. This book is a bible; as elegant as it is eloquent and as classy as it is chocolate-inspired.

I was scared at first to try and master even the basics- having had sunken sponges which were filled with butter cream to hide the indentation- but I soon took a perverse pleasure in making cakes, madelines, truffles and even meringues (yes I have made chocolate ones). I have enjoyed the praise that has been heaped upon me but I have a suspicion that home-baked goods are still a sure way to win affection. Baking seems to have fallen from favour in these butter-fearing times but the arts have always had to suffer.

Unlike Old Mother Hubbard the cupboard was not completely bare but enough to make vanilla cupcakes with a simply divine chocolate fudge icing. It was a sensory overload and just about satisified the chocolate need.

Maybe the chocolate and baking are the release that I need each month. Don't get any ideas of this pursuit being naked or any other such prepoterous notions. There is something undeniably sensual about eating one's chocolate cake;there is no euphemism here. The creation of a sinful past-time (over-eating) just makes it naughtier.

At that juncture I bid you good night and I will hunt for more chocolate.

Let the coundown begin

If you had spoken to me at the beginning of the summer I would have been tearing my hair out calculating how many weeks were left until my eldest went to Kindergarten. How am I to entertain the monsters? How many times can kids watch a film? What vices can I have as I don't drink or smoke?

This has all changed. I am now seriously worried as there are but 2 weeks until my little lady leaves the fold and is thrown to the lions in the arena of public education.

For over the last 5 years I have been nurturing my child. This has not been easy and I have sworn, lost my temper and done everything the books advise against but I have cuddled, laughed, soothed, played and danced with and generally enjoyed having this precious lady around.

I suppose that I have been avoiding external influences and the thought of her being exposed to all manner of things beyond my control is rather scary. That may sound as if I have been censoring her every move but a parent must have a degree of control. I have kept my eldest away from that purple abomination that is Barney and programs that dumb-down their content believing that children need to be patronised. If you expect little this is all you will get.

Maybe my child will be considered a freak because she watches programs from my childhood, Bagpuss and Trumpton e.g, but it is to be hoped that she will be strong enough to accept and embrace difference.

Different parenting styles will come into play as I will be reminded that certain children are allowed to do whatever with little regard and supervision but a swift reminder that is not how we do things should suffice. I will have to bite my tongue which will be incredibly hard.

I can't control everything now but then I too must embrace change and be more aware and accepting of what I neither know nor understand. I have to let my little lady grow up and embark upon the voyage of discovery that is education. I will support, nurture and learn myself. We will learn together.

As an addendum the little one is driving me to distraction and so I can now begin counting the days until she goes to nursery!

Addendum to Loss

My last posting had been about making a profit from a blog when the one before had been about the loss of a child. It almost felt as if I were trivialising such a tragic event but nothing can be further from the truth.

I have spent so much time thinking about the loss of this child and have had to just get on with things as I do not want my own girls to know what I am thinking. I believe I should shield them from the harsher sides of life.

This made me think of how the parents, my friends, are dealing. Do they just put on a brave face when they don't feel like going on? Are they shielding their daughter, naturally, and finding explanations of a sibling's absence unbelievably painful?

How are they coping with reactions from others? Have they been supported or have they wanted to punch someone who suggested that heaven had a new angel? I know I would have violent thoughts at a well-intentioned yet badly placed remark.

What hit me hardest was the milestones that had been anticipated: first smile, first Christmas, first steps, etc. but would never materialise. This year is going to be so tough as there is so much that should have happened but won't, constant reminders of what should have been. Christmas will be very strange this year for the family and I just don't know how they get through the days.

I am at a loss myself to begin to comprehend their pain.

Blogging it Mummy Style

I was reading an article in the SF Chronicle- a poor example of journalism at best- and there was an article about Mothers blogging. It will hardly come as a surprise that mothers are more likely than other demographics to blog as they wish to vent having spent time with the little darlings (I use the term advisedly). What surprised me was how much money was to be made from this venture.

OK I can be naive and rather dense at times but had thought that the blog was an arena to just communicate not profit. There I go sounding all bohemian. Other mothers' blogs have been entertaining but I just saw them as a a reflection rather than product. There were ladies who were raking it in and living comfortably off the income from their blog. As one lady wrote you get little respect when you don't earn any money. Try being a musician and writer !

Once again I thought a blog was something you wrote when you had a few moments as you wanted to just have time to gather your thoughts and put them out there in the hope that someone would read them and not a professional venture. Looks like I missed the point then.

I have not regaled the world with tales of breastfeeding partly because I gave up over a year ago and wondered who would find it interesting. There have been days when the girls have driven me to distraction and I have wanted to take up smoking or at least sit in a darkened room and tally the number of years until the little angels went to college.

How would I put this blog into a product? T-shirts- slogans- Mummy knows best? Memoirs- the trying years? Oh dear what next?

I just like rambling and have no head for business as is obvious but I love the idea that there is solidarity amongst stay-at-home mothers in whatever form. We need to support each other through good and bad times and raise a glass to something no matter how trivial.

Talking of trivial it is time to cook dinner, unsaddle and feed the high horse and keep the superhero cape hidden until it is really needed.

Loss

I had a great email from an old and dear friend of mine. I love getting his emails as they are so funny and adventurous. He is a helicopter instructor in the Navy so his life is slightly different from mine and I love the way he spins a yarn. We've been friends for almost 20 years and I am god-mother to his daughter, a delightful little thing.

As I read with amusement about his most recent trip overseas his email took a sharp and unexpected turn.

He informed me that they were mourning the loss of their second daughter. I was unaware that his wife was pregnant but to hear news of this nature shook and still does and I am not the emotional type.

The little lady was born 13 weeks premature with complications and lived for an hour; 60 minutes of life. All the hopes of being a sibling, a laughing little bundle of mischief and the possibility of being a responsible adult who could change the world were shattered and with it I expect the lives of the parents. How do you put on a brave face for your other daughter when inside you feel like you have been ripped apart?

I don't know what to say to my friend and his wife and that is all I can say. I just wish I could do something. I am a mother myself so this kind of loss is unfathomable. I don't know the pain they are suffering or how they can pick themselves up and face life knowing that they are missing one family member.

Is life fair? No. Do we realise what we have? No. Do we ever really love like it is our last day? No.

My heart goes out to them and to everyone who has lost someone.