9-5

A couple of years ago I started back at a 9-5 it seemed typical that whilst everyone had discovered working from home. Myself, having done that for 7 years I was going back into the office! Life sometimes hands you the dichotomy of your dreams, that doesn’t mean it’s not the right path it’s just a little curve in the road.

It’s a strange concept being in an office for 8 hours after 16 years of being at home with my beautiful children and creating a business.

I’ve spent a third of my life at home with my kids and to be honest I missed them terribly. However independence was shoved into their hands and they rose to the challenge going from asking me to get them a drink, they are now able to make themselves breakfast, lunch and dinner!

I came home the other day and my son had mown the lawn, my daughter had brought the washing in, they had both gone and walked the dog together, had lunch at the cafe and dinner was in the oven! Proud is an understatement.

It had been a balmy 35 degrees but the cool easterly wind was found on the balcony and we sat eating our dinner, discussing our day. Family makes what could be Groundhog Day into a lovely day. We watched the birds each commenting on our day enjoying the support and familiarity.

That was the summer holidays, when they return to school I’m sure a new ball game will ensue, that’s if any of us have the energy to catch it.

Vivid Births

Vivid are the births of my children; so much pain and so much pleasure. I would relive either or both for a hundred years, such a powerful sense of self.

With trepidation I entered the ER ward for my first and was thrust into the unempathetic arms of a large African women her skin shimmering from the flourescent lights as she told me how she had ten children and this was the easy bit.

‘Oh Great!’ I thought

Whilst my husband slept in the hospital chair I wriggled and writhed with the power that was trying to escape me. I walked, I stood and in the end I gave way to the nurse and lay down. Big mistake! I lay there for hours enhaling gas and air, occasionally being told I wasn’t ready and to stop pushing. How do you stop a force that only nature can control?

Eventually our beautiful boy was born and I was in shock, you can call it PND or whatever you want but new mothers are in shock! We’ve just had our bodies ripped open to produce another person, a whole new person that we are so emotionally and physically connected to that a change in their breathing can make our nipples leak and our vagina flood, not to mention our mood literally trapeze.

This shock was a wave of impressionist thinking, it wasn’t the real world just something I had created to survive. The world had changed on its axis and nothing would look the same again. It was play dates with 3 month olds, they can’t play! It was weigh ins at the clinic for a child who isn’t moving only eating. It was coffee with Mums who all talk at once whilst each are leaking from somewhere. It was walks to the park to sit on a swing, gently, whilst the stitches heal.

I had no idea what to do all I could do was try to love this creature that wanted nothing but yet everything.

My second birth was blissful! No hospital this time, a home birth, a birthing pool, my folks to look after baby number one and The Ashes for hubby to watch. Of course there was effort involved and wobbly moments if I wondered if a home birth was a selfish choice. But with music and candles in the front room of our 300 year old Hertfordshire home that had probably witnessed many births over the years, my baby was nurtured into this world.

I was bathed in my roll top bath with my baby, the midwife had ran the bath and afterwards sat me at my dressing table and brushed my hair! All on the NHS, she was pushy and in charge and exactly what I needed. I hadn’t respected the brash matter of fact midwife with number one but I had grown in the last three years and realised what was required.

The powerful sense of self whilst giving birth the fact that there can be only one result which is the baby will come out. The fact that we are forever connected makes me realise these significant days are to be cherished even after the fact.

The first few weeks of number two was easier but not easy this time I was breast feeding and so could take that private opportunity to breathe. Trying to nurture my boy at the same time not always easy but a necessity. Making our new bundle a play thing.

Watching the two of them roll around on the floor playing like cats giggling, tickling and occasionally scratching, finding their place in the pack. Listening to their squabbles, their questions and support for each other. I wouldn’t change a thing.

The Adult At The Gate

It was a normal pick up from school, I was as usual listening to the music in the car and then unusually I was masked, standing my restricted distance from the school, the gate and any other human! I noticed my daughter was walking quickly and when we got inside the car I expected the usual tirade about annoying boys, which happened, I listened and we laughed, then sang along to Pink.

The next day on the way to school it all came out; ‘there was a man at the school gate yesterday and he was smiling at me, he didn’t take his eyes off me and made me feel uncomfortable.’

‘he didn’t take his eyes off me and made me feel uncomfortable’ This made my stomach tighten and my eyes sharpen as we pulled up to the school. Any 10 year old uttering those words needs to be heard. I told her that her gut feeling was right and that is what to listen to. She got out of the car and I walked her to the gate, a lioness protecting her cub. I told her I would get there early tonight and would keep an eye out.

The most terrifying thing about this in my mind after alerting the school was the sinking knowledge that this was another parent. There was very little to be done. I kept the communication open with my daughter and watched her closely. For the next week the deputy head walked up and down the gate as the children left waving and smiling at me and I wondered how many times this had happened before. It didn’t happen again.

For those who think that this wouldn’t happen at ‘their school’ or to ‘their children, and it only happens to others, wake up! As women we know when someone makes us feel uncomfortable whether we are 10 or 85.

My family live in a wonderful community in beautiful sunny Melbourne but we still need to be wary and alert.

One in four children has an abuser at arms length! Unfortunately they don’t look like monsters, have horns or fangs. They are just like you and me, they can be kind, happy and loving but they can also be the terrible change in your child’s innocent life.

Over 45% of females have been abused by the time they turn 18 and that figure is just the reported cases. I believe the figures are similar for males.

Be aware, Be Safe and most importantly as a parent be approachable to your children about every subject even the difficult ones. There’s some interesting information below.

https://www.parents.com/parenting/better-parenting/advice/practical-ways-to-talk-to-kids-about-strangers/.

I’m Not Your Adventure!

“I’m not your Adventure”

I love this line from Transparent which I have been binging on recently. 

Families are always a wonderful emotional hook for readers, watchers and listeners! Transparent  is such a great piece of writing and at its core displays the amazing glue of a very ‘dysfunctional’ (sorry, I’ve never met a completely functional) family. Being a parent is an adventure all of it’s own but sometimes can feel like climbing Everest.  Like life you just thing everything is running smoothly and then bang there’s a bump in the road that you have to try to swerve to avoid. Most adventures start with a yearning to change, learn and explore that propel you in directions that not everyone would chose but I agree with this quote, find your own adventure.

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