Why is it so hard for me when things don't go to plan?
Don't answer that question!
Actually, although today has been a challenge, hence this rare midweek post, it could have been a lot worse.
But I do find it difficult when I don't live up to my own expectations. I know I can do things so much better, and be so much better, and when things largely outside my control intervene it's hugely frustrating.
On the positive side: I can recognise that it's my own expectations that lead to the feeling of pressure and disappointment when something goes wrong. I know that if they do go wrong it's not because I am a bad person or useless or stupid.
On the negative side: I still need to work on handling that disappointment and pressure in the moment. And avoiding it in the future. And it is still a battle to prevent it becoming an all-consuming, crushing emotion.
But tomorrow is another day, and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful for this blog as an outlet for these self-indulgent ramblings, and to you, my long-suffering readers!
About Me
- Liz
- Kent, United Kingdom
- I'm finally a happy mum of a toddler but it's taken a while to get here!
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
"I didn't realise you were a mum...."
That's a comment I've heard quite a few times lately and I'm puzzled by it.
Mostly it's at my new place of work and I can think of several reasons for it, when I think logically:
1) We're so busy we don't really have time to get into deep personal conversations.
2) There's no room on my desk for photos, although Miss T is my screensaver - but I've always got programmes open on the screen.
3) I often stay late, so people assume I have no nursery pick-up etc to do (when the truth is that the ever-helpful grandparents are on duty, again...)
But it does bother me, if I'm in a tired and emotional state. Do I not seem motherly? And when they find out I do have a daughter, and a small one at that, their shocked expressions seem to indicate that I should be at home rather than pursuing a career.
It's a fact that the industry I work in can be male-dominated, perhaps because it demands unsocial hours that are difficult to do with children if there are no ever-helpful grandparents on hand, but one of my new colleagues has two small children and no one seems to express surprise to her.
Perhaps part of it is my fault - in the same way I saw my pregnancy as irrelevant to my work and was irritated by the constant questions whenever I was out trying to do my job, Miss T is not part of my working day, although I often miss being with her.
But I simply don't have time to engage the office in fascinating discussions about her latest achievements, and nor does anyone else.
That may sound harsh and I'm sure my work-life balance would not work for everyone. Nor do I think it will necessarily work for me for the next 20 years. But for now, working hard and playing hard (with Miss T on my days off) is an approach that works for me.
When I'm at work, I'm totally at work. Hours can whizz by with no thoughts of lost shoes, the school run or bedtime battles popping into my head. Of course, this is only possible because I know she's 100 per cent safe and happy with Mark, my parents, or our chidminder and I'm incredibly grateful for all of them for allowing me to concentrate on work.
But when I'm at home, and Tasha is awake, I'm totally at home. Since signing the contract for my new role, meaning I could give up most of my freelance commitments, I don't let work intrude on my days off and I try to give her my full attention, which means we have had some lovely days together.
It also means that there are few evenings out with Mark and weekends away are a rare luxury. Actually, not a luxury - almost a trial. I don't want time away from her. I want to spend time with her.
How bizarre it feels to be writing those words, on this blog!
Mostly it's at my new place of work and I can think of several reasons for it, when I think logically:
1) We're so busy we don't really have time to get into deep personal conversations.
2) There's no room on my desk for photos, although Miss T is my screensaver - but I've always got programmes open on the screen.
3) I often stay late, so people assume I have no nursery pick-up etc to do (when the truth is that the ever-helpful grandparents are on duty, again...)
But it does bother me, if I'm in a tired and emotional state. Do I not seem motherly? And when they find out I do have a daughter, and a small one at that, their shocked expressions seem to indicate that I should be at home rather than pursuing a career.
It's a fact that the industry I work in can be male-dominated, perhaps because it demands unsocial hours that are difficult to do with children if there are no ever-helpful grandparents on hand, but one of my new colleagues has two small children and no one seems to express surprise to her.
Perhaps part of it is my fault - in the same way I saw my pregnancy as irrelevant to my work and was irritated by the constant questions whenever I was out trying to do my job, Miss T is not part of my working day, although I often miss being with her.
But I simply don't have time to engage the office in fascinating discussions about her latest achievements, and nor does anyone else.
That may sound harsh and I'm sure my work-life balance would not work for everyone. Nor do I think it will necessarily work for me for the next 20 years. But for now, working hard and playing hard (with Miss T on my days off) is an approach that works for me.
When I'm at work, I'm totally at work. Hours can whizz by with no thoughts of lost shoes, the school run or bedtime battles popping into my head. Of course, this is only possible because I know she's 100 per cent safe and happy with Mark, my parents, or our chidminder and I'm incredibly grateful for all of them for allowing me to concentrate on work.
But when I'm at home, and Tasha is awake, I'm totally at home. Since signing the contract for my new role, meaning I could give up most of my freelance commitments, I don't let work intrude on my days off and I try to give her my full attention, which means we have had some lovely days together.
It also means that there are few evenings out with Mark and weekends away are a rare luxury. Actually, not a luxury - almost a trial. I don't want time away from her. I want to spend time with her.
How bizarre it feels to be writing those words, on this blog!
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Something to share...
Here's a little something I wrote for elsewhere that I thought some of you might like to read. Some of you, I fear, will be horrified....
I was prompted to share it after another puddle-splashing session by Miss T that ended with her sitting in the aforementioned puddle. Thank goodness for the ever-present emergency spare clothes!
WE'VE had swine flu - not literally in my case - so the latest headline-grabbing health scare seems to be E-coli.
Of course it is a serious illness and the tales of toddlers with organ failure are enough to strike terror into the hearts of parents everywhere, but the hysteria does seem to me to be another symptom of the germ-phobia sweeping this country.
While I don't encourage my own small daughter to eat her lunch in the toilet or to ignore basic hygiene, I also don't disinfect her toys or insist she washes her hands every time she strokes one of our two hairy hounds.
I'm sure there are some people reading that with a shudder and a squirt of anti-bacterial hand spray, but I don't want her life to be restricted by fears that are blown out of all proportion.
It's impossible to visit a farm now without dire warnings about risks to your health, and the handwashing police lurk by every pen.
When we stopped at a motorway service station last week I was astounded to discover people are now encouraged to disinfect toilet seats before using them - and before using the "wave to activate" no-contact flush system to ensure there is absolutely no chance of touching anything yukky. Apart from on the door handles and locks, of course...but there's always a wad of toilet roll and that ever-present anti-bacterial hand rub...
In our house, the 10-second rule is still in force: drop a piece of food or cutlery on the floor and as long as it's been there less than 10 seconds it's fine to pick up.
And when we go to the park or the beach we pick up all sorts of treasures to bring home without a moment's thought about all the nasties that could be lurking on them.
My sisters and I grew up literally eating mud pies (and worms, and drinking strange concoctions made using chalk and water) and survived to adulthood without any major episodes of illness.
And we had a lot of fun along the way, unlike the children I see who find their playtimes interupted every few minutes for a spray of this or a squirt of that to keep them squeaky clean.
Children get dirty; it's a fact of life and another of those quickly-discovered parental lessons.
But clothes can be washed, babies are bathed and it's amazing what you can achieve with hot water and soap.
So we'll keep on stroking animals, playing on the floor and creating masterpieces from mud and I hope my daughter will remember a childhood of fun instead of fear.
I was prompted to share it after another puddle-splashing session by Miss T that ended with her sitting in the aforementioned puddle. Thank goodness for the ever-present emergency spare clothes!
WE'VE had swine flu - not literally in my case - so the latest headline-grabbing health scare seems to be E-coli.
Of course it is a serious illness and the tales of toddlers with organ failure are enough to strike terror into the hearts of parents everywhere, but the hysteria does seem to me to be another symptom of the germ-phobia sweeping this country.
While I don't encourage my own small daughter to eat her lunch in the toilet or to ignore basic hygiene, I also don't disinfect her toys or insist she washes her hands every time she strokes one of our two hairy hounds.
I'm sure there are some people reading that with a shudder and a squirt of anti-bacterial hand spray, but I don't want her life to be restricted by fears that are blown out of all proportion.
It's impossible to visit a farm now without dire warnings about risks to your health, and the handwashing police lurk by every pen.
When we stopped at a motorway service station last week I was astounded to discover people are now encouraged to disinfect toilet seats before using them - and before using the "wave to activate" no-contact flush system to ensure there is absolutely no chance of touching anything yukky. Apart from on the door handles and locks, of course...but there's always a wad of toilet roll and that ever-present anti-bacterial hand rub...
In our house, the 10-second rule is still in force: drop a piece of food or cutlery on the floor and as long as it's been there less than 10 seconds it's fine to pick up.
And when we go to the park or the beach we pick up all sorts of treasures to bring home without a moment's thought about all the nasties that could be lurking on them.
My sisters and I grew up literally eating mud pies (and worms, and drinking strange concoctions made using chalk and water) and survived to adulthood without any major episodes of illness.
And we had a lot of fun along the way, unlike the children I see who find their playtimes interupted every few minutes for a spray of this or a squirt of that to keep them squeaky clean.
Children get dirty; it's a fact of life and another of those quickly-discovered parental lessons.
But clothes can be washed, babies are bathed and it's amazing what you can achieve with hot water and soap.
So we'll keep on stroking animals, playing on the floor and creating masterpieces from mud and I hope my daughter will remember a childhood of fun instead of fear.
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Guess what? A new post!
Don't all fall off your chairs, but I'm back!
As usual, life has got in the way of blogging and as usual I've sat down to do this many times but never quite made it.
This time I'm determined!
You'll be glad to know there are no disasters or traumas to report - of course I would have been here before if there were.
I had a "review session" with my life-saving therapist a while ago and that prompted me to thinking about a review on here.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm still 'in therapy', albeit only every six months or so. I think it's healthy to recognise that I still need some support. It's probably more about exernal validation and my need for that is a part of my character that I have come to accept. I don't believe things are good until someone else tells me!
But it's also great to have an hour just to talk about everything and just to think about me. Not about aged dogs, cranky cats or troublesome two year olds.
Which brings me to Miss T, who is of course not actually that troublesome. She's fantastic. She's loving preschool, despite my well-documented fears, has mastered toilet-training (pretty much) and is learning and growing every day. Best of all she now has moments where she'll play happily by herself while I wash up or cook dinner or - shock horror - read a magazine!
What else?
Well, I have a permanent job! It's similar but different to my old job, a bit of a promotion, a lot more fun. And it means less stress about income and bills, if a bit more about other things. The hours are longer than I'd like but it's four days a week so I try to make sure my Tasha days are truly dedicated to her. No more skulking upstairs on the computer while she and her daddy play downstairs or go out.
Other stuff?
Not much. Life goes on, there are ups and downs, trials and tribulations. But we are a strong family unit and I love nothing more than when we are all at home together, snuggled up on the sofa reading a book or - shock horror part two - watching TV!
See? I can admit to less-than-perfection...there was a time when I would have insisted Tasha not watched TV and instead organised an educational activity. But actually, she needs chill out time too and when we watch it together and talk about what we see, or if it gives us ideas about craft activities or teaches us new songs then there's nothing wrong with that.
But do you know what? I don't care if anyone disagrees with that. It works for us and that's the main thing.
That's about all there is to report - as usual I'll end with a vow to try and update more regularly, but who knows if I'll keep it? If you check back and are disappointed at the lack of waffle or ranting, just know it means my life is crisis-free!
As usual, life has got in the way of blogging and as usual I've sat down to do this many times but never quite made it.
This time I'm determined!
You'll be glad to know there are no disasters or traumas to report - of course I would have been here before if there were.
I had a "review session" with my life-saving therapist a while ago and that prompted me to thinking about a review on here.
I'm not ashamed to say I'm still 'in therapy', albeit only every six months or so. I think it's healthy to recognise that I still need some support. It's probably more about exernal validation and my need for that is a part of my character that I have come to accept. I don't believe things are good until someone else tells me!
But it's also great to have an hour just to talk about everything and just to think about me. Not about aged dogs, cranky cats or troublesome two year olds.
Which brings me to Miss T, who is of course not actually that troublesome. She's fantastic. She's loving preschool, despite my well-documented fears, has mastered toilet-training (pretty much) and is learning and growing every day. Best of all she now has moments where she'll play happily by herself while I wash up or cook dinner or - shock horror - read a magazine!
What else?
Well, I have a permanent job! It's similar but different to my old job, a bit of a promotion, a lot more fun. And it means less stress about income and bills, if a bit more about other things. The hours are longer than I'd like but it's four days a week so I try to make sure my Tasha days are truly dedicated to her. No more skulking upstairs on the computer while she and her daddy play downstairs or go out.
Other stuff?
Not much. Life goes on, there are ups and downs, trials and tribulations. But we are a strong family unit and I love nothing more than when we are all at home together, snuggled up on the sofa reading a book or - shock horror part two - watching TV!
See? I can admit to less-than-perfection...there was a time when I would have insisted Tasha not watched TV and instead organised an educational activity. But actually, she needs chill out time too and when we watch it together and talk about what we see, or if it gives us ideas about craft activities or teaches us new songs then there's nothing wrong with that.
But do you know what? I don't care if anyone disagrees with that. It works for us and that's the main thing.
That's about all there is to report - as usual I'll end with a vow to try and update more regularly, but who knows if I'll keep it? If you check back and are disappointed at the lack of waffle or ranting, just know it means my life is crisis-free!
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Fun in the sun...
It's been ages again, so I thought I'd try to make up for it with this pic of Miss T in her favourite place...
So where were we?
Oh yes...preschool...well, there were tears but we survived, of course. I think she actually quite enjoyed it and she says she's looking forward to going again this week. Can't say I'm looking forward to the drop-off but we'll both survive.
Oh yes...preschool...well, there were tears but we survived, of course. I think she actually quite enjoyed it and she says she's looking forward to going again this week. Can't say I'm looking forward to the drop-off but we'll both survive.
In other news, just for a change, work is madly busy but I'm loving it. I can't actually remember the last time I've felt so happy. Maybe it's because I'm in control of my life, working for myself, doing what I love. Maybe it's because I've devised a beautiful colour-coded schedule that (theoretically, when I'm not doing holiday cover or taking on extra work) gives me time off as well as time at work. Maybe it's because I'm proving to all those who doubted that I can be successful outside of the traditional office environment and there is life after redundancy. Maybe it's just because the sun is shining. I don't really care.
I would like more time with the smily little girl pictured here. But I also have to take the work while it's there, for all sorts of reasons. And thanks to the beautiful weather and our beautiful hometown, we can still have beach time after a day at the office.
So that's us - on the beach, in the office, at preschool...but happy!
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Growing up!
Miss T starts preschool this week. I can't quite believe it.
Well, maybe starts is a bit much - she has the first taster session before her official start in September. But it feels as significant as if I were packing her off, lunchbox and books in hand.
It's a very odd feeling and as usual there are all sorts of conflicting parts.
I'm torn between thinking it's vital she gets off to a good start as school is such a key part of life, and believing that actually, she's still so little that whatever happens this week, and in September, doesn't actually matter.
It doesn't help that she is still not a fan of being left and the childminder suggested this might prove to be an issue at preschool.
We have warned them, but I'm not sure they are fully prepared for a proper Miss T strop-fest...
Filling in the paperwork was also an interesting experience - I felt strangely outraged that they believed I could condense everything that was special and noteworthy about my child into three A4 pieces of paper!
At the moment, the pupil herself seems wholly underwhelmed by the idea. I've told her she will be going to school on Thursday, and it will be lots of fun, and she usually replies: "Mummy's coming?"
I tell her Mummy will take her but can't stay although I won't be long, and she just carries on with whatever she was doing.
I'm trying to portray it in a positive light for her, and for the reasons I touched upon earlier. Education is such an important thing for me that I want her to find her first experience fun and for it to instill in her a lifelong love of the classroom and learning. Maybe I'm being unrealistic!
But I'm also struggling with the fact that she still seems so small and I'm worried about how she will cope.
Will she be the only one still in nappies? (hopefully not still in them by September....) Will she be the only one crying? Shall I let her take her bunny and her dummy, both only used for sleeping or when she's ill (or being left at the childminder's on a bad day!)? Will she be the only one who still has a dummy? (I stress, only for sleeping...)
I'm sure she'll have fun, once she gets used to it (next year maybe?), but I can't help wishing we could just fast forward to that point. Wish us luck!
Well, maybe starts is a bit much - she has the first taster session before her official start in September. But it feels as significant as if I were packing her off, lunchbox and books in hand.
It's a very odd feeling and as usual there are all sorts of conflicting parts.
I'm torn between thinking it's vital she gets off to a good start as school is such a key part of life, and believing that actually, she's still so little that whatever happens this week, and in September, doesn't actually matter.
It doesn't help that she is still not a fan of being left and the childminder suggested this might prove to be an issue at preschool.
We have warned them, but I'm not sure they are fully prepared for a proper Miss T strop-fest...
Filling in the paperwork was also an interesting experience - I felt strangely outraged that they believed I could condense everything that was special and noteworthy about my child into three A4 pieces of paper!
At the moment, the pupil herself seems wholly underwhelmed by the idea. I've told her she will be going to school on Thursday, and it will be lots of fun, and she usually replies: "Mummy's coming?"
I tell her Mummy will take her but can't stay although I won't be long, and she just carries on with whatever she was doing.
I'm trying to portray it in a positive light for her, and for the reasons I touched upon earlier. Education is such an important thing for me that I want her to find her first experience fun and for it to instill in her a lifelong love of the classroom and learning. Maybe I'm being unrealistic!
But I'm also struggling with the fact that she still seems so small and I'm worried about how she will cope.
Will she be the only one still in nappies? (hopefully not still in them by September....) Will she be the only one crying? Shall I let her take her bunny and her dummy, both only used for sleeping or when she's ill (or being left at the childminder's on a bad day!)? Will she be the only one who still has a dummy? (I stress, only for sleeping...)
I'm sure she'll have fun, once she gets used to it (next year maybe?), but I can't help wishing we could just fast forward to that point. Wish us luck!
Sunday, 14 June 2009
thoughts
I had a bit of a significant moment last night.
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...
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