Sparkle

I am a big fan of crystals. I have quite a collection of them that I love, and my collection of crystal jewellery is kind of getting out of hand now, but I’m ok with that.

It stemmed from the weeks just before I started working as a junior doctor. In the short break between finishing uni and starting work I’d come home for a bit of respite.  My Mum took me for lunch at my favourite cafe at Glastonbury, and it being Glastonbury, the world centre of all things hippy, we got tempted into a crystal shop. Mum bought me three or four that chimed with my situation, and at the end of the holiday they came back with me to my new home in doctor’s accommodation.

When I realised my registrar was one of the meanest women I’ve ever met, that every day I was expected to do things that terrified me, that if I asked a question I got laughed at or criticised, well I started choosing a crystal every morning to put in my pocket for the day. When my registrar responded to me with scorn I would give that crystal a little squeeze. As I psyched myself up to make a difficult phone call I would run the crystal through my fingers and rub the smooth surface, feeling it get warmer the more I held it. When I think of that time, which apart from having a baby, was the steepest learning curve, the biggest challenge of my life up to that point, I think of those crystals in my pocket and how much comfort they brought me.

As a doctor I’m trained to analyse research and follow evidence based medicine. At the same time, the longer I do my job, the more I appreciate that there are many things that our current medical knowledge can’t explain, and how much psychological aspects impacts on a person’s wellbeing. I don’t know enough about the theory of crystal healing to judge. All I know is that I like having them, and I find them a useful element in the process of trying to care for myself a little better.

Crystals are a regular part of family life now. Both children have worn Amber necklaces, and whatever the science behind these, they have both had a remarkably easy time with their teeth. They ask for a crystal in their drinking water, along with a drop of rescue remedy when they’re having a hard time, and this is always part of my recovery routine after a night shift, or (chance would be a fine thing) a big night out. During our recent nit-combing sessions (which thankfully seem to be coming to an end for now) we have put calming crystals in the bath, with some lavender oil, and my daughter chooses one to hold. During her rages, which seem to be getting more frequent again, I will often put a crystal in her hand whilst she calms down. They even occasionally get made into crystal soup, my boy’s favourite cooking activity!

I have been having a bit of a low patch recently, so I asked the lovely Iris Bluebird to make me a special custom necklace. I have bought the children’s amber from her, and a whole collection of crystal jewellery for myself. I explained how frazzled I’d been feeling and how I was definitely in need of a little extra motivation, enthusiasm and general sparkle in my life. She spent ages talking through the choice of crystals which might help and ordering in some specially, and eventually made me this fabulous necklace.

I think this photo clearly shows how lacking in sparkle I’m feeling!! The necklace only arrived yesterday though, and in combination with trying to take time out for little bits of meditation, my reiki, positive affirmation cards, more blogging, baking, gardening, and actually trying to read a book, these all come together to me trying to focus more on ways to look after myself, whilst looking after two little people and working full time. None of these things are a quick fix, but I’m definitely feeling better just by being more proactive about it, rather than feeling sorry for myself and overwhelmed by life. I don’t find it easy being a Mum to young children but I’m grateful for anything that makes it feel just that little bit easier!

 

 

Gift List

With Black Friday seemingly everywhere this year and Christmas jumper day at school in just two days time, (which is mental, it’s not even December yet) Christmas seems to be getting earlier every year. I know I am equally to blame, with this being my third Christmas related blog already.

So obviously what to buy for presents is a big thing. I love giving presents. I get far more excited about presents for other people than myself. There’s this language of love questionnaire thingie you can do online, looking at how you express your love for people, and how you experience others’ love for you. So for some people practical acts are how they express their love (my Dad putting me a toolkit together, or my husband putting out the bins, and doing the washing and cooking the meals and, and, and) others are very huggy and physically affectionate, and some people, like me, express it through giving people things. Now I don’t need to spend loads of cash. I love lending people things that matter to me, loaning out beloved books or slings or films. When I was younger there was nothing that made me happier than going to the corner shop with my cousins and buying them all an ice cream. I would plan a really special gift for someone and then almost burst with excitement having to wait the days/weeks till the day they finally got to open it.

I don’t particularly crave presents for myself. I am not at all fussed that I have agreed with most of my family not to really do Christmas or birthday gifts for years now. It’s nice to receive, I particularly love a surprise, but it isn’t nearly as important to me as the giving.

So Christmas should be present central in our house then??? Well, actually, not so much. I find the commercialisation of Christmas quite difficult to stomach really. I think it detracts from all the other stuff that I find really magical and exciting, the decorations and food and togetherness and tradition. My daughter talks lots about getting presents for Christmas, though with a bit of brainwashing from me she is starting to talk about the other fun bits of Christmas too. It’s strange though because when you ask her what she wants she doesn’t really know. She’s pretty certain she wants Lego, but that’s as far as it goes. She told me she’d written a letter to Santa at school, but couldn’t remember anything she’d put on it.

So at Christmas my dislike of turning it into a materialism frenzy actually overcomes my desperate desire to give people things. More or less. Last year I tried to stick to a suggestion I’d come across on the internet, something to wear, something to read, something they need and something they want. Just four gifts each then, perfect. I even managed to allocate some of those categories to family members to buy. But they would buy the one gift I had suggested and then three others too. We still ended up with huge piles of presents, many of which lay forgotten about by Boxing Day.

This year I have tried to follow the same rules, but when trying desperately to think what to get them to wear, I remember the fact that it is hard to shut their drawers as it is! I genuinely can’t think of a single thing they NEED. So they will get one toy each, and a couple of books, and I will stop trying to desperately make up something they need, and just buy less.

Am I the only person completely obsessed with children’s books? All of them from chunky lift the flap board books, beautiful illustrated picture books, fact books about dinosaurs and history, classic chapter books like Dahl and Blyton. Harry Potter is our current family obsession, we have the Stephen Fry audiobooks and listen at every opportunity. So, they will be getting a few of these that I just can’t resist any longer.

Then there are stockings! I loved getting stockings as a kid, so don’t want to deny them these. They’all get clementines, walnuts (the same ones I put in last year that they never ate!), chocolate coins. Then it’s difficult to get the balance between small, sweet and cheap, and instantly forgettable and disposable. They’re both obsessed by Lego and key rings, so they’ll get a Lego character letting each. Also a Schleich animal, these are practically indestructible and have given great play value over the years. In the past they’ve also got a new toothbrush and toothpaste, and some underwear they needed, as I like to include something practical. Very keen to hear other people’s suggestions though for good stocking fillers.

Finally each year I buy an Oxfam unwrapped gift for each of them, which gets ceremoniously ignored every time, but it makes me feel better, and maybe one day will sink in with them as well.

I totally understand how each year Christmas becomes bigger and more expensive and more present based, and that is with children who haven’t written great long wish lists. And even with my desperate desire to have less stuff and value our belongings more I still find myself being drawn into it every year. I think there is a balance to be found, just not sure I have managed that yet.

 

Parents Evening

Yesterday was our daughter’s parents evening, an event I find quite ridiculously stressful and awkward. I think it’s having to sit waiting on tiny chairs outside of the classroom that makes me feel like a naughty school kid again. Not that I was ever particularly naughty. I was a swot who lived in fear of ever being told off, or getting a question wrong in a test.

My parents never came to my parents’ evenings, unless I begged and badgered them for weeks before. I think it was because they were never worried that I was having any academic problems, which was probably true, but I always interpreted it as them not really caring. I got the impression some kids would do anything to hide the event from their parents, but I just desperately wanted them to come, to me it felt like a massive deal for them to show an interest and for my teachers to say nice things about me. Part of my deeply ingrained need for approval.

My daughter has no such need. She could not care less what people think about her. At the moment we’re having a real issue with getting her to hand in her homework. Each week she does one of the projects from her topic grid, in fact at the moment she’s feeling pretty enthused about things and she’s doing two or three homeworks a week. Every day we try to remind her to hand it in. Sometimes I’ve even sent her into class holding her homework book out and ready to give to her teacher. And every day she forgets. I genuinely think it’s that she feels no need for any praise, for being told if it’s good or correct, for getting recognition. She just enjoyed doing it, and after that she’s just not bothered.

I suggested that to her teacher, who totally agreed. She said that these days she finds it incredibly rare to see a child with the internal motivation, who isn’t interested in praise and rewards. She said that it should stand her in good stead in this age of intense testing and levels and standards to be met, to just not care, but to work because you want to.

I would love to take credit for this. Me and my husband try to follow unconditional parenting, with the concept of no rewards and no punishments, to encourage internal motivation. We really do try. But I really cannot help but reveal my inner people-pleaser and  A grade-chaser on a far too frequent basis. I am always checking how she did in her maths test and her spelling test, who the outstanding worker was this week, what comments her teacher wrote in her book when she EVENTUALLY handed it in. I am just unable to put that part of myself behind me. So far my daughter has managed to ignore it, and it hasn’t rubbed off on her at all. I pray that continues because her attitude is so much healthier than mine. I feel completely unable to take the credit and totally believe it’s down to her personality. She has always been in her own head, her own little bubble world of a daydream, and long may that last.

Whilst sat waiting on our tiny chairs, feeling a little sick with anxiety, we were given her school books to look over, and I was frankly stunned by how many work books she has and how much work was in them after just 9 weeks of term. Everybody says that year 1 is a big step up from reception, but there were all these exercises about grammar and Venn diagrams and pages of handwriting. As somebody who believes more in the Scandinavian approach, who would have desperately loved to have homeschooled if it wouldn’t have threatened our sanity and our family wellbeing, who thinks that children should be learning through play, it frankly made me feel really sad to look through. I am so pleased she’s doing well and progressing, but I still can’t quite resolve myself with how our state schools are being conducted these days. I cannot see any need for a five year old to understand most of the stuff on their curriculum, particularly when there is so much fun to be had in the world.

But, despite all of my fears, misgivings and disagreement with the school process, my daughter loves school, loves her teachers, comes out happy every day and has changed unrecognisably in the past year. She had gone from a terrified, unengaged, solitary, uncommunicative little girl, and has totally blossomed. And we all benefit from some time away from her high intensity.

I follow lots of people who home school, me being all hippy and shit. I love reading about all the cool things they do with their kids. At the same time I do kind of find myself resenting the implication that, as conventionally schooling parents, we don’t do the same cool things with our children. We still let our children play, and learn through play when they’re at home. We still follow their interests and passions. When they ask questions we try to help them find the answers and explore things further. They still learn by getting involved in day to day family life, by getting outside in nature, by going on trips and having experiences. I think there can be an implication that if you send your child to school then you have totally abdicated all responsibility for their learning and development, and that you no longer have any impact on this. I find that a pretty patronising idea, but maybe it’s that horrid mummy-guilt just raising its head again, after all my presumptions that we would home school and then not feeling able to take that on. I do think we made the right choice, to send her to school, absolutely, but it can still be hard to let go off those feelings.

Anyway, I won’t bore you with how she’s doing academically, she’s not fussed and I’m trying to take a leaf out of her book, but she’s happy and settled, and even made some really close friends, and I couldn’t be happier.

Truth and Privacy

My blog doesn’t have a huge following. I’m all good with that. This was never started as a means to make my fame and fortune and escape my life of drudgery as an emergency physician. I have had some odd encounters though since I started. A male, childless colleague who I’ve never had a personal conversation with, and don’t really know well at all, telling me how much he’d enjoyed reading it. Another ex-colleague who I hadn’t seen or worked with in years, happened to bump into and he told me how much he loved it, and how it really resonated with him and his small kids. One person congratulated me on how BRAVE I was to write a blog like this, and it freaked me out for a while. What had I written that was so brave? What unspeakable taboo have I broken by writing about being a mother? I sometimes get worried messages from people who have read it, or been told about a particular post, to make sure I’m ok, to check I’m not mid-breakdown or anything.

I do worry sometimes, not for long, about how the things I have written, accessible to anybody, will be interpreted by people who don’t necessarily know me so well, or at all. I worry about the amount of information and photos of my children, in this age of online availability, of new humans having an internet history available from their 12 week scan photos, to their first moments as new separate creatures on the planet, with their lives available to find for anyone with some internet knowledge. I have friends who have managed to keep photos and information about their children entirely absent from social media, and I admire them hugely. So far I have not had that level of self restraint. I hope that as they grow older, and they can choose what they want to be available, that I will honour that, just as I (more or less) honour my husband’s wish to be as anonymous as possible on the internet.

I do consider what I write about my family and how they may feel about it, now and in the future. Is it acceptable to write on a publicly accessible forum that my son is still breastfeeding at two and a half years old, that my daughter still cosleeps at five years old (though not bedsharing since she was three if that helps anyone). Will future employers find this information one day and interpret these facts as a lack of moral fibre? A questionable start in life?

And these thoughts bring me back to my very first reason for wanting to write a blog. The idea that I felt so wholey unprepared for motherhood. The fact I had no concept at all of how mind-blowingly hard I would find it, the amount of conflicting thoughts and feelings I would have, the overwhelming guilt I would feel for finding things hard, for feeling like the only one failing all the time, the only one who felt relieved to be leaving for work sometimes and not having to look after an irrational two year old all day. And I wonder how when the majority of females on this planet are, or become, or have, mothers, how can it possibly be that I still felt so unprepared? And how can it be that so many others I speak to feel that same way?

I don’t want my children to grow up in a world where breastfeeding is taboo, where it is unseemly to talk about connections between family, where it is a character flaw to have been loved and nurtured and supported. I want them to feel able to admit that life is not always easy, to feel able to admit when life is hard, and to be open about their struggles. A world where mental health issues are taken as seriously as physical health and not seen as a character flaw.

Admittedly me putting some cute pictures of my kid on a potty, on an unread blog, are unlikely to change the world, and maybe I should be more cautious about the photos I choose to share, but I don’t feel brave or wrong for trying to put some of my thoughts out there for the world. We need to know that the lives we lead are complicated and varied, that we do not all have the exact same experiences but that are different experiences are valid and worthwhile.

I don’t know. I’m rambling a little now. I have had very little sleep whilst on night shifts these past few days. I have just been listening to an old Women’s Hour episode on my phone, with the most magnificent poet Hollie McNish, who so beautifully articulates these ideas, much better than I can. So I once again urge every single human to buy her wonderful book “Nobody  Told Me” which says some quite fabulous things about the reality of becoming a mother.

And I will keep writing, just in case that one person reads and feels less alone and more prepared one day, and hey, just coz I really enjoy writing it. And here’s a photo my two year old took of me, to even things up a little:

 

The tooth chart

After yesterday’s revelation that we don’t do Father Christmas, I’m about to cement my place as world’s meanest mother by saying that we also don’t believe in the tooth fairy!!!

My daughter was only four when she lost her first baby teeth. I was totally unprepared for this. Other friends had six year olds who were just losing their first teeth. Nobody else in her class had lost one.

Her only knowledge of teeth coming out, was Mummy having a gappy smile where my tooth had gone black and rotten because I was very bad and didn’t brush my teeth properly. We used this story lots whenever she complained about brushing (twice a day then!!)

She hadn’t mentioned anything about a wobbly tooth, but one evening she was sat at the table, eating a banana and then there was her tooth, left sticking out of the banana. After the initial shock, we were then left with the question of what to do about the tooth fairy.

She had never heard of the tooth fairy at this point. She had no idea about trading teeth for money, to be honest she didn’t really have much concept of money full stop. We had already made up our minds about Father Christmas, so the tooth fairy didn’t really feel right to us. We were kind of lucky to be starting with no expectations from her, giving us a clean slate to work with.

Losing a tooth felt too momentous to allow to pass with absolutely no ceremony. The next day I made the tooth chart.

She has now lost eight of her baby teeth (and still only five years old!) and with every tooth that is lost we mark it with a new coloured tooth on the chart, with a little word of wisdom, and the date her tooth came out. There is no reward associated with the chart, no treat, no money, just a marking of the occasion .

She has a special tiny wooden box where she keeps her teeth, and likes to look at them now and again. I think most mums have a secret box hidden somewhere, but I like that she can come back and look at her old teeth when she wants, even if they are a little grizzly.

The plan is that one day in the future, when all her baby teeth are out, she can choose a tree and we will plant it with her teeth buried beneath. We really will have an orchard by then!! Friends in her class have lost teeth too now, and so far at least, she seems perfectly happy that the tooth fairy doesn’t visit our house.

Day One

Don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with a day by day update of my progress, but today has definitely felt like good progress from my good intentions of yesterday.

Started with some exercise, walking the school run for a change, just me and my girl chatting about all the reasons we were excited about Christmas. She can be a total grump when we force her to walk, but today was a lovely walk.

Follow that up with a bit of baking – chocolate and strawberry cake, wheat and dairy free for our coeliac guest, with the secret ingredient of red kidney beans!! Healthy and looking yummy.

It was was a beautiful sunny, crispy day, so we all got outside. I pruned the last of the fruit trees whilst everyone else raked leaves. Also harvested some of our medlars from the pruned branches, though there are still loads on the tree to fully ripen. I still need to find some more medlar recipes, keen to try one for sticky toffee pudding using medlars instead of dates. Sounds good, but then so did my rubbish quince recipe!

One of my absolute favourite lunches, perfectly ripe Cornish Brie with warm, crunchy, crusty bread, and the Radio Times.

Today seemed like a good day to bring out my YesMum positive affirmation cards after neglecting them for months. Today’s was a good reminder – need to try to not get too carried away with my positive changes, keep it small, I don’t need to suddenly have the perfect life.

I did manage ten minutes of mindfulness meditation too, which was hugely appreciated. It was even more appreciated for being sat in my favourite nostalgic chair in our reading room which we have finally (more or less) cleared out after being the main dumping ground ever since we moved house.

I even received an email from HR man, saying that not only did he agree I’d work much more than my allocated hours, but actually according to his calculations it was even more than I’d thought. He’d copied the boss man who controls the cash into the email, and promised to get it sorted out for me, and to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Now that is a huge step forward!

Only one big task left for today. As of this morning, I have come to suspect we may be facing our first close encounter of the headlouse kind. I’m not certain, but I’m sure I saw some suspicious beasties in my daughter’s hair today. So tonight we are attempting the nit comb!! Dun dun duuuhhhh…  Washing, brushing, tying back my daughter’s hair, all a total nightmare, she hates anybody going near it, so I think I’m going to need some luck with this. With my new found positive outlook though I’m trying to make into a nice experience. I’ve cracked out the scented candles, going to put some relaxing crystals and lavender oil in the bath, and have Harry Potter audiobook on the iPod. I’ll let you know how it goes…

The up starts here

You may have noticed that for the last few months my mood seems to have been a bit low. I have definitely lost my fizz and sparkle that I found in spring and summer where I felt alive with enthusiasm, motivation and joy for life. The last week of the summer holidays were the killer, then the stormy rage filled days of the beginning of term, and we don’t seem to have managed to drag ourselves back since.

I find that often as a parenting team, one of us may be struggling, whilst the other is on good form and helps prop up the team for that moment. This definitely feels like the longest spell where we both need a bit of propping, and there’s nobody around to do it.

I haven’t been to reiki since before the summer holidays, and that last time my amazing reiki master said that if I carried on like I was then there probably wasn’t anymore he needed to do. Life was sweet, my energy light and flowing and joyful. Today I went back to reiki and I think I was in tears about 30 seconds after he asked me how I was doing, and I pretty much cried for the rest of the hour. It almost shocked me, I can’t even remember the last time I cried, but I think he gave me the permission to let out all the frustration and difficulty that has been building these last few months. And now I know I have to do something about it.

I think the big part of the problem has been work. I work full time anyway, and for the past five months I have been consistently over rota’d, to the point that I am now nearly a month over my allotted hours. Combine that with a shift pattern that veers wildly between nights and days, whilst trying to squeeze in as much time as humanly possible with my children, and some serious insomnia, and you have one frazzled lady. And that doesn’t even touch on how totally hectic work is these days when I am there. And the worry hanging over me of all the admin work that I’m just not finding the time for around my shifts. All in all it has led to very little time to do anything nice for myself without overwhelming mum guilt, and absolutely no time to give my husband a break, resulting in crippling wife guilt too.

Todays reiki made me realise that I need to change something. I need to get back some control. I need to start enjoying myself again and nourishing myself again.

My plan is for small steps. More of the little things that I love. More music and dancing and singing (sorry neighbours). More quiet meditation. More blogging (sorry followers, hoping the posts will get more upbeat soon) and journalling. More reading (something other than just Facebook posts!). More baking, I cannot remember the last time I made a cake. More time with friends to help me eat that cake (every time I even think about meeting up with a friend I just haven’t been able to find the time).

And more reiki. I have two more appointments booked in now for this month!

Have tried some little steps already today. Drank my tea in the rain in the garden

where despite the autumnal changes there are still some flowers which just refuse to give in, bringing much appreciated flashes of colour, and I even saw a bee braving the rain today.

I also decided to treat myself myself to lunch out, just me and my new book and a cheeky glass of prosecco.

It is small steps so far, but I need to turn this round. I have finally found the courage to try and sort out my hours at work, so there won’t be an immediate change but hopefully things will get easier in the new year. And I need to ditch the mum guilt and wife guilt and get myself into a better place, because when I’m doing good then I can be there to prop everyone else up when they struggle and hopefully allow them to be in a better place too. I certainly found that during my sparkly summer everyone else seemed to sparkle too.

So here’s to sparkling. I have decided the up starts with me. And it starts right here!

Interval

Day off today, in the middle of a tricky run of shifts. Managed to have a pretty slow day with some of my favourite things.

Going to Waitrose still feels like a decadent luxury, as the first one in the county only opened a few months ago. I managed to be pretty restrained, but couldn’t resist buying some liver for a dinner of liver, bacon and onions tonight. I can’t remember the last time I ate liver, probably before I was pregnant with the boy, but I saw it and desperately wanted some. Maybe it’s my body telling me I could do with some extra iron, been feeling tired to my bones this last month or so, despite the children finally getting some sleep.

There have been showers all day, with beautiful sunny spells between- the perfect weather for weeding. After a run of horrid shifts and a week away, I have been missing my garden terribly. It felt so good getting my hands muddy and clearing through some of the annuals which were looking worse for wear. The garden is definitely looking a bit brown and droopy around the edges, but I still can’t quite believe how far it has come in just one summer!

Didn’t quite find the time to deal with the carpet of fallen leaves in the back garden. That will have to wait till my next day off.

I can’t even begin to say how much I love being out in the garden, hands in the dirt, trying to nurture my plants. I love how it is a constant process, even though this year has been particularly work intense, there will always be something that needs doing, a new plant to find space for, a new flower that delights. I may not be motivated to go running or sweat in the gym, but I love digging and raking and carting heaps of manure.

I have definitely continued my descent from the energy filled, motivated, forward thinking joy of the early summer. Feeling pretty sluggish and slow-moving/slow-thinking, and finding those waves of overwhelm are more constant than they felt when the days were light and long. I have booked myself my first reiki session in months, really hoping that might help me get back on track.

We planted our quince tree three years ago, and had our first harvest of four precious quinces. They have been ripening in our kitchen for the past two weeks, smelling gloriously sherberty, until we decided today was the historic day to cook them. We baked them slowly with masala, sugar, butter and star anise. I was so excited about trying them.

Shame they were horrible. We were making the recipe up as we went along, and they were tough and dried out and grainy, with an overwhelming flavour of aniseed. Guess we have to wait another year to try and improve our technique, so fingers crossed for a bigger harvest next time round.

Four tough shifts lie ahead of me, then recovery time. After that though, well maybe it’s about time to start thinking about the C word.