I had a sudden realisation this morning that it was around this time five years ago that I met my abusive ex.
Just three months later, when he'd already moved in to my parents' house and was sharing my bed, I wrote an entry in my online journal about "love".
There are things we do for people that we love that they never know about, and to tell them would seem wrong and almost like we were looking for some kind of attention.
Like how I lose sleep because sleeping in a single bed really doesn't work with two grown adults for very long, and I know he has to get up for work earlier than I do, even though I know I need the sleep more and he'll only moan at me having ten minutes' lie in.
BTW, I just looked that up after remembering it earlier and I'd totally forgotten that I was already being subjected to "moaning at" for such simple pleasures as pressing the snooze button.
Anyway, I remembered this this morning because it totally horrified me that my former/younger self defined love in this self-sacrificing way. I remember writing the post, as well, and feeling it was all ~philosophical~ and wise and mature.
No, almost-19-year old self. That is not what love is. Love is doing nice things, for each other, without it being some big ~philosophical~ thing. Love is both of you doing this simultaneously, not one doing it for the other and not getting anything back, or only getting anything when it's perceived that there's something in it for the giver.
Love isn't about hurting yourself to make your lover happy. Anyone who really loved you wouldn't let you do that. And love isn't about spending every possible second together, either! Love is about finding solutions which suit both partners. Like sleeping in separate beds, sometimes.
Sunday, 25 March 2012
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Warning: This post talks loudly about POO.
Nobody ever tells you, before you become a parent, that over the first few years of your child's life you will become horribly and irrevocably obsessed with poo.
We've all seen them, sure, the facebook posts proudly announcing that someone's little darling has produced a giant turd that morning in the exact shape of Daddy's foot, hopefully without an accompanying picture, and I expect that most people have exactly the same response to this kind of thing. "Thanks for that. I really enjoyed the mental image while eating my lunch." And we vow, silently, that if we ever have kids, we will Not Be Like That.
Except, then, you go to your antenatal classes, and one of the first things that gets handed to you is a handy guide to all the different colours and flavours of your forthcoming newborn's poo. And you think nothing of this, because at this point all you can possibly think about is the birth and the fact this person with a gigantic head is going to somehow have to come out. So we forget about poo for now. And when the baby is born, we deal with the meconium with horror and then generally put it behind us and think "Thank god that's over!" and then go about our lives happily without a single poo-related thought polluting our minds.
Until. The baby group where another anxious mother is concerned that her baby's poo is perhaps too green. Too green? You wonder, and so you listen and come to learn that Green Poo is a terrible symptom of all sorts in babies, particularly breastfed babies, and can be caused by eating too much garlic*, drinking fizzy drinks**, or your breastmilk being "wrong", too much foremilk, or not enough foremilk***, and it can be a sign of diarrhoea, and suddenly you become infected with the Poo Obsession.
There are the green ones. There are the saved-up ones, where the baby waits for six, seven, eight days and you're on tenterhooks waiting for the inevitable poonami to strike, usually on a really hard to clean piece of furniture. Then there are the weaning ones. Sweetcorn, peas, gruesome but inevitable. Bits of undigested carrot, lovely. The banana "worms". (OH GOD.) But you get used to all of this, and even the meat ones no longer faze you, and then you come to potty training, which is pretty much where we are now. My son has just started doing his poos on the toilet (the final step for us - hooray!) and I am INCREDIBLY DISTURBED by them. They must be about half his bodyweight, and they're as long as his arms. But the most disturbing thing? One of them has taken up residence in my toilet and refuses to be flushed away, whatever we throw at it. It has been four days now, and it still sits there, staring at you with its one eye, and dissolving. Extremely slowly.
And I know, I KNOW. I have just done it. I've just written an entire blog post in order to express my opinion on my son's poo as though it's worthy of the interest of anybody else in the world. Don't shoot me. I'm a parent. I've been hit by the urge to discuss poo in public just like everyone else. Don't lie and say it's never happened to you, because one day, it probably will.
* Unlikely.
** No, it really can't.
*** This one's a possibility. If you are still in the worrying about green poo stage I suggest you read the Analytical Armadillo's excellent and very informative blog post on the subject, here.
We've all seen them, sure, the facebook posts proudly announcing that someone's little darling has produced a giant turd that morning in the exact shape of Daddy's foot, hopefully without an accompanying picture, and I expect that most people have exactly the same response to this kind of thing. "Thanks for that. I really enjoyed the mental image while eating my lunch." And we vow, silently, that if we ever have kids, we will Not Be Like That.
Except, then, you go to your antenatal classes, and one of the first things that gets handed to you is a handy guide to all the different colours and flavours of your forthcoming newborn's poo. And you think nothing of this, because at this point all you can possibly think about is the birth and the fact this person with a gigantic head is going to somehow have to come out. So we forget about poo for now. And when the baby is born, we deal with the meconium with horror and then generally put it behind us and think "Thank god that's over!" and then go about our lives happily without a single poo-related thought polluting our minds.
Until. The baby group where another anxious mother is concerned that her baby's poo is perhaps too green. Too green? You wonder, and so you listen and come to learn that Green Poo is a terrible symptom of all sorts in babies, particularly breastfed babies, and can be caused by eating too much garlic*, drinking fizzy drinks**, or your breastmilk being "wrong", too much foremilk, or not enough foremilk***, and it can be a sign of diarrhoea, and suddenly you become infected with the Poo Obsession.
There are the green ones. There are the saved-up ones, where the baby waits for six, seven, eight days and you're on tenterhooks waiting for the inevitable poonami to strike, usually on a really hard to clean piece of furniture. Then there are the weaning ones. Sweetcorn, peas, gruesome but inevitable. Bits of undigested carrot, lovely. The banana "worms". (OH GOD.) But you get used to all of this, and even the meat ones no longer faze you, and then you come to potty training, which is pretty much where we are now. My son has just started doing his poos on the toilet (the final step for us - hooray!) and I am INCREDIBLY DISTURBED by them. They must be about half his bodyweight, and they're as long as his arms. But the most disturbing thing? One of them has taken up residence in my toilet and refuses to be flushed away, whatever we throw at it. It has been four days now, and it still sits there, staring at you with its one eye, and dissolving. Extremely slowly.
And I know, I KNOW. I have just done it. I've just written an entire blog post in order to express my opinion on my son's poo as though it's worthy of the interest of anybody else in the world. Don't shoot me. I'm a parent. I've been hit by the urge to discuss poo in public just like everyone else. Don't lie and say it's never happened to you, because one day, it probably will.
* Unlikely.
** No, it really can't.
*** This one's a possibility. If you are still in the worrying about green poo stage I suggest you read the Analytical Armadillo's excellent and very informative blog post on the subject, here.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Heat
I've been struggling with my two year old over the last few days, and I think it's down to the hot weather we've been having. He's been having similar meltdowns to those that he has when he is tired or hungry, although in this case it seems almost impossible to calm him. It's made me think about how we need to remember these things and try to take them into account when dealing with our children. If your child is acting up because their blood sugar is low, that is not their fault (even if they did refuse the lovingly prepared dinner you just made them). So this seems common sense, but I think if they are tired or hungry then it makes less sense to pursue any avenue of punishment (and in fact, it seems they are more likely to kick back and so the situation escalates until the punishment far outweighs any original misbehaviour) - just state the expected behaviour, and move on.
Of course there are times when this approach is inappropriate - if they are being destructive, for example, and this is where the principle of using respectful discipline comes into its own. Calm the situation, remove anything which is becoming a hazard or which is likely to get damaged (usually it is easier to remove the object than the child) if you need to remove the child, a change of scene sometimes helps to calm them down as well. If you do need them to sit and calm down, I would stay with a younger child, and ask an older one if they want you to stay or not. An opportunity to calm down needn't be a punishment - if they need your help in doing so, then your presence will make it all the more effective.
Of course there are times when this approach is inappropriate - if they are being destructive, for example, and this is where the principle of using respectful discipline comes into its own. Calm the situation, remove anything which is becoming a hazard or which is likely to get damaged (usually it is easier to remove the object than the child) if you need to remove the child, a change of scene sometimes helps to calm them down as well. If you do need them to sit and calm down, I would stay with a younger child, and ask an older one if they want you to stay or not. An opportunity to calm down needn't be a punishment - if they need your help in doing so, then your presence will make it all the more effective.
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