Wednesday 26 November 2014

6.15pm

At 6.15pm, post teatime, post bath time, all bedtime books having been read and milk having been consumed, my son decided he couldn't sleep and he climbed onto my chest, dropped his head and put his little arms around my body, sighed deeply and began to relax.

It took around 20 minutes for him to fall asleep and every time I tried to decant him into his 3-sided cot next to me, he whimpered a little and clung more tightly to me.

I lay in the darkness enjoying the feeling of his cool forehead on my skin, his soft fluffy hair tickling my nose and lips, the sound of his gentle breathing and the occasional shudder or whimper as he began to dream.

My mind wandered back to when I lived in Reading. At 6.15pm I would probably have been in the highly efficient mode of finishing everything for the day in the next 15 minutes or, if my day had gone well, I might be finishing my tea and turning off my computer. I loved my work. I loved the buzz of freelance. Sometimes I would be at my other job and I would have just settled down with my first client of the evening, cosy in our therapy room, my mind intently focused on another person and his or her life. I loved that work too.

Then my mind wandered further back to when I lived in London and 6.15pm was when I would think about turning off my computer and heading out to meet a friend or heading home, walking, cycling, taking the bus or taking the tube (depending on my location, the location of home and my mood), sometimes reading, sometimes listening to music, mostly watching other people, thinking about what I might eat for my dinner or feeling excited about my evening's plans. I loved London. I loved my life in London. I loved the buzz of my busy and varied weeks.

There are times I struggle, with my life as it is now, it is true, but there have always been times that I have struggled. I've never been one for a life of the mundane or for straight lines. It has always been a life of ups and downs and tangents. It has also always been a life of deep appreciation of what I have.

I felt very lucky, lying in the dark with my child, that I have had so much already in my life that I have loved, and now, with my son, I have found true love. Nothing before could have prepared me for this. Nothing before could have compared to this.

Monday 24 November 2014

A wonderful day in the world of motherhood

While I was running the bath, someone climbed/escaped all the way downstairs again and locked both stair gates (top and bottom) behind him, thus preventing him being able to climb back up again. Result: extreme whimpering.

To be fair though, there has been a lot of whimpering today. Reasons: I put him on the floor so I could turn a light on; I tried to put the 'wrong' bib on him (he wanted the orange one); I tried putting him in his highchair while the wrong bib was in front of him (instead of the orange one); I tried offering him potato when he wanted an olive; I put him on the floor (next to me) so I could go to the toilet; he couldn't put my belt on him; he couldn't undo my belt; he couldn't do his zip up; he couldn't undo his buttons; he couldn't put his socks back on after he took them off; he sprayed himself in the face with cold hose water; he ate too much soil.

There was also a lot of giggling: I put wellies on him; he found the hose; there was water coming out of the hose; rough play (me chucking him around); singing; dancing; playing the tambourine; a new monster glove puppet book I found in a charity shop; me pretending to sleep then waking suddenly to roar at him.

He's also been practicing all his words: banana, clock, mama (lots, especially when he sprayed himself in the face with cold water), dada and pop. He's also been practicing his signs for 'aeroplane' and 'things that go round' (fan, helicopter, cassette tape), waving for hello and goodbye...and, I think, 'more'.

It has been a lovely day.

Tuesday 11 November 2014

Mental versus physical

Not sure I'd agree Freud was the greatest (and I'm being polite here), but I absolutely do agree with his suggestion that mental health problems will be explainable by physical causes one day - though some already are. There should not be segregation in treatment of physical and mental health problems. It does not make sense. Most ill health diagnoses have both physical and mental/psychological symptoms and (I am also predicting and have always said) all will have some form of physical/physiological/neurological cause - why arbitrarily assign some to the label of 'physical' and therefore 'normal' and others to the 'mental' category and therefore to be treated with stigma, shame and fear - and less support...??

"The NHS can no longer act as if minds don't matter"

Friday 7 November 2014

Mostly feeling sorry for ourselves

The family has the lurgy. Feels suspiciously like flu. My lovely little boy played me Classic FM (his choice) for 45 minutes and climbed onto the bed to cuddle me when I was at my worst. As soon as I perked up though, he reverted to a whinging, unhappy snot-teething-tummy-upset monster, and it was my turn to cuddle him. Now my lovely man is making me some plain noodle soup. I love my boys.

Oh and the little one has a new word - hot - for whenever he touches the radiator or oven or sees the kettle. Clever boy.