Major milestones

So today we hit a major milestone that began yesterday, quite out of the blue.

The little one (for his tea) ate an entire bowl of pasta with cheese and chicken, followed by a whole bowl of cereal, followed by a bowl of yoghurt. He then proceeded to eat various other fruits, avocado and cucumber. So, not only did he eat more than he's ever eaten before, he also ate it all himself with a spoon or fork. He decided yesterday that he won't be fed anymore, wants to do it all himself. No idea if this is permanent or not, but it was great. I was so impressed. And the best bit of all - there was no food on him and (even more amazing) NO FOOD ON THE FLOOR. Hurrah, I say!

It's been a great day of friendship and fun for both the boy and me, with some sunshine, a good nap and a trip to the supermarket at 8am, which we both enjoyed and which is always good fun with a little person in the trolley, curious about everything he sees. I hope he likes his new mittens and boots once we try them out outside.

This is how life should always be - enjoyment of people and appreciation of the small things and of small achievements.

All I need now, is for bedtime to occur smoothly and easily and it will have been a perfect day.

White privilege

I have just read an excellent article that much more eloquently explains something I have been trying to put into words for many years. It is about white privilege. I have, on numerous occasions, been told I have to acknowledge my white privilege and I have and do (seeing quite clearly the validity of this), however I sometimes (and this was by no means the majority of my experiences) experienced a sense that acknowledging (for the requesting party) wasn't enough - I was required to feel shame or guilt for my colour. This angered me when I felt (or heard) this expectation, because I don't feel shame or guilt and don't see why I should. Setting everything else aside, how can I be married to someone of a different race if I constantly feel shame or guilt about my colour?

There was also something more, that I failed to convey when I tried to express it myself. It was about acknowledging that I have many privileges, only one of them being my skin colour. I acknowledge all of them and have done so for many years. I have felt very lucky for these 'gifts' and have tried to make the most of what I have been given.

There have been other elements of my life that would definitely not be classed as privilege. Occasionally I have wished they did not exist, but I try not to focus on the downsides and I try to focus on any benefits, because there are so many things I am so grateful for and, overall, I really am very fortunate.

A key point in the article, for me, that I would like to share with you, is this:

"...white people and people of color experience the world in very different ways. But listen: This is not said to make white people feel guilty about their privilege. It's not your fault that you were born with white skin and experience these privileges. But whether you realize it or not, you do benefit from it, and it is your fault if you don't maintain awareness of that fact."

Anyway, here we are. The article I referred to. I hope it enlightens you as it enlightened me. Explaining white privilege.

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.

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.

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"

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.

Screw tops

It might not seem a big thing, but the little one has learned to open screw tops. At first, I thought it was a fluke, but he's done it about four times now - not that I've seen him do it, I've just seen the after effects.

I've been pretty sure he's teething again (10th one on its way - his gums look like snowy covered jelly mountains - white lumps of teeth beneath all over the place), and his achievement today confirmed this. While making his dinner (tiny mushy pasta stars with cheese sauce) and arranging an array of teething-friendly items on a tray (plain yoghurt, fruity fromage frais, cold grapes, cold cucumber, cold tomatoes), I let him play with a pot of frozen sweet potato mash cubes and parsnip mash cubes (which I was planning to heat up and feed to him, as another teething-friendly mushy item). Anyway, next time I looked down at the floor, he'd opened the (screw lid) pot and was happily munching on a frozen sweet potato cube. He appears to have eaten the entire thing (which was quite large), other than the bits all over his face and hands (which ended up on my white jim-jam trousers). I was most impressed with the opening achievement as well as the eating of the item - and it's given me an idea of what to give him next time he's in terrible teething pain.

Anyway, it seemed to help him massively and he's managed to sleep again by a rather earlier time of 6.30pm (he did the same yesterday and slept until 6am - with around 5-6 wake ups in between that required 'mama' (boob) and a snuggly place under my armpit.

Gran Canaria

Deliciously muggy and humid. Sea and mountain air, one in front of me, the other behind me. Boats in the harbour. Rows of modern apartment blocks. Twinkly pinpoints of electric lights and, if I look carefully above the brightness of the manmade night, I see the silver dots of starlight. Sounds of traffic below. The occasional voice. Faint sounds of life in other homes.

My heart delights. My soul feels as if I'm back in Hong Kong. So much feels the same, in touch, scent and sound, although sight tells me that nothing is the same. It is a curious feeling.

Baby steps

I think we've had one or two unaided steps (him walking from one piece of furniture to another or to me), but I can't be sure because I wasn't properly paying attention!

He's definitely more interested in walking now, often choosing to walk holding onto the wall rather than crawling, and quite often an unaided stand occurs while he's trying to use both hands for his investigations of one toy or another.

Won't be long!

Second molar

Second molar! No wonder he's been cranky, poor little poppet. A happier baby now it's through. So we now have six on the top and still only two at the bottom. Surely we'll get more at the bottom soon...