Five ways your teen is the same as a toddler

So maybe you are reading this as the parent of a teen, in which case I expect you will nod along with at least a couple of these. If you are reading this, still in the innocence of life as the parent of a toddler, happily expecting things to change as they get older...well we are sorry, really we are, but sadly somethings never change...

• Your day still revolves around them

It used to be that you had a schedule based on feeding, naps and potty times. You ran them to music groups, mum and baby groups (or dad and baby groups). You organised play dates and marked craft time on the calendar. Now however, while the things you are organising have changed, you are still running your day according to the teen. You are nagging about homework, telling them to get up out of bed, to remember to put their washing in the laundry (or if you have them better trained than I do - nagging them to actually do some washing). You resist drinking alcohol in the evening in case you need to be a taxi later. And you are up late worrying and trying not to text too much when they are late home...which brings us nicely to:

• Sleep (or lack of it)

Once you used to find getting them to bed a chore, the never ending rounds of stories and drinks of water. The checking for monsters under the bed and the 'one more kiss'. And then, always just after you yourself had nodded off, the cry of 'MUM' or 'DAD' and a tiny crying body who had a nightmare, or wet the bed (I knew that last glass of water was a mistake), or just needed a cuddle, appears at the side of the bed, you either make room are get up and carry them back to their room, but both options usually result in not much more sleep. Now you would imagine that having a teen would put paid to all that, they can do it themselves, you'd think, but no. Now you have the constant getting them to bed battle but with added backchat of "I don't need to, I'm a grown-up" and once they are in bed, the eerie glow of a mobile as they check snapchat into the wee small hours, despite you calling to tell them to turn it off, only for them to complain they are too tired to get up for breakfast. And this is with out the perils of the teen 'going out' and not coming home and your own bedtime creeping by with no text or word from them..should you go to bed? should you stay up? Are they coming home at all? How can you sleep even if you do go to bed? and then...they are home! at 2am and they need a snack and a chat and dear lord will parents ever sleep again

• Fussy Eaters

This post was actually triggered by a real life event (not that the others aren't real - they just didn't trigger this post) on Saturday. One of DD's favourite meals is a chicken dish in tomato sauce served with rice. (remind me to post the recipe sometime) any way, the ingredients vary a bit depending on my mood and store cupboard, last time I made it I bunged in a few olives, which she diligently picked out, "I don't like the olives in it" she opined. So this time when I slung the olives in (because, dear reader, I like olives) I was prepared for the teenage moans..what I was not prepared for was "It's yummy, shame there aren't more olives in it though". So yes, you have a fussy 2 year old that happily eats a breadstick on Sunday only to cast it to the floor in furious displeasure on Monday, and you are hoping for this to settle down...well DD is 17 and there is, as yet, little sign of it.

• Clearing up after them

I assume you've heard about messy teen bedrooms? It's not a myth. Things grow in there. Green things in bowls and the base of coffee mugs, socks go there to die. Picking up a few stickle bricks is nothing, nothing I tell you, to the horror of a teenager's bedroom...let's move on...

• Adoring them

I know, I'm a slushy mum, but you know how you look at your angelic toddler sometimes (when they are being angelic or are asleep usually) and you just sigh with the perfect beauty and love of them? Yeah well that. When you teen emerges out of their pit room and is all dressed up looking gorgeous and young and vital, and they smile and say "I'm off out, back later" and you love them and feel that familiar warm glow of being a parent...which lasts right until you peek into their room...or are still up at 3am wondering where the hell they are...

Do you have a toddler or a teen? Or both (I'm praying for you) Do you recognise any of these scenarios? are are there any I've missed?

Things I love about being a mum

This morning on Facebook the lovely Fi at ChildCareisFun mentioned how she was sad to see so many 'I hate being a mum' posts online, not just 'I had a bad day' but proper I hate being a mum blog posts.
I thought that part of the problem was that if you claim you love being a parent, that your life is nice, happy and generally good, people see you as smug and a bit of a bitch to be honest. So I think mums (and dads) are scared to say - this is ace! I love it!
Maybe the fact that you like being a mum and they don't, makes them feel defensive and angry?  Maybe they had a succession of bad days and forgot the good days. Maybe they do really hate being a parent. I don't know. But whatever, not all parents feel the same. So I'm here to balance things up.
I'm one of those weirdos that had an easy time with the birth, loved it all. Who enjoyed pregnancy (even the vomiting) and who loves being a mum, every day.
I thought about writing a rant. But decided a poem was nicer.
So here is my poem. About being a mum.

Things I love (and loved)  about being a mum

A Poem

Waking early at 3 to the sound of her tears.
Being her comfort for all of these years.
Holding her close as a she snuffles and drinks,
holding her less close as she starts to stink!
Cleaning her bottom at a quarter past ten,
then at half past eleven, I do it again!
A basket of washing, sits sopping wet,
the machine not working, and yet and yet,
those so tiny socks are catching my eye,
laying there waiting, nearly making me cry.
Such small clothes for such a small child,
who soon will be big and running me wild.
Changing a sheet that is soaked in wee,
and a tiny sad face pleading with me
that they know they can do it, no nappies required
but accidents happen when you are so tired.
Wobbly bike riding, a crash on the lawn.
A nightmare needs snuggles though it's nearly dawn.
I drag myself, knackered, from comfy warm bed
because someone woke early and now bumped their head.
Packing a bag for a day out seems barmy,
I carry enough to maintain a small army!
First day at nursery the tears are all mine,
I ring my own mum who says 'she will be fine'.
A wasted day worrying when I could be free,
but missing my 'baby' who should be with me.
Paintings on fridges and pasta shell 'jewels'
fondly admired as the nighttime drink cools.
And now she's at school and is going alone,
the time is just whizzing and 'my how she's grown'.
She has her own phone and she snapchats her mates
and she talks about popstars and going on dates.
Next month is her prom all sparkle and dresses
and 'my hair just won't curl' is the top of the stresses.
I've been a mum now for 16 short years
surviving on love, and on wine,and on beers
from the very first moment I gazed in her eyes
every day has been filled with joy and surprise
that I made a new person, who is gorgeous and clever
and have I regretted it? not once, not ever.

as always I'd love your comments - come and chat over at Facebook

Dads are rubbish at housework and parenting

They are not, obviously; dads are are sometimes better, sometimes worse, often the same, as mums when it comes to housework and childcare. And now I've caught your attention let me tell you more. I can only tell you about my experience of course, but that will have to do.

When we brought DD home from the hospital she was just over a day old. A day. One day. A whole entire new being that we had made (to be fair I'd done the bulk of the work up until that point) and here she was, in our care. We didn't need a licence or a home check or any training, they just gave us this new person, wished us well and waved us goodbye.

New baby DD

During the first few days and nights each time she cried Mr TM would look at me with a worried look and ask "what does she want?" I would stare back and say "I have no idea, I only just met her!" and he would say "but you are her mum!" to which the only sensible reply was "and you are her dad!"

And that's the thing isn't it, just because I grew a tiny person in the wet life support system of my womb doesn't mean I know her any more than anyone else does. Of course there are things that happen,  milk appearing as if by magic when babies cry, which prompts a mum to offer a feed, but the terrible smell emanating from the bottom end of the baby which prompts a nappy change, is there for all to sniff! And so we learned. I was on maternity leave for a year and Mr TM had retired with the plan that he would stay home and look after DD when I went back to work. For a year we were together, learning about this new person, growing to know her ways, her likes and her (frequently violent) dislikes.

When I went back to work Mr TM became DDs main carer and so, spending longer with her, he became more attuned to her than I did. He knew that this week she hated rice pudding, or that she had decided a different teddy was needed at bedtime. He had always been the more organised one of the two of us, even now when DD has reached the frankly terrifying age of 16 he is still the one that does the laundry, cleans the bathrooms, hoovers the lounge.

I work full time and have since DD was a year old, she self weaned when I went back to work as I was out of the house (commuting to London) for such long periods of time each day, in fact the first 3 months I returned to work I didn't see her awake except at weekends. I relied on my husband telling me all the things they had been up to. The hilarious potty incidents, the difficulty in finding a public toilet to take her into, the things they had eaten out at cafes. Luckily I changed my job and avoided the long commute very quickly, and Mr TM and DD could come and visit me at lunchtimes, but still he was her main carer, the one that wiped her snot, dealt with nappy rash, became an expert on teething and knew the best way to deal with cradlecap.

DD shares a picnic with daddy

Mr TM grew with DD, becoming a rather awesome dad. Great at organising days out (where I invariably forgot something vital!), a whizz at packing a rucksack with 'essential baby things' but because he was the parent that stayed home, he also became the homemaker (a rather nice gender neutral Americanism). So it is still Mr TM who is in charge at home. He cleans the kitchen floor, he dusts, he brushes the sofa and plumps the cushions, he cleans the oven. In fact he does all of the things most people would see as 'womens' work' and sometimes he worries that other men will think less of him because he is not 'the bread winner'. I have told him time and time again that women find men that hoover, clean the bathroom and feed the children, to be just as attractive a prospect as one that works in the city, but I'd be lying if I said everyone thinks it's fine.

He has to put up with questions about why he doesn't work, questions that no woman would be asked, he also gets regularly enraged by the lazy stereotype used in the media , that husbands and men in general are hopeless fools around the house, that men can't do a load of laundry, clean a stove top or hoover a room without help from a clever lady. Or if they can do these things they are some sort of superhero. He had to suffer being the only man at 'mummy and baby' groups and was often confounded to be excluded from baby changing facilities that were hidden in the 'Ladies' toilets.

DD helps daddy clear the snow

Things have changed in those 16 years of course, and I know that now lots of dads are the main carers of their children either by choice or through circumstance. But I can't help but notice, among all the ranting about girls being forced to be pink princesses, that dads (and men) still get a bad rap where being homemakers and child carers are involved. So shall we just try and be inclusive? Let's remember there are great dads out there, terrible dads too, and mediocre dads, just like mums...

Much love from a very mediocre mum. Comments welcome on twitter or my facebook page.