Parent Police

I am struggling to come to terms with dealing with the fear of being branded a "bad" mother because I allow my children to climb trees, play in the mud and ride their bikes.  My kids have accidents, some of which have been fairly serious.  Whilst I take accidents seriously, and do the best to ensure my children are always safe, when they do get hurt, I can't help glance over my shoulder, expecting Social Services to come by and accuse me of negligence or abuse.
It is feeling like this that I think is one of the main reasons so many children have poorly developed gross and fine motor skills.  Children are discouraged from climbing, tumbling, playing ball, running and growing.  We, as parents, are so worried that grazes and bruises will bring the "parent Police" knocking that we are, inadvertently causing problems.  When I was at school I had never heard of Occupational Therapy and the only Physio I knew worked with children who had very serious disabilities.  Now it seems that most schools have one or other of these stationed on the premises, ready to "fix" our kids.
How is it that we have allowed ourselves to be freaked out by regulations and opinions that are drawn from the few parents who do harm their children (and have no qualms about it), when we, ourselves were encouraged to play outdoors and just get on with life when we grazed our knees?  And do we really need to spend the huge fortunes on these therapies, when encouraging some basic fun outdoors would be cheaper and more effective?  I watch as Dragon clambers down the rope on his climbing frame, or as Bumblebee tries to climb onto the back of the sofa, each with amazing dexterity and balance for their years.  In my hand is one of the many "dream Dragons" made for me by Dragon -- complete with fine details and complicated wings, carefully cut out and suspended on a string.  On my desk is the letter from his school's Occupational Therapist telling me that she thinks he needs an assessment (costing a small fortune) as she is worried that his cutting skills and eye for detail are not up to scratch.  And all of this starts me thinking about whether I am a bad mother because the evidence I have makes me disagree with her, and so I have not requested the assessment. Am I a bad mother, because I let my kids play with mud and do crafts with them and generally believe that doing stuff with my kids when I can is the best therapy for us all?
Yes, my kids have accidents.  I keep a small first aid kit in my bag -- complete with smiley face plasters and sterile wipes -- just in case.  My kids get dirty -- I buy clothes that are hardy and washable and we make bathtime a fun experience so they enjoy getting clean just as much.  They eat healthy food, drink water and seem fairly well adjusted (as seen from my rose tinted mommy eyes).
So maybe I can stop looking over my shoulder in case the parent police come knocking, and I can enjoy being a mom of two funny, curious and clever kids.  Maybe I'm not such a "bad" mother after all.

Family matters

Recently I have had several little things happen which have got me thinking about the concept of "family" and what it means.
I have had to come to terms with one relative shocking everyone else with some "bad" behaviour.  I've also had the fun of a visit from my husband's much younger brother -- along with his skateboarding and youthful innocence.
All this has been preceded with the acquisition of four step-siblings and an "evil" step mother in the last few years.  My step sister and I have had the luck of having babies within hours of each other.  My stepmother had the drama of dealing with these dramatic events.
Next week I will be seeing an old school friend who is the closest to a sister that I ever had while growing up and is the guardian of my children, should anything happen to me.
Looking at all of this, I start to wonder about what makes a family?  Does it have to be through a genetic link, or can we adopt friends into our families?  What about those members of our families that misbehave?  The relative mentioned above has been "ungodfathered" by my cousin, following on from his behaviour.  Is this the best way to deal with him?  What about just being there to offer some support while he tries to figure out the mess he has landed himself in?
I know that I would walk through fire for my "adopted" sister, and that she is likely to do the same.  I am not sure I can feel confident of this in some people who share my genes.....
I look at my two children and how Dragon has embraced his sudden new clutch of cousins and how Bumblebee loves playing with her "twin", and I think back to a feud between my cousin and I that has been going on for almost two decades, and which I still have no idea as to the cause.  I was raised to put family first and that supporting one another is vital to maintaining close ties.  My grandmothers were the matriarchs who saw to this.  Since they died, the ties have come undone rapidly and I see a close know family rapidly becoming strangers.
So now I ask, given that the people I count on to be there when my immediate family can't, are not related to me by blood, is blood really thicker than water?

Dead Poets, Drag Queens and Activists

This morning I woke to the news tjat actor, comedian and activist, Robin Williams, had lost the battle to a silent, but terrifying demon. Depression.
I read the tributes to him and notice how so many comment on the irony that he brought laughter and joy to so many but still struggled with depression. I don't see the irony. But maybe that's because I also face the same, misunderstood demon.
To those fortunate not to live with it, depression is a mystery that is often viewed the same way fairytale characters are viewed. We are told to "snap out of it" or to "pullourselves together" or even that we can't be depressed because maybe there was a joke we did manage to laugh at. Miserable people don't laugh.
And that's just it.  Depression isn't misery. I can be depressed but will find something to laugh at. I can hide my struggle with this demon whilst at work. I can put on that brave face. But not all the time.  And the mask tends to slip when I am with those I am closest to.  My family and maybe one or two very close friends. In front of everyone else, I may well seem perfectly happy.
Depression is not sadness. It is more akin to hopelessness.  It is like falling into a deep hole and not seeing the point of climbing out as there will always be more holes.
One way of hiding this battle is to distract friends and acquaintances from seeing the demon by making them laugh.
So, sad as I am to hear that Robin Williams lost his battle, I am also saddened that his battle is such a surprise for so many.  It shows how depression is still taboo. We have to hide it. Pretend everything is fine. Put on a mask. But, whatever you do, the neighbours must not know that you are fighting a demon.
So how do I cope with my demon? I don't always.  There have been some very dark days ehere the hole has just been too deep. But I am lucky. O have a wonderful husband who has learnt to spot the signs
He does everything he can to get me out the hole.  And even then, he has had to seek help. If it wasn't for him, I would not have gone to the doctor, would not have discovered that my demon is governed by a chemical imbalance and could be managed by a tablet.
And, as much as I hate the idea, my happy pill helps. It is not a cure. But it makes the demon manageable.
So the next time you hear that someone is fighting depression, and they make you smile, remember that their demon is sleeping. It hasn't gone away and they aren't lying. And maybe taking a few seconds to show you appreciate them.  It might just take a smile. Or a thank you.
Ot might just keep the demon at bay one more day.

Fishlegs

One of the Dragon's favourite places to visit is the aquarium. He loves looking at all the fish and marine life and learning about marine ecology.
Our last trip had a new twist in that thr Bumblebee was mo longer just a baby along for the ride. This time she was enthralled by the fish. To Dragon, seeing his baby sister exploring the different displays was an added treat. Here was someone new he could share hid vast marine knowledge with.
Bumblebee has now been shown sharks, rays, turtles, shrimps, crabs, starfish, eels and penguins.
I was fascinated by her interest in what he showed her, and her apparent understanding of much of this.
And at the end of the day, Bumblebee was given a toy penguin which had quickly become very well loved......

Baby steps

Life just got that bit more interesting. The Bumblebee has started to walk. This is wonderful in that it is a milestone reached in good time. We're all enjoying holding her hand as she toddles about and giggle with her as she runs away from daddy or the Dragon.
But one member of the family is not amused. Our ancient labbie has not been too keen on the Bumblebee crawling.  Now that the Bumblebee is actually walking and has taken to chasing Madame Labbie in a fit of giggles, Madame is not amused. The expression on her grey muzzle is one of despair as she is required to move out of patting range once again.
The saviour of this new found tension is two fold. Madame foes enjoy her food and knows that the Bumblebee loves sharing her meals. I spend mealtimes trying not to share the spoon that Madame has just been fed from.
And after meals Madame is treated to a bedtime story from the Bumblebee.
So all in all, learning to walk has even had benefits for Madame.