Who's a clingy baby then?

Well mine apparently.
The last few times I've collected my son from childcare I've been told he's being unusually clingy.
Now don't get me wrong - I am full of praise for the staff there who clearly look after him with love and affection - but there's something about the word clingy that kind of rubs me up the wrong way.

I was labelled as clingy once by an ex - it sounded the death knell of our relationship! He wasn't complementing me on my staying power, or dedication here!

Anyway, back to the subject. I too have noticed that he's going through a phase of learning about attachment, but doesn't quite have the notion of object permanence sorted yet. So if you're his mummy or his favourite carer, he loves you deeply, and then, if you disappear, he thinks you're gone for good. Quite a thing for a little one to deal with. However, as I walked away from childcare with this word 'clingy' ringing in my ears I felt a bit troubled.

What could be causing his deep, deep upset at having to share the affections of his carer with the other babies, or, indeed, why wont he settle with his darling daddy if I leave the bedroom to brush my teeth in the morning - - and any fervent attachment parents reading this do not read these rhetorical questions as plaintive - I am genuinely wanting to understand if it is indeed a natural phase, or if, there is something circumstantial causing this, and if so, does something in our strongly AP inspired parenting need to be adjusted?

Of course as a working mum, my first thought turned to my own position - is it because I am at work? Is he missing me a lot? Those thoughts, like the use of the word clingy, do not sit comfortably chez moi either. Actually, I am feeling the separation a lot too, at the moment, and am not at all sure about what I want the future to look like in terms of work.

There's a lot of debate on some mummy blogs at the moment about the whole Working mum vs SAHM argument. It's a subject which seems to stir up vitriol, derision and anger in a way very few others do. And at the moment I just can't resolve it in my head for me as an individual. As with all things in life, I guess, it's probably about balance. And perhaps I feel, in fact I think we both feel, that at the moment, that balance isn't there. Not for wont of trying, but simply because of the way in which the working world is stuctured in this country. IE fairly paid part time work for highly qualified professional women just DOESN'T exist.

So, anyway, no resolution, no answers, and probably, tomorrow again, he will have been 'clingy' and I will again feel double unease - one at the use of the word, and two at the belief that my absence during the day may be a cause of this.

But then didn't some wise old fishwife once say 'a mother's place, above all else, is in the wrong'

New Shoes

As he approaches his first birthday, it so happens that our son has decided it's time to begin doing some walking. Not too much walking you understand, since his crawling is much faster, and less risk prone, and so far he's decided that so far, crawling presents the more effective transport option. But, if encouraged, he will do it.(walking that is)

With this in mind, and, paired with a desire to do something fun and lighthearted amidst a weekend characterised by rain and terrorism, off to Clark's we went to get him fitted for his first pair of proper shoes.

I say proper shoes, because he's got several pairs of baby shoes already - in fact a miniature pair of Stan Smiths were purchased for this boy before he'd even really colonised my womb - I am something of a baby accessories addict.

Anyway - we had him measured up - he's a size 4F, and I selected a rather cute pair of 'cruising shoes'. He even had a photo taken, courtesy of Clark's to celebrate the moment. Although they managed to cut off my head, focus on my cleavage, and the boy is pulling an extremely serious face, so not one for the photo album I suppose.

Of course, 2 seconds out of the shop, the boy had already figured out how to remove said shoes, and so, it is almost inevitable that what started out as a pair of shoes will soon be one shoe, with the other lost somewhere between home and childcare....

Oh well here's to the start of a long era of pricey clothing and accessories being lost, scuffed, mistreated, eaten, covered in pen, mud and other viscera. My boy is independent. In charge of his own movements now, and although I feel nothing but pride, there is a small tinge of sadness that he, like all babies, grow up so soon. This time last year he was still in my tummy, kicking away. Now he can climb up a slide unaided. The miracle of life and human development brings about awe, wonder and sadness in equal measures.

Garden City Mummy ~ Post 1

Motherhood is full of painChinese foot binding shoes

Edward Scissorhands

This is an observation I had today on my way to collect my son from childcare.

How did I arrive at this observation you may ask. Childbirth? Yes, that hurt. Cracked nipples? certainly in the early days...but no, this observation was born (pardon the pun) of a rather more mundane episode, with no blood, gore, or stitches.

Well, as sometimes happens, a combination of events (usually involving the piccadilly line) led to my being in a big rush to get to my boy on time, and it just so happened that I was wearing new shoes. New summer shoes. Which can only mean one thing. Pain. Of course if I were to walk at a normal speed, then the pain would be minimal. It would be nothing more than the familiar pain of breaking in new shoes. However, when one is a mum, one does not want to be late for one's little darling, and so, of course, I had to run. Running in new, tight, kitten heels, with swollen end of the day feet hurts. A lot. Ergo, motherhood is painful.

When I sunk like an ageing trawler into the bath this evening, I have to say that the stinging pain caused by the numerous blisters and scrapes adorning both feet, was only a few notches below the stinging I felt upon bathing immediately after childbirth where I came face to face with edward scissor hands the midwife. They (my feet) still hurt now. Oh well, I think it'll be back to the knackered old trainers tomorrow.

cheating

I know it's not the done thing to pass off an embellishment of the previous day's post as a new post, but I'm going to do it anyway.

Here are some piccies of the plants I told you about yesterday:

The African Marigold

The small green shoots next to the bigger leaves are new bits of the Hart's Tongue fern I was worried wasn't growing!

The exquisite first bud of my Maigold climbing rose - can't wait to see it in full bloom

I could spend the rest of this post telling you about my latest garden endeavor, but then this ended in a hissy fit - so probably best to try again, and tell a more successful tale later. Suffice to say I am not brilliant with a hammer and garden wire, but somehow want to train my Jasmine and one of my Clematis to grow up a fence.

Ooooh - off to try out my new buggy now - going to pick my little prince up from childcare!