Blog in a Fog

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When I got shortlisted for the Mumsnet Blogging Awards, I was so excited. The thing that excited me the most was that it was down to the public vote. It meant that people were actually reading my blogs and, even more shockingly, enjoying them enough to vote for me. I love writing, but what I really love, is that other people love my writing. You lay yourself bare, press ‘publish’ and wait. You wait for the likes and the loves and the comments – not because you are a sad individual who has nothing better to do, but because it makes it all worth while.

Then it happened again: I got down to the final 3 and once more because of the public vote. This time, as well as feeling euphoric, I felt validated. Somehow, it made me feel that I really could call myself a blogger and it justified the time that I spend on it. I still don’t have a clue about SEO. I haven’t mastered Pinterest. I struggle with widgets and don’t really understand what it means to self host. I suppose that I blog in a fog. The writing is the clarity, the rest is shrouded in mist.

I’ve become hooked on Strictly Come Dancing and as I was watching on Sunday night it struck me that, despite loving the show, it had never crossed my mind to vote. Who does vote on these shows? Apart from family and friends, who actually bothers to vote? Voting is an interesting and faceless process. I am so incredibly grateful to everyone who voted for me. People who I have never met, but who enjoy what I write. Every week the dancers on Strictly say that they are enjoying being a part of the show and they do not want their time to end. I am really enjoying blogging and as long as people are continuing to like what I write, regardless of what the judge decides on 12th November, I don’t want my writing to end.

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Perception

Many of the debates and arguments I have with my teenage daughters, boil down to perception. It doesn’t surprise me that I have a very different perception of things to them. I am, after all, about 30 years older. What really interests me, however, is how perceptions can vary so much, even in a group from a similar demographic. 

My thoughts were prompted by one of my blogs: Super Service, getting into the newspaper. The article was about a cartoon of a female on the back of a school bus. I felt that it was inappropriately sexualised.

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The article generated several comments and from these I would surmise that the majority of people agreed with my point of view, whilst some naturally didn’t. Nothing new there. What interests me though, is that some of the mothers who responded said that they didn’t see anything sexual about the image at all. In fact, what they saw was a strong, powerful woman. One lady even said how the cartoon resembled her daughter and went on to list her daughter’s vital statistics. My brain began to whirr. Many who disagreed with me felt that we have bigger issues to worry about and that this is the least of our worries. But is it?

You see, ours is the adult perspective. Whilst some mums may only see power and strength represented in the cartoon, what their 13 year old daughters are seeing may well be very different. Young girls are bombarded with highly sexualised images of females on line, in magazines and on the TV and research shows that it affects them. It undermines their self confidence and is detrimental to their mental health. A 13 year old girl may look at that cartoon and see yet another image that she feels unable to emulate: huge boobs, a tiny waist, full lips and a thigh gap to die for. These girls won’t necessarily see the superhero that their mum is seeing. Their daughters are at an age when they are able to look at an image and form a critique, but that critique may very well be detrimental to themselves. 

My brain continued to whirr. Perception: one mum watches her 4 year old daughter gyrating to Beyoncé with pride, whilst another wonders with bewilderment and sadness where on earth she learnt those moves. One mum will buy make up for her 7 year old daughter, while another will look at her 16 year old go off to school with her face caked in make-up and shake her head. How many of us have watched documentaries on American beauty queens and thought: wtf?

We need to be aware of perception. Not just to avoid constant arguments with our teenagers, but to understand that what we perhaps think is ok, because of our adult perception, may actually mean something very different to our children. Whilst as parents we may well think there are more important things to worry about, a young, impressionable girl has worries that are very different to ours. 

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A Metaphor for Life

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As I was pushing the beast that is my hoover, back and forth across a ruined carpet this morning, hoping for a miracle, I thought about how the sound that it emanates is not dissimilar to the sounds I make in my head rather a lot of the time. It growls very loudly and then every now and again, when I require it to accelerate, it almost screams at me and then it settles down again into a complaining whir.

I’m quite sure that all parents make these sounds in their heads. This particular model of hoover is certainly not top of the range. We couldn’t afford the upright Dyson that I was drooling over on Amazon, so we went for one that said it picked up pet hair and cost 70 quid. Still a lot for a hoover, I thought, but seemingly in the hoover world the model we chose was just very average. I reckon that upright Dyson that costs about £250, is the equivalent of those mummies who wear suede, stiletto boots on the school run and have groomed eyebrows. I expect it purrs, just as I imagine they do, as they talk about their child’s harp lesson with a friend, over a soy latte. Meanwhile, me and most other parents run around endlessly, not knowing their arse from their elbow a lot of the time. Groaning and complaining under the sheer effort of life. Trying to do the same jobs over and over again, backwards and forwards we go, picking up shit, whilst another constant supply of it builds up behind us.

Don’t get me wrong, I, like you I am sure, enjoy life. I have no wish to purr. I am quite happy wearing a trackie or jeans and having the odd wayward eyebrow hair. I love being busy and having a noisy, crazy family. However, every now and then things just get a little too much and in my head, just like my Hoover, I begin to scream. At which point I just want to take my foot off the pedal, unplug and breathe in the peace.

A few years ago I drooled over the thought of owning a posh washing machine. An expensive one with integrated dryer and settings that claimed to do things I would never have dreamed possible. Anti-crease buttons that meant I would never have to iron again. Instead, I ended up with the cheapest model. The model that moved half way across the kitchen on the spin cycle. The model that had the neighbours banging on the adjoining wall and begging for mercy, as the overloaded barrel heaved clothes around during yet another overly ambitious load. One day when my then husband was away on a business trip, I sat on the washing machine at the height of its frenzy, in an attempt to lessen its movement. The sensation that I encountered was so pleasant, so, let’s say, orgasmic, that it made me think. It made me realise, that for all its noise and protesting, there was happiness to be had and this, I feel, as I heave my screeching hoover around the room, is certainly a metaphor for life.

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Be Kind

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Anti-Bullying Week: 14-18th November 2016

Last night I was nonchalantly scrolling through my Facebook feed, when I came across a video clip of Lucy Alexander on, ‘This Morning.’ Lucy’s teenage son Felix, 17, took his own life after suffering daily taunts from bullies. It drew me in.

This mum was speaking so bravely, so honestly and with such tragic insight, that I wanted to listen. I wanted to learn.

We hear the word, ‘bully’ so often now, we might almost wonder why, when it seems to get bandied around so much, does it still exist? Why do bullies continue to get away with it? Why aren’t we – parents, teachers, friends – so aware of that word, that we are able to stamp it out?

The truth is the tragedy here. The truth is causing young people to jump in front of trains. To take scissors to their arms and to hang themselves. Not because they are cowards, but because they simply cannot take any more. Their minds have been warped and twisted and turned so many times that they no longer know how to unravel it. And the truth is, that as parents, teachers and sometimes even friends, we don’t see it.

We need to educate ourselves. We need to know that if our child is having a sleepover and leaves one friend out, who is normally a part of the group: that is bullying. We need to be aware that when a group of friends arrange to go to the cinema and decide not to tell one friend: that is bullying too. Excluding a child from a party, an outing, a play date, when they normally feel a complete part of that friendship group, is bullying. As parents we must take responsibility for this. Because bullying is not just calling someone names. It’s not just taking something from someone, nor is it just a punch in the stomach – although this is what it feels like to the victim, every time. It can be small things – little incidents, that alone don’t seem to matter too much, but they build up and it is this layering of small things that causes the mind to warp, the mental state to turn.

Bullies may not realise they are bullying. This is the honest truth. So parents and teachers: we are the adults. We must be the vigilant ones. We must be the ones who shout and scream and get our voices heard when we suspect that something is wrong. We must be the ones who talk, who seek advice, who listen and then act.

As Lucy said in her interview, we must teach our children this: Think! Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind – before anything you write on social media. Actions and words have consequences. Above all, she said, please let’s teach our children to be kind.

It’s so simple: please just be kind.

In a bid to prevent other young lives being lost, she wrote a heartbreaking but poignant letter to appeal to youngsters, parents and teachers to never turn a blind eye to a child in need.

Here is Lucy Alexander’s letter to bullies, parents and schools in full

On April 27 2016 our beautiful 17-year-old son took his own life. He decided to do this because he could not see any way to be happy.
His confidence and self esteem had been eroded over a long period of time by the bullying behaviour he experienced in secondary education.

It began with unkindness and social isolation and over the years with the advent of social media it became cruel and overwhelming.
People who had never even met Felix were abusing him over social media and he found that he was unable to make and keep friends as it was difficult to befriend the most “hated” boy in the school.
His schoolwork suffered and he found school a daily struggle.
He changed schools for 6th form, something he would not contemplate before, as even though he was miserable he was also terrified of the unknown and was sure that because he felt he was so worthless, another school would make no difference.
He did make friends at his new school and the teaching staff found him to be bright, kind and caring.
He was however so badly damaged by the abuse, isolation and unkindness he had experienced that he was unable to see just how many people truly cared for him.

I write this letter not for sympathy, but because there are so many more children like Felix who are struggling and we need to wake up to the cruel world we are living in.
I am appealing to children to be kind ALWAYS and never stand by and leave bullying unreported.
Be that one person prepared to stand up to unkindness. You will never regret being a good friend.

I have been told that “everyone says things they don’t mean on social media”.
Unkindness is dismissed as “banter” and because they cannot see the effect of their words they do not believe there is one.
A quote I saw on Facebook recently resonated with me and I think is worth thinking about before posting anything on social media. Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?
Our children need to understand that actions have consequences and that people are wounded, sometimes fatally by these so called “keyboard warriors”.
Not all children participate in online abuse, but they may be guilty of enabling others to do it.
They do this by not reporting it, by not supporting or befriending the child being abused, which just validates the bully’s behaviour.

I appeal to teachers to look out for signs that children are struggling. Poor grades or poor behaviour may signal a child crying out for help.
Listen to parents who may report problems and monitor their social interactions.
Are they sitting alone at break time or lunchtime? Are they particularly quiet or are they perhaps too loud?
I do not expect teachers to be psychologists but they have a unique overview of children’s lives and they are able to recognise a difficulty early and help signpost towards help.

Education is a vital part of change. Children need to be shown from a very early age the necessity of kindness to each other.
Incorporate these valuable lessons into the PSHE programme early in a child’s school life.
They all have smart phones at a very young age and it is vital that they are guided on how to use them responsibly and kindly.

Finally I appeal to parents. Please take an interest in what your children do online. Find out what social media platforms they are using and be sure that their use is appropriate and kind.
We don’t like to think that OUR children could be responsible for being cruel to another child, but I have been shocked by the “nice” kids who were responsible in part for Felix’s anguish.
Even if they only say something horrible once, that will not be the only person who will have said something that week.

Group chats can be a particular problem and they can disintegrate into hate fests very easily.
It is too simplistic to say “Why don’t you just block them? You don’t have to read it!” This is the way young people communicate now and many are actually are losing the ability to communicate effectively face to face.
On several occasions we removed all form of social media from Felix as it was causing so much distress, but that just isolated him further and he felt that it was a punishment and not a protection.

Look at your children’s Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Googlechat and Facebook.
Help them understand that if they are writing or posting something that they would not want you to read then they should not be doing it. Help them self-edit before they post.
What are they watching online in their bedrooms? Children are witnessing a warped form of reality as violence and pornography are being “normalised” by their ease of access.
We have a collective responsibility to prevent other young lives being lost to unkindness and bullying.

You may see that I have repeatedly used one word in this letter and I make no apology for this.
The word is kindness. I said this at our son’s funeral. Please be kind always, for you never know what is in someone’s heart or mind.
Our lives have been irrevocably damaged by the loss of our wonderful son; please don’t let it happen to any other family.

Lucy works with the charity: Place2Be. Place2Be’s highly skilled practitioners deliver services in 282 schools across the UK. They offer a menu of services relating to bullying for primary and secondary schools, providing support for children, parents, teachers and school staff.

https://www.place2be.org.uk

Children don’t need to be punished, they need to be helped. Let’s help all our children by being more aware.

Lucy Alexander

                                                                     Lucy and Felix

The Voice of Experience Talks Teenage Girls

I thought that it was probably about time I stepped up to the mark and talked about teenage girls in my: Voice of Experience series. I have/have had quite a few (nearly 5) and although I am absolutely not an expert, I feel that I have waded through enough selfies and blusher brushes to at least voice my experiences of them.

You will get to know the postman extremely well, as he or she will be delivering ASOS products and packages from China to your door weekly, possibly daily.

The Ikea shoe rack you bought when your kids were toddlers, no longer caters for 1, let alone any more teenagers. Shoes will take over your house. Shoes and boots. Teenage girls will continue to buy shoes and boots that look exactly like the shoes and boots they already own.

Despite duplicating shoes and boots regularly, they will constantly tell you that they have no money.

They shave their thighs. I was so shocked when I learnt this on holiday in Spain this year, I almost spat out my sangria. Yes, you heard me: their thighs…or perhaps I’m the last to know?

Contrary to popular belief, they don’t initially like to shower. It requires way too much effort. Once they hit 16ish, showering suddenly becomes very important.

They will quite happily take shit photos of you to feed their Snapchat story, but will demand that you delete even the nicest shots of them. They will threaten to report you for child abuse if you don’t.

They will not take off their school jumper, even in a heatwave.

They will not wear a coat, even in a monsoon. Unless it is a coat they have bought – which won’t keep the rain out anyway.

They have a very different concept of appropriate clothing to their parents. They will quite happily let their arse hang out of a pair of shorts and wear see-through leggings. This is very normal behaviour for a teenage girl and to suggest otherwise simply shows how ignorant you are.

They will bake cakes. Quite a lot.

They will pout. I never wanted to believe that my girls would ever pout. I honestly didn’t think they had the pouting gene. They are not even embarrassed by their pouting.

They will have friend issues. You will never quite get to the bottom of it. Just as you think you have nailed the friend that is being the little bitch, bam – that one is the bestie. Stand well back. Be there for them when they allow you onto their hallowed turf, otherwise keep a safe distance. That way, you are doing everyone a favour.

They will wear fake nails. You will find fake nails in odd places. The dog will shit fake nails.

Your house will smell like a whore’s boudoir all the time.

Teenage girls can never have too many bags.

They have somehow managed to create a word, the sole purpose of which is to describe perfectly groomed eyebrows. They may talk of getting an eyebrow tattoo…this does not mean they want their boyfriend’s name across their temple.

They can make you feel like the most unfashionable/unkempt/ignorant idiot with a mere look. If the word: ‘on fleek’ was invented by teenage girls to describe eyebrows, I think the word: ‘disdain’ was actually invented by teenage girls to describe how they feel when they look at their parents.

Above all, teenage girls are vivacious, loving, astute and savvy and I feel  extremely privileged to have the terrifying task of bringing them up as single-minded individuals.

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Super Service

You know when you see something and you are truly shocked, angered, incredulous and frustrated, all in equal measure? There’s a lot of adjectives there – what could have possibly set me off? I was on my way back from teaching a class of 7, 4 year old girls how to be strong and empowered against the grumpy Taekwon-do crocodile. We were working on their yellow star life skills badge: developing their independence and leadership skills. They had worked hard and shown real strength in their small, ever developing and easily malleable characters. After this class, I got stuck behind the school bus – the bus that these little 4 year olds may well be getting to school in 7 years time, and this is the image that set me off spluttering a stream of adjectives:

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This is the bus that my 4 teenage girls get on. The bus that someone has felt it appropriate to plaster a highly sexualised and derogatory image of a woman on, with the words: Super Service.

The image makes me angry: the huge cleavaged, short skirted, high booted, sexually posturing female. Sending out a message to girls that this is normal. After all, what could be more normal than a bus? The image and the words: Super Service make me feel sick to the stomach. The connotations of that juxtaposition undermine everything I am teaching my daughters and my Taekwon-do students. It undermines the message that parents are trying to teach their sons about the difference between women on a screen and real women and what really disgusts me, is that it’s on the back of the school bus.

On the front of the Saturday Times magazine last week, there was another image that depressed me:

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A woman draped over her footballer husband’s alpha male stance. His football boots hanging off her shoulder, symbolising the worst sort of possession. That possession that says: he’s mine, at a cost to my own self.

‘Super Service’ advertised at a cost to women. Disempowering with the worst sort of image of control. That control that says: this is at a cost to her own self.

In the news today, the head of a prominent girls’ school talks about how she would like to see girls having Shakespeare’s heroines as their role models, rather than reality stars such as Kim Kardashian. Shakespeare’s heroines are flawed, but strong. They have, she says: ‘the capacity in challenge and dilemma and pain, to love, to be vivacious, to be resourceful, to be resilient – they embody it so vividly, and that is a really powerful message.’

‘Vivacious’, ‘resourceful’ and ‘resilient’ are a stream of adjectives that I want my daughters and female students to associate with. Only last week, Caitlin Moran wrote in the Saturday Times: the two words all teenage girls should grow to love? ‘Jolly’ and ‘comfortable’. Not ‘on fleek’ or ‘hot’. ‘Comfort’, she says, ‘shows you at your best: confident. At ease. Finding your own things..not coquettish, “red-carpet ready” or heroin chic, but just…”comfortable”. “Jolly.”

I’ll leave you with a quote from my favourite female character in Shakespeare: the wonderfully strong, cynical and witty Beatrice from ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, in which she is telling her father why she doesn’t want to marry:

Not till God make men of some other metal than earth.
Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a
piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod

of wayward marl?

Let’s give girls the confidence to be strong, independent and comfortable in their own skins, not just at the service of others.

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Connections

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Last week looked like a toddler had been let loose on my diary with a pen. It was one of those weeks where you drink another glass of wine on the Sunday night in order to get through the thought of the following week and then when the alarm goes off on Monday morning you think: oh crap, why?

It was even one of those weeks that starts life as a busy week, gradually turns into a logistical nightmare of a week and transposes into an: okay, let’s take this shit one step at a time, kind of week.

We all got through it – and I was reflecting on how I had got to Sunday night without feeling totally done in. How come I was mentally still all there? It was immediately obvious to me: it was the connections I had made throughout the week with others, that had got me through.

It was that 10 minute cuddle with partner after the alarm went off. It was seeing my youngest daughter so happy. It was an e mail from my sister and a warm smile from my friend. Fleeting moments in real time that connected me to the earth. However, the thing I realised, when I gave it some thought, was that it wasn’t just those obvious connections with family and friends that mattered, it was also, and at times even more so, the connections with acquaintances and strangers that really made me connect with the earth – to feel more grounded and more sane.

We always talk of the importance of friends and family to our well-being. There are hundreds of quotes and memes devoted to this very important aspect of our lives. However, I think that I had actually underestimated just how good it feels to connect with people you don’t know: the snatched conversation with the cashier, the mum sitting next to you in the hospital waiting room, the dad on the hospital ward, the parent of a new child in my class. Last week, it was these quick exchanges that made me feel happy, grounded and connected.

The funny thing is, that until last week I am really not sure that I was aware of how important these moments with complete strangers are. There is a completely different feel to them. You know that they are transient and there are no emotional strings attached, no expectations to fulfill, no being judged. Just simple connections, that get you through.

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I’ve been shortlisted in the Best Writer category for the Mumsnet Blogging Awards! Please vote for me by clicking on the link below – it takes literally a millisecond. Thank you 🙂

http://www.mumsnet.com/events/blogging-awards/2016/best-writer

 

 

 

Follow your gut

When the orthopedic consultant said that daughter 4 needed Botox, my immediate reaction was: that’s the sort of cruel comment her older sisters might throw at her. I just wasn’t convinced. Something deep inside my mummy brain said get a second opinion.

I am a great believer in gut feelings. Gut feelings have changed many paths in my life and I have never looked back with regret. I once told someone that I don’t do regrets and they told me this was an arrogant thing to say. Everybody has regrets, they told me (arrogantly). They probably do, but I certainly don’t regret not being able to think of a regret when asked. I think it’s a trait of someone who doesn’t spend too much time wallowing in the past, but rather looks ahead to all those exciting opportunities that the future holds.

I’ve needed that mummy instinct before with daughter 2. One day, when she was almost 1, she stopped using her wrist. We were dismissed by the GP with his reassurance that she’d probably banged it on her cot. I wasn’t reassured. I took her to Minor Injuries and an X Ray showed nothing. I knew something was wrong. The following day we were sent to hospital and we didn’t leave for two weeks. She had Osteomyelitis, a bone condition that if left untreated can result in loss of that bone and let’s face it, everyone needs a wrist.

So gut instinct found me sitting next to daughter 4’s hospital bed for an outpatient operation of a steroid injection in her foot – definitely not Botox. The teenagers on the ward looked extremely uncomfortable, surrounded by children’s paintings and hand prints – all designed to make the under 8’s feel at home. After an unfortunate start when she knocked over the sample pot containing her wee, the operation seemed to go well. When she came around there was a certificate stating how brave she had been, lying on her blanket, complete with 3 minions pouting and rolling their eyeballs on the page. Obviously a 12 year old girl can quite easily relate to this, but I wondered how the strapping 6 foot, 15 year old boy who was next on the list, was going to cope with waking up to that. The best bit about the operation, as well as the fact that it will hopefully make her better, was that in her sleepy state she didn’t answer me back – she didn’t even want her phone! (I know, right?)

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While she was in theatre, I went to grab a coffee and I decided that I had picked the best week ever for three separate hospital visits: Macmillan cake sales at every one. Two days ago daughter 4 and I entered the consultant’s room laden with cream gateaux. Today, my gut instinct had told me there may be cake, so I had brought along plenty of change.

Follow your gut, I tell you. No regrets.

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I’ve been shortlisted in the Best Writer category for the Mumsnet Blogging Awards! Please vote for me by clicking on the link below – it takes literally a millisecond. Thank you 🙂

http://www.mumsnet.com/events/blogging-awards/2016/best-writer