Rosie Scribble

Letting go

It has been important to me, for many many reasons, to ensure that IJ grows up knowing her own mind and is confident in her ability to think for herself and make her own decisions. I’m keen for her to have a confidence I didn’t at that age and for her to be able stand up for herself and what she believes in, whatever that turns out to be.

I also want her her to feel in control of her life, to feel she can choose her own path and know she can change direction if she decides to and I’ll be there for her.

So I’m encouraging her new-found independence, letting her try new things and watching her grow in confidence. It is relief to see that she is happy and confident with no signs of the anxieties I started to develop while young. 

As she starts making detailed list of all the things she thinks she needs for her eight birthday next month I am proud, astounded, moved at the journey the two of us have made together, at how far we have come since those early days when the two of us had no idea where we were going or how we would manage, or if we could even manage at all.

We’ve become a strong team, a solid little unit.

But I can’t cling on to her and keep her with me forever. It can’t remain just the two of us because at some point in the future I have to let her go.

And that letting go is starting already. She doesn’t need me in the way she used to, which is good and positive and exactly what I set out to achieve.

But some days it feels like a development that has come around all too quickly and caught me off guard.

My little girl is growing up and I’m not sure I’m quite ready for it.

Announcing my absence

IJ has spent the evening walking round with the weight of disappointment on her shoulders.

Life can be a burden when you’re seven, her body language is telling me, and sometimes your parent(s) can really let you down.

You see, we’ve had a little chat.

The two of us have curled up together on the sofa with my diary and I’ve explained to her the number of days I’ll be away from her over the next couple of weeks. We’ve circled the day I take the train to London for Cybermummy, then the day I fly off to Israel, the day I return to the UK and the day I’ll arrive back home, thrilled to bits to see her and possibly carrying presents.

For a little girl that’s a long time away from her mummy. She’s managed without me before and I know she will be absolutely fine. In fact, it will be an adventure for her. She’ll stay up too late and eat too much chocolate but she’ll enjoy spending time in the capable hands of her grandparents.

At the news we will be away from each other for ten whole days, IJ’s face fell.

It was one of those parenting moments that tugs at the heart strings and makes you want to scoop your child up and hold them forever.

Except it wasn’t.

IJ wasn’t disappointed about my planned absence at all. “I wanted to stay with granny and grandpa for a whole year,” she said.

Her disappointment was obvious.

And possibly mine too.

On the other hand, it does mean I could try and extent my trip and take in Morocco, Mexico and Canada before heading home via lunch in Paris and a spot of shopping.

There’s a thought.

On not being needed anymore

IJ calmly announced this morning that she didn’t need me anymore.

She didn’t need me to take her hand, carry her lunchbox and walk with her through the school playground to the spot where she lines up with her friends.

She is able to do this on her own now because she is a grown-up. So all she needed me to do was drop her off at the school gate, turn around and go home.

So I did exactly that.

Sort of.

I dropped her off at the school gate, watched her walk through them, turned around and walked away.

I then walked down the road, through the car park and all the way round the perimeter fence until I was back where I started, at the school gate. There I took up my position, standing behind a tree.

From there I watched her chatting with her friends and when the bell rang I watched her line up and walk through the door of the school, safe and sound. Then I turned and walked away but not before I’d glanced across at several parents doing exactly the same thing.

Tomorrow we’ll be doing the same.  And possibly for at least a year after that.

Will you be reading the Mumsnet Rules?

I recently wrote a post on Ready for Ten called Do parenting books work? and found it to be an area that divides opinion. Some considered parenting books to be a helpful source of information, especially in the early days; others felt they were simply tapping in to the anxieties that many inexperienced parents have.

The overriding theme coming from the parents I spoke to when researching this piece was to trust your own instincts, only you know your child best, and those instincts are usually right.

No parenting book can possibly tell you how to look after your individual child although I have found some useful when it comes to more challenging times. I’ve been keen to know more about issues such as building your child’s self-esteem, overcoming shyness and tackling fussy eating.

So in the parenting book market, which already seems saturated and where the majority of parents I spoke to didn’t have the desire or the time to read them, is there room for one more?

The newly launched Mumsnet Rules draws on the collective wisdom of parents on the message boards of mumsnet.com and is based on the assumption that if thousands of parents have found a piece of advice to be helpful then you can be pretty sure it’s worth knowing.

The marketing blurb is telling me that: The Mumsnet Rules is the book parents everywhere have been crying out for - provocative, funny, indispensable, inimitable, and a triumph of common sense over hysteria.

I don’t know anyone who has read it so I’m not sure if it is a book parents everywhere have been crying out for or not. I certainly haven’t been crying out for a parenting book but perhaps this book has filled a gap in the market I didn’t know about.

I don’t have a copy so I’m not in a position to comment. If you’ve read it, reviewed it or planned to get a copy, do let me know what it’s like.

I like the idea of helpful advice that will make the lives of mums easier. I’m less keen on the idea of rules though.

What do you think?

This is a sponsored post.

As it sinks in we really are related

It was one of those perfect, sunny weekends where you... erm… follow your child a round with a camera …

… and capture the sights of Stratford-upon-Avon.

Such was the sunshine and the positive mood I even, for a brief moment, found myself attracted to the art of Morris dancing.

Only after the event did it occur to me that a photograph would have worked well in this section of a blog post, but I was in offline mode so the opportunity passed me by. There was a lot of white clothing, bells and wooden sticks, you can picture the scene.

We were in Stratford for a 70th birthday and a family reunion. Relatives gathered, there was food, conversation and more than a little reminiscing. Some people drank a lot of wine.

The highlight for me was not the chance to socialise with others but the chance to play with my cousin’s ipad 2 until, alas; he took it back home on a plane to Ireland. I still miss it.

IJ, soon to be eight, was seen by many relatives for the first time since she was a tiny toddler with a mop of golden hair. So I was proud to show her off and she was proud to be at my side.

Okay. I made that last bit up slightly.

There were numerous comments, all complimentary, on IJ’s appearance and the overwhelming opinion was that she looks like me.

I was touched and secretly delighted.

On hearing this, IJ suddenly became a little quiet.

For a few minutes she said nothing, her face giving little away until she suddenly remarked,

“Mummy, I am a little bit sad.”

Bless.

We've had words.