Tantrums and other Terrorist Tactics

My mother thought she’d found a lost child the other day. There was a little girl, standing in the middle of a crowded shopping centre, bawling her head off. Mum was sitting on a couch nearby, and asked her if she was lost? Did she know where here Mummy was?

“Right here” was the grim reply a woman nearby, who had been seemingly ignoring her.

“She’s not lost, she just ‘having a moment’”, explained the Mum.

Ahh, tantrums – don’t you just love ‘em?

Erm, no actually. Detest them.

Then yesterday I was watching The View and heard Sherri talking about her son having a meltdown because she wouldn’t buy him a video game while she was in a computer store. All the other women asked her how did she cope, and she simply said, “I just let him have it”. For a heart-plunging second I thought she meant she let him have the game, but she meant she just let him have his tantrum, paid for what she had to get, and left (well, dragged him out). Thank God, an American with some common sense.

One of the other women, Joy, asked her why didn’t she use something other than “No”, like “Not today”, or “Mummy can’t afford it” or “We’ll see” or a million other bloody tiptoeing methods of not actually being in charge of the conversation. God forbid a child should hear the word “No” directed at him. I mean, that’ll never happen in his adult life right? And imagine if it does, won’t it be a lovely surprise for him?! I’m sure he’ll know exactly how to cope with being told no by his boss, his bank manager, his wife, given all the coping skills he learned in childhood, watching those Baby Einstein videos (whenever he demanded to, of course).

I loved Whoopi Goldberg’s reaction to Joy explaining she was just thinking of way to “avoid the tantrum”. “There is no ‘avoiding the tantrum’, if they’re gonna have one, they’re gonna have one – no matter how you phrase it, how you say it - even if you give them the damn toy! They might be tired, hungry or sometimes they’re just in a funky mood. Some days I’m like that, you can’t take me anywhere!”. Amen.

To be honest, tantrums were the one part of parenting that really had me scared when I was pregnant. I’m not good at dealing with overly emotional people at the best of times. I tend to explore my emotions in writing; in real life I don’t do touchy-feely at all. My husband is one of those rare and incredible men who talks openly and often about his feelings, and it makes me so squirmy and uncomfortable when he starts talking about how he’s feeling that I just have to jump him rather than listen to him talk. How would I cope with some little person having a meltdown and being all unreasonably and flamboyantly emotional?

And boy howdy, does Gorgeous Girl know how to chuck a nuclear-grade tantrum. Not so much these days; being 3 and a half, she’s all about the backchat and arguing and “well, what about...”. Sometime I’m really impressed at her logic and problem solving abilities when she’s trying to get what she wants, but most of the time I’m resisting the urge to duct-tape her mouth shut.

Most of the time though, she only really persists when she can sense that I’m wavering about whether or not to say no, I’m doubting myself, or second-guessing whether it’s really a big deal. The minute I show I’m serious and take charge by telling her, “No. Now I’ve said no, and I mean it. When have I ever said no and changed my mind?” she usually gives it up. And there is the secret, one thing I am inordinately smug about is the fact I have never, ever said no to GG and then gone back on it, no matter how big a tantrum she threw, because I knew the minute I did all I was teaching her that no doesn’t mean no, it just means you have to throw a bigger wobbly til you get what you want. I have trust capital now.

It means I have had to drag a screaming child out of many a shopping centre, leave a nearly-finished grocery shop and manhandle a squirming, screeching and kicking alien life force out of the store. It means I have had to stand at a door behind which I had confiscated something fun to play with (like a power saw) and physically hold it shut while a nearly 2yr old GG hung from the handle screaming with more decibels than a jet engine. (I can’t even remember what I put behind that door, but God I remember that tantrum! Curse door handles that don’t lock and freakishly tall toddlers that could reach them!!)

Do you know what though? GG learned pretty quickly that tantrums don’t get you anything except a time out. She’s not bratty, or demanding. She’s learnt that the best way to get a treat is to behave nicely when we’re out, and then at the end of the trip ever so sweetly remind me how good she’s been and do you think she could maybe get a lollipop? I had fallen into the trap of doing this pretty consistently, so she then expected a treat every time we went out. Nowadays, it’s more of a haphazard thing, sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. She threw a couple of wobblies when I changed that up, but nothing dramatic.

So why are so many parents afraid of their children? Why do they jump through hoops and turn themselves inside out, lest their darling progeny chuck a fit and act all unseemly? I think part of it is this whole indulgent parenting movement, you know, where parents seem to be an insipid servant, catering to their indulged child’s every whim, rather than actually raising that child and teaching them important life lessons, like they can’t have everything they want. Think Veruca in Willy Wonka.

I get how hard it is to see your child upset. We’re their parents, we want to make them happy. We also want to avoid the Judgy McJudge-Judge looks you get from random strangers when your little one chucks a tantrum. And of course there are ways to help avoid your kids chucking wobblies when you’re out and about – avoid going out when they’re going to be or already are tired, or hungry, or whatever. Sometimes, though, life does not fit neatly around nap time and you’ve simply got shit you have to do. Even then there are things you can try – bring a favourite toy along, let them ride in a stroller or trolley rather than walk, or give them something that isn’t such a big deal, let them have a ride on those carousel things in the shops, rather than let them have a chocolate or soft drink.

Of course, Whoopi is right though, some days there is no avoiding the tantrum. You can have done every thing “right” and still end up with a melted toddler puddle screaming at your feet or chucking cans off the grocery shelf. This is a terrorist tactic, to see how quickly you’ll fold, and I don’t negotiate with terrorists. I’ve seen parents croon and try to console their children mid-tantrum, I’ve seen them laugh it off and try to jolly them out of it, and I’ve even seen them give in and let them have the thing they wanted, or something else, or an ever better toy. I’ve also seen that none of those things work. The only thing that works is to keep your energy low and calm (if somewhat threatening in my case – hey, that’s just how I roll when I’m tense) and ignore it. The best thing to do is leave immediately, but I get that sometimes you just have to get bills paid, food to eat, etc. I’ve done it. Ride it out. The only big social rule I really believe in is that if your child is throwing a tantrum in a cafe, restaurant or movie... LEAVE!!!! Don’t look round smiling apologetically, don’t laugh it off, just get the hell out, we’re trying to relax and eat here! Come back later when little Timmy is acting human again, okay?

How did I cope with all these lavish displays of emotion? Pretty good, I think. As hard as it is to see your little one upset and crying, part of you realises you are doing it for their own good, in a big-picture kind of sense, and I just kind of grit my teeth and work hard to act like I’m calm, unmoveable, a boulder in a stream, with a river of emotion just washing around me. I am unchanged, although maybe a little worn down at the end.

Priceless...

Last night, GG and Hubby stay up watching a movie, Mummy goes to bed as Mummy has stupid freaking 4am start.

The following has been relayed to me by a stupified and chastened husband.

About halfway through the movie, GG has crashed out and is managing to take up all 6 feet of the couch, despite only being 4 foot tall.

Hubby decides he would like to partake of contraband ice cream and chocolate buttons. Hubby avails himself, first making sure GG is asleep by taking GG by the wrists and re-enacting the YMCA dance.

**Note, Hubby will now be supervised at all times, lest bad 80's dances catch on.**

***Except of course the Nutbush - that rocks***

The second hubby sits down, GG's eyes pop open and she asks, "Daddy, whatcha got?"

"Ice-cream, Boo - d'ya want some?"

Thoughtful pause...

"No - but Daddy, you have to ask before you get a treat."

"Do I? Ask who?"

"Mummy".

Toddler brainwashing for the win.

How do you explain?

Long time readers might remember I have an 11 year old cousin, whom on this blog I call Jewel, who has special needs. She's on the autism spectrum basically, with a diagnosis of speech dyspraxia and some muscle tone / motor function problems thrown in as well.

GG and Jewel get on famously, GG being fascinated with older kids, especially one so into music and dancing as Jewel, and I sometimes think Jewel loves GG because she doesn't have any expectations to live up to with her, plus her behaviour is often a lot better around GG, almost like she is enjoying the fact there is someone who she can be better at at different things.

The girls see each other probably a few times a week, and GG often stays over at Jewels house, where they have a great time.

Jewel asks, probably every time I see her, if she can stay at my house one night too. To date, she has only stayed a handful of times with me. Not because I don't want to have her, but because at the last minute, her anxiety gets the better of her, and she doesn't want to go.

This is rough on GG. She gets excited at the thought of having Jewel stay at our place, and quite upset when it then doesn't come to pass. It's not Jewel's fault of course, and I don't want to drag her when she clearly is upset at the prospect, although I wonder if she would have a bit of a meltdown and then be fine, if we really pushed the issue. I suspect I'm falling into the trap of thinking of her like a "normal" toddler, who doesn't want to do something, which would be a mistake. I can't pretend to know how Jewel's mind works, even her own Mum doesn't. I once said to her when we were considering this approach, "You know her better than me". To which she replied, "Well no, I don't really know her at all". I was struck with sadness at that sentence, but didn't really know what to say in reply.

Yesterday, we had another go at having Jewel come stay. Last time, speaking as if it was simply a done deal, "okay it's time to go" throwing her stuff in the car and going seemed to work. She had about a day knowing about it, which gave her enough notice that it was going to happen, but not enough time to work up a lot of anxiety about it. Well, it must've been a fluke last time, because this time it didn't work at all.

Jewel became very upset at the thought of going, yet every time we said "Okay, you don't have to then", she would immediately say she now wanted to. I don't know if she was trying to please us, saying what she thought she wanted us to hear, but then getting scared and saying no, or whether (and this is what my gut tells me), part of her does want to come stay and play with her friend, but her anxiety makes her pull out at the last minute.

Through out all this, GG had been cajoling Jewel to come with her, "Yeah, c'moooooon" and getting visibly excited that Jewel might be coming to stay. These days I prep her that it's only a maybe, Jewel might not come, etc., etc., and she is pretty good, she no longer gets too upset if it doesn't work out.

As we were leaving from Jewel's yesterday, GG seemed fine, until a few minutes after we left, her bottom lip started wobbling and she asked in a plantive voice, "Why Jewel no come stay?"

"Well, you remember that sometimes Jewel gets a bit scared of not staying in her own place, and decides not to come. You can still see her on the weekend and have a play."

"Yeah, but why she get scared? I no get scared staying over."

And there's the thing, how do you explain something as multi-faceted and delicate as autism and mental health to someone who is only 3?

I gave it a try, anyway...

"Well, Jewel's brain doesn't work like yours and mine..."

"What a brain?"

"Umm, it's what you think with, in your head, and it's how you learn things. So Jewel doesn't think and learn quite like we do, and some things that don't worry us, upset her quite a bit, like staying over. So we have to be a bit patient with Jewel, because she can't help it."

"Something wrong with her brain?"

Of course the easy answer here would be "Yes", but I don't want GG thinking there is something 'wrong' with her friend and cousin, because really, I don't like that connotation, and she won't get the subleties involved.

Instead, I go with, "No, there's nothing 'wrong' with her, she's just different. It doesn't mean her brain is worse, or better, than ours, just different. Like your dollies, Raya and Prinny, one is cloth, and one is plastic, but you love them both, even though they are different, right?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Well, there you go, Jewel is just different."

"Whycome she different?"

"Well, that's just the way God made her."

"Oh, God like different dollies too!!"

Sometimes, I really feel very small and humble when speaking to my daughter....

Around the World, Around the World

I think I just had one of those "teachable moments" the Montessori books are always talking about.

Earlier this evening, GG and I were enjoying some quiet, wind-down time listening to classical music after a gourmet dinner. Oh okay, you got me - we were watching T.V. after eating cereal for dinner (in my defence, we did have a lovely, healthy cauliflower soup for lunch)!

An ad came on the telly, advertising a European cruise company and showing iconic shots of castles, mountains, etc. Hannah noticed a particular scene looked pretty, and said she would like to visit that castle.

"Mmmm, it looks pretty, doesn't it honey?" I murmured non-commitally.

"You take me there one day Mummy?"

"Well, I'd love to honey, but it's a veeeeery long way, way away."

A discussion followed about how far it was, and I used a comparison of when we flew to Melbourne it took two hours in the plane, but to fly to Europe would take a whole day in a plane. I could see the concept didn't really take, and was ready to just change to subject and leave it, but GG kept asking questions relating to it, and I tried to think of ways to explain the scope of the world to a 3-year old.

In a burst of inspiration, I grabbed the (always handy) laptop, and pulled up a nice, colourful world map.

We then spent an amazing hour, exploring the world via Google images. I started off by showing her the Gold Coast, where we live, and tracked the mouse up to Brisbane, where we drove recently. I then showed her where Melbourne was, and reminded her how we travelled there by plane a year ago, and how long it took.

Then I showed her where various friends and family live or have sent her postcards from: Canada, Croatia, Italy, Bermuda, India, New Zealand, Germany. Her expression was priceless as she sat there on the couch, wide-eyed and contemplating the size of the world, and all the different countries. I explained that she would learn all this in school, but I could show her a bit for now and see what she thought. I've never seen her pay such rapt attention. She was fascinated, and asking questions about everything. She then herself started pointing at countries and asking about them: Russia, China, Indonesia, Africa, Brazil. Once I showed her each place on the map, I pulled up some images of iconic landmarks, the people, whatever came up. We saw carnivale outfits from Brazil, German castles, African kids tending their goats, Indian women in saris, the Canadian Rockies, Italian churches. I loved it, and I loved watching GG love it.

I'm not sure how much of it she absorbed, if any, but she was truly interested, and talking about the buildings and people she saw. Especially when she noticed that the African kids all had dark skin. She asked me why and I told her.

"Well, everybody has different coloured skin, see how mine is darker than yours? I bet you couldn't find one person with skin the exact same colour as yours. Well, people who live in Africa, their skin is all different shades too, but it tends to be darker, quite dark."

"But why is it dark?"

"Umm, well Africa is a very hot country, with lots of strong sun, and their dark skin protects them from getting burned by the sun."

What she definitely did absorb was that it's fascinating to learn new things, and that there is a whole, massive world of information out there, and it's at our fingertips.

I want to instill a love of learning in GG, a curiosity about why, what, how and a thirst for knowledge. It seems we're on the right track, her natural curiosity is only getting stronger and I need to be mindful of that, and make myself available to answer her questions, incessant as they may be!

I don't think we can just wait until our kids hit school age, then just turn them over to the teachers and hope everything goes well. We have been teaching them from the day they were born, and I think we should continue to do so, all the rest of their lives. Yes, schooling is important, and I'm certainly not the person to go to with your algebra equations, but parents need to encourage a desire to learn, and show how enriching it can be. I can still remember my Mum replying to me questioning the importance and relevance of a particular subject (it may or may not have been algebra), "The important part of school isn't exactly what you learn; it's that you learn how to learn."

We also need to remind them to be questioning, and examine the motivations behind the messages they receive. This is especially important as they get older and are hit by media and advertising more and more. Is that ad for Coke showing because they care about your happiness this summer, or because they want to sell more product?

These will definitely be the lessons I'll be teaching GG.

You know you're a Mama if...

... even when talking to only adults, you still spell out the risqué words, like "B-R-A" and "L-O-L-L-I-E-S"?

... you couldn’t recommend a five-star restaurant to save your life, but know the exact location of every parents room and playground in a 10 kilometre radius.

... when fossicking about in your bag for your purse, you have pulled out a dummy/pair of kids undies/pointy plastic toy/desiccated snack food.

... you have ever wondered what the nutritional value of a dead leaf was.

... sleep is a distant memory.

... you find yourself still watching Play School, even though your children have wandered off to play.

... when quizzed, you can name the entire cast of your child’s favourite cartoon show.

... you can remember every major illness your children ever had, and when they had it, but can’t remember your husband’s mobile number.

... you have ever uttered the words, “Because I said so”, or “Well, why didn’t you go before we left?”

... you know what it is like to have your heart walk outside your body.

Baby got Back... Chat

No! I want this one! No, because I want...! No, because I don't like it!, No, I want that one! No, I do it!!! No, I do it myself!

Gah!!!! It has been backchat city around here for the last week or so. GG has discovered she has her own opinions on a vast range of subjects, and is adamant about expressing these. She also highly values her ever-growing independence, and vehemently resists any effort on my part to assist her in any way, shape or form. Of course, she is only capable of so much, and then when she can't do something, throws a fit. All of this, combined with my battling a headcold, has made me want to lock her in a cupboard lock myself in my room. With a bottle of vodka Nyall.

Everything has been a battle this week, from getting her dressed, where she refuses to wear anything other than some God-awful and totally seasonally inappropriate outfit she has chosen herself, getting her in the bath, getting her out of the bath, you name it, if I mention it, she refuses it. I've always been a 'pick your battles' kind of Mum, willing to let some things slide, so as I'm not constantly harping on at her, but this is becoming like a reflex; Mummy says something, I say No.

GG has always been a happy soul, she's had the usual toddler tantrums and crankiness when she's tired etc., but her basic nature is sunshine. She is also usually very helpful, always wanting to do some small job; be the stirrer when I'm baking, help me weed the garden, pass me pegs as I hang washing etc., she just likes to be involved. This has stopped in the last week, anytime I ask her if she wants to help me, I get a firm No. She also used to be a quite agreeable girl, happy to go along with whatever I suggested, now she argues almost everything.

This morning I gave her a warning about the way she was behaving and was told, "Mummy, you need to watch your attitude". Hmmmm. Resisting the urge to throw something at her, I simply told her the way she was speaking to me was rude, and I wasn't interested in listening to her. She did actually say sorry at the time, so I left it, but a bit later I spoke to her about how it mightn't seem fair that she can't tell me what to do, but I can tell her, but that is because I am the adult, and my job is to teach her acceptable ways of behaving and speaking to people.

One of her favourite causes to rail against is the fact that I am in charge, and she will nearly always shout back, "No I am!!" I understand how frustrating it must be for her, she has just turned three and is just now realising how powerless she is, how many decisions are out of her hands. I am sort of proud of her for valuing her independence so much, and fighting so fiercely for it. I don't want to stamp that out, it will serve her well in the future, but I do need to find a channel for it. I give her as many opportunities as I can to let her make her own decisions, but instead of her demanding to wear a summer dress in cold, rainy weather, I give her three options, all clothes I am happy for her to wear, then she can choose from these. I create as many opportunites as I can at home to let her choose what we will do together, and I let her do as many things as she can for herself, like I make sure her shoes have velcro or elastic straps, so she can put them on herself.

I'm betting on my theory that this is just another phase, an exploration of what she can and can't do, and an experiment in what I'll let her get away with. I'm betting on the theory that children need parents (especially the main caregiver) who are confidently in charge, sure of themselves and consistent in the limits they set. The need to feel that someone who is capable of being in charge is in charge. So I'm going to give her those small accomplishments, just enough to retain that spark of independence, but try not to play into her drama so much and remain firmly, calmly in charge. I'm sure her natural inclination to want to be part of the team that is our family and help out will re-assert itself, as soon as she's done testing her limits.

And I'm pretty sure both of us will survive this phase. Just.

You will never be merely pretty.

Oh wow. I just found this site, Consumption Rebellion (which is awesome!) and on it, this amazing piece from poetry slammer Katie Makkai.

Given all that I have spoken about in regards to my angst when I think about how I am going to counter-act all the shameless, insidious poision in society and the media and convince my darling, clever, funny, kind and, yes, gorgeous girl that she is not only beautiful just the way she is, but that is is worth far more than just her appearance anyway, well, I just had to share this.

Friend or fear?

"I'm my daughter's best friend."

This is the statement that bought a girlie catch-up I was at recently to a screeching halt. The woman speaking has a teenage daughter, and a quite permissive relationship with her, something that has been commented on by us to her before.

She stated this in the context that she was never going to be able to stop her daughter getting up to all the hi-jinks she did as a kid; drinking, going off with boys, experimenting with drugs etc., so she would rather have the kind of relationship where her daughter felt safe enough to talk to her about anything she got up to.

Another friend of mine, with a daughter the same age, piped up with, "Well, I'd rather my daughter was scared enough of me she didn't do it in the first place".

Many swift and silent glances were exchanged between the rest of us, quickly followed by a quick gulp of champagne as we gleefully settled in to watch the fireworks fly. I know, terrible aren't we?

Suffice to say, a spirited exchange of views ensued.

It got me thinking though, about the type of parent I want to be as my daughter grows older and hits those perilous teenage years. I think the groundwork for these years is being laid even now at three years old. My Gorgeous Girl really is a pretty good kid, but she can really turn it on when she's feeling feisty; backchat, tantrums, throwing, hitting out at me - you name it.

And already I have decided: I don't want to be her friend.

I want to be her Mum. I want her to realise just how slavishly devoted to her I am, how desperately I love her... and that I will not hesitate to send her to her room when she's acting bratty.

I would love to have the kind of relationship when she's older where she will still feel she can talk to me about whatever is going on in her life, but I think there needs to be a background of respect there, and that starts now. She will learn she can trust me, there is nothing she can do that will make me love her less, but that she will be held accountable for her behaviour, she will know what is right and what is wrong, and I will expect her to make good choices. When she doesn't make good choices, I'll be there to help her fix it, but she will have to take responsibility for her actions. God, I hope I can live up to this ideal in reality.

I remember back to when I was a teenager (and a bit of a hellraiser myself). I had friends with Mums who wanted to be liked by their daughters as a friend, rather than loved like a Mother. Although now my relationship with my Mum is more like friendship, back then she also wasn't interested in being my friend; she was my Mum. As much as I loved her, wholeheartedly, and knew she loved me, she wasn't scared of saying no and having me hate her (briefly) for it. Thank God. I got up to a fair bit of trouble as a kid, was never into drugs luckily, but did the whole teenage rebellion thing fairly well. I shudder to think what I would've done had I not been terrified of the wrath of my parents!

I had a friend at the time, the only child of quite eldery parents, who were so grateful to have a child, they let her get away with anything. She was boasting to me once about how her parents were about as tough as bunny rabbits; they let her go out late at night, aged 14, to meet up with older boys, they never questioned what she got up to, where she was going, or even whose house she actually stayed over at when she said she was at mine. As she was boasting about this, all I remember thinking was, "God, don't they care about you at all?".

So, for me, my views on motherhood are a bit less bunny-like and more like a lioness: I will love you fiercely, I will fight tooth and nail to protect you and I will raise you to be a mighty creature to be reckoned with in your own right, but I will also not hesitate to roar at you and show my claws when needed.

Blogging in the Buff!

As soon as I read Jodie's post over at Mummy Mayhem, I knew I had to take up the challenge!

If you haven't read it (though you really should) she talks about what sort of message are we sending when we refuse to be seen without makeup? Is it simpy pride in your appearance, or an inability to accept our true selves and love ourselves for us, just as we are?

She also talks about the fad of magazines printing "Stars Without Their Makeup" specials. These have always interested me, like it's some sort of amazing, ultra-unusual thing for a woman, no matter how famous, to be seen without makeup. The stories are always pitched in a gasp-in-shock sort of style, like we shouldn't think it's normal to wear only your skin on your face.

Sure, sometimes it's nice to be reminded that only rarely do those women who you often compare yourself to (and find yourself lacking) actually look like that, and usually it's not just makeup, but a whole lot of airbrushing that gets them to that state, but it still rankles me that they are presented in such a voyueristic fashion, like we should be shocked and titilated to see such a thing.

Which is why Kate Walsh is my new hero. She recently attended a movie premier, red carpet appearance and all, with no makeup on! She twittered beforehand that she simply hadn't had time to get all made up, so went without. I think she looked gorgeous, she obviously has beautiful skin, and I would kill for her jawline.

There's been some discussion that she appears to have some under-eye concealer on, and she is no doubt a Botox devotee, so she's not really au naturel, but I think for a Hollywood actress to go to an actual red carpet event with anything less than full war-paint is a spectacular statement about beauty, and self-confidence. Good on her.

I'm not saying makeup is a bad thing, I certainly wear it to special events, and usually even to work. It's funny that I referred to it by the colloqiualism war-paint just then, because I tend to use makeup for exactly that; it can be my armour. If I know I am going to be facing a situation that makes me nervous, or where I will be the focus of attention for any reason, I will wear a lot of makeup, with strong, bold colours to give me a sense of strength and boldness.

Why I feel like a few layers of foundation and mascara will make me smarter, quicker, more patient and eloquent is beyond me, though maybe not to anyone who has studied the effects of a looks based society on a teenage girl with self-image issues.

And here is the crux of the matter.

A few months ago, as I was getting ready for work, my own little Gorgeous Gal was sitting on the bed, watching me put my makeup on.

"Mummy, why you put on your makeup?"

"Uhh..." I had one of those moments we have as parents where several answers immediately come to mind, but you automatically censor them as you see how the conversation would continue. The obvious answer that came to me was, "To make me look pretty", but then I could almost hear her wonder to herself if she wasn't wearing makeup, did that mean she wasn't pretty?

Or I could've answered, "Because I don't like how my cheeks are always red, and I want to cover it up", and watched her little face cloud over as she remembers all the times I have delighted in the very same rosy tint to her cheeks and wonders if I really loved it after all.

I really had no good answer. Why did I wear this stuff?

In the end I stammered out an answer about it meaning I was taking going to work seriously (I know, WTF right??) and changed the subject.

And this is when she's three! What's going to happen as she gets older, starts examining her own self-image. What's going to happen when she inevitably starts comparing herself to her school friends and whoever the latest tween poppet is? What's going to happen when she starts reading Dolly magazine for Christ's sake? How can I tell my daughter that she is more than beautiful, just as she is?

How can I help her love herself just as she is, when I can't do it myself?

The issue of how I can teach her she is more than just how she looks is another issue entirely, but something I am working on. Yes, already. I want to get to her before the damn media does.

Since becoming a Mum, there have been more and more days where I simply haven't had the time or inclination to put on a full face of makeup, or even a swipe of lip gloss come to that. I would initially feel like I had come down to the shops naked. I felt insecure and frumpy. Suprisingly, nobody reeled in horror, or went shrieking down the aisles. Not once was I mistaken for the Swamp Thing.

Now, more often than not, I am bare-faced. My husband actually thinks I look younger when I don't wear any makeup. I am finally comfortable in myself. Well, from the neck up anyway, I'm still not happy in my body, I want it to be healthier and yes, slimmer than it is, but I still love it for what it can do. I have made peace with the ever-present dark circles under my eyes (I've always had them, they're not a tiredness or toxin thing), the blemishes I hardly ever got as a teenager but who are making up for it now, and my good Celtic skin that flushes beet-red at the slightest hint of exertion or emotion.

I'm hoping that through my example (and tireless brainwashing) GG will realise that you don't need a layer of makeup to face the world, and certainly not some beauty product with it's ridiculous pseudo-scientific and completely bogus claims to be beautiful. You just need to be healthy, confident that you are more than your looks, happy with who you are as a person, and your inner beauty will shine through. Of course, it doesn't hurt that GG is, in fact gorgeous.

So, after all my blah, blah, blahing: here it is, my example to my daughter... me in my natural state, no makeup, no hairstyling (and also no top of my head - sorry about that, taking your own photo is hard!)

You know, I could sit here and point out all the faults and flaws I think I see, but actually, I think I look fine.

First post flashback - I've been tagged!

I've been tagged by Corrine over at A Day in the Life to participate in a meme where we go back and re-visit our first ever blog post.

The idea is to see how far we've come, do we still write in the same manner etc., and examine why we started blogging in the first place.

I had been thinking about writing a blog for quite awhile before I actually put finger to keypad. My very tech-savvy sister had gotten me into the whole thing by sharing some of the blogs she followed, and it had stirred up a rememberance for my love of writing.

Plus, having recently become a Mum, I was incenced at all the bullshit out there that targeted mothers and parenting in general. So much conflicting advice, condescending "experts" and playgroup bitches out to judge your choices to feel better about their own.

Being plagued with self-doubt though, I assumed no-one would want to read my drivel and shelved the whole idea. Then a few people started interrupting my ranting and telling me I should write a blog. Then a few more. Then I decided that when the 10th person who didn't know I wanted to write a blog told me that I should, I would. They did, so I did.

I've got to tell you, even though my blog-frequency has waned of late, it is something I still really love and has saved my sanity a few times. Often I'm not even sure what I am going to say on a certain topic until I see it come from my fingertips onto the page. Certain posts have taken on a life of their own, and some have even come to me practically complete as I've lain in bed vainly trying to get to sleep. The fact that I've gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to get a post down is something I'm not sure I'm proud of or embarrassed by!

Blogging has helped me clarify my thoughts, explore my opinions, vent my frustrations, ponder my place in the Universe and meet some clever, charming, funny and just plain strange people!!

So without further ado.. my first foray into the blog-o-sphere...

Parenting and other sins

It seems just about everything we do with our children is causing them harm these days, doesn't it? Let them watch 10 minutes of Dora warbling away so you can have a shower, oops, you've stunted their IQ. Don't let them see a TV until they're 16, oh, you deprived them of so much educational opportunity! Smack them, you're a monster, don't smack them, they'll turn into little monsters themselves.

Is it just me, or have we lost our common sense? We are so desperate to "get it right", that we'll listen to anyone with an opinion, regardless of whether they have any expertise or, more importantly, any children themselves.

One of the hardest things I had to get used to when I had my Gorgeous Girl, was that loss of confidence in myself. I went from someone who was very good at my job, had clear opinions on pretty much everything, and felt capable to take on anything. Then I had GG and realised that I knew nothing. My most important job, and I had no qualifications, no experience (Irealised quickly nieces/nephews and friend's kids do not, in fact, give you a "taste" of parenthood) and no confidence in my ability. Luckily, I quickly regained my confidence that I was the best person to take care of GG, and I like to think I've done a pretty good job so far. She's certainly so delightful it makes it easy to think so.

I'm also lucky in that I have a lot of family support, and that they've respected the parenting decisions I've made, even if they haven't agreed with them. Big lucky there.

Trolling around on the internet (where I do all my important research), I noticed something... In our grandparents era, strictness was Godliness. Babies were to conform to a sleep routine, play mostly by themselves in a playpen or cot with just a few basic toys, and believe it or not, formula was seen as a scientific improvement on breastmilk. Then the pendulum seems to have swung the other way, and it was the complete opposite, feed on demand, and it better be breastmilk, sleep in a family bed, wear your baby in a sling and be at their beck and call within seconds of every whimper. Phew.

Could it be that this pendulum is still swinging, even if the arcs are getting smaller? When will we get to the middle ground, where parents feel they can make decisions about their own family and others will say "Great, glad it works for you." Obviously, some decisions are never OK - smoking when pregnant, abuse, driving drunk and getting 3 yr olds high are always going to be big no-no's, but really, is a bit of TV really so bad for kids? Will every child who has been allowed a bit of ice-cream be obese at age 30? Will a smack on a nappy-padded bottom by a loving parent really scar you for life?

I'd love to hear what you think...

There you have it folks. Oh, and if you're reading this, tag, you're it!!

"Ham, chicken thighs and public humiliation please"

I've entered into yet another new territory in Parent-land. The one where you find yourself hissing at your child to shh-be-quiet-yes-I-know-but-for-the-love-of-God-just-please-shut-up!

Don't you love each and every new phase that comes along as your little one grows and flourishes under your tender care? Yeah, me neither.

So GG is about to turn 3 in May, and her talking is getting really good, full sentences, very clear and she is a real chatterbox. She's also getting so clear that complete strangers can understand her, and herein lies the problem.

Yesterday, we had a carpenter come to fix some cupboards in the kitchen. GG spend the whole time glaring at him suspiciously and loudly asking, "Mummy, who is that man?" "What's he doing?" "Why is he wrecking the kitchen Mummy?" "Does he need a timeout?" Luckily the guy was lovely and thought she was hilarious.

Then today at the deli counter in Coles, just as the young guy behind the counter took our number, GG yelled out, "Mummy, that man looks like Merlin!!"

1. Truth be told, he really did, all ears and dark dorky hair, but they aren't really qualities most people want brought to public attention.

2. Yes, GG watches Merlin. Sub-prime parenting I realise, but something about it really catches her attention, she will sit and watch a whole episode, and she never sits still. When I ask her if she finds any part scary, she looks at me with derision and says, "It's just pretend Mummy".

So back to the weird-lookin kid. I think he missed it the first time, but GG kept saying it, over and over, louder and louder. I muttered under my breath, "Uh-huh, that's nice honey, oh look over there!" but she wasn't to be deterred. "But he really does Mummy! He looks just like Merlin!"

As I am trying to shush her, and looking around wildly at the other customers sniggering behind their hands, I glance up and lock eyes with the guy. "Did she just say I looked like Merlin?"

"Ummm, well, yes but if it makes you feel any better, she really likes Merlin. And of course she means the young version, you know from the TV show - not the old guy with the beard, I mean of course not, you don't have a beard do you AHAHAHAHA". (Okay, so I babble when I'm nervous.)

He turns to address GG, "Cool, I like Merlin too. Do you want a cheerio?"

Needless to say, GG's in love.

Bad Mummy Diaries: Part Two

I don't have a lot of bad habits these days. I've stopped smoking, I don't drink that much, I don't do drugs and I only occassionally binge myself into a choc-coma. I do however, swear. Quite a bit. So fucking sue me.

However, in an effort to be a better mother, I try not to swear in front of GG. Mostly, I succeed. There was the time I shot myself in the foot by exclaiming to my husband that "parking will be a bitch in the city". Guess which word GG choose to pick up out of that? Parenting: fail. Although we did kind of manage to kind of convince her I said "beach". Kind of.

Anyprofanity, in an effort to not swear so much, I have had to radically alter my lingo when behind the wheel of my car. This is when you are most likely to to hear a litany of just about every swear you can think of (yes, once I even shocked myself when I used the C word). Hey, don't blame me, blame the fucktards who got their licence out of a cereal box. Now however, when GG is in the car, I have re-programmed myself to say the word "muppet" in place of the more colourful words in my vocabulary. "It's called merging! Ever heard of it? You MUPPET!!!!" You get the picture.

So the other day, we are all having quality family time in front of the TV (shut up, is so not an oxymoron) and GG happens to see an ad with these weird fruit-humaniod amalgam puppets in it. When she asked her Dad what on Earth they were, he replied with, "They're sort of puppets, you know like Fraggle Rock, or The Muppets?"

GG pipes up, "No, Daddy, muppets drive cars and make Mummy cranky!".

Turns out there's a lot my husband can say with just a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Do you want some porn with your petrol?

An Australian Mum, Catherine Manning, founder of Say No 4 Kids, has appeared on a prime time Channel 7 current affairs show, The 7pm Project, Tuesday night (I know, I know, I wanted to post this earlier, but I wanted to get some research behind me before I started venting!) to speak about her petition to have adult magazines moved out of children’s eyeline in milk bars and service stations.

Some people are dismissing her as a wowser or a prude. I’m willing to bet those people don’t have kids. One such person who was clearly dismissive of these idea, and shame on him, was The 7pm Project’s panellist Steve Price, who was clearly dismissive of this idea and very condescending towards her. I am well aware it’s a journalist’s job to question stories, but he showed a very unprofessional personal bias, both during the interview and in the brief discussion afterwards. You can view the episode here. You want the 9 minute mark. You can contact Steve Price here... oh no, wait, seems Mr Tough Guy has no contact information anywhere on the web. I wonder why? He’s perfectly happy to dish out his opinion to all and sundry whether we want it or not, but isn’t willing to hear what we have to say in reply? Way to stand by your opinions, Mr Price.

Plus, I don’t think he was actually paying attention. Steve seemed under the impression she was worried about kids opening and reading the magazine, whereas in reality just the covers themselves are a problem. One argument made was that a seeing a woman in lingerie on the front of an adult magazine was the same as seeing a woman in a swimsuit. In other words, seeing this...

... was just the same as seeing this:

Uh-huh... right.

Apart from the fact I couldn’t agree with her more, I think she’s being pretty reasonable. She isn’t saying there’s anything wrong with selling the magazines, or adults buying them, she just wants them moved. Pretty tolerant actually, considering many child experts want them banned all together from these outlets and sold only in adult stores.

And she’s right, every time I go into a service station, there, right by the door, and usually right across from or beside the chocolate bars and lollies, are various women in various slutty poses, vacantly staring open-mouthed right at my knees. In other words, right at GG’s eyeline.

So why do we need to protect our kids from these magazines? Well, apart from the fact that the images and captions lead to some very uncomfortable questions ( “Why is that lady nudie rudie Mummy?” is one I’ve already had to deal with), they are part of an insidious sexualisation of children that is starting to permeate every aspect of popular culture these days.

In The Australia Institute’s discussion paper “Corporate Paedophilia, Sexualisation of Children in Australia” Emma Rush and Andrea La Nauze detail how the early exposure of sexual images helps in the “grooming” process paedophiles use to abuse young children, as well as the development of body image issues and eating disorders in young girls.

Various studies have also shown a link between exposure to pornographic images at a young age to paedophilia. One such study available online here.

To get more information on the group Say No 4 Kids, or to sign the petition, you can visit their website.

A Grand Decision

All week I have been looking forward to having a day off work tomorrow, with 2 year old daughter GG still booked in at kindy. Imagine it!! A whole day, to do with as I please. To go to the shops and not have to enter into negotiations that would make General Ban Ki-moon envious just to be able to try on some clothes. To be able to sit in a cafe and tune out the entire world. To potter round at home and not have some little person creating a wake of chaos behind me as I tidy up. To watch an inappropriate movie on TV and have a shower long enough that I get to shave both legs. Ah, such lofty ideals I have, huh?

Well anyway, as an early Easter present, GG has one-upped me. We were at my Mum’s today for a quick visit as we passed, and she pipes up, “Anma (Grandma), I stay at your place tonight?”. Well, Mum was so chuffed that GG asked to stay of her own volition that she immediately agreed. Being the best Grandma in the world, she actually has everything GG (and six other babies) could possibly need, already at her house. Ever since GG was a tiny baby, she has had a fully stocked room for GG; the cot, playpen, clothes, nappies, bottles, toys, you name it! So all I needed to bring over was the little lady herself. It made it awfully easy to just pop in the car and go visit Grandma. I think that may have been part of her plan...

Anyscheme, I was also thrilled to hear GG ask to stay at her Grandmas. Not because it means a child-free night (although that’s a nice treat), but because I so very much want GG and her Grandma to have a close relationship. I was raised to be very close to all four of my Grandparents, my Mum’s parents lived just up the road and were always very interested in us all, and involved in our lives. They attended school events, watched us play sport, took us out places, had us over at their big old house, we’d even all go on big family holidays, just up to Brisbane, or even just the north end of the Coast, but the point was to be having fun together.

My Dad’s parents lived in a rural area just south of Brisbane, and had a farm with cows, chickens, dogs and the odd rabbit. Nan also bred pedigree Birman cats. My sister and I would spend half each of every school holiday with them, which I’m only just realising how hard it would’ve been for Nan, especially when we were little, but she was always a force to be reckoned with! My sister and I continued to go visit all the way through high school and even beyond, until they moved down to live with us, and then ultimately in a nursing home close by as they got older.

I may not have realised or appreciated it at the time, but a close bond with my Grandparents was invaluable to me growing up. It gave me a separate point of reference than my parents. It gave me people who would love me and spoil me and not concentrate quite so much on the rules that, by necessity, are not relaxed at home. They never undermined Mum or Dad, they always backed up any decision they made, but my Mum was smart enough to know that everyone needs to feel a little bit spoiled, and selfless enough to let that be done by other people.

I have often worried if GG feels she is being foisted off on Grandma sometimes, when Mummy is off doing other fun things. I know she loves her Grandma, Mum has been a big part of her life ever since she was a newborn. They do things together like go to Playgroup every Friday, and Mum has taken her to Play School and Dora concerts, but GG rarely gets a chance to choose to stay over – she is usually told she is going to stay at Grandmas, as a result of me having made plans. So I was really pleased to see GG seek out her company, and reassured that she does see spending time with her “Anma” as a treat, and a chance to be spoiled rotten. And I’m sure that the biscuits Grandma had just given GG in no way influenced her decision. :)

Have fun girls!!!

Dory Time

I've been watching Finding Nemo with my Gorgeous Gal, and thinking about Dory. You know, the scatter-brained blue fish with the three second memory.

Years ago, way before I had GG, my Mum and sister saw Finding Nemo with another young family member, and promptly started calling me Dory. I, having no idea what the hell they were on about, rolled my eyes and ignored them. Then, I watched the movie and realised that Dory was umm.. Dory. I would've been a bit miffed, and taken the issue up with them, but I got distracted by something shiny and then forgot all about it.

Watching the movie again though (actually, for about the millionth time), I have decided that being Dory is a good thing. I think she has a lot to teach us.

Like staying in the moment. Forget the bad stuff that's happened, heck, forget the good stuff in the past too. It's the past, gone. Just concentrate on here, and now.

Just keep swimming. Sometimes, that's all we can do. When life gets tough, and things have got you down, what can you do? Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Keep going, and have faith that something better is just around the corner.

Take your joy where you can get it. Whether it's making a game out of escaping a jellyfish cloud, or riding the waves in a whale's mouth while waiting to find out of you're going to be eaten or not, grab every opportunity for fun. It just might be your last.

Dory also teaches us that it's good to be open to life's adventures. When Nemo's Dad tells her that he promised he'd "never let anything happen" to Nemo, Dory reminds him that "if you never let anything happen to him, then nothing will ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Nemo". Well, she gets his name wrong, but you get the idea. It's a fine line between giving your children protection and independence, but we need to remember that we can't keep our children in bubble wrap forever. Mainly because they couldn't breathe!

And of course, a second language is always handy. Even if it's whale.

Thhhaaaaaaaaaaaank yooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

Balancing Act

So you've probably noticed that I've not been posting as much.


Part of this is because I've been busy, but hey! Mums are always busy and it didn't stop me in the early days of my blog-addiction from getting out of bed at 1 in the morning after I'd just had an awesome idea for a post and didn't want to forget it. Yes, that actually happened... I'm not sure if I'm proud or ashamed of that... hmm...


Part of it is because I have been suffering from a distinct lack of inspiration and a significant dearth of post topics. Hmm.. could it be that I have finally got everything of my chest?? Heavens no, I'm much more opinionated than that - something is bound to piss me off soon, and I'll race to the laptop to frantically pound on the keyboard til the bad feelings go away.


I think mostly though, I have found (gulp) balance. That elusive middle ground that exists in between the very addictive nature I have, which had me gleefully grabbing the laptop the very second GG had gone to sleep or was otherwise occupied, and the guilt I used to feel when I ignored things that needed doing around the house, or even convinced GG to play by herself or watch a DVD so I could get that post that was scratching the inside of my head out there.


I have recently gone from two days a week to three at work, and am really noticing the difference. So is my house. I have a lovely little vegetable garden, which used to give me so much satisfaction when I would bring in my home-grown organic food to feed my family, but my last harvest was a couple of months ago, and I am yet to re-plant anything. This is partly because of the scorching summer we have just had, and partly because everything needs to be pulled out, turned over, re-planted and re-mulched, and it's kind of a daunting job.

I have also noticed that even though I am away from my Gorgeous Gal an extra day, on the days I am home, I am much more engaged, and more likely to be found sitting on the floor playing. I know she still has me four days week, and of course every morning and night-time, but sometimes I really feel like I’m not getting much time with her, and so I find it easier to be patient and calm, as well as fun and playful, and just drink in the time we have together, just us.

So now the pull of the blog-o-sphere isn't so strong; GG is getting more quality time, I will eventually sort out both my garden and the laundry pile and balance has been restored to my universe. Looks like the only person missing out is... you, dear reader.

Well, thanks very much U.N.E.

So if the tension between stay-at-home mums and working Mums wasn't bad enough, that venerable institution, the University of New England has released a study that is sure to fan the flames.

They claim that mothers who work part-time have healthier children. Something about eating less junk food and watching less TV. Now, as a Mum who happens to work part-time, I'd love to accept this as universally true, but what rot! How on earth would these researchers know? Clearly these (no doubt Government funded) intellectual colossuses haven't been spending much time at my house. Since I've started working again, and especially since I've gone up to 3 days per week, GG has eaten a lot more pre-packaged or processed foods, simply because I often don't have time to cook dinner from scratch the days I work. As for TV, if it wasn't for Hi-5 DVDs, I'd never get ready in the morning!!

So now if you work full-time, outside the full time job all Mums have that is, or stay at home, you have fat, lazy kids huh? Gee, I love generalisations. And won't it be lovely to have this splashed about all over the media, we all know how they love responsible reporting, and care deeply about the feelings over Mothers all over the globe.

When are we going to realise that parenting is an individual pursuit, some are great at it, others notsomuch, but it has nothing to do with paid employment, marital status, socio-economic parameters, race, religion, creed or colour of toenail polish! Sheesh!

The sooner women stop focusing on what we are doing differently as parents, and focus on what we share, supporting each other instead of snidely judging the decisions of others to feel better about our own, the sooner we will rule the world. Or at least get paid maternity leave.

Safe as Houses

So I’m thinking of moving my family into a bomb shelter and throwing away the keys.

Honestly, it’s just getting so scary out there. First a 12 year old boy is stabbed in his schoolyard, then a little girl in Sydney is snatched from her home, horribly abused and left for dead. Then a little girl in Bundaberg is abducted and killed by a family friend. All in the last couple of weeks.

It’s a scary enough prospect keeping our children safe out there in the big wide world, but when we drop them off at school, we expect them to survive the day. When we tuck them into bed, we believe they are safe. Our homes are our sanctuary, our safe harbour in this sometimes rough sea of life, and it is a horrifying thought that this may not be so. I know of Mums who are now having their children sleep with them, just so they can be reassured that they are safe. I myself have a dog who sleeps inside, and has always been encouraged, not scolded, for barking or bringing to our attention people approaching the house. Now he is also encouraged to sleep near GG’s room. Luckily he is naturally very protective of GG, and loves being allowed to be near her. I also may or may not have re-connected GG’s baby monitor, just so I can hear what’s going on.

I have always had a tendency to worry, let my vivid imagination take off and concoct disastrous scenarios. I usually am able to shrug this off and even laugh at myself for my drama, but these recent tragedies play right into my strongest sense – maternal. There is nothing more precious to me than my child, and nothing more terrifying than the thought of her being hurt, or put in danger. It is our job to not only nurture and shape them, but protect them.

What’s scarier is trying to explain to our children why this is so. GG is only two, so I have kept her shielded from most of this, but even now, when we are out and about we have a talk that runs along the lines of, “You must stay with Mummy, so I know where you are and can keep you safe.” Safe from what is still fairly ambiguous. We have also started talking about Stranger Danger, but I sometimes struggle to find the right approach.

What about you, how much do you tell your children about the dangers in the world, and how do you say it to them?

Another dilemma...

Once again, I find myself lying awake at night, dithering and obsessing over should I or shouldn't I do something.

Here's the story. Yesterday, while I was dropping GG at her kindy, I was really disappointed in the behaviour of one of the staff members. She's not GG's direct carer, but when they are all outside playing in the common area, she would possibly be responsible for supervising her, depending on whereabouts GG chooses to play.

What I'm dithering over is whether or not to speak to or email the Centre Manager and express my concern. To dob or chill out, basically.

Here's the situation. When I dropped GG off, this girl was responsible for overseeing the area outside GG's room, it's basically an enclosed outdoor room, minus one wall, which leads out to a big yard. Under her lack of care, two or three boys, including one school aged boy there for before school care, were throwing and frisbee-ing these rubber rings around. It doesn't sound like much, but they were flinging them pretty hard around the room where lots of the littler kids were playing (and where GG wanted to play, cos that's where her friends were).

Now, this chick couldn't have seemed less concerned with what was going on around her. Not only was she trying to get them to move outside, or stop all together, she was praising them!! "Oh, that's a big throw!" etc.

As I'm standing there wondering whether or not it's my place to say something to her or the boys, sure enough, a little boy gets hit smack in the face. He bursts into tears and after initally telling him, "Oops, you're okay, hop up, la-la-la" she finally gets off her arse and comes over and takes him inside to put some ice on his eye. She catches my eye as she passes and seems a little surprised to see me looking so clearly unimpressed.

The boys go on chucking the rings with abandon and I'm getting kind of pissed off now. Just then another carer arrives to start her day and takes in the situation.

I'm not sure what do say, so I settle for, "C'mon GG, we'll go play over there, these boys are playing too rough." (Yes, I do enjoy my passive-agressiveness, very much, thank you).

Carer Mark 2 immediately tells the boys to go down the back of the yard where there are less kids if they want to keep playing the game. "But whhhyyyyyy?" whinges School Boy. The words are out of my mouth before I even think, "Because you just hit one little kid, and I don't want you to hit my little girl." This is said with a bit of a growl that I just couldn't help.

Anyhoo, that's pretty much the deal, what I'm now torn over is whether or not to leave it there, both carers will be in no doubt as to my opinion, or whether to say something to the Centre Manager about how I am disappointed that the first girl didn't manage the boy's behaviour better and prevent anyone from getting hurt in the first place.

Now, I don't want to be the Fun Police, or the Whingey-Bitch Parent type, I'm usually pretty laid-back about the inevitable bumps and knocks kids get just doing what kids do, but I do think if I say something, maybe I will stop GG being the next kid who gets hurt unnecessarily. Am I out of line here? What would you do?

It's hard enough to leave your children in care, what if you don't trust the people who may be watching over them?

A shot to the heart...

"I don't like you Mummy".

I know, I know, kids do this all the time - she's only 2, and she's just rebelling against the feeling of powerlessness she feels when I tell her she has to do something she doesn't want to.

But Oh. My. Lord. I was not prepared for how much that hurt. Tears immediately pricked at my eyes and I gaped at her. My loving little girl, who usually wraps her arms around me tight and whispers, "Guess what? I LUB you!" had just uttered her first negative opinion of Mummy.

Until now, I was loved beyond reason, preferred over all others, brave, strong, wise and beautiful (yes, I asked). Now... notsomuch.

I was unsure how to proceed, I didn't want to make a big production out of it, but I did want her to know that words can have an effect on people.

"GG, it's okay to feel cranky sometimes, but when you say that, you hurt my feelings."

"You got a sore feelings? Where your feelings?"

"No, I mean what you said made me sad."

"You sad now?"

"Well, yeah, I am actually."

"Oh, you wanna cuddle?"

"Yes please."

"I sowwy Mama", she whispered as she gave me a cuddle.

She soon returned to her usual sunny self and we had a great day together. Then at dinner after GG had finished and was playing in the next room - I was telling my husband about this, in a very light manner (making fun of myself for getting upset). Obviously I was overheard, as she decided to toy with my emotions again. She appeared at my side (hmm.. where does she get that sneaky gene from?) and told me again, "I don't like you Mummy". This time delivered with a huge grin. Maybe she thought because she heard me talking about it and laughing, that it was going to be a new game between us. Uh, no thanks. I gave her a deadpan look and got up and walked away.

I hear my husband tell her, "Uh oh, that's not a very nice thing to say, what do you say to Mummy?"

"Mummy?", she calls out.

"Yes, GG?"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I LUB YOU!!!!!!!!"