Just a Mummy.

Edit: I didn't imagine I would have to write a disclaimer in this blog post, but given all the comments I have received, I will do so, just in case you read this and think that I, in any way hate women who choose to work instead of having children, women who cannot have children, or women who have children but work instead of staying at home with them. I do not, and have tremendous admiration for any woman acting in the way she feels she needs to. I know and appreciate how hard that can be. I am thankful to be a mother. This blog post is not about me taking offence at something petty, if you'll read, you will see there was no offence taken. It is about a realisation I have had as a result of an experience, where I realised that we are all guilty of undermining motherhood. So. In short. I love and admire women. I don't think we should belittle each other. Here is why, for me, motherhood is the greatest thing I could have ever done with my life.

I think I consider myself to be a feminist....in the traditional, original sense of the word. I am a feminist, if feminism means equal rights and opportunities for both women and men. And, most importantly, I am a feminist if feminism protects a woman's right to choose who she wants to be...whether that person is a nuclear physicist, a nurse, a footballer or a mother. Or all four.

I usually steer well clear from controversy because my cheeks go all red with hot flushes during any kind of contention. And if you know me, you'll know I have ample cheeks, which equals a lot of redness. 
So. 
Here goes.
What I'm about to say shouldn't be controversial (I've just had to take a break to take my poorly little girl for an unexpected nap), so hopefully my comments will be taken in the spirit they are meant. I have recently seen on social media a type of rhetoric that seems to undermine womanhood and motherhood, often by people who say they fly the flag of feminism, (though clearly they don't fully). I do not suppose in what I say that everyone feels this way, but I have seen it with my own eyes, so I know it exists, and I want to address this today.

I can't remember if I've mentioned it before, but I once had a conversation with an insurance company, who were asking about my occupation. The words they used were "Do you work, or are you just a Mum"? Now, there's nothing wrong with that question. We all do it. We all put the words 'just' and 'mum' in the same sentence. This blog is about why, in the current climate of rampant feminism, where we're all fighting for a person's right to choose what they want to do with their lives, that it's the wrong thing to say. 

I am an historian by education. I remember a time in my life where I wanted to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon too. I've wanted to be a midwife, a teacher, a university professor, a translator, a genealogist, a counsellor and a researcher. In real life, I have been an historian. I have worked as an archivist and tour guide at an aviation museum, and a researcher and tour guide at a museum of American history, where I had an article published in their journal. I had a brief spell teaching home education groups. I have also worked in bookkeeping and accounts. 

This is me, 6 months pregnant at the museum I worked at.

Instead of pursuing any of those things full time, I am a mother. Perhaps, you might have put the word "just" in there. 

Go ahead.

Instead of being Dr Guy, historian and university lecturer, which I could have almost been by now, I have JUST chosen to grow a child inside me. Through more hard work, effort and pain that the English vernacular could possibly describe, that child came out of me. 

I have nursed and nurtured that child with my own body, and I teach it every day. Each day, I awake with the knowledge that that child's life is in my hands. I'm the one who is meant to keep them healthy and happy. I am the one who bandages sore bits, I am the one who dries tears, and hugs bruised egos, and sorry souls. 

I am the one who teaches them to pray to their father in heaven. They look to me for reassurance, for help, for laughter and joy. I teach them the alphabet, how to write their name, how to say sorry, and how to say thank you. I teach them to marvel in the world around them. I teach them to love others, be a good friend, and to share.

I endure heartache. I endure screaming, and the odd flying fist every so often. I endure occasionally being thought of as the worst woman in the world. The worst insult that could be hurled at me is "Mummy, you are NOT my hero today". You know what that implies though? That as well as all these other things, I am their hero. One day, my children (because I actually have two at the moment and hope to have many more) will grow up. They will have jobs, they may have spouses, and children. They will be functioning adults who will bless and touch others' lives, and all of that potential success and achievement will be, in part, down to me. Just their Mummy. 
As well as all of this, I have occasionally, endured the scorn of those who think I should be doing something more with my life, as if it's possible for me, personally, to be doing something more important than this. 

So, go on, say it. I'm just a mother. JUST. A. Mother.

just

dʒʌst/

Simply; only; no more than.

"just a bad day at the office".

Synonyms: only, merely, simply, nothing more than.

Only a mother? Merely a mother? Simply a mother? NOTHING MORE THAN A MOTHER?

Are you serious?

Is there anything more than being a mother? Is there any experience more immersive, more frustrating, more life changing, more love inducing, more rewarding, more messy, more beautiful, more heavenly, more heartwarming, heartbreaking, heartmaking, heartbursting, than being a mother? I don't think so.

I know my choices are not the same as another's might be. But, do me a favour. Please don't presume that being a mother is somehow less than anything else a woman might choose or hope to be. Of all the things I have done, or have dreamt I might do, motherhood is the best choice I've ever made. There is no job more important than teaching, loving and raising my children. They are my best and proudest achievement. I love them, for the tiny people they are. My heart soars more when I hear them apologise to each other, more than it did for any first I got in a university assignment, and when I see them express their love for each other, realising they've learnt to be that way from watching my husband and I, my heart bursts with such pride for them, that far outweighs the pride I felt at seeing my name in print next to the article I'd researched and written over two years. 

 

Mummyhood is a badge I wear with pride, and great humility (I don't believe they are mutually exclusive).

I wish the letters next to my name were - Rachel Guy, Mummy, because my children are the sum of my greatest achievements.

(Don't mind us. We're just having great fun over here 'just' being a family. The most important institution on the planet. ;)

Motherhood Truth #7- Great Expectations.

What I am about to share with you will probably not go down in history. You see, looking back, it seems such a simple thing, I can scarcely believe I've not lived like this for longer. It makes so much sense to me, that I just have to share it.

Like many of my enlightened moments, my husband is at the centre of this one. For as long as I've known him, my husband has often talked about the importance of managing expectations, whether it's with people, tasks, etc. For example, if you're planning to visit someone, say from the start how long you are planning to stay until, in order that things don't get out of hand, and you are able to keep other commitments etc.

Just recently, after a period of challenge that I am still emerging from, I felt like I was achieving very little each day. I had a long list of things that needed to be done, and a list of things I would love to be able to do with my time, but hardly anything was getting done, because, hello, children.

I have recently started calling my children "Licious Delicious", because they are truly scrumptious. I am completely besotted with them. Each day ends with a review of photos from their entire lives (okay, so just from that day), as I drink in all the cuteness.

But I have to admit. Sometimes, they get the better of me. Sometimes, I spend time re-doing sabotaged tasks over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. And then at least one more time, and it means that I come to the end of my day/week/month and I look at my list of things to do, and I see maybe one thing crossed off that list and I think "HOW HAVE I NOT DONE MORE THAN THAT?"
My to do list offers no prizes for valiant triers. I know what you're thinking. Time for a new to do list.

AND YOU ARE RIGHT!


Time for a to do list that allows me to be a Mummy and a Housewife, because they are two very different things, and usually, I find that if I am one, I am not very good at being the other. If I've had a good housewife day, it usually means a pretty cop-out Mummy day, where CeBeebies has reigned supreme. Conversely, a good Mummy day, usually leaves in its wake war torn destruction. So. You win some, you lose some.
Anyway. Here's the crux of what I'm trying to say. I needed a new to do list. I needed to manage my expectations. I am starting to implement a "One job a day" to do list.

EG: Tuesday 13th June- Load a wash and a dry.

It's brief. It's concise. Best of all? It's manageable.

So at the end of today, I will review my list and see that I have completed everything on it (and some, actually...today has been a pretty good day).
Compare that feeling to how it was before when out of 20 chores on my daily list, I'd only completed one.

Has the amount I've done changed? No.

The only thing that's changed is what I have expected of myself.

So, people, let's be real. Let's accept that having a completely tidy house from top to bottom all on the same day is unlikely to happen. Keeping a house tidy with young children is like the painting of the Forth Road Bridge. By the time you finish, it's time to start again!
Expect less of yourselves, not because you aren't capable of great things, but because you ARE!!! What we do is amazing! It's hard, it's challenging and it's difficult to feel on top of it.

So, have great expectations...but maybe only one a day!

Namaste.

Here we are. Finally. My yoga journey...

When I was about 15, I fell down the stairs with my younger brother. He was only about 2 at the time. I really hurt my back, and I've been paying for it ever since. I remember after it happened I had nights where I was in tears just with frustration and exhaustion- I found it hard to sleep because I could never get comfortable and was often in pain.

Fast forwarding through years of on and off pain and discomfort to pregnancy. HELLO SPD! Basically, I can't remember the last time I was able to lift something, bend over to do up a strap or lean over a cot without experiencing pain and incredible stiffness. It takes no genius to imagine how many times a day I might find myself doing that! After Olivia, I was referred to a physiotherapist who specialised in Women's health. I went to her with my back pain, diastasis recti (abdominal separation), a very weak pelvic floor and a dodgy left knee. I felt like a complete and utter hypochondriac. I was amazed when she showed me how it was all part and parcel of the same problem, rather than several separate things. She assessed my movement and was surprised when she noticed that three vertibrae on the left hand side of my lower back were completely immobile. After months of special stretches, exercises and manipulation, I finally got the OK to start a regular exercise routine. Inspired by a friend of mine, Lara Becar who has a little boy who is in between Isaac and Olivia;s ages, posted pictures of herself doing these amazing yoga poses and talked of the emotional and spiritual impact yoga was having on her (....you can read her blog here http://lewisandclarkstyle.blogspot.com...) I decided to try it. She was doing YouTube videos via "Yoga with Adriene", which is hugely popular amongst the yogi community, so I tried it too. After my first day, I felt great. I felt empowered and alive! I've done it almost every day since then, adapting it to fit my needs and how I feel, and it has changed my life.
Let me say that again.

IT HAS CHANGED MY LIFE.

Pregnancy and parenting has not only taken a toll on my back, but on my body and my spirit. I have bits that wobble. Who knew?! I once inhabited a body that was fit, strong and toned. NO MORE, PEOPLE! I don't remember when it and I parted ways, but it was a while ago.
I almost always leave the house wearing make-up from 3 days ago and bed-hair from 2 days ago. I seem to always wear clothes with perpetual baby stains on...yoghurt, dribble, food.... I wear food stains like their the new accessory at London Fashion Week.
And I hate it. I hate that I have forgotten how to make time for myself. Yoga has changed me.
Not only do I experience an incredible increase in back pain when I don't do it, and a phenomenal ease of movement when I do, but I am happier, I feel prettier, I feel stronger, I feel more feminine. I feel proud of myself for making 30 mins every day to do this. Here is how my life has improved from doing yoga. Disclaimer: There will be some abstract ideas below. Believe me. I didn't believe the hippy hocus pocus stuff either. I was in it for the physical benefits. Nothing could have prepared me for the spiritual ones.

• I start my day invigorated.
• Yoga teaches me to honour where I am, both in my yoga practise that day, and in my life. I don't need to compare myself to anyone. I can be proud of where I am and what I have achieved.
• Yoga teaches me to breathe and find peace and patience through doing so. With two children, this has been a mercy.
• Yoga has helped me to be present in every moment. This means I have developed an ability to more fully treasure the moments I share with my children and my husband. 
• Yoga teaches me to pay attention to how I am feeling, emotionally and physically. This new awareness of self has helped me to find greater satisfaction in my life. I notice when I'm feeling comfortable, whether I'm standing on the floor or lying in my bed, I can feel it. I notice when I am feeling happy, peaceful, content, etc. It also helps me to make adjustments when I am feeling uncomfortable or unhappy.
• Yoga makes me feel beautiful, which impacts my confidence and my self worth. This, in turn, affects the way I parent and the way I 'wife'. 
• Yoga has given me confidence to try new things and to push myself.
• Yoga has taught me to rejoice when pushing myself has paid off, and to rejoice when it hasn't because I tried.
• It's restored strength to the parts of my body that were weak.
• It has taught me how completely amazing the human body is.
• It has taught me the power of mind working with body.
• It has taught me that I can endure discomfort. 
• It has helped me to develop my inner smile. 
• It has demonstrated to me how discipline is a blessing and how restrictions are liberating. 
• My arms are stronger.
• My obliques have made a welcome appearance. Well, hi there!
• I am actually seeing definition in my stomach. 
• It's helped me to start running again- an exercise I used to love doing but one that became completely closed off to me.

So. I'm sure I will think of more, but this is a decent start. Honestly, it has been amazing.

Try it. Try it today. I do between 20-30 mins every day. I do it with my children around and sometimes they join in. I treasure that time with myself. I need it and I notice the days I don't do it. I love the opportunity for daily introspection. I also use the time to say a little prayer. God gave me my body and I know he will help me to maintain it in a way that is good and positive for me. It seems only right that I include him in my practise. 

So, friends, here's to inner strength, balance, poise, grace and beauty, as well as outer. Yoga has changed my life. 

Take one big, beautiful breath. Namaste.

I never thought I would ever be able to do this. But I can. And it feels amazing.

Truth #7 - It's Not You....It's Me.

The return of the Motherhood Truths...
 #7: Chances are, it's not them going through "a phase", it's you.

This is something I have come to realise very slowly over my 3 years as a mother.

My husband and I really are in this parenting thing together and, periodically, when we've noticed either a decline in Isaac's behaviour or noticed that the tactics and strategies we have in place are no longer working, we come together to 'zero our rifles', if you will, or to re-calibrate ourselves. Last night, sat in our bed before indulging in some treats, we felt the need to zero ourselves and talk about how things are going because we'd found that giving Isaac some time on the step to think, even if it was only a couple of minutes, only resulted in further mischief. Let's face it, what three year old really sits solemnly and contemplates their wrong doing? Being a helicopter is so much more fun!

My Dad lovingly tipping me into a bag of grass cuttings...
probably because I  was faffing around instead of listening.

I told Ieuan how I remember very clearly my Dad asking me not to do things, and then me repeat-offending mere seconds later. I had listened, and I had heard him....but it didn't take me long to get distracted and forget...and that was just last week!!

Just joking. But I must have still been much older than Isaac is now if I can remember it so clearly. So, if I struggled, how much more must Isaac, being 3, struggle to remember.

After a long talk, Ieuan and I decided that, right now in Isaac's life, our job isn't primarily to lay down the law, it's to be reminders of the law. Gentle, loving little shoulder angels whose purpose is to REMIND, not CONTEND.

We talked about how "sitting on the step" works for Isaac, but only when we sit with him, and talk with him about what's gone wrong and how we can help each other. We talked about how Isaac's behaviour is influenced incredibly by ours and the way we deal with the situations that arise. He's our child, after all, and is a product of us both....that process does not end after conception. It keeps on going as Isaac watches and follows our example, day after day, year after year.
The funny thing about those findings, is that that's the conclusion we come to after each "recalibration". Ieuan hit the nail on the head last night when he said....
"It's not Isaac, is it? It's us. We've forgotten what works, and we've stopped trying as hard as we should."
Inspired by that, I am pleased to say that today has been SOOOOO much better, and the reason is, I have no doubt, not because Isaac remembered what he was supposed to be doing, but because I did.

It's true. Children go through phases like they change their socks. But so do we. We get fired up, and determined to try something new that promises to improve things, but after a testing or busy period of time, we forget, and we spend our days exasperated because our children aren't listening to us. But the problem isn't them. It's us. We've forgotten how to talk to them. We've forgotten the tone of voice that gets them to listen and remember. We've forgotten to have the patience required to coax out their best selves. We've forgotten that we were once tiny people, full of spirit, volume and forgetfulness.

I learn so much, SO much on this parenthood journey, and even though there are discouraging times, I love having the opportunity to centre myself....to get rid of practises and attitudes that are no longer effective, and created a new atmosphere of love and learning in my home. The last 3 years have been nothing more glamorous than a case of serial trial and serial error, on our part, but it's been thoroughly enlightening. It doesn't always go well, but one thing we always tell Isaac is that with each 'tomorrow' comes the opportunity to try harder. That goes for me more than anyone!

So next time you have a rough day, and feel your child is out to get you....take a deep breath, and have the courage to say "It's not you, it's me". Rejoice in the blessing of a thousand tomorrows to get it right. Motherhood IS tough. But so are we. We can do it.

A Mother's Prayer...

I am no poet....though I do turn to poetry occasionally to express feelings that regular words and syntax don't do justice to.

One night recently, I was sat in the children's room just after they'd dropped off to sleep. I was holding Isaac's hand and Olivia was in my arms.
It had been a difficult evening and I was feeling tired, and a little isolated. Isaac had just said the most beautiful prayer, and I felt impressed to spend some time saying my own, whilst bathing in the blissful silence around me. As I allowed myself to fill up with all sorts of emotions, this poem sprang to life inside my head....

A Mother's Prayer Father, I hope you do not mind if I say a prayer to you, Although I'm grown, I'm still your child and I need blessings too. Help me to be patient, and help me to be kind. Let hope replace my anguish, and your peace fill my mind. Help me to feel brave, when all it seems I do, Is nothing more adventurous than laundry piles anew. Help me to feel learned, when all the things I say, Are ABCs and 123s each and every day. Help me to feel beautiful and hold my head up high, When my messy hair and grubby clothes make me want to cry! Help me not to feel alone, although I sometimes am. Let me feel your love for me, and my part in your plan.
Help me to remember every laugh and every smile. Let me catch the joy I'm feeling, and hold it for a while. Because sometimes, when the day goes wrong (as it very often does) I need help to remember all the small things that I love... The lovely, soggy baby kiss, the fun things that they say, The new things that they learn to do each and every day. The faithful prayers they utter, the sweet hugs that they give... Yes, these tender mercies Lord, teach me how to live. Father, I hope you do not mind if I give thanks to you. Although I'm grown, I'm still your child - you give me blessings too. Thank you for my children, and thank you for this chance, For motherhood as shown me heaven, though only at a glance. And though I don't feel beautiful with yoghurt in my hair, My son calls me 'gorgeous' and strokes my face with care. And though it's sometimes hard when only simple things I say, I see it now, that this is how my child learns to pray. Help me to remember this if I lose my way again. I thank thee, Lord and give my love, in thy Son's name, Amen.

Rainy Days...

Rainy days sort of fill me with dread. My son is a very active little boy and would love to spend all day at the park, but when we're home, he often wants to sit and watch something and it can be difficult to think of new and exciting things to do. So. When I see squalls of rain outside, my first thought is "what on earth are we going to do today?"

Today was one of those days. The answer, came as if by magic. Salt Dough. I have never made it before in my life, and I have never even pursued the possibility. I don't know what made me think of it today, but I did. At first, I thought of it only as a play doh substitute. It was only when I found a suitable recipe that I was reminded that you can MAKE things with it and bake it! Isaac was absolutely and completely made up about the idea of making something with play doh and then painting it....like two hobbies in one!

Salt dough, traditionally, is something that's baked in the oven, and can often take a long while. This recipe suggests cooking it in the microwave (read it here). I was thrilled. As a Mum, I'm pretty spontaneous. If I have an idea of something to do, I like to do it immediately. I don't like waiting for another day, and I don't like doing something that doesn't have instant results...like salt dough. Perhaps that's because I know Isaac would lose interest! So this recipe suited me down to the ground! It LITERALLY took me 3 minutes to make and we had ages worth of fun.

Recipe

1/2 Cup Salt
1/2 Cup Water
1 Cup Flour

Mix it all together. I needed all the water, but you might not. It should be quite a dry dough, so if yours is too wet, add more flour.

I equipped Isaac with a suitable knife, some cookie cutters, and a rolling pin.

Isaac is incredibly excited for Christmas....for Christmas trees, presents, songs, and Santa Claus (or Clawhauser if he's getting confused with Zootropolis), so we made some tree decorations with cookie cutters and used a chop stick (of which we have plenty- my husband lived in Japan for 2 years) to make the hole in the top.

After we made those, I was inspired by Isaac pressing his hand into the dough and decided to do some hand print ones. I'm delighted with how they turned out!

To make them, I...
-flattened out a ball of dough until it was about 1cm thick.
- Pressed their hands into the dough to make a print, focusing on each individual finger, then their palms.
-Then I used a pen to draw the outline of their hands into the dough
-I then wrote their name, age and the year.

I was initially concerned with how the details would be preserved on cooking but I needn't have been. They looked exactly the same!

Before...

After!

I cooked mine in 30 second increments. The original blog suggests a cooking time of 3 mins in total in 10 second increments. Mine needed a shade longer than 3 mins, and I turned my dough pieces over once to make sure they were cooked through.

Some of my snowmen bloated a little, so they'll be quite fragile, and part of Isaac's hand print burnt but other than that, this worked wonderfully.

My next salt dough project will be a little nativity. I can't wait!!

See Rainy Days Part II for my "Painting Bath" idea...coming very, very soon!

Sanctuary.

It's been a while since I've blogged, but Paw Patrol is on, so now is the perfect time.

The title of this post reminded me of that one time I asked to be directed to the Sanctuary products in Boots, and the lady took me to the sanitary products....

Anyway.

It's a different Sanctuary I'm talking about today.  I went to sleep last night holding my husband's hand, while he sat up and listened to live updates from the US general election. When we woke this morning, we heard the news about Donald Trump. I couldn't quite get over the image in my mind of this man, who, only a couple of weeks ago, was defending his "locker room banter", and now is in the White House. I cannot imagine what the next 4 years is going to bring to us. I feel like there's a lot of uncertainty about the future and about the way the world is going. It is scary. We all talk about wanting our world to be a better place for our children to grow up in and it's easy to fear that world, especially with all the political surprises we've had recently.

But, here's what I learnt this morning.

This morning, Isaac and I were setting up his train track in his room. We were having so much fun, we didn't want to go downstairs, so we had a breakfast picnic of crumpets, brioche and grapes.

Then we build a pirate ship den out of pillows and duvets. As I was cuddling Olivia and we were watching Isaac play, I realised that, for my children, it doesn't really matter who's the President of the United States. It doesn't even really matter who Theresa May is, or when Brexit will happen. All that matters to them is that THEIR world is happy. When we worry about making our children's world a better one, we shouldn't be worrying about the world out there. We should be worrying about the world in here. The world they sleep in, wake in, eat in and play in. If the politics of our home are honest and fair, we don't need to worry.
If the co-president of my home and I treat each other with love and respect, we don't need to worry.

Yesterday, my husband rescued me from a stressful shopping experience

 with my 2.5 year old son. During the Daddy-Son debrief, I heard Ieuan say "Isaac, look at Mummy. She is the most special person in the world. You must treat her like a princess."

My husband is this wonderful to me because his father is the same way with his mother.


 Leading by example really works.
If you don't ever want a world leader who objectifies and disrespects women, then don't be a home leader like that. The way we raise our little ones directly impacts the world around us, and our future.


We don't need to worry. For our children, right now, the state of our homes is all that matters. Have hope and take courage. Build a Sanctuary full of fun times, good food, fair discipline, love, light, laughter and plenty of kisses and cuddles. That's all the world they need right now.

"Your success as a family, our success as a society, depends not on what happens in the White House, but what happens in your house." Barbara Bush