Über mothers, school and growing up...

Thank you so much for all of your kind wishes for Boo's entrance exam. It went 'OK' - that was the main comment I could glean from her. Hard to gauge what exactly that means; I am not sure whether at 10 years of age, you can measure your success in the form of a verbal reasoning test where you scored 65% or above! I am so pleased it's over and that we can, as a family, breath a collective sigh of relief.

I did come away from that school hall wondering - what's it all about? Why is it that we feel compelled to propel our children headlong into the best of all opportunities. At the exam, the mother's tongues were positively clacking with competitiveness as we waited for our off-spring to be released. Talk of private tutors and years worth of preparation to get in the 'right' school.

Admittedly we too have aimed high; this school is allegedly one of the country's best and they like that 'quirk' factor in their intake. Pupils who are academic, sure, but who also will go on to be captains of industry and in their spare time climb Kilimanjaro for charity. I got a sense of disquiet as we left, and it remains with me, when I wonder why we want to subject Boo to the rigours of a competitive school. We were advised to try for this school and whilst there is a flush of pride at the prospect of her success, there is also the concern that at the young age of 10, she could also taste academic 'failure'.

And those super-mothers that my friends and I encountered; I am not sure what to make of them. Two observations; there is always a degree to which we vicariously live through our children's success. And secondly, for those lucky ones who also experienced the benefits of the best schooling the country had to offer in their youth, there is that sense of entitlement. As I had a pretty average childhood, with average state schooling, I think I am always slightly in awe of those mothers who take all that privilege for granted. It's what they are used to. I do acknowledge that my life is privileged but somewhere, deep down, I justify that with the fact that my husband and I worked really hard for it and still do. It was never a given.

The other feature of my disquiet is the certain knowledge that whatever happens; whether it's this school or another, come September she will be moving into a whole different sphere. One where I inhabit a much smaller place. Parental input will come in the form of once-a-term teacher/parent meetings and each day, instead of me kissing her goodbye in her classroom, she will be out on her own. Dropped at school by bus. Such a strange reality to face. It is simultaneously wildly exciting; my child out in the world! But also terrifying; my child out in the world!!

As ever with parenthood, it's bittersweet. As each stage passes I look back on the previous one and consider how lovely it was back then. But despite any trepidation I have this frisson of pure excitement at what she is going to grow into. What she will become. I can't wait to see.

Friday thoughts...

I went to work this week. It was good; interesting, it felt familiar and new all at the same time. One benefit of having worked for the same company for 15 years is that it's a bit like home. I haven't worked since June, so going back was a big thing. I haven't really started doing much yet, other than dealing with a gazillion emails, but I was very welcomed by colleagues. It reminded me that there were reasons why I worked; to do with my own sense of self, and my own capability. A good colleague told me that she missed how my mind worked; what I brought to meetings and decisions. Always taking a different view to those in the room and then gently but persuasively arguing my corner. It was nice to hear...

And so to Friday, I find that times are different here in our household. My husband is at home each day which is just such a treat for family life. Its funny how life goes; every cloud has a silver lining.

Thank you to my wonderful guest posters...so interesting to see life through the eyes of others. And in a spooky but lovely turn of events, my favourite artist contacted me as she had seen my blog. I was quite chuffed and in wonder at the power of the web...

Worries that turned out to be unfounded.

Feeling my son's heartbeat as he cuddles me.

Wood burning stove and endless cups of tea.

Walks round the field in rain, drizzle and damp.

'Grandma's Chair' by Jessica Cooper

Quiet moments.

Final preparations for Boo's senior school exams; it's all part of growing up.

emma watson

A newly present husband; unexpected and unplanned days together.

Getting ready for skiing in Austria...shoop, shoop....

Trusted colleagues and work peers.

Winter meals: shepherds pie and sauteed leeks.

Circuit training and strong coffee with the school mums.

Pancakes and nutella at tea-time.

via cannelle et vanille

Ridiculously dark mornings...when will the Spring come?

Sporting woollens every day.

love this outfit via prettystuff

My voice completely absent...too much talking.

Restoring order in my house...it's never been so organised!

via plush palate

The beautiful people...

The beautiful people. They could be considered as phantoms in my mind; partly made up of magazine images, partly made up of girls or women I have admired over time. You remember those girls at school who used to just catch your eye? When I was little, there was a girl named Cheryl; she wore fur-lined boots and had tumbles of blonde curls. Another girl, who had dropped out of the Royal Ballet School to join our suburban school; she had perfect posture and wore penny loafers with real french centimes in them. To me aged seventeen: the epitome of style.

via simply seductive 

At University, a girl seen across a campus lawn; she wore a crisp white shirt with a big turquoise and silver pendant. When I started work in the corporate world, a girl called Sabine; she wore winter white and kitten heels. Amongst the flock of school mums; one draped in an equestrian tweed coat and Spanish brown leather boots. With a sleek ponytail and diamonds. In the street, wearers of pea coats and ballet shoes. I could go on. A myriad of little snippets; images and memories of cool that now make up my own personal definition. Those beautiful people who had that something; elegance, effortlessness, grace, style. Just something.

And as I grow older now I see that this style generally is something born with and not acquired. A fortuitous gift from God that will draw admirers. Much like the pictures on a blog that show loveliness in its purest forms. How lovely it must be to be one of the beautiful people! I am sure there are downsides too...but not many ;-)

via simply seductive

A day spent...

A day spent. School drop off. After I went on a long run - using my favourite and most relied-upon route. I run around the roads where I grew up (one advantage of living in the same town for over 30 years; I know the way everywhere). I passed the theatre in my town where they were unloading sets. I passed the University and observed students piling in for their lectures. I ran on; pondering the days when I used to go to lectures, my attendance usually prompted by my friend Nikki, who was way more conscientious than I and could probably still recite our English Literature timetable, even now. I passed my doctor's surgery, then my childhood home, through the avenue of chestnut trees, leaves and conkers crunching underfoot.

via crush cul de sac

Home. A dog walk with my friend and new doggie partner-in-crime (she has my puppy's sister) around the fields. We discussed the single-worst-ever dinner party she attended at the weekend. Why would a host say the attire is 'informal' when she herself opens the door wearing a cocktail dress??! Nothing worse than turning up under-dressed.

Osteopath visit. My pain issue still not better, oh how I wish it were. It's very, very slow progress. I am developing patience unlike I have ever exhibited before.

A condensed shopping trip to salve my frustrations...where I purchased a short skirt not dissimilar to one I owned when I was 19. Is this a sign?

via crush cul de sac

School pick-up and home again. Homework hour. Where I established that I really can not do maths. English however; I managed.

A part showing of the film 'Mary Poppins' before their bed. A spoonful of sugar, helps the medicine go down.

Bubble and Squeak for dinner, as is Autumn's tradition. A Sunday roast must be followed by a Monday Bubble and Squeak. It is the law of our house.

And so my day was spent. You know how people ask: can the minutiae of someone's day really be of any interest to the masses? I do consider when I write this; really, who cares? But then I think of that line in 'You've Got Mail' and my small life...so good night, dear void!

Charlie who?

A good, and as it turns out, very astute friend of mine and I were idly chatting. She was describing how in her childrens' school, there was an award system. Children were awarded on effort rather than results and any child who achieved a top mark for effort in all subjects was given what's called the 'Charlie Short' prize at the end of term. This denoted the child who tried really hard at everything.

via this flickr

We later discussed how I had concluded that for years I have been trying too hard at everything; how the constant pursuit of perfection in all elements of life - home, work, children, marriage, appearance, meant I was exhausted with the effort. She asked me: was I trying to get the Charlie Short prize in life?!

This question stuck with me long after our conversation took place and I now find myself applying a mental test to any efforts I am making - Lou: is this a Charlie Short thing? I have noticed something startling; whilst not working in recent months I have had the opportunity to throw myself into the daily lives of my children. No work meetings that clash with the school run. No corporate conference calls that necessitate their silence in the car as we drive home. No ducking out of parent's evening. No guilt-ridden goodbyes. No feeling that I am missing something. I am now a mother who is at everything; every netball match, every drop-off, I am even ensconced in every bit of school playground gossip; such is my recent dedication! However the more this develops, the more I notice that the same instincts I had about my work are starting to apply to my mothering. I want to be at every coffee morning, I want to know every little detail, I want (and this is the crucial, startling point to me) to be really good at it. 

Without even knowing it, I am going for the Charlie Short prize of motherhood! So thankfully, with a drop of self-awareness, I am able to take myself in hand. There is no prize for effort. I don't need to be perfect. I feel like I can look at myself and recognise when I am trying too hard. It's time to get over it Louise! So next time I seem like I am trying too hard - two words to stop me in my tracks please: Charlie Short!

Instinct...

School is back with a resounding bang. A noise that reminds me how when you have school-age children, your life is broken down in to the spaces of time that represent school terms. It never used to matter to me whether it was term-time, but now - term time is all.

Olivia P...

My daughter is in the last year of her present school and will, this time next year, be moving to senior school. So today she had an interview with the Headmaster of one of our chosen schools (one that is pretty much the top of the list). A poignant moment; I am noticing that from a parental perspective, increasingly there are things that I just can't do for her! She had to do this on her own and unlike all of those early years, where as a mother I was hovering in the wings, ready to prompt and soothe where needed, now I find I am literally and metaphorically in a waiting room, watching her disappear along a hallway out of sight. It's a good day...this realisation feels right.

I attended a parent's meeting last night where the teachers were outlining the importance of this academic year and how as parents we had a pivotal role to play in support. I started to get the creeping feeling that I could have done more to support; more homework help, more subtle coaching, more confidence building. Then I corrected myself (as I find I often need to) and remembered that it's not me trying out for these schools, it's her. 

She has to stand her own feet and hot-housing children to perform for interviews and exams, I have always felt, kind of defeats the object. I have completed my education; I can't do it again through her. Yet I observe so many mothers who are plugging any gaps in education and well-roundedness with extra tuition, extra activities, extra work. I figure (maybe naively) that if a child can manage entry to a school based on their normal work-rate, then all the better. If you flog a child to get in somewhere and then find when they arrive that they can't keep up, then surely that is a disaster? This feels like uncharted waters of motherhood to me; I feel like I am having to trust my instincts and cross my fingers in the hope that it will all turn out OK.

So, in short, she did great in the interview. Just when I thought I had her every nuance clocked, she pulled a confident little performance out the bag, despite the lack of preparation and hot-housing on my part. Fingers crossed...plant the flowers and hope they grow.

Chez moi...

My lovely sister in law mentioned to me that my blog post regularity was waning, how she liked to have a read with her morning coffee during her boy's naptime and what? There were no new updates! Well, I know, I know, so no excuses other than to say that the children have finally gone back to school so I have a moment to myself for the first time in 8 weeks. Thank Goodness!

Keira...

There is something wonderful about that back to school moment; I was one of those mothers you see - skipping off in glee at the prospect of an uninterrupted cuppa tea. I have such admiration for people who home-school their children. Seriously; that is an undertaking.

I am in that usual early autumnal mood, musing on new winter boots and perusing Vogue for inspiration (Adele is on the cover of British Vogue and looks amazing. I completely like her). I always adore how the shops fill up with darker hues and it makes me want to buy penny loafers in a nod to the new academic season. A metaphoric 'back to school' for me too.

tommy hilfiger

Following a summer of having a houseful, I feel the need to clear the decks again in chasing my perpetual objective of having a clutter-free space. Oh to loose the clutter. One day I will manage it. One day...

via sailboats and seersucker

Meanwhile I am finding my feet in my freshly emptied home...making plans, getting ready. We have a new arrival coming on Saturday of the puppy variety... :-) sweeeeeet!

Words on a Wednesday...

Thank you so much for all of your empathy, kindness and advice following my last post. Wonderful to know that there are those out there who understand! Somehow it has lessened the burden knowing that. Honestly - thank you.

Photograph by Elizabeth Messina via happiness is

So what else is new?

I have never been one to hold back on the shopping front and this habit is reaching new proportions as I revel in dressing my daughter! Girl's clothes can be the stuff of dreams and I would go as far as to say most mothers who have boys will mention that they would love to be able to dress little girls. The pinkdom of it all...

via ilovegorgeous

With my daughter, suddenly she has tipped over from a little girl to a 10 year old; not a young woman by any stretch, but on her way. I am loving choosing clothes for her now. The absolute flawlessness of her (in my eyes) means that I do, I admit, get great pleasure from seeing her look comfortable in her own skin. And rightly or wrongly in our house that has something to do with nice clothes. Have I ruined her already?! I realise this is wildly superficial and children shouldn't be bothered by what they wear, but the point I am making is that she is on the verge of growing up and she is finding her style. I find this fascinating! She makes these cool little outfits which are appropriate but also fun. I think it's just lovely. If ever I wanted a mini me; I got one.

via dreamy whites

I have thought a bit recently about why people choose to have lots and lots of children. You know those families where there are three or four siblings all bustling along together at the school drop off like baby ducks following their mother? I find myself wondering what that would be like, although I know for sure I don't want more children. I have huge admiration for any family where the children outnumber the parents. And there must be something incredible about having lots of brothers and sisters; of that feeling of solidarity and unity. I am one of two and I have two children. It's all even for me. I am also fascinated by those mother ducks who have a gaggle of beautiful, tousled blonde children and look amazing and have tidy houses. Oops there I go again comparing myself...female angst at it's best.

via a lady's findings from dream spun kids

I have been running this morning. I find that I want to run the most when I think of it, usually late at night, with a little fission of excitement at the prospect of running the next morning. Then the morning arrives and I am less keen..but the schedule dictates. During the event, hmmm there are definitely moments when I wish I was not there. But after - when those endorphins kick in and my muscles feel tightened, then it's all good.

I went to a parent's talk yesterday at my kid's school, on Internet safety. It was given by the Police and seriously it was an eye-opener. Given that social media sites are kinda my thing, there wasn't anything technically that I didn't know. But what shocked me was the way in which young children, when online (facebook accounts at 10 - eh? no thanks) are so vulnerable. The point most laboured was this: do not share personal information. Of course the fact that I have a blog sent a shiver of worry through me. Am I putting my family in danger by sharing? Ugh...does not bear thinking about. Why is it that something I love could become something so ugly when looked at through different eyes?

'you can't wrap them in cotton wool...' via here from Southern Weddings Magazine

I am being everything to everyone this week, with far too many social engagements and events and work things happening....when does that down time I said I needed start?!

Be better...

So back to school they went, that early-term keen after a summer of few demands. For both of the Boos it's time to step it up. Be better. Try harder. For my daughter this is an important academic year so I had 'the talk' from the teachers and we know; it's time to work. As for my son, he fell behind last year. On the one hand I think he is so young, he should concentrate on kicking a ball and digging mud. That logic is fine so long as all other parents subscribe to it, so my son's habits are not therefore conspicuous. If he is the last in his class because I have chosen to disregard homework in favour of chucking a rugby ball, then that hardly seems fair to him.

via are so happy

I have to look at my reactions to this prospect of trying harder. Instinctively I like it; I feel like September is a gift of a month as it has that 'back to school' sensibility that should be grasped. But at the same time I can sense the work that lays ahead for them both and my involvement in it. I just know that at some point in the cold, dark winter months, when my husband's new job has taken hold and I am sitting at my kitchen table with whichever child, trying to explain the difference between tens and units or learning the order of the Solar System I will think 'what IS this?!'. What I am saying is: it will get old. And it won't take that long! And by the way, it's not as if we are home schooling - when did parental input become so pivotal?

I wonder where my internal measure comes from - why the need to try one's best? For me it's an in-built engine that motors along all the time; analysing, thinking of ways to improve, trying. I apply it to all things...from what to wear to how to have my hair to what I do at work to how the kids do at school. I think it's a good thing, a positive force!

So here is my be better plan:

1. eat well; always got to start with this.

2. walk outside every day.

3. read with my kids every night (no excuses).

4. homework IS a priority.

5. plan holidays - they are the elixir of life...

Check back in a few months time...let's see where this one takes me...

via it's mary ruffle

Ballet days again...

Today Boo has a ballet recital...well, what this really means is that the Mummies go to school to watch their girls do a show of what they have learned this year in ballet. Of course attendance is optional for the Mummies; but of course all Mummies attend. For me, today is a working day, I am lucky I have a lot of flexibility in my job and can schedule it so I work from home (nice cuppa tea?) and then nip to school at the right moment so i) Boo sees me, ii) I get the full rendition of the show and iii) it's noted by other other Mummies that even the working Mummy amongst them has turned up. I am amongst the few working Mothers at my children's school; there are a few dotted about, mainly those who run their own businesses and have that charging entrepreneurial spirit that actually suggests it's 'setting the world on fire' with their product or service rather than 'working as a corporate slave' like me.

The one thing that I feel really, really strongly about is that my kids should not be the kids who are  'unrepresented' at school events. Be it assemblies or shows or sports, I just feel that I should be there. I want to be there, but more than that, the feeling they get from seeing me there is priceless. They have never said whether it matters or not...but I know, when they say 'will you come Mummy?' that the only possible answer is 'yes, of course'.

But it does mean there is a bit of jiggery-pokery from a work perspective and so time needed to make up tonight when the house is quiet again.

The truth is, I would not miss a ballet recital for the world, as I think little girls learning ballet is one of life's beautiful things, always to be applauded! And on that note, how incredible is this image? Ballet-beauty personified...

Cupcake fairies...

Do you recall that scene in 'Titanic' where the ship-maker chap eases himself onto the lifeboat, even though it's reserved for women and children, and his face is just a picture of shame? On a magnificiently smaller level I had my own 'walk of shame' this week. Picture this: my children's school; a requirement to bring undecorated cupcakes, to be iced as part of a special visit, from a well-known British TV programme. I had not had time to make my cupcakes. By the time I had remembered to even get said cupcakes, Waitrose (lovely grocers) was shut. Cupcakes were purchased from the local corner shop which stocks every imaginable item on its packed shelves as long as it's the long-life version. Cupcakes could have walked out on their own considering the amount of preservatives they had in them.

Whilst I was hoping to drop off cupcakes at school in secrecy, I instead ran straight into wife of another well-known British TV 'star' whose son is in my daughter's class. This mother is a cupcake master. Her cupcakes (nestled sweetly in gingham wrappers in a Nigella cake tin) were the talk of the school at the summer fair. In one glance she heralded in me that spine-tingling motherly shame of having brought shop-bought cupcakes. Why oh why did I not make my own? Why did I not (even better) enlist the help of my Mum, who is another cupcake extraordinaire to make some for me?

Why is it that these little things have that way of making me feel - like I could have done better? Hmm sensing a theme here - see previous post! Another mother commiserated and said '...yes, but you are working...' as if that excused my lapse. The thing is, even if I weren't working I may still have forgotten this crucial activity.

So to all you wonderful cupcake makers out there (there is atleast one I know of here) - next time I have a need like this...can I please enlist your help? Maybe we could get some shipped in? I'm sure they travel well...I think I need a lifeboat ;-)

Memory lapse...

So today, work - more big meetings (more big shoes), more travel, more concentration, more 'to do' lists in my mind. Work has suddenly gained pace and its having an affect; a head full of things and none of it getting done! So I am feeling rather tired...

Today I forgot, as in completely forgot, to arrange for my son to stay on after school. This did not occur to me until I left my meeting a full hour after he had finished school. Eeek. Well, actually Arggghhh, S**T, other expletives, frantic calling to the school (it was all fine, they guessed he was meant to stay on and be collected with his big sister).

So - for Boo 2, here is another of those 'mother-love' pictures that only I would 'get'. Here he is running towards me as I took the picture so all this captures is those blonde curls! But to me, its just so him...

'Mean Mummy'

I am the tiger.

I am shameful as I write this as, yes reader, yesterday I was mean to my kids. This is a taboo Mummy subject - its the unwritten rule; meanness is unacceptable in Mothers, we must be calm, supportive, loving, forever reasonable, funny, nurturing, definitely not shouty - yes. But mean - no.

So here is how it went (the confession starts...). It was early morning yesterday, husband gone already, me getting the children ready for school and no matter how many times I said 'get dressed', 'have breakfast', 'brush your teeth', they just did not move. Like sloths...they lolled, my two children, as if they had all the time in the world. I had aforementioned (previous post) big meeting at work and was wearing the big heels that prohibited the usual running around the house trying to get everyone sorted. My son, who is 4, decided he wanted to build a Lego castle. My daughter could not find her reading book - one that she had had in her hand minutes before. More running up and downstairs ensued...until finally we all get in the car - late, harassed but on our way. By this stage I am fuming...why is it always such a struggle?! What follows on the journey to school is a lecture from me...of the worst kind...about how frustrating it is to me that they don't get ready on time, that they need to learn responsibility (locate the reading book as its important for school, save the Lego castle til later as there is somewhere we have to be right now, like school assembly...). I can see their sullen faces in my rear-view mirror, yet I press on! What was I thinking? We get started on the worst topic ever as it transpires that neither of them brushed their teeth....well, off I went. Like some woman possessed...on the merits of appropriate dental hygiene, how their teeth will literally fall out if they don't look after them, how the dentist will blame them for their tartar build-up...

By this stage, I am even starting to wonder why I am on this rant - we near school and I realise...I have gone too far. Rapidly trying to back-track so they don't go off to school with memories of their mother screaming at them about tooth-brushing in their minds, I try to lighten the mood; my guilt is setting in. As we get out the car I can see two chin wobbles and finally my daughter succumbs (one suspects linked to her abject fear of having to have a filling at the dentist, which I have now single-handledly upped on the anxiety list in her little life).

Tears fall, I feel wretched, we hug but its no good, the damage is done. So I have to leave her, red-faced and over-emotional as I walk away feeling ever so slightly ashamed.

'Where did that mean mummy come from?'
When I collected them from school they asked...ummm I have to say I am not sure where she came from...the pressures of modern life? No excuse! We all really hope she stays away...

Talking of mother-love...this set of photos I just adore. Its pinned up in my kitchen, pulled out of a issue of Vogue last summer. Especially the one at the top left which so utterly captures that mother/daughter emotion.

So, this is for Boo 1: I am sorry xx

Amanda Harlech and Tallulah Ormsby-Gore