I'm This Boy's Mother.

He was a little happier today which was definitely a welcome relief. 

Everything is so magnified for him right now; when he's tired he'll lie in my arms, chewing his hand and allow me to baby him. When he's hungry he'll act like he's starving and hasn't had a meal in a week. When he's upset he goes all out; screaming, throwing himself down on the floor and if I'm nearby he might grab my hair or claw my face. And when he's happy? He's really over the top happy; big giggles, big smiles and full of cuddles. 

This time, this toddler-hood, is really tough sometimes. He needs me like a newborn needs the breast and a warm set of arms nearby. He needs me like a new baby needs to be swaddled close. He needs me in the way that he needed me when he was this screeching prehistoric sounding little creature that I didn't know how to soothe or settle. When we have these moments where he needs so much of me - and so much for himself - I now better understand why people say that parenthood is for life. 

I watched a documentary today and the undertone topic on top of the main topic was motherhood and how others interpret their versions of motherhood. The interviewer questioned the mother about one of her very strange choices in mothering her children. When the mother replied that she'd cut them off if they didn't act according to the way she wanted them to live their lives the interviewer simply said the following;

"Motherhood is one of the strongest human instincts possible. How will you shut that off?"

Her reply doesn't matter because when the interviewer said this my mind raced. I had to pause the documentary for a second and think about the heaviness of such a statement; first of all, is that true? Or is it simply not about truth, evidence based truth, and simply about our preconceptions when we think of motherhood. I don't know but I think it's 'true' in my situation. This week has given me much food for thought; a lot of time to reflect better over these past two and a bit years I've had as a mother, I haven't thought this much about my role as a mother and parent ever. I've thought about running away, giving up, shouting, screaming, crying while crumpled into a ball in a corner and everything in between throughout this week because it's been one of the hardest of my life. But I'm here; I'm present and I'm trying so hard to be gentle because the biggest thing I've learned this week is that being kind, being gentle and being the change I want to see in the world (baldy quoting Gandhi, I know) is the only place I know where to start from. 

Running away won't solve anything, so I have to face this head-on. I'm this boy's mother. And sometimes? It sucks when it's so challenging. But, with all that said; this is where I want to be. I want to spend my twenties and thirties nurturing this little man. I want to spend my forties, fifties, sixties (and hopefully beyond) seeing how he grows and the path life takes him down. I want these moments pictured above and I'm willing to take the challenges if that's what it takes.

Cat.

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Roman is always convinced that there are many cats outside in our garden. Every time he's in our room and the blinds are drawn he'll exclaim; ' CAT!'

As the light was dying this afternoon I took him to the back door, opened it and he wanted to venture outside (where there is a good layer of February frost clinging to the pavement and trees) to play. Of course he's pointing out the invisible cat to me here ;).

I wanted to capture a little portrait of the last snatches of his one year old self - although we've only called him our 'one year old' a handful of times, most of the time Bryan likes to go by the months and I get so confused with that so when I'm put on the spot about his age I just reply that he's one. 

I also have dyslexia (we suspect) and I struggle most with my numbers - for example adding the numbers on this project got really hard when we rolled into February because I couldn't just look at the calendar and go by the day on that. I had to go back and check previous entries - and then check again because I forget numbers very easily.

We'll be very busy tomorrow and I have a feeling his picture will not be him on his own so today, while everything was a chaotic sort of calm, I snapped many pictures of what's left of this one year old. 

Peekaboo.

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Peekaboo is a much enjoyed game around here. Roman is getting quicker and cheekier at hiding and popping up randomly from the corner of his high chair.

I also love that big smile, the crazy laugh and the satisfaction that comes from such a simple game. Nothing is going to knock his happiness down...well, apart from telling him he can't have a lollipop or push his toy car into the kitchen ;).

Vintage Mothercare and a Lesson Learned.

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2pm (or thereabouts): your room/your vintage Mothercare quilt cover/M&Co shirt from granny/Junior J jeans/Old Navy shoes/a Sigma lens - you call it 'toy', but don't treat it like one. You're very careful and gentle with it.

It was the calm before the Skype storm. Fast forward to 6.20pm. We're in the same place, your bedroom, happily on Skype with your gran (my mum) and you are excited to show her the 'Tanta' (Santa) book she bought you. You throw it towards my keyboard - we've told you a million times not to throw things, especially books, but I don't know if you remember or understand - and two keys come off. The 'z' key is broken completely.

I was annoyed. But you're not even 2 years old. You kept apologising over and over; sowwy, sowwy (sorry, sorry.) Kee-kay, kee-kay (cheeky, cheeky.) But it seemed to spark a cheeky fire in you and you were so bold as to take down a book-end and aim it for my computer screen. Luckily, I spotted you this time and we had to end our call on Skype before you did anything else. 

You're not usually so...curious? Destructive? Cheeky? I don't know the behaviour and I am very careful to label it. Of course, I said you were very naughty for doing what you did but I am not sure I have it right. 

I don't hear me or your dad saying 'no' an awful lot, yet you mostly do what we ask and constantly get praise for your ability to be so cheery and content - because 'well behaved' sounds Victorian. I'm constantly self-editing myself because I am so scared of damaging your self worth and self esteem. This doesn't mean I don't try to teach you the right thing to do when you veer off the happy path from time to time and it won't stop me taking away privileges when you're older and understand things a little better...but for now, while you're barely 2 years old, I have a problem with saying 'you're a bad boy' or that you're 'naughty.' And to be truthful, I think I always will.

I said you were naughty today out of my own frustrations and to make sense of why you behaved like that. After all, it seemed like you were doing it to be cheeky but when I think about it now, I think you were over-excited to be in your room, with all your books and toys, and to be on Skype with your granny. All at the same time. That's an awful lot of stimulation for a little toddler. And it does not make you 'bad.' 

I'm going to try so hard to not say 'bad' (and luckily I didn't this time) or call you naughty when you do something like this again. I'm going to give you patience and a little understanding.

It drives me up the wall, at times, but I'm going to have to pace myself with you on this. Just so long as you can forgive any mistakes I make along the way - I'm new to this and I am learning so quickly. I don't always get it right. 

However, if you're still lobbing objects at my things when you're 8, it's going to have to come out of your pocket money ;).

Little Sweetheart.

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This is you. Just as you are. Two and a bit weeks away from turning two. The rash around your mouth from drooling, caused by teething (I thought we'd be done with that by now!). The yellowy-brown bruise from falling last week. Those eyebrows which are a cross between perfection and heaven - so perfectly shaped, sized and lined up. Those eyes. That tiny mouth; one thick lip at the bottom, one thin arch at the top, just like me. 

And that smile, that is completely your own, yet so startlingly like your dads. And not surprisingly, as genetics go, you remind me of my mum and my dad. 

Beneath those looks is that little personality that has been bursting to get out since your life began. Strong, independent, happy, content, feisty and very confident. Where did you get it from?

From the little baby who would fight against the blankets swaddled round him, who was happy in the arms of anyone warm and friendly, who refused to be left alone and now to the toddler who runs, dances, twirls, makes lots of noise, empties every available container with toys inside and is full of that cheeky spark he was born with. 

The little boy who goes on and off like a light when put to sleep but is up and at 'em as soon as he wakes. The baby has grown into a fully fledged toddler, soon to be two year old, and I don't know where the time has gone. All I know is you stir some strange emotions in me at times; frustration, usually when you don't understand what it is I'm asking you and love, pretty much all the time and especially right after I'm frustrated. 

You make me laugh, even when I am crying or hurt because you think I'm doing it to entertain you. You just laugh at everything. Very like me. You're also so cheeky and a bit of a pick pocket; you love to investigate hand bags and we can't leave packets of treats out, lest you nab them and scoff them down. At this age, you are wonderful. You've always been wonderful to me, but it is especially nice when you're not tired and annoyed. Or teething and tearful.

Whatever the moods or emotions, I'm always going to love you. Just as you are.

Smiles and Bruises.

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You banged your head a few days ago and yesterday cut open your lip (on that horrible fire place, no less) and the bang to the head left behind this massive bump and matching bruise. 

Whenever you cry after falling, I know it really hurts you because you so rarely cry. Even when you opened the double doors in Thurso, went flying down concrete steps and landed head-first in gravel you just laughed. Laughed, when most people would be cursing the steps and maybe even crying (me, because I am a wimp and proud.)

But there are times when falling for you is no laughing matter - and that's when I know you're really hurt. And you will run, arms open, to whoever can grab you first and comfort you. You become extra cuddly and it's a nice reminder of the former baby we once had. Although the little toddler you've become is brilliant, too, you're just not a very cuddly boy. You love to be up, making a mess and causing a little riot - a ball of pure energy right up until bedtime. 

When you smile like this, in these moments, it also reminds me that despite the independence you keep rightfully asserting, and that no matter how messy you make the place, that you're still so small, still little and that in a few years time all the glimpses of your babyhood will be gone. I'm so glad I captured this moment for that very fact.

Chub.

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To my utter delight, you are a chubby toddler. At least around the face and wrists. Of course you'll stretch and replace those lovely curves with height and muscle, but for now I enjoy nuzzling little chubby wrists and tickling your double chin. 

You see, you were a skinny baby, once the initial puffiness from your delivery died down and I don't feel as though I got to enjoy my chubby boy. You grew with an astonishing rate, too, so if you were chubby I didn't enjoy it for any great length of time.

So until you stretch out and become a wee boy, I'm going to enjoy my wee chubby toddler.

P.S Do you use Twitter? Why don't you follow me on there, too! 

Follow: @MamaChaser
Email: carakirk@hotmail.com

Documenting Delight - 366 Project {The Start}

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I was surprised to see this face on my camera display right after I'd taken the photos of Roman enjoying some bubbles - the look of wonderment and pure joy, all from a couple of blown bubbles.

My 'Baby Bear' is no more. His face shape is changing, his language is developing and he's becoming his own person more and more each day. 

I sometimes feel I shouldn't call him 'baby' anymore and I haven't called him 'Baby Bear' in ages...after all, he's a definite toddler now. 

The babyhood doesn't last for long and I know toddler hood will be just as fleeting. 2012 will bring me a two year old and I am excited to share, to learn, to grow, to watch all these changes (through watery eyes, no doubt!) and to have another year of complete photos and words.

Follow: @MamaChaser 

Email: carakirk@hotmail.com

North of Scotland: Being there.

So if you haven't already read 'part one' of our little trip then go here to read it.


So...if you've read part one you'll be up to speed that we took our 19/nearly 20 month old on a long journey on public transport and all was well (kind of) by the end of the trip. 


I'm going to admit that I never took a lot of photos while we were away because I was so distracted or busy. But here's what I did get...

So...after our trip we got to my parents lovely house. Where we froze for the night until we figured out the heating. 


I had a few things to take care of while we were up there but once I was done, I spent time with the two of them. We'd huddle around the TV and catch up with Quantum Leap or Raising Hope (two of the best TV shows made, I think.) 

Roman loved the zoo up there. On the first few days the cats were very wary of him, every time he'd shout 'CAT!' and chase after them they were like speeding bullets out a gun. By the fourth day they would let him clap them. He was very careful and gentle with them. Shadow was the opposite. At first she would be okay with him, but then as time wore on her growls got louder. One time she even 'herded' him by butting her head on his side.


This called for splitting the room in two - Fort Roman was made...

More pictures...with a little narration. 

One of the days we went into town. We waited an hour for a bus.

The bus finally showed...

 (1) inside the sweet shop, loads of chocolate-inspired mugs. (2) 1,000 welcomes. (3) Thistle bag.

I really enjoy going to this sweet shop when I'm in Thurso. Pretty much all of their sweets/candy aren't vegan, but it's how I remember sweet shops; hard boiled sweets and other goodies in jars, known as 'quarters.' 

Something Scandinavian about this...

Bryan bought himself some chips...so we gave Roman his first chippy chip. He was a fan so had another. I think, when he's a lot older, we'll have chippies every so often. I hadn't wanted to give Roman any chocolate or junk foods as obesity, heart disease and other problems relating to food are such a huge problem in Scotland but I figure if we are sensible about it and show Roman how to manage his eating then we can't go wrong - that is far healthier than trying to not give him these things ever. 

Could he live without these things? Yes. Of course. But if we, the parents, are going to eat these foods then it would be hypocritical not to allow them. 

And since we're talking about food. This is how vegans cook anything that requires eggs (although, not really, I just use oil when I don't have egg replacer.)

And it comes up looking like wall paper paste. Yummy wall paper paste. Mmm.

{Peanut butter and chocolate button cookies - not a fan of the buttons but there were hardly any in there.}

To finish: some yummy 'cakies' which were meant to be cookies but baked big and cake-like.

And this, my friends, concludes our little holiday up north. Going home was hilarious...but that's another story ;).