The Boy’s first haircut

The Boy had his first haircut today. This had been a long time coming: like his sister, he was born with quite a lot of hair, and although it didn’t grow quite as quickly as hers, by his first birthday he already had some rather impressive curls all around his head. They looked adorable, almost golden and cherub-like, so much so that some people had started mistaking him for a girl (despite the blue clothes). This in itself was reason enough for my husband to demand that I took the Boy for a haircut, and I had to agree with him that the whole look was quite messy and uneven (something to be expected with baby hair that has never had a proper trim). The fringe, in particular, was starting to be a real problem. I had managed to give it a trim twice before, when it was getting long and starting to go into his eyes, but in the recent while, every time I tried to do it, he would just pull away from my hand and get upset. When the choice became one between giving him, at best, a wonky fringe or plucking his eyes out with the scissors, I knew it was time to book a proper hairdresser’s appointment.

Of course, I took him to my own hairdresser. I’ve been going there for the last five years, and the Girl has also had all her haircuts with him (her first haircut was on her actual birthday, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the Boy in for a haircut on his… It took me an additional two months to build up the courage). In passing be it said, I am not keen at all on the way that men seem to go about going to the barber’s, at least at the place my husband goes to: I’ve never been able to understand why anyone would be happy simply to queue up and go to whomever is next free, rather than go to the same person every time, risking a completely haphazard result that they will then have to pay for! If I’m honest, I think it will take me a really long time to let the Boy join the undiscerning crowd.

Before the haircut itself, this morning, I didn’t think I was going to be too bothered. I did go prepared with an envelope to collect the first locks of hair in, but I didn’t give much thought to the way I was feeling – nor to how the experience itself would actually feel. Matters were helped also by the fact that a friend was there having her hair dyed (the Boy’s haircut was actually slotted in between her having her hair dyed and the styling that would come afterwards): this really distracted me from the magnitude of the experience, although I felt it was important to tell her that she was going to witness very momentous stuff.

It was during the haircut itself, while the beautiful ringlets were falling off (rather faster than I would have liked, a fact necessitated also by his reluctance to being touched or sitting still) that it really struck me: I was excited to see him turn into a proper little boy under my very eyes, but I was feeling sad and wistful too. My baby was definitely no longer a little tiny baby, he had now morphed into a toddler, still angelic but with something of the innocence of babyhood gone. It was as if he had grown by a year in an instant, and this made me excited and sad at the same time.

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My hairdresser was amazing about it, which really helped. Straight away, he reassured the Boy (so, indirectly, me) with the words ‘You look much more like a boy now, mate’ (I don’t like the word ‘mate’, but I have to accept that my boy is growing up in this culture and he is very likely to be addressed as that many more times in his lifetime…).Then, as if he could perceive my mixed bag of emotions, he waived the charge, saying that he doesn’t charge for first haircuts – as if he could clearly see that, for mothers like me, cutting away their baby’s first locks is like cutting a piece out of their own heart in order to store it in an envelope; the hair will grow back, but that piece of heart will forever stay in the baby memory book.

I know I could easily be accused of senseless sentimentality (it *is* just hair, after all, and as I’ve just said, it *does* grow back)… Nevertheless, after coming home, simply putting away the envelope of hair did not feel enough. I separated one of the longer ringlets and stored it in a clear plastic pocket that I stuck inside of a folded piece of card: this way, we can always keep an even clearer memento of today, and of his babyhood. And I also brought out an envelope that I hadn’t looked at in quite some time, the one which stores the Girl’s first locks of hair (many fewer because, being a girl, she didn’t need such a severe trim). This made me nostalgic for my other baby, the one is is now so big, ever growing in independence and, inevitably, in distance from me. One day, they will both be able to go to the hairdresser’s without me, they will choose who they go to and how much they trim off (and the Boy might well follow in his father’s footsteps and not care whether the person he sees is his regular one or not): that day is a long way off, but even still, in these first locks of hair, I can see its shadow looming large, and I am already dreading it a little bit. I love my babies growing up, but I also wish I could keep them small, safe and mine forever. Whoever knew how much hope and apprehension, how much nostalgia and anticipation, and how much love could pour into a tiny plastic bag together with a lock of hair…?

How I connect with my 5-year-old

Today I want to write about connection. Over the last couple of months, I have been following the 12-week online parenting course created by Dr Laura Markham, of AHAParenting.com. The course, which is now two thirds of the way through, builds on her wonderful book, Peaceful Parents, Happy Kids (for some reason, ‘translated’ as Calm Parents, Happy Kids for the UK market). This has become one of my go-to parenting books, and I often find myself citing from it.

The peaceful parenting philosophy is based on three key concepts: emotional self-regulation (you can’t parent on an empty tank, since you cannot give anything to others if your own tank is empty); connection; and coaching, not controlling. I’m sure I will spend a lot more time in times to come writing about the first and third of these, but today I want to talk about the one that is, to my mind (and to Dr Markham’s too), the most important one of the three: connection.

The idea here is simple: fear is a very poor motivator of good behaviour, and even less, of morals. Children are very unlikely to do as they are told if the only motivator is the threat of punishment. In fact, it is practically impossible to instil a sound moral compass and a good set of values by using mere force. If fear of being caught is the only thing that keeps children from misbehaving, it is easy to see how, as soon as that danger is gone (say, because they are away from us or because they know for sure there is no way we could catch them) they are bound to going back to doing exactly what they want, with no qualms whatsoever. So force and threatened punishment are more likely to teach children how to dodge our surveillance, how to sneak behind our backs in order to get away with whatever it is they want, rather than giving them a sound moral compass. Instead, what does engage children’s cooperation much more effectively is connection. If children feel connected to us (or to anyone else, for that matter), they are much more likely to accept what we tell them, to embrace our values and to do the things that they believe would please us. And, ultimately, what we want to achieve is that, when they are grown up and are faced with a choice between right and wrong, our children choose the right thing not because they are afraid of authority (our own or that of the law), or because they are worried about what others might think: we want them to choose the right thing because they know it is the right thing, because their internal moral compass guides them to it.

My own experience has been most telling. The more connected the Girl feels to me, the smoother our relationship is and the keener she is to cooperate with me. A couple of years ago, when I was going through a difficult time of loss and depression, and she was going through the emotionally explosive toddler years, our connection really suffered, so our interactions were often mutually angry ones: she would (more often than not, deliberately so as to wind me up) do things that I had asked her not to, or she would refuse to do what I asked her to. I would then get frustrated and shout at her, sometimes saying quite hurtful things that came from a place of anger and powerlessness. There were even a few times (and I’m not proud of them!) when I resorted to spanking in an attempt to subdue her. Every control freak (like I certainly was then, and I often tend to be now still) inevitably struggles when coming into contact with another very strong personality that strives to impose its own will: and the Girl is certainly a tough cookie with a lot of will and determination of her own. Our rough edges coming together made each other even rougher, our disconnection was almost clinical, and motherhood was a profoundly exasperating experience all round.

Things are so very different now. I have worked hard to build my connection with her, and our relationship is, most of the time, warm, calm and loving. I have made my limits clear to her and have made the choice to stop raising my voice (as much as possible) and to treat her with respect and understanding. Of course, she still sometimes forgets to stick to the rules (after all, she is only 5, and even she reminds me often that perfection belongs to God alone!). But, most of the time, she stays well within the boundaries because she wants to stay on my good side, she wants us to get on, and she trusts that what I ask her to do is for her own good and for that of our whole family.

Here are a few things that we do to build this connection, and that I believe any parent can do with his or her children:

1. Reading together

imageThis is our special time, and it has always been very meaningful for both of us. When the Boy was a few months old, I decided to protect my special time with the Girl and put him to bed early, so that I could have a bit of one-on-one time with her. He consequently goes to bed at 6:30, and for about 30-45 minutes, the Girl and I read together. First, she reads to me from one of her school books or other similar books of the right level, and I credit this with her very good progress with reading. Then, I read to her. Until recently, Julia Donaldson was a great favourite, and so were a number of other toddler books that we rotated. However, soon after the Girl’s fifth birthday, I felt that she was ready to go to a slightly higher level, so I introduced her to ‘big girl’ books: our first was Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; then, I read Matilda to her, and some books for younger readers by Jacqueline Wilson (at the moment, we are both very much enjoying Rent a Bridesmaid, her latest book).  I very much hope that, as the Girl grows older and becomes a free reader, we can continue reading to each other regularly, and enjoying books together. I hope this always stays our special thing.

2. Shimagearing milkshakes or hot chocolate (any other favourite treats work here)

The Boy is in nursery one day a week, and I use the afternoons as another bonding time for the Girl and me. When the weather allows, we go to our favourite local coffee shop and have milkshakes together, or if it’s rather cold outside, we come home and make Nutella hot chocolate (one teaspoon of Nutella in about 200ml of milk, warmed up in the microwave for 45 seconds – heaven in a cup!). This is a perfect time to catch up, chat and, often, read together.

 

3. Outings to shows

To date, ever since she was 2, the girl has been to 29 shows: from puppet theatre, to bigger productions with lots of actors, ballets and pantos, around Hertfordshire, in Cambridge and London (including the West End). I usually book way in advance and make sure we have really good seats, and she enjoys them all. Now that she is a bit bigger, she really gets into the stories, crying and laughing along with them. It is a delight to see and share in. And a bonus for me: most of the time we have gone as a family, but at the moment the Boy is too little to be taken to shows, so it is just the Girl and me on most outings, which gives us yet another occasion to bond. I look forward to the day when we can once more go as a family (and we will use the boy as an excuse to go to little kiddy shows like In the Night Garden, the Gruffalo and Room on the Broom), but in the meantime, I’m really enjoying my one-on-one times with her.

4. Playing board games 

Whenever we have a bit of time on our own (such as on the afternoons when the Boy is in nursery, or on a weekend morning when his father is playing with him), the Girl and I play board games together. I’m not a very outdoorsy person at the best of times (unless the weather is really lovely, which in this country it rarely is the case, and this year seems even worse than usual), and I’m not that great with going to the park or soft play centres, but I do like board games. I remember, growing up, how badly I wanted my mum to play board games with me, and how much of a treat it was on the rare occasions when she did – usually, she was far too tired from her long work days to have the patience to do that with me. So, in a way, I’m making up for what I didn’t have myself by playing with the Girl, but she really enjoys the attention and it gives us another opportunity to connect. Our favourite games at the moment are Pop to the Shops and Tell the Time, but we’ve played many other games in our times together.

5. Cards and notelets 

A new addition to my ‘mummy-repertoire’ are the cards and notelets I have started to slip into the Girl’s lunchbox during the holidays. In term time, she has a cooked meal at school, and I think she is too little to have a card in her book bag. But during the holidays, she goes to a holiday club and takes a packed lunch with her. In the last few months, I have started slipping daily cards or notes for her to find alongside her lunch. I only put things like ‘Have a nice day’ or ‘I love you lots’, but she has really taken to them. They tell them that I miss her and think about her and they strengthen our bond even when we aren’t together.

6. And of course, lots and lots of cuddles, kisses and saying ‘I love you’ as often as possible!!

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One day, I look forward to spa days together, urban weekend escapes, restaurant outings to places other than McDonald’s… All, bonding opportunities, opportunities to create memories which will be only ours. One day, when she is grown up and with a family of her own, I hope she will look back at all these times with fondness and joy, and she will be able to say: “My mother was always there for me”. And in the meantime, I will savour every moment when I can be.

 

 

On being a mummy blogger

Once more it has been quite some time since I last wrote something here. Not because I haven’t had anything to say, and even less because nothing has happened… Quite to the contrary, at the moment I’m finding motherhood to be quite like a rollercoaster ride: incessant, relentless, with some quieter moments which lull you into calm only to be able to throw you upside down with even greater force right after… I never expected being a mummy of two to be easy, but I would be lying if I said that I was prepared for how overwhelming it feels at times. When things go at such a fast pace, it is very hard, almost impossible, to sit down and think, let alone write about it!

And yet, write I feel I must. I’d been feeling for a while that I was really missing my blog, and worrying that I was letting good writing opportunities pass me by (when I say ‘good’ here, I’m referring to things that are memorable, that I would want to commit to memory, and memory is at a premium these days, seeing that baby brain has pretty much torn it to pieces…). And the day before yesterday, something happened: as I was getting ready to go to sleep at night, I was musing about my ‘mummy-blogging’ and feeling wistful about having put my writing on the back burner once again. So I prayed, and asked  God to give me the inspiration and the will to take it up again.

What happened the next morning was entirely unexpected. As I do most mornings, as soon as I woke up, I picked up my phone to check my emails (it wouldn’t be unfair to call me a little bit of an addict…).  And the first first email I found when was one telling me that a friend tagged me on Facebook with just these words: ‘What about Woods of White?’ I was flabbergasted. I am still learning to listen to God’s voice, and I can imagine that skeptical responder might object that this is mere coincidence… It wouldn’t be the first time that someone told me that my view of theology is skewed, and that surely God can’t bother with the little things (To that, I would respond that surely ‘big’ and ‘little’ things are one and the same to God, since he is outside or beyond space and time, so it is unlikely that he uses our scale to assess the magnitude or importance of things). As far as I am concerned, if ever there was a sign, an answer to prayer, a moment of being called by name, I believe this was one!

I felt that this deserved a post all of its own. The little Facebook tag (for which I am so grateful) was just what I needed to kick me back into action. I feel I have learned so much over the last while, and I have so many things that I want to put into writing and, perhaps, share with others who might be interested in reading them. So here I am… I’m back to mummy-blogging, so watch this space…!

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