Mixing it up

I’ve just returned from a weekend away with one of my daughters – the middle one: Ratty. It wasn’t a planned event, but seeing as B.IG. G.I.R.L. was going to her grandma’s and Ocean Eyes was invited to a friend’s holiday house for the weekend, Ratty suggested she and I take some time away.

And we did. We utilised the family holiday house and squirreled ourselves away for a wet weekend of reading, telly, Nintendo (her, not me), late nights watching the tennis and very late mornings with yummy brunch. It was just what I needed – and probably what she needed too.

Increasingly, our household has become more and more hectic. Two girls at high school means more commitments, both social and to do with school. There is more going on on an emotional level than there ever was before. With the advent of adolescence, what also tends to happen is that hormone-fuelled tiffs lead to disharmony between siblings, and when parents inevitably become involved, it creates tension. Sometimes it feels as though I’m constantly in the role of both judge and gatekeeper – guardian of the house rules and frequently called upon to adjudicate disputes. I’m well and truly over it… except it doesn’t go away. So it was an immense pleasure to split up the crew for the weekend and spend some quality time with just one. As expected, the tension dissolved, and we were able to prove to ourselves that we can get along and be relaxed in each other’s company. This sets up a valuable precedent for when we’re home again, once again under the normal pressures. Which brings me to another point…

When I had little ones, I was often irritated by people who would say with a smug look on their face, ‘Oh, you think this is hard! Wait until they’re teenagers.’ The comment annoyed me on many levels, mainly because it was openly negative and defeatist, as well as having a lecturing tone. Well, of course I couldn’t respond with an educated comment, because I didn’t have teenagers at the time, did I? People can be so cruel sometimes.

Probably the worst such comment I ever received was when B.I.G. G.I.R.L. was only a month or so old. We’d been invited to a Christmas BBQ, and had accepted the challenge to get ourselves there looking presentable by the time on the invitation, with gorgeous new baby girl in tow. Somehow, we did it. I’d dressed up nicely, put on make-up, and a beautiful new Peter Rabbit outfit on the baby. I was still completely beside myself with the big change she’d brought to our lives, still coping with sleepless nights, B.I.G. G.I.R.L.’s colicky crying that went on for hours each afternoon and long into the night, grappling tenuously with my own self-image as a full time mother – I’d left a ten-year full time teaching career behind, and could scarcely recall it during my first appointment with the Maternal and Child Health Nurse. To top it all off, breastfeeding was still excruciating, each feed stripping my nipples of their newly formed scabs.

Horrible, isn’t it? I probably could have spared you that detail, but I think it’s a telling one, because despite all these considerable challenges, we’d managed to get there on time that afternoon. We were at the Christmas BBQ, looking nice, being sociable, interacting with other adults and showing off our new baby girl. One woman – I guess she was being supportive – complimented us on the birth of our baby, then smirked condescendingly at me and said, ‘It’s hard isn’t it?’ I smiled bravely and nodded. Then she added, ‘And it never gets any easier.’ If she’d taken a knife and stabbed me in the chest right there and then on the outdoor table amongst the sausages, tomato sauce and coleslaw bowl, she couldn’t have wreaked less havoc.

Being a new mum is hard enough without these old witches who have grown-up children catching us unawares at barbecues or at the supermarket when we’re struggling with the baby seat on the shopping trolley, to deliver dire predictions of times ahead. At present, I’ve had a slight look into the teenage world, and I know there’s a lot yet to come. But at this point, I could confidently tell this woman and other people like her that yes, it’s difficult parenting teenagers. Parenting is difficult – full stop. Every stage of a child’s development is unique, and has its own challenges. There are no pass-outs, or times of rest. But sometimes, we can change the pace a bit to help us cope better with the journey. I think people sometimes forget it’s all about the journey, not the destination. And that the quality of the destination, is always, always, dependant on the richness of the journey it took to get there.