The Silent Parent

How odd. This is what I thought during the lead up to February's half-term holiday. There was no sense of dread, no sweaty palms, no saving of pennies to spend on absurdly overpriced comics or loud, garish soft play centres. I was actually quite looking forward to it. Big Tot and Little Tot are getting on so well together at the moment and after a mostly lovely Christmas break I thought to myself, I can bloody well do this. And I can enjoy it too.

The hubby was absent and off in the land of work as per usual, so I accepted my lot, closed my eyes, and started my visions of merriment. I envisaged enthusiastic beach exploring. Energetic nature walks. Imaginative storybook sessions. Hilarious games of hide and seek. Nothing could stop us. We were going to have fun, fun, fun.

Surely, this is how it would be?

Or maybe not.

Two days before break-up and the dizzy spells started. One day before break-up and a tickly cough had me demented. The day of break-up and there was a headache, earache, sore limbs and a sadly depleted attitude to the whole idea of any type of school holiday. As Big Tot's teacher handed him over to me at 3.15pm that day there was a look exchanged between us. We knew we were in completely different worlds she and I. She was sauntering off to relaxation, quiet and calm. I was trudging into sickly despair. And my kids were leading the way.

And just when I thought I could add no more symptoms to my list, you'll never guess what happened.

I lost my voice.

This has never happened to me before. I woke up the first day of the holidays and knew something was wrong but it wasn't until Big Tot walked into the bedroom grumpily demanding the iPad that I realised what had happened.

I had a good cough (owch). And a splutter (owch again). And I did my best to arrange my mouth into a shape that would surely make a noise and answer Big Tot with some cunning reason why iPads were not suitable for this time in the morning. It didn't happen. And he took the iPad.

While I was brewing a coffee and Big Tot was catapulting Angry Birds, I imagined what this meant for us. How could we explore on the beach if I couldn't scald Little Tot for eating seaweed? How could we have imaginative storybook sessions which lacked a storyteller? And never mind that, how could we even perform our basic daily tasks with a mother who couldn't use her best bossy voice?

Just then Big Tot realised something was amiss.

"Mummy? Why are you quiet?"

I tried. I did. But my answer was just a croak. So instead I crouched down to look my son in the eyes, gestured at my throat and did a kind of magic vanishing flourish with my hands, hoping he'd tune into me with some kind of awesome mother-son connection.

"Your neck is going to explode? Cool."

Okay then.

An hour later and Big Tot realised no neck-exploding was going to occur. So with some further gestures and my best attempt at a whisper he finally got it. He remembered his teacher losing her voice before Christmas and helpfully informed me that she found it again so I really didn't have to worry.

And that's when I got my mojo (if not my voice or my good health) back. Voice or no voice these holidays were not going away and if Big Tot's teacher could teach a class of thirty children without the power of words then surely I could manage my own children in the same fashion.


Eye contact was the real lesson of the week. Just crouching down, being on their level, and looking at them with whatever emotion I was trying to convey was powerful stuff. I always thought I did that anyway but now I will be very mindful to do it even more.

We did a bit of doodling, Big Tot and I. Mainly when I just couldn't answer his questions with the power of mime and dance. And let's not forget that this boy asks a lot of questions. "Why can't I stand on the dinner table? Where is my Super Mario hat? Why can't I play on the iPad for a thirty-seventh time?"

My genius artwork

And after a while, I realised that this child doesn't always need an answer. I realised that after a while he just forgets what he's asking and swiftly moves on to something else. Suddenly the reason why wood is brown isn't so intriguing. And the crucial need to know whether Batman lets Robin have annual leave is not so paramount. This came as a massive relief to me. Now I am freed from being the all-seeing, the all-knowing. A burden that was, if I'm honest, pretty hard to bear.

Little Tot was pretty considerate in that he didn't really care if I spoke to him or not, as long as I was there to climb all over, be covered in drool, have toys pushed in my face and have unwanted food chucked in my general direction. He got stern looks for the food-chucking but the rest was endurable.

And, at the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I have to say that The Cool Rule Book was a bit of a lifesaver. I could use it to point out when Big Tot was not performing up to his usual standard of teeth-brushing / toy-sharing / dinner-eating and, more importantly, when he did something wonderful, I could point at the reward section at the back, we'd exchange a knowing smile and then trot into his room to stick balls in his happy jar. And not even a word uttered.

Silent rewards

We did end up spending most of the week at home simply because within the confines of our little bungalow I could make the whole silence thing work. As my voice worked back to a whisper, we ventured out to see a few friends, and as the whisper turned into a voice we did, after all, end up in a loud, garish soft play centre. What the hell. It did the the job and, do you know what? the Tots didn't ask me for a thing the whole time they were there.

That's my boys.

Go well,

Abi



To find out more about The Cool Rule Book and all the other fantastic parenting products the Tots have inspired, visit thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is an enormously important element of any parent's working day. The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is a skill, a strategy, a complex set of tactics woven around other equally important obligations. And, as I have discovered over recent years (and you will no-doubt be jubilant to realise) The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning can be learned.

Let's get something clear first of all. I recognise the importance of cleaning. Honest I do. I understand that cleaning one's home rids it of bugs and germs and all things horrid that might inflict bad health on the typical family. And I am happy to clean to this extent. Nobody wants to deal with a puking toddler, especially if you are also partaking in the puking.

But in recent years, as I have morphed from a career-driven, independent party-goer into a family-driven, sleep-deprived party-dodger, my standards in the realms of cleaning have slipped somewhat.

It took a while though. During the golden age of Big Tot's baby months when he couldn't walk, talk or smear evidence of his shenanigans anywhere, I was still fairly happy to roll up my sleeves. Plus, and let's not forget this important fraction of my background, my husband is from a very old fashioned part of Eastern Turkey where women are expected to do EVERYTHING. Clean, cook, scrub, rub, dust, fold, polish, and they will positively spit if you try to do it for them. Hence I have spent a considerable amount of time sitting back and watching my hubby's sisters whirl around like dervishes in a cleaning / tidying/ caring for many, many children type of frenzy. It's no wonder I felt I should occasionally partake in a bit of dusting.

But as I moved away from Turkey and into a more Western lifestyle; and as the golden age of Babydom ended and Toddlerhood hooked in its claws, The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning has emerged as a very helpful strategy to get me through each day. And as I spend a good percentage of my time performing the domestic tasks which I believe to be unavoidable (washing dishes, cooking, washing clothes, ironing, shopping etc), I think I can be forgiven for cleaning only when absolutely necessary.

Here are my hints and tips for the Avoidance of Proper Cleaning:

• TIDY . . . Tidying and cleaning are very different beasts. Tidying is far, far easier than cleaning and will give the spectacular illusion that the house is clean. And it can be done as you go along, so long as you realise it will never, ever end. 

• AIR FRESHENERS . . . A sure-fire way to give the impression that you have just finished an energetic cleaning sesh. Close your eyes and breathe in the pine forest, the cherry blossom, the ocean spray or whatever else takes your fancy (emphasis on the closing of the eyes).

• NET CURTAINS . . . It is a fact that direct sunlight streaming into your home will highlight every last bit of dirt you have failed to remove. If you can't live with net curtains, then just go out and come back home after dark. It's better that way.

• GLITTER . . .  This is easy if you have small children. Sprinkle glitter everywhere and blame it on a crafts session with the kids (everyone knows glitter is notoriously difficult to remove but it will also mask your real dirt in a sparkly mirage).

• BAKE A CAKE . . . This may sound odd but if there is the smell of a freshly baked cake in the air, other senses (such as sight) will be dulled and any amount of dirt can go unnoticed.

• CANDLES . . . Flickering candles give the impression of a nurturing, soft ambience a far cry from an unloved, unclean home. Out of reach of little hands of course.

• START A PROJECT . . . If you have kids then you've got an excuse to start crazy projects which will ultimately defer from cleaning. "I couldn't clean the bath because there's a giant cardboard Spongebob Squarepants in there."

• BABY WIPES . . . There is always a packet within reach in my house. Did you know they clean anything?

• BASKETS . . . If in doubt of where to put something, stick it in a basket. Seriously. Every room should have one.

• CHEAT . . . Spot opportunities for a cheat-clean. Wipe down the tiles during a shower, get the kids to throw soapy water at the car . . . it's not great, I know, but if you want to Avoid Proper Cleaning then you must be committed to cheating once in a while.

• PATIENCE . . . Just remember that one day the kids will be old enough to take over most Proper Cleaning and there is no need for them to know about this list. However, you could print it and keep it in a safe place for them until they have their own children.

• START A BLOG . . . Always, always more important than cleaning.

Adhering to this list gives you lots more time with your children: tickle-time, treasure hunts, superhero role play, block-building, forest walks and the discussing of hot topics such as the Origins of Snot. I know it's important for kids to learn how a household is run, and that they should definitely contribute to it more as they get older. But, right now while my two are mere whippersnappers, I am happy with my slippery standards.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to light a candle.

Go well,
Abi
xxx

P.S. If you want to see how else I spend my time when I'm not cleaning, go to www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk and browse the gorgeous happy living products I've created for toddlers and parents!

Photo Opportunity

When Little Tot's howling echoed through the streets at 8.15 on a damp, misty morning, I knew it was going to be one of those days. Not only was he howling, he was writhing. Not only was he writhing, he was clawing. I tried to lock him in one of my best motherly embraces, but I think we all know that it has to be one hell of an embrace to prevent a toddler from howling, writhing and/or clawing.

At least we'd reached the middle of the queue now. It had crossed my mind to cut my losses and leave. Of course, I would have breezed past the other parents in a manner which suggested I really didn't care and that I had something better to do when I was actually inwardly doubting my abilities as a Supermum and on the brink of a major sobbing sesh.

Was it really that important to get a photo of the Tots together from Big Tot's school photographer? Didn't I already have hundreds of perfectly good photos of my two gorgeous boys? Yes of course I did. But being a true Brit I didn't want to miss out on a free photo session so I'd turned up to stand in the drizzle on a Friday morning.

Looking around I couldn't understand why none of the other toddlers were acting in a similar manner. Couldn't these kids show even an ounce of boredom to support Little Tot? I'd reached the point in the queue where it was necessary to discard buggies as they weren't allowed in school so Little Tot was stuck with me. I couldn't let him down on the ground due to the aforementioned shitty weather (remember he was dressed up to the nines for the photographer) and because he was still predominantly crawling everywhere.

Things were getting very cramped. Big Tot had been kicked in the head twice (his head was at optimum kicking level as far as his brother could see) and now I had two howling boys to deal with. Oh what I would have done to be one of those calm, serene looking mums with their calm, serene looking tots just happily perched on a hip. My children have never perched on my hips. Ever. For starters I seem to produce giant babies which tend to turn into giant toddlers and secondly they seem to be possessed with a character made entirely of fire and brimstone. This is not conducive to happy hip-perching.

Anyway, my own fire and brimstone incited me to stick it out until the end and we finally made it into the makeshift photo studio set in the school library. The caretaker (oh what a lovely man) had helped me with coats and zips and snotty faces and suggested that it might all work out fine, the bright lights might distract Little Tot into smiling for the camera. He even crossed his fingers for me.

As we approached, the photographer tried to hide her alarm but her raised eyebrows betrayed her. Little Tot was utterly appalled at the positions we were trying to wrestle him into and by this point too far-gone into the tantrum spectrum for us to get any type of 'natural' shot. Big Tot, bless him, tried his best to goad his brother into the spirit of things. But as he was lacking in any promising toy offers or chocolate-themed goods, Little Tot was having none of it.

And then I remembered that Big Tot's Cool Rule Book was a little treasure chest of beautiful photos. Beautiful because they represent everyday life for us and where we are right now as a family. They're not set up, they're not forced. They are real. And not only do they help Big Tot understand our family rules and expectations, but one day I will look back on them and fondly remember all the tantrum-taming I did. Won't I?

Nevertheless, it was with a heavy heart that I dropped Big Tot off at school and trudged home with a disgraced Little Tot. A stack of custard creams and a strong coffee were my first priority as I got through the door and then an equally strong word with myself about the day so far. You are not a bad mum. You tried something you knew would be challenging and it didn't work. Big deal. Get over it and move on.

And move on I did. Because later in the day my hubby and I were called into school to collect Big Tot who had fallen in the school playground and apparently broken his foot.

Now therein lies another blog post.

But let's just say that the day was not short on dramatics. Or emotions. Or custard creams.

Oh, and just to make myself feel better I made sure I was the first to write on Big Tot's plaster cast. Well, nobody else was going to say it for me, were they?

Go well,

Abi


Find out more about The Cool Rule Book and a whole range of other fantastic products to transform day-to-day living with a toddler by visiting Abi's brilliant website, www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Secret Tactics

So the other day I was casually flipping through the family calendar when I realised something that made me very cross. I realised that if you count the days from when Big Tot had his last day at nursery right up to when he starts going to 'big' school he is actually off for seven, not the widely presumed six, weeks for summer.

Seven weeks. That's forty-nine days. And that was enough to make me feel momentarily sick. It was a proper lump-in-the-throat, rapid-heart-beating, fiery cheeks kind of moment. How was I supposed to keep this going for seven weeks? No holidays planned. A dwindling overdraft. Two Tots expecting near miracles from me every single day for forty nine days? How could I find a number for the complaints hotline at the local education authority?

I peered into the living room at the Tots. Big Tot was lying under a blanket on the sofa playing with an electronic alphabet game and making loud, over-enthusiastic vowel sounds. Little Tot was making a dash for it into the garden of delights. Those delights being muck, muck, water and muck. Truth be known, they didn't seem to having such a bad time.

But what about me? Am I having such a bad time? Apart from my reaction to the the six week cover-up scandal, Is my summer really going that badly? Of course it isn't. Here I am, lucky enough to have a huge wedge of quality time to spend with my Tots, and a new business I can weave around full-time kiddy care. Things could be a lot worse.

Honestly speaking though, the summer holidays can be intense. There are times when I truly am out of resources, ideas and that mythical stuff called energy. I have secret tactics though. And they are lovely and life-affirming. Oh yes. My secret tactics totally rock.

And the best thing about these secret tactics is that if you are a parent, you probably do them anyway, without even knowing. But if you can become more aware of them, and practice them regularly, then things really do start to change.

Live In The Moment
You've seen your toddler do it. The total concentration on a snail's slimy movements or the unwavering dedication to the pages of their favourite storybook. Even the screaming meltdown in the sweetie aisle at a supermarket. Toddlers are experts at living in the now. So sometimes I get to it. I could be breathing in the sweet, just-washed scent of Little Tot's hair (even if he's whinging for his supper) or suddenly be in awe of the soft, reassuring grip of Big Tot's hand in mine as we cross a road. I have even mastered mindful nappy-changing. Oh yes. By being so committed to Little Tot and his gorgeous, dimpled bottom no other part of it bothers me. Living in the moment happily discards anything else that might be bothering you.

This too, will pass
I don't know who first coined this phrase, but when I first heard it, and related it to being a parent, it rocked my world. Sometimes it's a beautifully encouraging phrase. My child will stop being such a fussy eater one day. Soon my child will have have their hair washed without sobbing. But it can have a ring of sadness to it too. Perhaps one day my child won't want morning kisses. What if my child decides she doesn't want storytime before bed? But for me, just knowing, without a shadow of a doubt that 'this too, will pass' helps me to focus on the now, indulge in it, be grateful for it and embrace the ever-changing nature of this life we live. And here's hoping the Tots pick that up too.

Sit and smile
I'm loving this one. I read about it in Elizabeth Gilbert's 'Eat Pray Love' where she zips off to Bali, anticipating some mysterious lessons in meditation and actually just gets told to 'sit and smile'. You do run the risk of appearing to be a loon, mind you. As I well know. I have been known to sit and smile whilst Big Tot is having a meltdown on a naughty spot I have created in a supermarket. Or sitting and smiling whilst rocking a screaming Little Tot's buggy in a busy shopping centre. The possibilities are endless and the outcome is that you usually feel at least a teensy bit calmer, or at least able to find a funny side. Can't be bad, can it?

So there's three of my secret tactics. Why not go for a cocktail of them all? It's the only kind of cocktail I seem to be able to get my hands on these days. And I have to admit the high I've got from practicing these beats any Raspberry Mojito anyway.

So, with all of that in mind, I will press on through these summer holidays no matter how many days I may ultimately be faced with. The local Education Authority can breathe easy for now as I shall not be making that complaint after all. Not this year, anyway.

Go well,

Abi

Visit my site to find The Cool Rule Book - a tip top way to celebrate all that is cool with your toddler as well as getting to grips with discipline: www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

For more on 'living in the now', try 'The Power of Now' by Eckhart Tolle, available on Amazon
For more of 'this too, will pass', try 'The Illuminated Rumi' by Jalal Al-Din Rumi, available on Amazon
For more of 'sitting and smiling', try 'Eat, Pray Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert, available on Amazon

Like A Baby

Well, the birthday came and went, as birthdays do, and I am entering the realm of the mid 30s with what I am describing as a mindful acceptance. I'm doing everything mindfully these days, on account of the five-week mindfulness course I've just completed in - of all the places in the world - Consett Industrial Estate.

Actually, it was a marvellous experience teaching me about being in the present moment and developing a more conscious connection with the body. The idea being that if you're focusing on your breath or your posture or the spot on the end of your nose then you're more able to deal with whatever the present moment is throwing at you.

I've dabbled in the whole meditation game before, but I must admit I lost the philosophies somewhere between squeezing two babies out and taking on the mammoth roles of housewife / mum / general superhuman being. So now I can safely say I've reclaimed it. Thanks to a gentle but firm reintroduction, I've rediscovered that by taking care of what's going on right now, I am able to move boldly into the future with compassion, humour and love.

Can't be bad, can it? Even if my friends are tapping their feet as I speak unusually slowly. Even if my husband is wondering why I keep disappearing so I can squeeze a meditation in between sterilising bottles and cooking dinner. The little ones are certainly enjoying it. What with bubble-blowing at bathtime, yoga on the living room rug and proper, from-the-tummy laughter, they've definitely got the best part of the deal.

Maybe this new approach to life is why today's morning business meeting took a grand total of three and a half hours. And why it entailed back-to-back cups of tea and an oil burner on the go. Or maybe it was because it was with possibly the most pleasant graphic designer I've ever met who agreed to come to my house so I didn't have to find a babysitter.

Carrie is her name and she's designing me a logo for my new business. What fun we had. In between (mindfully) changing nappies and using CBeebies iPlayer to within an inch of its life, we whipped up a multitude of possibilities to pitch to mums and dads and pretty much anyone who'd give an honest opinion.

At times the entertaining of the children got a little intense and I'm hoping Carrie understands that I don't usually plant my 10-month old in his highchair with pizza and chips and Tommy & Jerry on widescreen . . . only on the most important of business occasions.

So watch this space. The logo will be revealed in a matter of weeks for all to enjoy. But, please, don't look forward to it too much. Look at what's happening now and like a baby be mindful of each moment. Chew your chips. Swing your legs. Laugh at cartoons.

Until then, go well.

Abi

You can find Carrie's graphic design work at www.pressfordesign.co.uk
The Mindfulness people are www.livingmindfully.co.uk

34 Tomorrow

I'll be 34 years old tomorrow. Does that plant me firmly in my mid thirties then?

Is that why my nearly-four-year-old son throws his head back in disbelief when I casually call myself a girl and then practically snorts at me "No Mummy, you're a lady".

Is that why I had to tick a different box on a consumer survey the other day and reluctantly admit I am no longer in the 'Young Person' age bracket?

And is that why I'm here, desperately hugging a mug of hot chocolate with five (yes, five) floating marshmallows and musing over all the things I thought I'd have done by now?

I think we all know the answers to these questions. But how cruel that I can no longer make smudged mascara look cool. How tragic that I am unable to wear ripped jeans without the health visitor raising an eyebrow. And it's not fair that I can't look cool doing Zumba. Who invented this whole ageing business anyway?

But having said all that I'm really quite enjoying getting on a bit. For starters, and let's put the baby-birth hair loss and wobbly belly to one side for a minute, the last four years have given me two fantastic healthy children. They are the result of a heart-stopping romance leading to a happy marriage with my own dark, brooding Mediterranean man. I've had the courage to ditch a career I didn't want any more to boldly be the Mum I've always wanted to be. I've lived in three different countries and therefore met three sets of fabulously gorgeous people. And now, in a bid to tip the balance a little bit more in my favour, I'm starting my own business.

It's all new and exciting right now and whilst it's not exactly top secret, it's not something I'm going to shout about until I'm good to go. So until then you'll just have to be satisfied to know that it's cool and it involves rules of some kind and the antics will be posted right here.

Oh, and I found the inspiration for it during my ever-so-wonderful early thirties. Let's hope the mid-thirties have something to offer too (other than floating marshmallows).

Go well,
Abi