Starbucks dressed as a sheep for the nativity play.
My mother-in-law wanted her to dress as an angel, but she insisted on a sheep. I was so proud, but so was Starbucks!
Monday, December 29, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Smile, and the whole world judges you
How i have missed writing on here. I've been busy revising and taking my law exam - i guess i could have put a note on here explaining that. But now i'm done, and am free to type as much as i want, small baby permitting.
Todays topic is smiling.
My colleague remarked on Tuesday that Starbucks is a 'smiley kid', which is true. She has always been a happy baby, and wherever i took her she would smile at people, and they would like her.
When Starbucks smiles, its a knowing look, like she has this world in her hand. She has an agenda that she is not necessarily going to let on. She is in control, she is assertive and confident and pleased with who she is, and what she can do. She smiles at me as if to say, 'you fool, you think you're in control?'
This is not fact. This is opinion.
This is my interpretation of her smile, my sentiment towards my first baby whom i had no idea what to do with, but felt like she knew all along but didn't tell me. This is the first person in the world to make me a certain kind of happy inside. Perhaps she smiles because she is happy, but that seems to simple for Starbucks clever little mind.
This led me to realise that i interpret (and yes interpret - although if i label her like this enough I might make it become self-actualising- a child lives up to the expectations put upon them), Cookie's smile in a whole different way.
Todays topic is smiling.
My colleague remarked on Tuesday that Starbucks is a 'smiley kid', which is true. She has always been a happy baby, and wherever i took her she would smile at people, and they would like her.
This is Starbucks smiling:
When Starbucks smiles, its a knowing look, like she has this world in her hand. She has an agenda that she is not necessarily going to let on. She is in control, she is assertive and confident and pleased with who she is, and what she can do. She smiles at me as if to say, 'you fool, you think you're in control?'
This is not fact. This is opinion.
This is my interpretation of her smile, my sentiment towards my first baby whom i had no idea what to do with, but felt like she knew all along but didn't tell me. This is the first person in the world to make me a certain kind of happy inside. Perhaps she smiles because she is happy, but that seems to simple for Starbucks clever little mind.
This led me to realise that i interpret (and yes interpret - although if i label her like this enough I might make it become self-actualising- a child lives up to the expectations put upon them), Cookie's smile in a whole different way.
Cookie smiles like this:
Cookie has the smile of an imbecile. I look at her smiling and think, 'oh you poor little baby, you don't really get whats going on do you'. The jokes on her, she is naive and foolish, smiling at a time when she is yet to realise how dark and weird the world actually is.
odd how i interpret them both so differently. Im glad that i am now aware of this, and can try not to look down on Cookie as foolish quite so much. But what other assumptions have i made about this 3 month old baby that i am not aware of. I've just got to hope that my children are very forgiving when they grow up to be who i'm labeling them as. Perhaps they are labeling me in a similar way. What a silly mummy.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Career lows
There are so many odd moments in being a parent. Wearing matching newspaper hats whenever you go on the tube is one.
The possibly oddest scenario occurred earlier this week when Starbucks (2) informed me during our playing of 'doctors' that I should 'feed from this boobie and then this one, ok mummy', as she pointed to her unformed chest. 'No'. 'Why mummy?', 'just no'.
I'm not sure if it's made more or less odd by being alone with her and no one else witnessing this surrealism.
Would other mothers lent in and pretended to? Or is there a definite do not cross line there? Surely there's a line, although it might be way back before when she said 'let's play doctors, lay down'.
The possibly oddest scenario occurred earlier this week when Starbucks (2) informed me during our playing of 'doctors' that I should 'feed from this boobie and then this one, ok mummy', as she pointed to her unformed chest. 'No'. 'Why mummy?', 'just no'.
I'm not sure if it's made more or less odd by being alone with her and no one else witnessing this surrealism.
Would other mothers lent in and pretended to? Or is there a definite do not cross line there? Surely there's a line, although it might be way back before when she said 'let's play doctors, lay down'.
Monday, November 10, 2014
A dark unjust world
Sadly I've been learning some new lessons lately.
I can clearly remember a time in my teenage years when I realised that my parents didn't know everything, and in fact, I knew more than them (oh yeah I'm a conceited child). A few years later I began to realise that my parents were actually their own people making their own personal choices and that perhaps on occasion I was more more emotionally intelligent than them (do I sound vain?) realising that those above you don't necessarily make the right decision all the time can make you feel that bit more vulnerable in a dark and difficult world.
I've adapted to this. To the vulnerability of knowing that your parents are not all knowing and protecting.
I feel that a large contributor to Lovely's low mental health this summer was the development of a feeling that doctors cannot always make you better. In fact they might not even be able to diagnose your problem. She was suffering from sever bleeding but they couldn't work out why, and often when she wasn't in pain, or complaining they didn't care. Reduced staff quotas at the weekends, cost cutting on tests etc means if there is no one complaining loud enough, no diagnosis might be made. It ruins the 'truth' that when you are ill doctors make you better.
At the same time, Honestly is experiencing the justice process in court this week. To us who know the case it is obvious that the victim was a vulnerable young child, attacked, and the perpetrator is a really unpleasant man. However what else is clear is that due to certain rules, a minimal amount of actual concrete evidence, and the way the system works, it would seem highly likely that what we consider justice will not occur. The police cannot protect you, nor always get you justice.
The world is a dark place when you realise just how alone you are. What truth can you cling to?
Luckily for me, I believe that there is an awesome God surrounding us. An all powerful father figure who is above the law and social rules so can achieve justice. A clever magician who knows all your intricate workings at a glance.
Still it's odd to realise that there is no human structure above you that can protect you and keep safe.
There's no Santa Claus either.
I can clearly remember a time in my teenage years when I realised that my parents didn't know everything, and in fact, I knew more than them (oh yeah I'm a conceited child). A few years later I began to realise that my parents were actually their own people making their own personal choices and that perhaps on occasion I was more more emotionally intelligent than them (do I sound vain?) realising that those above you don't necessarily make the right decision all the time can make you feel that bit more vulnerable in a dark and difficult world.
I've adapted to this. To the vulnerability of knowing that your parents are not all knowing and protecting.
I feel that a large contributor to Lovely's low mental health this summer was the development of a feeling that doctors cannot always make you better. In fact they might not even be able to diagnose your problem. She was suffering from sever bleeding but they couldn't work out why, and often when she wasn't in pain, or complaining they didn't care. Reduced staff quotas at the weekends, cost cutting on tests etc means if there is no one complaining loud enough, no diagnosis might be made. It ruins the 'truth' that when you are ill doctors make you better.
At the same time, Honestly is experiencing the justice process in court this week. To us who know the case it is obvious that the victim was a vulnerable young child, attacked, and the perpetrator is a really unpleasant man. However what else is clear is that due to certain rules, a minimal amount of actual concrete evidence, and the way the system works, it would seem highly likely that what we consider justice will not occur. The police cannot protect you, nor always get you justice.
The world is a dark place when you realise just how alone you are. What truth can you cling to?
Luckily for me, I believe that there is an awesome God surrounding us. An all powerful father figure who is above the law and social rules so can achieve justice. A clever magician who knows all your intricate workings at a glance.
Still it's odd to realise that there is no human structure above you that can protect you and keep safe.
There's no Santa Claus either.
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