Geriatric Mummy, Author at Musings from a Geriatric Mummy

Humour

When David was about 3, he had clearly found something behind the sofa that he desperately wanted to share because he shouted, “Everyone, look at me. I’ve had an idea.” We turned to find him holding a lightbulb above his head and giggling madly. He was 3! When I was 3, I’d probably have tried to stick it up my nose and here David was doing visual gags.

Besides the visual humour, as David has now turned 6, he is very keen to share hilarious stories about poo. I know these are hilarious because he is rolling on the floor and laughing as he tells me about the game in the playground called ‘hunt the poo’. David’s laugh can make me laugh so I think he’s happy that I am appreciating his jokes, but I just don’t get them! I have read several articles that tell me the toilet jokes should be over by the time he is seven. David is also at the age when he is experimenting with puns, and he will check with me to see if something that was said is a pun. I find this development of humour fascinating but my role in it worries me a little.

Since my first few weeks of teaching when I discovered that small children really don’t understand the subtlety behind sarcasm (apart from one fabulous 6-year-old who used to try it out on me), I have tried to never use it in the classroom. However, because David is so bright and clued-up, I do forget myself and say things such as “Yes, of course it’s fine not to wear a jumper or coat in this blizzard!” The fact that he tries to leave the house like that is either because he hasn’t recognised the tone I’ve used or (and more likely), he’s identified the sarcasm and he’s using it to get away with wearing no jumper or coat. Apparently, children start to identify sarcasm at about 5 or 6 but don’t really understand why people use it until they are older. (Why it’s difficult for children to understand sarcasm (theconversation.com))

I use humour constantly. I use it to make people smile, I use it to deflect pain, I use it to ease tension, I use it to praise others. I don’t think I have ever used it to hurt someone but unintentionally I may have.

My siblings and I were raised by the queen of sarcasm. It was ever present in the way we spoke about and to each other, but it was always underpinned by love. It never felt like sugar coated criticism. As David’s role model, do I want him to grow up with a flair for sarcasm as I did, or do I want to moderate the sarcasm and focus on the toilet humour? It never ceases to amaze me how many ways we can potentially mess up our children and how many aspects I can worry about!

Resolutions

person holding blue ballpoint pen writing in notebook

It’s almost the end of January so a huge well done to anyone who has kept up their new year resolutions. Apparently, it’s very much a young persons’ game. According to Forbes research, 51% of people aged 18 – 34 planned to set new year’s resolutions in 2024 compared to 34% aged 25 – 54 and 12% aged 55+. If I look at my history with resolutions, that’s probably a reflection of how often and how quickly they have been abandoned over the years or perhaps, more positively, a reflection that as we get older, we get happier with who we are?

A few of the other stats that I enjoyed are:

Liverpool had the highest number of resolutionists 40% and Brighton the fewest at 16%.
Unsurprisingly, the top four goals are ‘exercise more’, ‘lose weight’, ‘improve diet’ & ‘financial goals’ which I assume would all help to achieve the number 5 goal – ‘reduce stress’.
1% track their goal through a spreadsheet. (This would be me)
21% drop out by February and 6% succeed in maintaining their resolution for 9 – 12 months (This would not be me)

I have always struggled with New Years resolutions. To be fair, I’ve always struggled with resolutions at any time. Having been diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes about a year and a half ago, I panicked and managed to change my eating habits to successfully lose over 2 stone. My tests then showed that I was at pre-diabetic levels. I relaxed and 6 months later am back at the same weight. I’m now determined to lose it again over the next 6 months, but my resolution is very changeable. It is always helped by David of course. The other night, I was settling him down to sleep and he laughed and said you have a big tummy but little legs. (My weight does definitely settle round the waist – imagine a Halloween pumpkin costume with skinny stalk legs). I pointed out that yes, I was working on that, and he said then you will be skinny as spaghetti. I said that this was unlikely due to my love of chocolate and David assured me that he was going to get Daddy to hide all the chocolate in the house. At least I will use up energy hunting for it.

I will continue to try and change my lifestyle and stick to my goals but it’s hard and if it’s hard for me, I’m pretty sure it is hard for everyone so please don’t kick yourself if you have already broken your resolution. Brush yourself off and try again at any point of the year you like.

There is one resolution that appeared on my list every year for 20 years – ‘get pregnant’. I finally kept one 😊

Time flies

There have been two instances this week that have made me think about the speeding up of time.

David turned 6 on Wednesday which is impossible because surely he should only be turning 5 and then David himself told me that he will be 7 in a year’s time which makes sense, but 7 is almost grown up and out of the infants so that shouldn’t be happening for at least another five years.

Then, today we went to see Father Christmas and had a lovely lunch out. We were happily chatting when he tried to say almost casually, as if he didn’t want to offend me;

“Mummy, I think that you might be older than the other mummies at dance class.” I could see my husband hunkering down, keen to see how this played out.

“I think I probably am older than them.”

“That’s because you were born in the 70s and daddy was born in the 60s.” I agreed and thought I would try and find out why this had come up. My husband is still looking to see if I have started blubbing yet.

“Do you think it is a problem that I am older than the other mummies?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are going to die before them.” Nothing I could say to that other than wishing an early death on the other mummies which wouldn’t really be fair. My eyes started to well up. Daddy spotted it and did nothing to help. However, David leapt in with the tear stopping:

“I’ve got loads of years left though.” And carried on nonchalantly with his beans on toast.

As a geriatric mummy, it has always been my worry that we would leave him too soon but time definitely seems to be going faster than I expected.

I have read articles about the reasons behind why we feel time going faster as we get older e.g. Why Time Goes By Faster As We Age | Psychology Today and this article Why Time Flies Faster With Age (and How to Slow It Down) (webmd.com) includes suggestions on how to slow time down again that I intend to try and follow:

Take time to reflect on joyful experiences
Listen to what’s happening in your friend’s and family’s lives
Focus on your breathing

And the best one of all:

View the world the way a 4-year-old would.

Who’s with me, let’s experience the world around us, talk about it, ask questions and tell someone you love at the end of the day about the amazing things you have experienced.

Model

With the hormonal glow from having just had a baby, it’s perfectly understandable that you are now fully aware that your baby is the most beautiful baby that ever existed. More beautiful than Helen of Troy, your baby couldn’t just launch a 1000 ships, their beauty is such that they could bring peace on earth. Or was that just me?

Before having David, I couldn’t really see the beauty of babies – This could have stemmed from my desperately wanting one and so choosing not to look too closely at anyone else’s in case I was overcome by a wave of jealousy, stole said baby and headed out for a life on the run.

However, now all babies look gorgeous to me but mine – well he was the most gorgeous.

It is in that wave of post-natal euphoria that the photographers descend. Firstly at the hospital itself! I’m overcome with emotion already, I don’t know how to feed properly, there is a beautiful baby next to me that makes me weep and a stranger is telling me that he is beautiful and would I like to buy the 400 photo package or the cheaper 20 package with Perspex coasters, fridge magnets and key rings. The fact that our fridge was built-in and so the magnets would not work brought me back into reality and I opted for a few very lovely (but still pretty expensive) photos.

I was still convinced as he grew that David was the most beautiful child ever so when I saw an opening for child models at about 3 months, I thought why not! Let’s get him working now before he even realises it, earn him a fortune and he can relax as he gets older with university fees paid and a house deposit ready to go. So apparently, the first thing we had to do was get some professional photos taken – this was with a photographer 100 miles away. Not a problem, my baby boy is going to blow them away in the Baby Boden catalogue. We paid for the (pretty expensive) photos, got some copies and they said they would send the photos off to the agency who would be in touch.

He’s 6 in a couple of weeks and I’m still waiting!

To be fair, he’s still absolutely gorgeous but he would have been a rubbish model. He knocked his front teeth out when he was three and it takes me about an hour to get him changed, and that’s just one outfit.

Birthday Parties (or Fear 2)

David switched schools in September. His Reception Year was in the very small local school. It was a class of Reception & Year 1 children – 9 children in total and David was the youngest. Seemingly there were no birthday parties as everyone in Reception had already celebrated their birthday, unless of course he wasn’t invited. However, when I took David for his second day at the new school, a little girl came up to us and handed David a party invitation. I could have cried with happiness for him.

Along with the joy came the fear – my usual worry of not fitting in with the other parents and blowing his friendships. The day of the party came. David was super excited. He insisted on making a present to go along with the present we had bought. I think he painted a bit of a cardboard box for her. Then came the adult talk: “We don’t both need to go.” “You’re better at these things than I am.” “You’re better at parking.” “If I go, I’ll need to go and wash my hair.” “If I go, I’ll be grumpy because the football is on.” “I bet you no other dads are there.”

We both went.

I had asked a friend if there were any suggestions for a party gift for a little girl and she recommended stacking up with a selection of gifts so there is always one ready to go. Anyway, I’m a Lego freak so we now have about 15 small Lego sets ready to go and on the plus side, if David alienates everyone and gets no more invites, we will have lots of Lego to do together.

At the party I discovered that although I can control and teach a class of 30 ten and eleven year olds, it turns out that my 5 year old son will blatantly ignore my requests to stop running around the hall trying to tackle other small boys. This was particularly pleasing when in a social situation in front of many parents who are chatting in a civilised manner while their children listen and join in delightfully with the paid entertainer. I’m not sure quite what helicopter parenting is but I think I was way too in his face convinced that he was the most badly behaved child there. He may well have been, but maybe all parents think that because you are focused on your child in particular?

Anyway, we have now planned his birthday party. The invites are out. The church hall is available. The entertainer is booked, and I’ve made a spreadsheet for allergies and parent/child names (besides the Lego nerdiness, I do love a spreadsheet). The excitement was palpable as the first replies came in – mine and my husband’s probably more than David’s. So far we have had nine acceptances which we are very pleased with bearing in mind our village is a 15 minute drive away from the school. We are starting to believe that our little boy’s first birthday party will be everything he wants – dancing, prizes and balloons. I’m just relieved that it won’t be just the three of us and mummy getting drunk in the corner with the balloon modelling entertainer. Although the latter is still a possibility.

Any advice on birthday parties – let me know in the comments and I will share. I’ll also let you know how the party goes 😊

Fear

‘DD5’ and ‘DS7’ – it took me ages to work out what these stood for when I first encountered parent pages. I struggle to use the term (DS5 stands for Darling Son aged 5) not because David isn’t the most precious thing in the whole world but because to me it sounds really insincere! I know it’s just a convention but I am tempted to put S5 on a site and see if anyone asks me why he isn’t my ‘darling’ son.

Anyway, that’s just an aside. I wanted to talk about fear today. There was so much joy and happiness at David’s arrival (having waited so long), but with that came the fear of losing him which can seem all encompassing at times. When you see the news and the horrific happenings to children around the world whether from famines, trafficking or war, I know how lucky we are to live in this country but the fear continues. Strangers who might take him away, a traffic accident that might take him from me, being swept away before he can swim. I could go on and on.

The concept of David choking on a grape at 10 months terrified me. The idea that the grape shape was ideal to get stuck in the throat and cause a vacuum so it couldn’t be removed meant that I didn’t just cut them in half when he was little, I did quarters. I would have done eighths but there wouldn’t have been much left to eat. David has dealt with this example of my paranoia remarkably well and will now come up to me with a grape and bite it in half in front of me just to reassure (bless him).

However, I think I have really messed up with swimming. I wanted David to swim from birth – you read about toddlers who have saved themselves by hanging on to the edge of a pool just like they did in baby swimming classes. So that’s what we did. We did swimming classes together until he was a year old. It was going well even if I had to appear in public in a swimsuit, but then the fabulous days of maternity leave ended and so did the swimming. I tried again when he was 3 and I found a weekend class and I think that’s when my paranoia really affected him. I was so scared of him getting complacent beside a pool or pond because he thought he could swim that I would talk about how he could drown. He took it to heart. Move on two years and he won’t take his feet off the floor, won’t lean back in the water and never puts his chin in. Group swimming lessons were going nowhere, and I still have the fear that he’s going to drown and it will all be my fault because I was afraid he was going to drown!! I am sure there are many more ways I am going to impact on his psyche as he grows up. I’m just hoping they will mostly be positive.

However, there is hope at the end of the swimming tunnel! He has now had six 1:1 swimming lessons and last week lay on his back and kicked his feet. Also, I’m spending all our money on private swimming lessons so there won’t be any holidays for a while so no worries about the pool.

Transitions

Big changes over the last couple of weeks. Unfortunately, David’s very sweet village school has no wrap around provision and the childminder we had been using decided to quit over the summer. I am due to start full time work again on Monday and we had tried everything to make it so that he could stay at his school. This even went as far as approaching the head with my own plan to set up provision provided by my husband. The plan seemed workable, and I completed a week long government funded business course to get my head round self-employment. We just needed enough parents to make it viable, but sadly that was not to be.

As a result, last Monday David started at a brand new school. 200+ children in the school as opposed to 37 as David was quick to point out to me when he received a certificate in front of the whole school. “There were 220 children looking at me!!” We initially visited after school one day with David to have a look around and prepare him for the move. We then discovered from some work David had done in his initial school that he was anxious because he hadn’t seen any children at the new school, so we did a quick additional visit to reassure him that there were children and to briefly meet his teacher.

I am a firm follower of the six principles of nurture and at my last school, successfully gained it recognition as a ‘National Nurturing School’. One of the principles is ‘The Importance of Transition in children’s lives’ so I was kicking myself when I realised how he felt because I should have known better.

This led me to think about transitions and the last year for my family. Transitions are hard for everyone. Invariably the anxiety and stress they cause pass as the transition ends but it is important to realise how much of an impact they have on you at the time. In the last year, we have moved house, moved to a different area of the country, started school, changed school, travelled away on my own, lost a cat, gained two kittens, started supply teaching, ended supply teaching, ended a career, about to start a new career. What hasn’t changed has been the three of us. We support and love each other through everything. In fact, in July, my husband and I celebrated 25 years of marriage.

How do we get through changes? We discuss and prepare as much as possible. Not only for David but for us too – talking about the possibilities. What could happen? What is definitely going to happen? What shall we do if this happens? What’s the worst that could happen? And inevitably, the worst that could happen is never as bad as you think it could be before you talk it through.

This is a link to a blog about the principles of nurture and specifically the one on transition for young people if you are interested in reading more (from proper scientific people!): Nurture Principle 6: The importance of Transitions (epinsight.com)

The Miracle of Life

I was wondering what to write about today and couldn’t decide between the miracle of life (which includes embarrassing information about David) or the difficulties of transition. However, yesterday David said I had a big tummy because I eat too much chocolate so he’s getting the embarrassing stuff.

Children do say the most amazing and unexpected things. I am overweight and I accept that children are honest and note these things and comment on them, not intending to cause any upset but just because that’s the way things are.

What I did not expect is David’s obsession with marks and blemishes on my body. I have a charm bracelet that digs in and leaves marks when I sleep so that often, in the mornings, David will check my wrist to see if I am blemished. If I’ve been leaning on something or my leg has been pressed against a table, he will come and have a good long look to check that the mark is fading. I thought this was all sweet and lovely but now he has progressed to my armpits!! If I’m wearing a short sleeve, he will check underneath and make an objection if there are hairs there. Now, I’m of an age and make-up that the very fact I have hair growing is a joy. I just wish it was on my head.

The reason I am sharing this with you is that not long ago, in a crowded restaurant, before I realised what was happening, David had lifted my sleeve up, stuck his head under my arm and in a loud voice said “Uggh mummy, that’s disgusting.” Mortifying to me, amusing to all the other tables around us.

“How does this link into the miracle of life?” I hear you mumble. Well, I originally set up the blog as a sort of diary for David and I was never sure if I would put in the true miracle of his creation or save it to embarrass him and his father at a later date but the armpit comment has decided me.

As you know, if you have read the earlier posts, David was born via IUI using an egg from a donor and his father’s sperm. His father was particularly proud of the motility of his sperm – all ten eggs were fertilised (as he still proceeds to tell me proudly). However, that particular collection of sperm (so David in his most basic form), nearly didn’t make it. His daddy dropped him in the toilet! He and his fellow wrigglers (and the open pot they were in) were fortunately rescued and handed over to the scientists. Imagine if the angle it had tipped at had been a few degrees more! The miracle of life!

Screentime

It’s been ages since my last post. We have been very caught up in the school holidays which end on Tuesday. Today daddy has taken David to the local theme park so I can catch up on my ‘work’ screentime.

We had a lovely camping holiday where there was definitely less screentime but not no screentime.

I believe there are two issues with our screentime:

Is David spending too much time on a screen?
Are Chris and I spending too much time on a screen?

I believe the answer to both those questions is probably yes.

Chris and I met in Japan in 1994. We both discovered a passion for Sega mega drive games. In Tokyo there were entire centres devoted to games. It was all new and incredibly exciting. Chris and I are also incredibly competitive. On one occasion, we were arguing over who was best at the various games. This degenerated into a full-on challenge where we stayed up all night playing every single game we had (I know, not the coolest reason to stay up all night) and had to call in sick the next day as we didn’t finish until 8am. Incidentally, it was a draw!!

Chris and I both continue to enjoy gaming. I have played Call of Duty in the past and much to Chris’ amusement attempted to physically peer around corners on the screen. It doesn’t work. Chris the other day tried to move his fingers apart and zoom in on the map he was looking at. Turns out that doesn’t work on a paper map!

Neither of us are addicted to gaming, we simply enjoy it.

Unfortunately, David discovered Minecraft about 6 months ago. He is under the age recommendation, but I allowed him on (despite as a teacher moaning every time a child mentioned a game they were too young for) because I believed I could monitor it and stop if it was too scary. Monitoring was fine but what I wasn’t prepared for was the change in David’s behaviour. He was more lethargic, snappier and wanted to spend his whole time on the game, so we banned it. We also banned YouTube where he was watching other people play games!

I have taught siblings of teens with gaming addiction and the stories I had heard made me extremely stressed about David’s reaction.

The total ban worked to a degree but it was clearly still on his mind as he would ask every day if he had been good enough to have some time on Minecraft. So, worried that complete separation would make it impossibly desirable, we gradually gave limited time on the game. I think this worked as he now uses the I-pad for lots of things and doesn’t spend his whole screen time on Minecraft.

He probably still has too much time on screens, but the problem is that it is so easy. I know I need to do better and I know we need to be better role models. We also need to do it now before the screen becomes the only thing David wants to look at.

person holding game pad — Photo by EVG Kowalievska on Pexels.com

Friendships

I don’t know if I am the only parent who worries about this, but I am concerned that I may jeopardise my son’s friendships. It may sound like an odd paranoia after all, I’m not in the sand tray telling the other children not to play with David. However, I am the adult who is supposed to communicate smoothly and effectively with the adults belonging to the other small people.

Unfortunately, I am quite introverted and struggle to go up to other people and make conversation. It seems to me that everyone else at the school gate is confident to talk to anyone. It may be more challenging because we are in a tiny village, and I think everyone probably knew each other for years before we moved here in November but I am struggling. I don’t want David to miss out on anything because I am not confident enough to ensure he is involved.

Another issue is my worries about David’s friendship skills. I don’t think lockdown helped. David obviously didn’t go to other children’s houses and we had maybe one or two playdates before we moved here. He has had a few playdates with some new friends but when they came to our house, he struggled hugely with sharing his toys and got upset when they wouldn’t follow his ideas and rules. He has apparently been mean at school and told some children they can’t play with him. This is something we and the school are working with him on to make sure he can have successful friendships. The school have a role – ELSA (Emotional Literacy Support Assistant) who will be doing some work with David in the new school year.

Meanwhile, David has struck up a close friendship with another child and has asked me if he can go on a playdate. This has struck fear into me. I would have to talk to this parent and make sure my social etiquette was up to scratch and also my concern is that it’s a small school. If David is having friendship issues, then maybe they all know because their children have gone home and said something. Maybe they are all writing off my challenging, clever boy who is only five and just starting to understand how to make friends and play with others. I hope not and I hope I am just being paranoid because I want him to be a good friend and I want him to have amazing friendships.