The last post was a month or so ago, so I reckon if I tell myself to just aim for the goal of publishing one post per month, I could actually achieve it, and thereby get rid of those “I feel bad because I’m not writing as many blog posts and feel really lazy which makes me feel even worse so I’m just not in the mood to write at the moment and what’s another week of not writing when I haven’t written in such a long time” feelings. Know what I mean? You writers who only write when inspiration takes you but secretly want to be wanting to write all the time will empathise.
Aim low, exceed expectations and repeat until you get to the ideal frequency of writing. Which is
all the damned time more than once a month. Good plan, DM.
I have so many so called great ideas for posts that pop into my head, but by the time I come to actually logging in to WordPress and click on “new post”, I experience blogger’s block. Is there such a term? Can I claim rights on that term? No. Not according to google. See, if I had been writing with greater frequency I could have been the first one. Does that it even matter?
So, onto life update. Amazing M has been exactly that and more (much much more) these summer holidays. Summer break is quite long in Europe, six weeks to be precise and I have one and a half glorious weeks left to entertain my little angel at little cost to my equanimity and mental health. If you could only see my additions on my Vivino app, you’d understand the secret to my inner peace. For those of you who don’t know what kind of app that is, it’s one for wine. WINE. The more M whines (which currently amounts to eleventeen hundred minutes of the day) the more DM wines. Not to worry, friends. I drink in the evening when she’s in bed and it’s usually not more than a couple of (big) glasses. And people who see her on play dates and catch ups: she’s only showing you her cuteness. It can be another story at home or at the shops with mama. Parents will relate.
As much as I whine about M’s whining, I’m also re-falling in love with my little Mona (har har). Her inquisitiveness and intelligence when it doesn’t annoy just astounds me. Can I give you an example? No, another one of those great ideas to put in a blog moments sucked into the black hole of procrastination. That and the lovely glass of red I’m currently enjoying. Who’s got time to remember stuff when you’re just so in the moment of savouring a Sangiovese? But when you get a chance to converse with M, you’ll understand what I mean. And her sense of humour… Sarcastic and cheeky just like papa. She’s slowly developing wit which is her mother’s domain. Or at least I like to think I’m somewhat witty*. The past month has been long so you gotta give me that one.
Till the next one!
*in reality it could be mistaken for corny. But right now I’ll go with wit.
Sometimes when it gets a little challenging at bed-times, getting ready times and ‘Please, help me eat it’ times, I exercise the “one day she will retch at the thought of me trying to help her eat her lunch/put her pyjamas on” technique. Or the “relish it now when you can” practice. ‘Being present in the moment’ is too grand a phrase to describe the situation where I’m trying to accept the moaning and stalling tactics whilst I trying best to keep my eyeballs firmly on M lest my insane desire to let my eyes roll take me into dangerous passive aggressive territory.
But now that she’s moving towards the magical fours (I’m promised by friends, acquaintances and the internet!!!), I’m starting to really enjoy mothering more. Tantrums are, fingers crossed, getting better. Or perhaps it’s that I’m getting better at managing my temper and reactions and tactics, which involve being firm and sticking to your guns. NEVER EVER go back on your
threat word. EVER. E V E R. M has the memory of an elephant and in the words of a dear friend, you just cannot negotiate with terrorists.
We have semi- decent conversations. Where we actually converse. She also calls me out when I half heartedly say, “Uh-huh” at the wrong time. “Not gooed mama”. (That’s how she pronounces good). We talk about birthday plans, Thailand and share opinions on clothing when we go window shopping. And sometimes we just walk in silence, hand in hand, enjoying what the city of Frankfurt has to offer at the Zeil: Minnie and Mickey Mouse charging a buck to have pics taken with them, buskers, beggars and junkies civilly begging for drug money. Thankfully M hasn’t started asking questions about the beggars…
She’s such a big girl now. And her hair!!! via deliciousmother.com
And now that I’ve written about how well it’s going with us of late, there might just be another post tomorrow excusing this post.
Our decision for me to look after Amazing M for her first three years was a good one. For us. Let me stress to you how much this decision was affected by our personal circumstances and my desire to be her sole carer in the early years.
And let me also stress to you that there were many times I felt doing any sort of work, like, say cleaning nightclub toilets, would be better than the tedium, tantrums and Mr Tumble* involved in looking after a kid full time. But it goes without saying that I’ve had the most precious time with M. I’ve had more laughs and good tears than sad tears, and as cliched as it sounds, I think she makes me want to be a better person. Just don’t talk to me about it at that time of the month.
bag full of things on her ‘things to bring’ list. via deliciousmother
Well, those precious days of just doing whatever, whenever are officially over. Amazing M had her first day at kindergarten and she didn’t shed a single tear when I left her with her classmates. Refused to kiss me or say good-bye. Gee, thanks, M. Thank goodness you’re not old enough to realise you’ve got another 831 weeks of education before mama and papa bid you, “Auf Widersehen” at the airport for your gap year abroad.
As you so often say to me, “Ha-Ha!”
* This guy here. He makes my friend want to punch him in the face. Harsh, but I’d have to agree.