I read a lot of parenting books and when I say a lot, I really do mean that! I will read anything and everything to get ideas or form opinions, I'm not selective, I don't pass judgement until I have read it and understand what the author is all about. That being said I have concluded after a lot of books that the author, though perfectly entitled to their own opinion, has absolutely no idea what they are talking about! If you haven't already guessed, or read, I abslutely love Gissela Preuschoff. Whilst the article on single parenting in her book is only small, it pack a whole lot of punch and realy helps me to feel validated and proactive about ensuring my daughter has all the experiences and primary relationships that she needs to ensure she is a balanced, well-grounded individual.
One of the things Preuschoff conveys is an awesome tool, for any girl, not just one from a single parent home, is to own a horse. I grew up hearing my dad tell me, after having asked him a billion and one times, I'm sure, that "Poverty is owning a horse, Erin". So I never got to experience what exactly Preuschoff was talking about when she reports that a special bond will grow between your daughter and the horse. I did get to ride a horse once, Ebony, and she ran me into a low lying branch on a grade 5 camp. Not much bonding went on that day, maybe she knew I was a cat person at heart. Despite this if I had the money and Hilary had the want I would buy a horse in a flash just to add another facet to the gem that is her life, to ensure the lustre isn't blemished just because I am single mummy. Ever since visiting some cousins in Blacktown ( I come from a classy sort of stock!), who had recently adopted a puppy from the poud Hilary, has wanted a puppy. Originally my, very hesitant, answer was no, as we are currently sharing a house with Mum, Dad, Aunty and 4 cats (who get along about as well as we humans do crammed into this house). However, I recieved fantastic news that I will be recieving, in one form or another, housing assistance from the government and will be placed within the next couple of months, in time for Hilary's birthday! So, when she found out we were moving you can guess what her first question was. She is only 33 months old but she doesn't miss anything, I put that down to a definate positive of single parenting, I'm told by some of my girlfriends that it's a definate positive of having a girl, but I'm not convinced, I'd love a little Prince Charming! But I digress, so now my answer, that has become almost robotic in delivery for being asked so much, is "We can get a puppy if we have a garden for him to run around in". This seems to satisfy the little one for about 5 nano-seconds before she ask s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g else about getting a puppy, or, as she like to call it, I'm convinced just because it makes me laugh, a 'poopy dog'. I'm kidding myself sitting her trying to convince myself if we don't have room for a puppy, life will be ok. But I've grown up with cats, didn't get a horse because apparetnly that propells you into peverty sticken straights and a dog was out of the question for my feline loving parents. And thus, if I look at myself plainly in the face, I have become one of these parents who really doesn't mind what pet my darling daughter wants, if I have the money she can have it. After all, my first pet and I had a lot of great, awesome memories together. I thinkPreuschoff's advice on getting a horse is a bit far out of reach for some, if not most, families but I do think that a dog would be the next best thing to provide companionship, a sense of responsibility and a whole lot of love to a little girl... or boy. So that's the main thing on Hilary's (and my!) Christmas list for 2010... keep your figers crossed for us! Until Next Time, Soul Mum xo
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 Hilary and Cloud- Her Kimochi Doll! I wanted to write a quick ‘interim blog’ while some busy little people work on my site to make it bigger and better. I have been reduced to tapping this out in word but whatever, as long as it gets to you guys!! (Edit: Woohoo, I can finally post this to my blog!)
For Hilary’s second birthday a family friend gave her a Kimochi Doll. It is, to say the very, very least, absolutely fantastic! I recommend that if ever you either come across one or have the money to splurge on one they are well worth it! What on Earth is a Kimochi Doll? It is a Japanese creation (Kimochi meaning feelings in Japanese) that aims to provide children with a way of positively expressing their emotions. Through the use of a main doll and three smaller ‘Kimochi’s’ the child is encouraged to, when experiencing an emotion, say anger, to identify his/her feeling by placing the angry Kimochi in the pouch of the main doll. The parent then has the opportunity to, depending on the child’s level of understanding, talk and encourage the child to deal with the emotion positively. For anger, it may be to sit in his/her favourite spot and do some silly breathing exercises. How will this help my child? Children, like adults, experience all kinds of emotions. The only difference being that children don’t always have the language to inform an adult of their feelings and often don’t fully comprehend what it is they are feeling and how to process it. Kimochi dolls are there to give the child a voice and help the parent/ teacher/ counsellor/ caregiver an idea of what exactly is happening. By using the Kimochi doll with your child you will be opening up the dialogue between the two of you so that your child will learn that it is ok to feel angry, scared or shy and will give you an opportunity to share with them some ways of coping with what it is they are feeling. Example, please!? Hilary is really scared of loud noises and unfortunately we live right near both the fire and ambulance station so whenever one of the sirens start up Hilary literally drops whatever she is doing and runs to me with fear and panic plastered across her tiny, little face. Having the Kimochi doll has really helped because, whilst our Kimochi, Cloud, doesn’t have a “scared” mini-doll, having Cloud there, and Hilary knowing what she is all about, has opened up a forum for us to talk about how she is feeling and how to cope with it. I’ve made up my own mini Kimochi for the “scared” feeling as it is vital for Hilary. But I digress, Hilary gets cloud when she is scared, hugs her and that is my cue to gently promote the idea of a coping mechanism, for Hilary it has been standing at the gate with mummy and waving as the nice fireman or paramedic drives by to help the people who are in trouble. Have you got a child with Autism or Developmental Delays? If so, Kimochi dolls could be a great comfort not only to you but to your child. Studies have shown that children with Autism or Developmental Delays respond well to Kimochi dolls and the idea of being able to express themselves when otherwise they have limited means of doing so. I love Hilary’s Kimochi Doll, in the land of parenting it is fantastic, but in the land of single parenting it is damn near awesome! Single parents will back me up when I say we hold tight to anything that will ensure our child/ children have some form of normality to their lives and when there is only one of you to decipher the crazy screams and cries of an emotional child a Kimochi doll could be the difference between a day spent with a grumpy, whingey child or a moment the two of you can bond and your child can learn, with love, how to deal. Want to find out some more? Head on over to the Kimochi’s official website by cliking here, maybe even start whittling away some money and buy Kimochi doll’s for your little angels for Christmas- it’s a valuable investment in your child! Until Next Time, Soul Mum :) As a single mum time poor is one of the words that describes me perfectly and never more so then when I have a toothbrush in hand trying my darndest to get the little one to agree to open her mouth and have her teeth brushed. So far I have had my fingers chomped on, water spat at me, a crying child who has banged her head on the basin in her mad attempt to clamber away from the dreaded toothbrush. I've bought Wiggles, Dora and Deigo toothbrushes and even showered her with stickers and rewards charts, but to no avail. I've played the "you brush mummy's teeth and I'll brush your teeth" game, brushed the dolls teeth, sung the songs and even, at one of my lowest points, played the small except from Grease at Marty's pajama party where Jan sings along to the Ipana toothpaste commercial- it didn't catch on, I've never been much of a trend setter! I've read just about every book known to man on the myriad ways that can be adopted to help 'teach' your toddler to brush their teeth with enthusiasm, I even forked out a whole $5 to send her to the singing dentist show at day care, hoping it would be enough of a persuasion to end the wars that often ensue around teeth brushing time. Who was I kidding? I should have kept my money for the holiday jar that is looking ever so bare. I'll definately need a holiday with all the tantrums this one throws!
Tonight was like no other, the sulking started this time included was intermittent little yelps of "nope" in between the spasmodic sounding high pitched whining. So in my frustration at her sullen attitude and in a desperate attempt to find s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g that engaged her long enough for her to open her mouth I told her to scream at me. First we screamed "aaaahhh" together so I could brush right at the back and then we screamed "eeeee" together so I could concentrate on the front of her teeth and it worked! I couldn't believe it! We ended our teeth brushing session laughing at all the different types of noises we could come up with and what shape our mouths are in when we make them. My realisation tonight was that I obviously still take some of the more mundane activities of life far too seriously, my baby was simple telling me in her on special way to "lighten up, Mum!" And so, as per her request, I'll definately be using this method from now on, however noisy it may be. As for the neighbours, well the last two nights I've had to endure their son fussing for up to 2 hours about goodness only knows, probably another child who needs a little convincing to brush his teeth, I think they can put up with two minutes of, as she likes to call them, 'noisy teeth'. Who knows, if it turns out his little episodes are about brushing teeth, I might just share my little secret! No one could ever convince me that parenting is a dull job! Until next time, Soul Mum I was having a shower this morning and my daughter decided to 'help' me which of course meant more hindering than 'helping'. Her helping included opening and closing the shower curtain to let the water cascade over the bathroom floor, taking the soap for taste testing and puling down towels to sop up the lake that had now formed on the floor, all things I am sure you are very familiar with. Everything was going along swimmingly, no pun intended, when she spotted a spider! You have to know that my bathroom is a kind of makeshift after thought to the house that we are living in. It has painted brick walls and bare copper piping and in some areas has gaps around the exit pipes for basins and the like. That being said it is all plumbed properly and safe for little fingers, just, as I said before, a bit of an afterthought. Thus I spend most of my time spraying crunchy crawler around the open parts in the bathroom to try and deter any potential visitors. With the recent rain, it has obviously been diluted and hence our creepy, little critter was able to enter unscathed. It was quite a spectacular sight to witness as I peered around the shower curtain trying to stop more water from getting everywhere. She stopped dead in her tracks, did a little on the spot dance as she flit from one foot to the other on tip toes with her fingers in her mouth in an sort of over exaggerated, mime style frightened face. I didn't realise what exactly she was going on about until her frantic toe tapping changed to frantic finger wagging and a tiny, high-pitched; "mummy, spider!"
Spiders are one of my top five 'things that are worthy of running out of a room screaming about', so I felt for her but I just couldn't muster up the courage to move as soon as she uttered that dreaded word! My mind raced, first thinking "Come on you’re a mother now, grow some kahunas!", then "I could throw a towel on it and then jump on it". After rendering both those choices inferior I came to what I thought was my last resort, take the shower head down and trying to drown the sucker! All the while the little person's cries have gotten louder and more shrill and her tip toe dance had returned, this time accompanied by the frantic, wagging finger. Calmly, or acting as such, I looked her in the eye, still peering around the corner of the shower curtain keeping all the water in, in a desperate attempt to ensure the spider doesn't catch on to my plan. I tell her "Bubba, stop crying and open the door and go find your Aunty" Her tears keep pouring down her cheeks as I try to open the door of the bathroom without disturbing our little visitor to offer a visual cue to the instructions that she obviously hasn't received over her wailing. That proved enough of a persuasion as she toddled off screaming for her Aunty, which left me alone with a spider in a room strewn with soggy towels, chunks of soap and about 2cm of water covering the tiles. Hiding behind my flimsy shower curtain I talked myself through what I was going to do, pick up the shower head, open the shower curtain and aim it at the spider. I armed myself with said shower head, flung back the curtain and sprayed, with, of course, the obligatory tongue biting action required of someone concentrating really hard. However, the spider seemed to have had some sort of premonition as he had a game plan as well and it involved charging straight at me, and I should have guess that an insect with eight legs would be quite light on his feet but I hadn't and before I knew it he and I were standing no more than 30cm away, staring at each other. I don't know about him but my heart was racing. I now know how events such as a simple argument or a seemingly harmless burglary can end in murder because at that moment something inside me just snapped. I was scared, I was mad, I was cold, I was wet and my bathroom was flooded so I took the shower head that was still in hand and I whacked that spider! I whacked until the only evidence of him having ever come to visit was a small chip in the white paint on my ‘oh so stylish’ brick walls. I don't think I will paint over that chip, it will serve as a reminder to any other spider that dare enter my bathroom to shelter from the weather- you are taking your life into your own hands. This brings me to the reason I am writing this. Is fear of certain things something that is born or bred into us? The first time my baby saw a spider she would have been about 6 months and she kicked up a furious racket as she crawled and tumbled and commando rolled as fast as her little legs would let her across the linoleum floor, but before then she had never been around when I had come across one of our delightful visitors, thus had never witnessed one of my own flailing tantrums. Which has made me wonder where she has picked up her fear from? Thinking on it further I believe she is probably sensitive to my changes in feelings. I know when I am feeling particularly horrible and wanting to cry she will come up without any warning and ask me if I am ok. I know when I am at uni I can tell when she is crying or hurting because I get a sunken, 'not right' feeling in my gut. Perhaps it is born in us as children that we are tuned into our parents’ feelings as a preservation method. What do you think? Born or Bred? I better get back to my bathroom and clean up the flood, sodden towels and floating soap pieces. Until Next Time, Soul Mum xo I have been scared of this day ever since I was holding my screaming, red faced, little cherub in my arms for the first time. The day when my little baby would realise that unlike a lot of her friends at day care she doesn't have a daddy. I must admit, I thought that I would be safe for another year or so, or maybe I just hoped that I would have that extra time to find some answer that was appropriate and satisifying enough for a curious toddler, OR maybe I am just incredibly unorganised. Many who know me would aruge the latter true.
The question came as I was tucking my grumpy, little mite into bed after a big day of day care. She has recently taken to having a little chat before I can completely convince her that I am serious when I say 'it is time to close your eyes and go to sleep'. My heart sank a little as I had been enjoying being the only person in the world that she really cared too much about, apart, of course, from her Griz, Foz and Aunty and we must not forget Dora the Explorer! I didn't know what exactly to say so my answer was 'God is finding one for us'. She looked at me a little confused but didn't ask the almost inevitable 'why', I was very thankful for that. But you could see the cogs turning in her little brain. So herein lies my problem my only just 2 year old understands that unlike every other child in her day care class she doesn't have a daddy and what's more she wonders why. My biggest worry is that by not having a father around she will be missing out on something or at least feel like she is missing out on something, which is just as worrying in my eyes. I am a great believer in supporting and nurturing a child's perceptions so that they feel safe and confident rather than leave to worry or wonder. Just because it is not something we, as adults, understand or worry about doesn't mean it is not true or hurtful etcetera for them. That being said I don't beleive in overloading them with inappropriate truths that will over expose them to things they are not yet ready for. A balanced but respectful medium, in my opinion, is what is needed. I have a lot of thinking ahead of me. A good friend gave me a book for my birthday one year that has given me constant food for thought. Raising Girls by Gisella Preuschoff, it has been my sane hold through all the times that I have doubted my approach to sole parenting. Gisella writes that in the absence of a father a 'father figure' or 'strong male presence' is recommended to allow the child the chance to interact, observe and learn about male-female relationships and the trust and interaction associated with them. This gives me some peace of mind knowing that the fact that she is growing up around her grandfather everyday is allowing her the necessary learning and interactive opportunities that she needs to develop healthy ideas, relationships and her own sense of self and place in the world. I guess my biggest problem with this 'second best' option is that I have always been a bit, ok a lot, of a 'daddy's girl'. Everything I ever wanted, needed or desired was taken care of by my father. I cannot imagine a life without my father. At 21 he still does things for me that most adults are doing for themselves. It's not that I can't do them, it's that I wont, I like being looked after, I like having my problems handled by someone else. That being said, the older I get the less it is happening which leaves me with many times I find myself suffering panic attacks and just generally feeling snowed under by things that should be completed or sorted through with everyday ease. If something went wrong when I was little, dad would fix it, often times before I even realised it had gone wrong. He would bend over backward to make sure that I had the best. My baby doesn't get that, though. She has me who is barely able to organise herself out of a paper bag let alone organise a child's life to go off as problem free as mine did. I guess what I am sad that she doesn't get is someone to want to protect her the way that a father protects their little girl. I know I still protect her, still love her, still provide for her etcetera but it doesn't feel the same. I know I wouldn't want her to have a father like mine, not because I didn't love him or anything but because now I am left to learn hard lessons as an adult, instead of as a kid when it has less impact on others. I just want her to have that true father figure, that true love and connection. As I see it I have a few options when it comes to her asking 'Where's my daddy?' 1. Give her an answer akin to "You don't have one." 'Why' 'Because you have me or Because you have Foz (Grandpa)" 2. Elaborate further on my God theory 3. Divert her attention These are the only three I can think of that aren't out and out lying and aren't going to instill in her false ideas that later lead to mistrust or insecurity. Maybe a combination of these three are in order, I'm not sure. What I am sure about is that I love my little angel and I am all she has for now. I only hope that that is enough for her and that our man isn't too far around the corner. What are your thoughts or experiences? I am watching my little angel sleep as I type this, I think it is time that I joined her. Until Next Time, Soul Mum xo |
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