Motherland; Good For Whatever Soul I Have Left

 I'm really enjoying Motherland on Netflix just now.

If you haven't caught it yet - have a go.  It is a somewhat slightly exaggerated take on the trials and tribulations of parenting school-age children and the school-gate politics that arise.

As a mama to three boys and having dealt with the school gates for the last 13 years, I can find a wee bit of myself and people I know in each of the characters.

I'm no fan of trying to make mum pals - in fact, I flat out suck at it.  

It's caused me a lot of heartache and confusion over the years.

I've come to the conclusion that actually, I am far too eclectic, too full of dark humour and just not 'proper' enough to make it with the 'in' crowd and actually, I have totally given up.

On a Motherland scale of Amanda to Liz, I am 100% a Liz.

Diane Morgan as Liz in the brilliant Motherland

From the moment she chopped her own finger off slicing frozen cheese for Julia and calmly headed off to A&E after doing her own first-aid, to the drunken promises she made on behalf of Julia and Kevin for the school fundraiser, I can totally relate to being the outsider who just does herself and fuck whatever anyone else thinks. I appreciate her down-to-earth take on things, her patience, her wit and I absolutely see her dogged determination to survive and make sense of whatever shitty hand she is dealt.

As a mum at a small-ish village school, in a relatively higher class area, I stick out like a sore thumb.

I'm not well-off enough to carry off anything classy.  Messy bun? Tick.  Running late? Epically. Tick!

I'm the one whose son wears princess dresses because he can if he wants, who champions unbranded school uniforms to keep the cost of the school day down for everyone, and asks awkward questions around fundraising.  I'm a rule-bender, a risk-taker and someone who speaks their mind.

 My kids are not in the expensive swim team, football club, art club or drama group, nor are they sporty.  I let them spend a lot of time on their computers.  We have very loose bedtimes at weekends.  

I can't afford to send them to the various 'lovely' activities the other kids enjoy, nor do we massively value academia. We would rather the kids were safe, happy and loving what they do, because we both tried hugely and did all the right things, kicked our own arses to get the grades and have struggled ever since!

As two people who have been very roughly shafted by the world in the pursuit of such stuff, we are more than a little disillusioned and probably a wee bit traumatised, and so we are focused on raising our kids to be decent people with kind, compassionate, inclusive values, where you aren't afraid to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty and where you open your mind to as much as possible - we can't begin to imagine a world for our kids where fitting in with an ever-decreasing elite of paid-for opportunity and outstanding grades at all costs would be a 'good' thing to do.

Me and my husband both work in the third sector - not only do we both know what it is like to live in relative poverty and deal with the many social, physical and emotional challenges it brings, we also spend our days scooping up other people who are dealing with the effects; the time for giving a shit about manicured lawns or whether our cars are immaculate is not really now for us.  

Is everyone fed, clothed, washed, happy, achieving, nurtured and well-humoured though? Yes! Isn't that what counts? 

Does our lack of care around some of the finer details come off as bad parenting?  

Probably.

I am tired.  My life has been a fucking struggle.  Girl, I am surviving and I will absolutely take that.

Motherland tackles this to some degree. It encompasses the spectrum of mother characters quite aptly; the single mum, the stay at home mum, the stay at home dad, the seemingly-has-it-all mum, the queen bee mum and her side-kick and the mum who has run out of shits and just wants to get through it.

Joining the school PTA has become a recent favourite weird pastime for me - I'm not sure the Head Teacher knows what to do with me.  

Here's the woman he has pegged as an incompetent mother (veiled very thinly) showing up, giving a shit, interacting, giving opinions that he finds he 9/10 actually agrees with and it's always entertaining on the Zoom call (with the brilliant rural wifi 1.5 second lag) inadvertently showcasing my dark humour, which the other mums really don't seem to understand. 

The dark humour usually comes out around some of the more mundane topics, like dog shit or parking and I can't help myself.  It's been nearly two hours talking about dog poop and I start making quips, and it's like unleashing the beast.  And guess what?  Apparently, giggling about dog poop on kids shoes isn't that funny, Genna. 

"Why am I such an outcast?" I'll sob to Dave (usually the day before my period when the world is a dark black spot of shit and everything is pressing harder on me than usual).

I tried to make mum friends - I really did.  I suck at it.  I'm in the wrong area; outcast, out-resourced and outnumbered.  I'm in a weird middle ground and I guess I have resigned myself to a lifetime of lonlieness.

Fuck it.

For now I'm taking my solace in Motherland and enjoying their take on Mum life.

If you are like me and feel totally left out of the mum circle with no hope of getting in any time soon, give it a watch.

It's a source of real comfort in an ever-weird and confusing world of parent politics.

Starting School: No Worries!

This time last year, I was choosing my first ever school uniform for Thomas.  At 4 years old, he had always been a big lad for his age, but in his uniform, he looked too small.

Too small for school, too small for a classroom with 24 other kids in it.

Too small for going to packed lunches and after-school club.

Too small to have to make his own friends in the playground.

Too small to learn how to do his own tie and not forget which one was his coat at the end of the day.

His voice was high and he still pronounced some of his words incorrectly.

He still sometimes put his shoes on the wrong feet.

He still went to the toilet and left the door wide open because he was 'too scared' to close it.

Thomas has suffered from Glue Ear too - a condition which means that his attention span isn't always up to par, especially in a classroom situation where he has to focus even more on instruction.  Glue Ear has seen him frustrated, and also sometimes come off as rude or cheeky, which he really isn't - it's just that sometimes he mishears or hasn't heard at all.  And this worried me a lot.

I understood him.  I understood when he was frustrated.  I knew he wasn't cheeky or rude or ignoring anyone on purpose (well, most of the time!) and I knew when he was being a little bugger.  He had previously attended a small, private nursery, where the teachers had time to get to know him well, and had watched him grow up.  They knew when he was in a good mood, when he was being belligerent, when he was tired and when he needed to be cut some slack.

How would a teacher, who didn't really know him, who had to deal with 24 other children and their individual needs interpret my little boy?

I knew as much as anyone that first impressions count - and I was terrified that my wee boy would be labelled or judged straight off the bat as someone who didn't listen, or who was misbehaved - and stuff like that sticks with a kid.

Not to mention all the other worries: would he make a friend, be able to keep up with everyone, be able to ask for the toilet if he needed to go, be able to sit still in class, be able to do what he is told and just be a good lad?

I think every parent goes through this

There's something about putting your child into uniform that changes things.  You fear that they will change completely, that they will no longer be your little baby any more.  That they will just become another face in a sea of faces.

Many tears are shed by parents in the run up and on the first day of school.  The feeling you get when you take them into a classroom for the first time and see their name on their peg.  The lump in your throat when you have to leave them for that first playtime, take the first school photos, watch them file into line before going into the classroom without you for the first time...

It was tough.

That feeling that your baby, the one that you have obsessed and watched over for the last five years, the one whose poop colour you have stringently documented from birth, who you rocked to sleep in the middle of the night, who you read stories to every night (but not the scary ones, they are 'too scary mummy!'), the one you breastfed, expressed milk for, weaned, agonised over which nursery to send him to, chose out his first walking shoes, tried so hard to make sure he had access to everything that could nurture his development, who crawls into your bed in the middle of the night because he is scared...the feeling of him maybe not needing you any more is huge!

The feeling of him being swept up and swallowed by all of these other people - the teachers, the lollipop man, the dinner ladies, the p.e teachers, the after-school club workers; suddenly you feel like you are laying this little soul, who is a part of you and a product of you, out for judgement and ownership by others.

You put him into this little uniform, and make him look like all of the others, and you put him into a classroom and suddenly...suddenly...there he is...on his own...left to use all of the tools that you really hope that you equipped him with.

Don't panic.

This is how I felt last year when I sent Tom off to school.

But really, it's not so dramatic.

Really - it's been an amazing year.  And I promise you; it's not the end, but rather the continuation of your adventure together.

But with more tools in your backpack.

Thomas is still my baby (shh!  He'll always be my baby!)

He is still scared of the dark.

He still needs help to get his shoes right sometimes.

He still pronounces some words wrong.

He still has some crazy toilet habits!

And he still occasionally slips into our bed in the middle of the night.

And he loves school.

Yes, the first few weeks were a bit odd.  Yes, he did have some tears at times - some kids didn't want to play 'his game' in the playground, he struggled with his tie which made him anxious, he didn't always enjoy the school lunch that was served up to him, but when all is said and done - he dealt with it all himself.

Without me there to fuss and fret, he made some new friends.  He worked out who he did and didn't like.  He asked me to show him how to tie his tie (which he can now do) and you know what - he didn't starve.  He worked out what he didn't like and ate what he did.

The awesome thing about school too is the amount of times someone tells you how great your kid is.  There is no better feeling than checking out your son's first attempt at spelling or getting a note home from the teacher saying how good his reading is, or, even better, attending a parent's night, where the teacher says she would happily have 25 of your son in her classroom.

That's right - a wee person that you made!

Watching your kid run off into the sunrise at the start of a school day as he forgets to say goodbye because he is so eager to go is one of the most bitter-sweet feelings in the world - but so relieving and really great.

So, try not to cry too much on that first day of school.  Don't spend the night before fretting and worrying - you are all going to have a great time.

This is not the end.  This is just a continuation of the already-amazing things that happen when you have kids.

A new chapter of firsts.

This summer is already so different.

This summer is:

First real bike ride (without me pushing!)

First wobbly tooth

First summer holiday where we could stay up later

First late night party

First project

First chapter book (one of many this summer :) )

First school trip

Things are easier, because he is more mature, more reasonable and more settled within himself.

I am so proud of my well-rounded and happy wee guy.

We still have our moments - he is still a baby yet, but we are getting there.
I am really excited to see what next year brings.  And more importantly - he can't wait either!

5 Things My Grandad Taught Me

My Grandad was my father-figure, my role model and my best friend when I was a little girl.

Here are the top 5 things I learned from him, as a student in life.

Grandad in his favourite chair :D

1. Straight, Clean, Lines

My Grandad was a gardener.  He loved to make flower beds, veg patches and spent a lot of time nurturing plants from seed in his greenhouse.

I used to spend a lot of time in the garden with him - our relationship was built on potting up, watering tomato plants and picking strawberries and sweet-peas.

One thing we used to do together, which took a long time, was cut the grass.

He used to work for the city parks department, so knew a thing or two about maintaining a good lawn.  He'd mow the lawn and I would rake the sheared grass and put it onto the tarpaulin.  And when we were finished, we would do the most important job of all; clip the edges.

To do this, he would get out of his shed two pairs of very odd-looking shears with long handles (lawn edge-trimmers), hand a set to me, and we would stand up, shearing the edges, going all the way around the circle of the garden until we were done.  He was obviously quicker and better at it than me, so we'd work clockwise and anti-clockwise and meet in the middle.

'Why do we have to do this?' I'd ask.

And quite simply, his reply was,

'Because, it doesn't matter how well you cut the grass - if the edges are messy you might as well have not bothered'

Basically the message was - if you are going to do a job, do it properly.  Don't clean the kitchen without washing the floor and getting into the corners.  Don't wash the car without hoovering the insides.

He did this in every job he did - cutting the hedges, washing the dishes, potting up plants, turping the fences - everything was slow, methodical and always finished in it's entirety.  No slapdash solutions.

He was right.  You can do a job or you can do it well.  And it always feels - and looks - better when you do it well.

Aim for straight, clean lines and everything looks better.

2. If you want something, work for it

My Grandad was a war veteran of WW2.  He had lost an eye and was massively injured at such a young age and sent to a hospital in England to get some pretty major plastic surgery to reconstruct his face and body, which at the time was pioneering stuff.

After he recuperated and came home, you can imagine the amount of work he had to do, not only to start to live a normal-ish life again, but how he had to prove himself in order to gain employment and figure amongst his peers.

He worked like a dog, always in very physical jobs like grave-digging, gardening for the council and building and roof work.

Even in retirement he worked damn hard.  He made his own life and his own happiness.  And he passed that on to me and my sister - he made sure to involve us with all the hard tasks like waxing the car by hand with turtle Wax, sweeping and scraping the patio and stringing and netting the vegetable beds.  He knew there was reward in graft - his super-strong work ethic is the reason I need to be working all the time today!  And trying the best in everything I do.

You reap what you sow.

 3.Enjoy the present and communicate 

Sadly, my Grandad spent a lot of time very very ill with the devastating condition, Clinical Depression.

We lost him to the dark spaces in his mind, which came to get him kinda suddenly one day - although the signs may have been there for a long time before.  I was too young to remember.

I imagine as a young man of the war he had seen a lot.  That there were things he couldn't say or communicate.

But his lesson to us is to enjoy the here and now - you never know what is around the corner.  You never know what might take you down.

And always communicate your feelings.  Don't let them sneak up on you one day and steal you away.

4. Children are very special

Grandad spent so much time with us as kids, playing with us, teaching us new games and helping with our homework.

If there was a maths problem I couldn't do, he was there to help solve it in a straightforward way.

If I came to him with my football, he'd drop what he was doing and play a game with us that would last for hours.

He taught me how to play Gin Rummy and how to pick Football Pools.

We'd spend hours playing dominos.

My Grandad always had time for us, always listened and always stuck up for us - trying to see life from our point of view.

He knew children were special and that childhood was very special and he was a great investor in that for my sister and I.

5. Live And Let Live

It was cool to collect worms, but we always, always put them back in the ground.

We put nets over the strawberries but always made sure they were sealed and ALWAYS checked for any birds which may have got stuck.  And always freed them as quickly and as carefully as possible.

We spent hours watching the birds in the garden after my Nana had fed them, but always watched quietly when a sparrowhawk came to hunt some of the birds - they have to eat too.

We were always very careful when getting our bikes in and out of the shed because of the bees that lived underneath.  No matter how worried we were about them, we were never stung.  We learned not to bother the bees and they never ever bothered us.


Thank you to my lovely, amazing Grandad.  We still miss you so much.