Taking A Break

I have three kids.

I work with kids.

And books.  Thankfully, I have a nice bookish buffer between me and other people's kids at work, but more often than not, my job involves placating, entertaining and listening to small children.

Life's always a laugh with these crackers!

I love it - I really do.

I work in a children's library and I get a real kick out of helping them fire up their imaginations using the written word.

It's a real privilege.

Today, however, I was sent to cover a different department (which is usual for my work - sometimes we are short-staffed and we are expected to cover areas which need to be covered.  It's nice to get a wee change); one which is just for the adults.

When you've spent the last goodness-knows-how-long being at the beck and call of small children and their endless crazy demands and challenges and hilarious musings, it was a bit difficult to get myself in the mindset of not speaking to kids.

It was kind of nice.

I got myself a cup of tea in my travel mug.

I found myself glancing over adult fiction and non-fiction.  It's been a wee while since I properly had the head-space to do this and it was a weird sensation.  Usually I'm looking for ways to entertain, things which sound funny or look funny in the eyes of a child, but today it was all for me.

I read a newspaper at break time.

I spoke to adults about things which weren't about parenting, or housekeeping or what my baby's poo looked like and it was pretty cool.

I could actually feel a different part of my brain being used, and for a second, I kind of remembered who I was.

After my four hours, I went down to my locker and put on my coat.  I brushed my hair in the mirror and actually felt the rumbling in my tummy signalling that yet again I had missed lunch.

This time, I resolved to do something about it, rather than the usual of just pushing through and ignoring it.

While walking up the road to my car, I switched back to 'Mum' mode.  Switched back on to 'must collect the baby and get the other two from school and plan what to have for tea' mode. Felt the rumbling in my tummy again and tried to forget about it. Felt myself slipping back into responsibility, like putting on an old, worn-out coat with holes in the elbows.

But - for four hours today, I relaxed.

It gave me space to think. To be.

I think I forget to do that sometimes.

That's the thing about having kids; it's relentless.  You never stop.  And although most of the time it's fun and full of laughter and madness and crazy stuff that you'd never even thought about doing - it's tough going.

Like anything, sometimes you just need a break.

Reminder to self: Always try to do something different.  My initial reaction to going somewhere else today was 'oh no!', but actually, it was great.  It's okay to break out of the mold. It's okay to have some down time.

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!

Childhood Books

Today I am taking part in What's the Story - a linky hosted by PODcast. Check out her awesome site HERE.


The idea is to pick a photo and explain the meaning behind it.

Today I have chosen this photo.

Some of my (modest!) collection of childhood books

These are my childhood books.  I still have them all, tucked away on my bookshelf.  Why do I keep these books?

Well - like anything that stays with us, they have a history.  a very special and dear history, which I think of every time I see them.

These are the books that started my love of reading; where it all began.

The books that my Nana bought for me in the charity shop one Saturday morning.

The ones she knew I loved, so collected them for me when she was out.

The books that we read together, one after the other, and talked about, passionately with each other.

The books we bought each other for birthdays (we shared a birthday day - I was born on her birthday) in hard-backed, new versions, each desperate to read, so the other could too.

The books that I read in the dim light at bedtime, right into the early hours.

The books that instilled in me a sense of adventure and lust for life and an ability to expect the unexpected.

These are the books I have carried through at least 10 different house moves, each at different stages of my life; child, student at college, University undergraduate, mother of one, mother of two...

The books that started me on my journey, on the path which has led me to the life i have today.

These are the books that I am holding onto for my children.

Imagination

Quote by Albert Einstein.  Chalkboard by me!

Today's library blackboard.

I try and do one a week in the children's library where I work.  I like to think that the kids see it and think a wee bit more.

Children's libraries are so important.  I love the thought of the library as a portal for young minds to time travel between worlds and realms.

Love your library!

5 books that defined my teenage years

With the sad news today that the fabulous Sue Townsend has passed away, aged just 68, I thought I'd take some time to acknowledge the role her character Adrian Mole played in my teenage years.  As an adolescent, Adrian encapsulated all of the feelings I had, all of the frustrations, and made me laugh too.  Despite being written in 1984, the year I was born, his struggles still resonated with me 14 years later. And then I thought about all the other stuff that made me, well, me.  And I laughed.

How very funny it is to look back on the crazy teenage years.

1. The Secret Diary of Adrian mole, aged 13 3/4

The boy at the edge of despair 99% of the time.  The only guy who understood my feelings about my parents, about growing up, about old people and about love.

Now, I occasionally tutor high school students in English to prepare them for exams, and one particular boy I tutored needed help in finding something that he could read.  Reading wasn't his thing - in fact he really didn't enjoy it.  But the thing is, you only get better at English when you see it in action, so I was desperate for him to read something.

I went to my local bookstore and bought a copy of Adrian Mole for him.  I took it to him and gifted it to him, in the hope that he would read it.

It was really cheap copy, and not the older cover that i was used to.  It was clean and crisp and white, and I noticed a fancy gold label on the front.  It read '30 years celebration edition'

THIRTY years?

How often is it that we can take a modern book like that and pass it on to younger folk and find that it still has resonance for them?

A true modern classic.  Thank you Sue!




2. Spells for Teenage Witches

Yup, I was a teenage witch.  I spent more time than it is comfortable to admit following the spells in this book.

I can't completely remember, as my adult brain is trying to get far away from admitting this ever happened, but I'm pretty sure I spent a lot of time in my local park tying coloured string around trees.  And drawing pagan symbols with dripping candle wax.  And pretending to my friends that I would bless their doomed love lives with my home-made blessing scrolls.

*sigh*

3. The Golden Compass (and the rest of The Northern Lights Trilogy)

I remember the surly man at the desk in Waterstones who every week had to tell me that The Subtle Knife wasn't in yet.

These were the days before social media and Amazon, and the only pre-order was a rather sketchy system that they used in Waterstones, where you may or may not receive the book you asked for, within 6 weeks of it's release.

I made sure to bug that man every week, and sure enough it came just three weeks after the release date.

The world of Lyra Belacqua is such a mysterious and enchanting one - it was such an amazing first read, especially as a teen.  The film was very disappointing though.  I always felt it would have done better as a long BBC series - like they did with Narnia.

Phillip Pullman's work will always have a place in my heart.

4. Point Horror

The fluff of it's time, and still popular now, Point Horrors really made me shiver.  Once I hit a certain age, they lost their appeal, but in my early teens, these really got me going!

I wasn't easily scared, really, but I did have one hell of an overactive imagination.

These books were the ones that spawned, for me, running very fast once you turned off your bedroom light and jumping under the covers.  

'Cuz the covers would save you from the skeleton wielding a knife, you know?

5. Bridget Jones's Diary

When I hit 16, I was ready to be a woman.  And I took my love life very seriously.  Therefore I was Bridget Jones.

Despite being at least 15 years too young.  

I was in love with Mark Darcy.  Heck, this book even got me watching the Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth in it, over and over again (mainly just the wet shirt scene).  I lusted after bad-boy Daniel Cleaver and I felt Bridget's pain of being the eternal Singleton.

When the film came out, I loved it. The audience at the cinema all did too - it was the only time I've been in a cinema where everyone clapped at the end.

And I bought the soundtrack and stayed up late singing All By Myself  on my CD Walkman, headphones on for full morose effect.

I even started writing my diary like Bridget.

I was a strange lassie.

Still am.

What are your favourite teenage reads?  I'd love to know!  Anything as embarrassing as mine?

Celebrities writing children's fiction; what's wrong with it?

Could you write a best-selling children's book?

Tom Lamont, a writer and commissioning editor for the Observer, wrote a very interesting piece today for the Guardian, in dialogue with children's author, Robert Muchamore.  In it,he underlines what I, as a parent think and feel about the ever-growing number of celebrity authors. 

Find the article here

"A celebrity – Kylie, Sting – announces his or her intention to write for children, and I instinctively feel for the career-pledged writers who have been huffing away with their thesaurus and watercolour brushes for years. Beneath them, the hopefuls with worthwhile manuscripts hustle for interest... And, uh oh, here's another celebrity, lolloping into the game. They've noodled out an idea on a Groucho Club napkin. Their agent has swivelled at the bar to arrange a six-figure deal. The published result, you can bet, will absorb more than its share of publicity budgets, review space, shelf space."


Working in a children's library, it's something I'm asked all the time; 'which books will my child like?' and also, 'which books are best for my child?'.

And I really do think I am quite good at pointing someone in the right direction.  I myself have a special interest in children's literature and have studied the development of it, so celebrity writing is something which I have certainly noticed growing at a rapid rate on our bookshelves, and I see first-hand the impact it has when there is a chance to pick it up, for free, over a host of other titles.

The world of literature is awash with people who think they have a fantastic idea for a children's book - after all, it seems so easy, doesn't it?

I wrote to the zoo, to send me a pet...

Think of all of your children's favourites - Dear Zoo, Goodnight Moon, Guess How Much I Love you, Kipper - all with simple words and picture illustrations.  Surely it doesn't take a genius to put together a successful children's book?

The truth is, it's really hard to get it right.  Children are the most discerning audience, and above anything else are honest in their approach to things; if they do not like something, they will not pick it up.

Also, developmentally speaking, they are already geared towards a certain kind of literature at a certain age - it's not enough to simply have an easy story for pre-schoolers; research has shown that a story with rhyme and repetition works best, which is probably why author Julia Donaldson is so popular.

Oh help, oh no!

Baby board book have become so much more than pictures with words - there's now a huge array of black and white picture books, touch and feel boards and surprise flap books to garner the interest of the smallest babes.

So how is it then, that most celebrities who write, do in fact get it right? How are they so popular?

David Walliams and his fabulous fiction

We could argue that someone like David Walliams is naturally attuned to how children think- as Lamont points out, he is'an anomaly. He actually writes his own books, and as anyone who has ever sat a 10-year-old boy in front of an episode of Little Britain will attest, he knows how to make kids laugh.'


But when you think of someone like Madonna, or Katie Price, do you immediately think of someone who has a natural affinity with children, who could make kids giggle?

Tom loves a good book!

Sure, they are both mothers, so they must do to some degree, but are they, like so many celeb-authors seem to be, brilliant children's writers?

And if kids, who don't really know who these people are, are judging their books on content rather than who wrote them, like them, does it really matter?

Lamont claims we are jealous:

"We like to pretend we're reasonable souls, but most of us are way more petty and jealous than we'd like to admit. I mean, we may hate bankers, but if someone offered you two million a year to wear a snappy suit and yell, "Buy, buy, buy!" down a telephone you wouldn't say no, would you?"

There is something a bit odd about it all though, a bit cringe-worthy.  And I've been trying to work out what it is.

I think it makes me feel funny because books are a sacred and very intricate world into which a child steps. It's free.  It's pure. It's a world free from commercialism (in the main) and everything is completely based in imagination.

A book provides some of our most intimate childhood moments - at bedtime, when we are ill, when we are sad and connects with us in a way that is as individual as we are.  It's a mother's warm cuddle at night, entertainment on a rainy day, travel when we have to stay where we are.

For our children, I can think of nothing more important.

Reading has always been on the menu!

The names of children's authors, are words we utter to our book seller or librarians in the search for an old fable or beautiful moment from our own childhood, whispered with a twist of a smile on our lips.  These names are those who brought us all the understanding we sought out as children in an ever-confusing world.

It's not very often that we know much about them, or even what they look like.  And with massively magical authors, such as Roald Dahl or Judith Kerr, the author's own lives become a beautiful fable themselves, abound with rumours of magic and whimsy.

But these celebrities who write - the Madonnas, the Holly Willoughbys, the Russel Brands - we know more about them than is comfortable or necessary.  We know who they had sex with, what affairs they've had, the bad habits they advertise and, in the case of Katie Price, what their intimate parts look like during childbirth.

It doesn't feel right that we should be inviting their 'brands' into our children's domains.

Children's authors, traditionally, haven't courted this kind of celebrity for themselves, and we are all very comfortable with that.  But, quite rightly, they are peeved at the attention a celebrity's book is given - getting a book published is a difficult and emotional time for many authors.  It must feel like standing patiently in line, just to see the big ballsy, loudmouth bully skip the queue.

Children's author Robert Muchamore laments:

'It's time we recognised our top kids' authors for the cultural icons that they really are, and rewarded them with their rightful place in the celebrity limelight. I could display my intelligence and wit on Have I Got News For You; Michael Morpurgo could sing with the stars, and Philip Pullman can be the elderly one who isn't very good on Strictly. Malorie Blackman can host telethons and we can send Jo Rowling off to the jungle to sleep in the dirt and eat locusts.

And then we can stop this silly fuss, because we'll all be celebrities!'

In conclusion, what are books written by celebrities doing for us?  What is so wrong with them really?  After all, our kids read them, they like them, they re-read them and recommend them to their friends.  They talk about them.  And isn't that what we are trying to get our kids to do?  Fundamentally, by hook or by crook, we all want our kids to read more.

In short, there's nothing wrong with anything that gets children reading.  We may sneer at the latest celebrity attempt to push their brand onto our children.  We might balk at the way in which such a beautiful world of literature and free imagination is being rammed by the ever-growing tide of consumerism at it's finest. 

However, the truth of the matter is that the rise of celebrity authors is  casually destroying barriers between children who read and children who don't read, making it a much mre 'normal' and 'accepted' activity.  

That can only be a good thing.