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My daughter, my mother
Today wasn't all bad. To being with, Linnea and I had tea together for the morning snack. I filled the teapot from the miniature set with tea and cold water, and filled the jug with ricemilk and filled the bowl with sugar (it took two spoons!) and found a small plastic spoon for her to use with it.
She poured her own tea, added milk and sugar, stirred, and drank. Several times. It was lovely. We ate bread and butter with it. (I had hot tea from my own pot; a pot each seemed to work well).
We sat and read together, then; me with Emer on my stomach in the sling (ow) and Linnea on her chair.
She buttered some bread in her own personal way; apply lump of margarine to centre of slice, eat lump off slice without touching bread; ask for more margarine.
We had a little chat about Emer, and when she's going to be big like Nea.
We cooked some hard-boiled eggs and waited for them to cool. She peeled her own, which went fairly well.
Then we had the distaster afternoon from hell. With hindsight, I think it may have been because lunch was late and inadequate.
When we got home from the hospital, Rob went to fetch Linnea from Nicki's house and I called my mother. Since becoming a mother myself I appreciate and need her so much more. I didn't need advice from her; I just knew she'd understand exactly how I felt all the way on the other end of the phoneline, and I wanted to talk to someone who really would understand. She did.
Motherhood has been life-altering for me. My self-image has entirely altered just because now I know that someone felt about me as I felt about Linnea the day after she was born - and I feel about them both now. And the underlying love will still be there, though I assume the anxieties and pride have different focusses now. Foci. Dammit.
And I think I benefitted from being my mother's fourth child. She was 37 when I was born, on her birthday. She'd had a lot of practice, seen clearly where doctors had given bad advice and where childcare gurus had been insanely wrong, seen where her instincts were to be trusted, that sort of thing. I learned my parenting instincts as an infant, like most people, and mine were learned from a mother confident in her instincts and sympathetic in her approach.
My mother says I'm obviously very confident in myself as a mother.
It's not obvious to me, but as long as it's obvious to the kids, that's ok.
She poured her own tea, added milk and sugar, stirred, and drank. Several times. It was lovely. We ate bread and butter with it. (I had hot tea from my own pot; a pot each seemed to work well).
We sat and read together, then; me with Emer on my stomach in the sling (ow) and Linnea on her chair.
She buttered some bread in her own personal way; apply lump of margarine to centre of slice, eat lump off slice without touching bread; ask for more margarine.
We had a little chat about Emer, and when she's going to be big like Nea.
We cooked some hard-boiled eggs and waited for them to cool. She peeled her own, which went fairly well.
Then we had the distaster afternoon from hell. With hindsight, I think it may have been because lunch was late and inadequate.
When we got home from the hospital, Rob went to fetch Linnea from Nicki's house and I called my mother. Since becoming a mother myself I appreciate and need her so much more. I didn't need advice from her; I just knew she'd understand exactly how I felt all the way on the other end of the phoneline, and I wanted to talk to someone who really would understand. She did.
Motherhood has been life-altering for me. My self-image has entirely altered just because now I know that someone felt about me as I felt about Linnea the day after she was born - and I feel about them both now. And the underlying love will still be there, though I assume the anxieties and pride have different focusses now. Foci. Dammit.
And I think I benefitted from being my mother's fourth child. She was 37 when I was born, on her birthday. She'd had a lot of practice, seen clearly where doctors had given bad advice and where childcare gurus had been insanely wrong, seen where her instincts were to be trusted, that sort of thing. I learned my parenting instincts as an infant, like most people, and mine were learned from a mother confident in her instincts and sympathetic in her approach.
My mother says I'm obviously very confident in myself as a mother.
It's not obvious to me, but as long as it's obvious to the kids, that's ok.
no subject
Then we had the distaster afternoon from hell. With hindsight, I think it may have been because lunch was late and inadequate.
That happens to us too. Post-disaster, when Liam's eaten a great dinner and is suddenly happy, it becomes so clear that low blood sugar was to blame.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2006-09-11 09:13 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
The first time we went was when Rob sat on Christopher's leg (he slipped on the stairs). The second time was when Oliver fell over, serious because we had allowed him to carry a china plate through to the kitchen...
[I'm sitting here with Oliver on my lap. He saw your icon twice in the same page and said "lady - lady - snap!" Torn between pride and a vague disress that he's learnt lady from somewhere]