You arrived unexpectedly – a large dollop of a bear-puppy, all tummy and feet and soft nuzzly nose.
You have wormed your way into the hearts of us all, with your reckless joy, your infectious endless enthusiasm, your unending need for affection, your constant happy presence and your still, calm, reassuring watchfulness of us all.
You steal food, you eat the wallpaper, you are constantly broken, you sleep upside down, you refuse to learn to walk in a dignified manner, and you snore louder than a dwarf with a cold… what on earth did we do without you?
It’s 9th March. Mums Birthday. I felt it approaching, and I know C was watching, waiting, prepared for the fallout, the quiet telephone conversations with my sister as we find our way through.
Winter is tough, a whole pile of memory hurdles coming thick and fast – the last time I saw my parents was on Jolly’s Birthday, 22nd December. Then there’s Christmas and all its memories and family associations. New Year. Six years ago it was February half term which contained the Great Revelation, the opening of the box which contained our particular family’s sordid little skeleton… Then comes today, and following hotly on its heels is Mothers Day.
It’s always tricky. But this year is…lighter. Easier. It’s been a long six years. Occasionally I wonder what life would still be like if it hadn’t all come bursting into the open, blinking and flinching in the sudden daylight after years of being buried at the back of mental strongboxes.
And then I look around me. I see a happy life. I see openness, and truth, and honesty. I see a sister finally unshackled and moving confidently forwards, no longer afraid to be alone, to be herself.
I see memories without a hazy childish glow. I see my Mum as she was. I can recognise and appreciate the goodness, the kindness, the happy times. I can still see her smile, her hands, the way her cheeks round themselves when she smiles – and that feels rather bittersweet. Cherished memories, all of them.
And yet.
I can also see the inability to find the strength to simply do the right thing. The lack of belief in herself, the misplaced faith in the man she married, the lack of… I’m not sure. What makes a woman stay with a man who is abusing her children? What makes her believe him when he says he promises not to do it again. And stay yet again when she finds that he has? And again, and again. The same dilemma, the same choice. Him, not us.
Do I love her? Of course.
Do I hate her? No, I just don’t seem to be able to.
Do I miss her? Very much.
Do I intend to pick up the phone and talk to her, tell her it’s all okay after all? No, I don’t think so.
Maybe one day. When he’s gone. Maybe then I’ll just give in to the small unbreakable part of me who simply wants her Mum back.
Until then? Life’s pretty bloody good anyway thanks.
Yes, yes, I know, it seems like only a few days ago we had a birthday in this house. That’s because we did. No.1 and Pink’s birthdays are 7 days apart (and Jolly is just before Christmas. Fine planning, indeed).
So – No.1 is eleven today. ELEVEN! It just seems so big. I know we say that every year, but this one feels like the closing of an era – I see him changing right in front of me, morphing from my darling toddler boy into the wonderful man I know he will become. This is the year he heads off to High School, and really the babyhood is behind him.
His tenth year has been a tough one for my biggest boy – he has been very ill, missed two terms of school, had doctors looking VERY hard for leukaemia, but finally – thankfully – diagnosed with CFS. Slowly but surely, since the summer (the restorative powers of days and days spent with his brothers was a joy to watch) he has steadily improved, far quicker actually than his doctors or therapy team expected, and he’s now finally back in school most days.
Has been a nice day – he’s having a birthday of three parts. He’s actually off school again this week with tonsillitis (gah) so has had a very peaceful day curled up in the armchair listening to his new (red, lego, alarm clock) radio and playing his new (Pokemon platinum) DS game, occasionally stroking his new (Swiss Army) penknife. Then next week, when Ikea decide to deliver his new (lovely small double) bed, we are re-decorating his bedroom for him – hasn’t been done since he was 5 and moved in there, and is still complete with larey lime green walls with silly dinosaurs stuck on them (cut from a big board book), so time for a change we though. C NEVER gets involved in decorating choices… But this room has been all his idea. Is all big boy wicked-cool-skateboardery, and is going to be so so SO fab I can’t tell you… But will no doubt show you soon enough.
Once that’s done, he’s having two mates over for his first proper sleepover Boys Night In, with takeaway pizza and no bed time… So rather a long drawn out birthday for him this year!
So in honour of this seemingly momentous occasion (and not in any way because I did it for Pink and would be in Big Trouble if I didn’t), I’ve done another little montage of my bright, funny, silly, talks-too-much boy.
PS – do keep your eyes peeled for a small yellow Lion called.. er.. Lionel. He pops up quite regularly…
The thing about being the fourth child is that the big milestones seem.. well, a little less big. For No.1′s third birthday the grandparents came to stay, and we all took off to the zoo for the day. For Pink? Well, about 9.30 Wednesday night I had a quick rummage in a drawer and then debated with C about whether it was worth going out to get some balloons…
But I was a good parent, and I did go. And then I wrapped the small pile of presents (see? No.1 got a BIG pile. Now I just think “ah, she was swamped at Christmas, she really doesn’t need anything else”), blew up the balloons, posted them around the house, and put up the traditional ‘Happy Birthday’ banner in it’s expected slot. All whilst feeling a little wistful that my baby was so big now. Doing a lot of “oh, just think. Three years ago today…”-ing, and smiling sweetly at the memories.
So the morning dawns. Actually, scratch that…
It was still dark – around 4 in the morning when I was awoken by serious screeching and wailing. Staggering in, I find Pink standing up in her cot, hair on end, gibbering in terror.
Ah. Snakes in the bed again.
Being quite keen on getting a little more sleep, I did the only sensible thing – hauled her quick-smart back into bed with us.
So when the day started with the usual scary sudden blurping of the alarm clock, I not only shot up myself, but small pink person threw her hands up in terror also and whacked Daddy (who can always sleep through the alarm) on the head with Fig (ever-present long limbed pink rabbit). Happy Birthday!
On descending the stairs, Pink is surprised and thrilled at all the ba-yoons, but quietly confident it’s MY birthday, not hers. Jolly arrives to join the contented pile on the sofa – Happy birthday Pink!’ he exclaims happily. Grumpily she mutters “No, s’not my birthday. Is Jollys birthday. Ssshhhh.”
She’s not really a morning person.
No.1 is next to arrive, also with excited birthday greetings.
Small pink voice is raised in a growing temper now “NO! is NOT my birthday! Is Jolly’s birthday!”
Boy quietly squeezed in next to her – and his own whispered birthday greeting was rewarded with a whack of Fig round the head and a fishwife-like “NO!”.
In the next thirty minutes she proceeded to declare the birthday breakfast crumpets as yuk, screech at the boys for daring to sing happy birthday to her, rage in fury at the prospect of wearing a RED skirt (oh the horror) – and I do mean full on raging; greet her really very poorly Daddy who had dragged himself from his bed to see her open her presents with a “NOOOO! NOT birthday! Go AWAY!” and then as the grand finale she ran off to her hiding place behind the armchair, and point blank refused to come out without LOTS of physical resistance, and a lot more screeching and flailing and crying.
At which point we gave it up as a bad job – the boys got themselves ready for school, C went gratefully back to bed and we did the school run in baffled and dampened spirits. The boys asked for us to wait till they get home before we do the presents, so she had nothing all day. The grandparents rang – she of course refused to speak to them… and to top it all off nicely, we spent an hour of the morning in the doctors surgery waiting for the nurse to take some of my blood. With no toys, no magazines, and the heater on too high. I gave it up as a bad job an hour after our appointment was supposed to be and came home with all my blood intact.
Still, she was actually very very sweet for the rest of the day, and it WAS her birthday. So here – this is my girl and her first three years… (and yes, I know there are typos, and no I’m not going back to correct them)…
We are the very baddest worstest awfulest parents in all the world.
We remembered Pink’s birthday of course – just for tomorrow.
And her birthday is today.
We missed our baby girl turn 2. :((
How crap are we, eh? We quite literally just had to check her passport. We firmly told friends it was Thursday – even the in laws had to ask us when it was a week ago, and we told them 22nd. The calenders are now carefully corrected, or she would’ve grown up celebrating on the wrong day.
Okay. You can stop alternating your gasps of horror with your snorts of laughter now.
On the upside, she has a beeyootiful pile of PPC (pink plastic crap) to open tomorrow – best of which is this: http://www.thetoyshop.com/Toys/ChristmasCatalogue/P11PreSchool/PRD~355081/FisherPrice+Little+People+Dance+n+Twirl+Palace.jsp
Plus some fab lola and charlie dolls and some wooden L&C dominoes and some Fifi books and a great phonics fridge set and some of her fave wooden puzzles too. So she’ll be thoroughly spoilt (and actually with only one - admittedly large – chunk of ppc.
Just a day late :(
Hello – my sleeps-all-night baby girl has just awoken. No doubt upset we forgot her birthday…
Birthdays, Family Rottweiler, Puppy 
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You arrived unexpectedly – a large dollop of a bear-puppy, all tummy and feet and soft nuzzly nose.
