Molly

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parenting

Molly is a very lifelike baby doll that my granddaughter Cassie had to take home for a weekend, as she is currently studying child development at school.  Each child in the class had to take a turn, and 14 year old Cassie was eager to discover the delights of caring for a ‘newborn’.

Cassie was issued with a non-removable electronic wristband that recorded the distance between her and the doll, thus enabling the school to ensure that Cassie didn’t just drop the doll in a cupboard and forget about it until it was time to return to school on the Monday morning.  The wristband also recorded when the doll was fed or had its nappy changed, and how long it cried for. Marks would be awarded to the most attentive students, and Cassie wanted to obtain the highest grade for her ‘work’ over the weekend.

The first problem occurred when Cassie realised that she would have to travel home on the school bus with Molly, who cried at irregular intervals just as a newborn baby does.  My daughter-in-law was summoned to pick her up in the car to avoid the embarrassment of having to face hordes of teenage boys on the bus with a crying  doll in her arms.

Back at home, Molly’s cries soon began to grate on Cassie’s nerves.  She picked the doll up, rocked it, ‘changed’ its nappy and ‘fed’ it, but it still cried.  When she told me this it brought back memories of my 24 year old self let loose with newborn Leon suffering with colic.  Like Cassie I remember being in floods of tears by the time Sam came home from work.  Sam, ever cool in a crisis, took Leon and straight away sat down with him in perfect silence.  Leon, now 37, came home from work and found Cassie in floods of tears holding Molly, who wouldn’t stop crying.  Leon, a father of 2 and well trained by now in pacifying babies, showed Cassie how to rock the doll to shut it up.

At night-time, the doll had to be by Cassie’s side due to the electronic wristband.  Cassie’s sleep, usually peaceful and undisturbed, began to be pierced by Molly’s shrill tones at unearthly hours of the morning.  She was soon in Leon and Kelly’s room complaining that the doll would not be quiet.  The whole household began night manoeuvres, walking up and down with Molly, changing its nappy, feeding it copious amounts of ‘milk’, and generally rocking the hell out of it.  I wanted to roar with laughter, as memories of rocking Leon backwards and forwards in his pushchair at 2am came to mind.

After a Sunday night also spent in absolute torture, Cassie, by then tired and irritable,  had decided that she would never ever have a baby, and that she couldn’t wait to return it to school.  Kelly drove her in on Monday morning, and she fairly ran out of the car with Molly firmly under one arm.

I had to keep a straight face as Cassie related the sad tale of her first attempts at child-rearing.  Like her I wondered what had hit me in the first few months of Leon’s life, and did not know how on earth I was going to manage.  But manage I did, because of course there’s a strong bond between a mother and her baby.   I tried to explain to Cassie that it’s a bit different when you have your own real-life baby to look after because you love the bones of it, but she wasn’t listening.

I suppose it’s a good thing that she got to face the reality of looking after a newborn just at the crucial time when puberty decided to strike.  Do you suppose that’s why the school decided to farm Molly out to a whole class of teenage girls?  Who knows – it just might prevent a few unwanted pregnancies.  Poor old Molly; It sounds as though Leon scored the highest marks as regards keeping the doll quiet!

 

 

 

 

 

BODY SHAMING || REAL ISSUES’ QUIP.

An interesting post from Suzan Khoja about body shaming. The older I get I realise it’s up to each individual to decide whether or not they’re happy with their body image, and if not, to do something about it. Nobody should try and control anybody else.

Magical BookLush

Have you heard of this word “body shaming“?Have you seen people go through it?? Do you know what it is? Or how it feels?? If you saw it happening, did you rescue them?? Do you know what it does to them?? Body shaming is such a great thing. It’s awesome, do you know why?

Because it ruins people’s lives. It tears them from the inside. It makes them hate their own body and in the end, breaks them down. If you are an awesome person that I probably think you are because you are giving my post so much time and are reading this right now, let me take you to a journey of body-shaming.

Love you all body-shamers out there. This blog is especially for you.

No welcomes as I said in my last post because welcoming the bitter truth into your life is difficult. So let’s…

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No children

I commented to Pete that the grass is always greener on the other side, but most parents could tell him tales that would make his hair curl. Pete, think of the orderly, un-messy life you’ve had with enough disposable income to do what you like! There’s always advantages and disadvantages. I had to wait many years before I reaped the benefit of parenting. The early years were a living nightmare.

beetleypete

I have been married three times, and yet I have never had children. Some who know me might think that this is a good thing, others have encouraged me to procreate, believing that I would be a ‘good father’. As I get older, and my nature becomes more reflective, and less reactive, I often think about this. No-one will ever call me Dad. Daddy, Father, Pops, or any of the other names associated with being a male parent. When I am dead and gone, there will be nobody to continue my ‘line’, and carry my name through the ages.

I recall a conscious decision not to have children, taken even before my first marriage. We were 25, had good jobs, excellent prospects for buying houses in nice areas of London, and the opportunity to travel abroad on holidays. There were two good cars, everything we needed, and a social circle…

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Why Do You Pretend To Be Normal?

A thought-provoking post by Clive at Take It Easy regarding people’s perceptions of what is ‘normal’. We all like to think of ourselves as normal, but is that what other people see? Are we ‘abnormal’ just because we have a disability such as diabetes or depression? What do you think?

Take It Easy

A fellow blogger – Stevie Turner – published a post on Monday about the odd phrases that people have entered into search engines as a result of which they have landed on her blog. Her post is called ‘WordPress Search Terms,’ and can be found here – as with all her posts, I recommend it. I’ve often marvelled at some of the weird and wonderful things people search for. In my case, I once wrote a post for Think About Sex Day – yes, it really does exist – which gave me the opportunity to use the word ‘sex’ in the post’s tags, giving rise (or not, ahem) to countless disappointed people since then. I commented on Stevie’s post that my all time favourite was someone who had found my blog by asking ‘why do you pretend to be normal?’ I’ve always hoped that wasn’t aimed specifically at me, but…

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True to Life?

I’ve seen a couple of new TV series recently that had one thing in common; they both had strong female leads, but both women’s characteristics seemed to be rather more male orientated than female.

The Bay featured an intrepid female detective, who was also a single mother of two teenagers.  Her underling was a man who seemed to be given all the jobs which would usually have been assigned to female police officers (i.e family liaison officer or sitting with distressed relatives etc.).  This lady detective had risky sex at the back of a pub with somebody she had met only minutes before – and appeared driven to solve the case at the expense of her own family problems.

Would a single mother put her job above her children?  I don’t know of any that would.  Would this same seemingly intelligent single mother put herself at risk by having unprotected sex with someone she had met only minutes before?  Hmm…

The second series, The Widow, featured a woman trying to find out why her husband had apparently died.  There she is like some modern-day Emma Peel, fighting and shooting men twice her size, while a cliffhanger ending of one episode shows her husband being held prisoner in a small wooden crate.  I actually gave up on this series, but watched The Bay through to the end.

In my opinion there appears to have been a total shift around regarding programmes where the hunky he-man type rescues the defenceless female in distress.  Nowadays the female leads can take on the world, including men twice their size and strength.  Nobody will ever confine them to a small wooden box.  These women are frightening in their muscle-power, resolve, and stamina.

My book ‘A House Without Windows’ focuses on how a woman escapes from her ten year hell of being held captive in a basement, and of the aftermath.  It was considered for filming in 2017 by a New York media production company, who at the last minute decided that violence against women was now not very PC…

But hey, is this true for real life?  Usually it is women who are victims of assault, rape, and domestic violence etc.  There are not many hunky females taking on the world and shooting-’em-up in Annie Oakley style that I know of.  Who are mostly Managing Directors of large companies?  Who make the majority of boardroom decisions?  Yes, it’s men.  Who struggle to break through those same company glass ceilings?  Who takes time off work to look after sick children?  Yes, it’s usually women because their male partners get paid more.

In the make-believe world of film, women are taking over the reins from men, but in real life I think they might have to wait a bit longer.

What Would I Say To My Younger Self?

Good one. I’d also say don’t be too trusting.  Live true to yourself, however hard it may be to achieve, and don’t take the easy option of sweeping it all under the carpet. Look on the bright side, and don’t complain…

Writer's Treasure Chest

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Dear AJ

In only a few short days it will be 2019 and I decided today, that it might be time to look back to your life and maybe help you out living it by sending you some advice. You’re 16 years old and I think it’s time you get some hints.

Just in case you think someone plays a trick on you, believe me, nobody does! Look at your desk. The lowest drawer, in the very back, there is a little envelope, glued to the bottom of the drawer. You remember you hid a love letter, a dried red rose and a silver necklace with a heart from your very first ‘boyfriend’ ever? How would I know about that if I wasn’t you? Let me tell you: one day you will regret the decision to throw that envelope away, after keeping it for more than 15 years. One day…

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Is Anything Really What it Seems?

Sam is a very practical down-to-earth guy, even more realistic than I am, and with everything in black and white…

As we were walking back through the gate to our holiday complex at the weekend after a stroll along the shoreline, we saw that a huge banner had appeared advertising the site’s new lodges.  With one of the lodges in the background, there at a table loaded with food on a pristine decking sat Mum, Dad, two children and two middle-agers, obviously the kids’ grandparents.  The sun shone, and all the family were smiling maniacally at the camera.

Sam took one look at it:

“You want to know the reality behind this?”

“Go on then.”  I replied.

“Well, the kids have had a lecture to sit still and shut up, but all they really want to do is leap up and run down to the beach.  The wife is pissed off because she’s been in the kitchen all morning preparing food when she wanted to be out on the decking with everyone else.  The old man wonders why her parents have had to come along again, and the grandparents can’t wait to get away from the noise of the kids and be on their own.”

Sam hadn’t spoken so many words for ages, and I looked at him in amazement and laughed.

“You’ve probably hit the nail on the head there!  Is anything really what it seems?”

“Nope.”  Sam shook his head.  “Nothing.”

So there you have it.  Sam’s a world-weary cynical old git, but I love him.

 

 

Clearing Your Plate

It’s funny how your upbringing, or the way you’ve raised your children, comes back to bite you sometimes, especially when it comes to food.

I was brought up never to worry about leaving food on my plate if I didn’t want it.  My mother Dot often went short of food as a child, and so made up for it by putting all manner of foods in front of me.  However, I was a strong-willed, fussy child and refused to eat much.  Sam as a boy had to empty every scrap of food from his plate even if he was full up, and had to sit at the table until all the food had been eaten (he soon learned to chuck it out of the window on the rare occasions when his mother wasn’t looking!).  This had an unfortunate drawback; Sam, his parents, and his sisters all became overweight, and it was only on leaving home that Sam could take control of his food intake and lose a few stones.  He also can never face Brussel sprouts again.

On the other hand, Dot had no qualms about throwing food away.  Out of the fridge would go anything uncooked from the week before, whereas Sam and his sisters had eaten everything in their household!  I followed Dot,  and to me it’s not the end of the world if somebody leaves food on their plate or throws something away out of the fridge.  So what?  Yeah, half the world is starving, but it’s not my fault just because I’ve left a roast potato on my plate.   I cannot eat if I’m full up, and so do not expect anybody else to either if they’re sitting at my table.

Our youngest son Marcus was a terribly fussy eater as a child, and always left food on his plate.  However, now he eats anything and everything and cannot bear to see food wasted.  If we go out to dinner at a restaurant and any of the family leaves food on their plates, he goes round the table and eats everything up!  He also makes sure that no food at his home is ever thrown away.  I suppose now he’s paying for his family’s food, he has a totally different viewpoint.

This trait came to the fore when we organised a party for his 30th birthday a couple of years’ ago in the village hall. There was food left over at the end of the evening, and Marc took it all home in a black sack, put it in his fridge, and carried on eating it until it was all gone, giving himself diarrhoea in the process due to a dodgy prawn vol-au-vent or twelve.   When he asked for my magic brown mixture two weeks’ later I nearly fell off my chair in surprise that he was still eating stuff from a fortnight before.

Perhaps my lackadaisical attitude towards left over food has caused Marc to rebel?  Sam hates to see anything thrown away too, and has even been known to get food out of the bin if I’ve chucked it out.   These days I usually make sure he’s not about if I want to clear out the fridge.  I cannot understand the obsession with eating everything up, as I wasn’t brought up that way.

I always remember the first dinner my mother-in-law cooked for me.  There was far too much food on the plate, and I left about a quarter of it.  I had an inkling that World War 3 was about to start by the thunderous look on her face, but I was full up and that was that.  Sam had been given enough food to feed 3 men, but still ploughed through it even though he hadn’t eaten big meals like that for several years.  Mother-in-law and I stared each other out, but I was resolute in my determination not to give in!

Did you have to eat everything on your plate as a child?  Even as a 5 year old, nobody could have made me eat what I didn’t want to.  To me, forcing a kid to eat against its will is tantamount to child cruelty.

Fortunately for the people I feed, I don’t see it as a rejection of me if they leave food or that they’re doing it on purpose because they don’t love me.  I’m sure they do, it’s probably just because they’re full up!

 

 

Stevie’s Review of Jack London’s ‘The People of the Abyss’.

I’ve been reading the most remarkable book, which was written in 1902 – just when my grandparents were being born.  The book is ‘The People of the Abyss’, by the celebrated American writer Jack London, who by the way was my grandfather’s favourite author.

http://bookShow.me/B00M5NHWBU

Jack earned his living as a writer, but during 1902 came to the East End of London, threw off his tailored clothes, and donned the garb of a penniless unemployed workman to see how the other half lived.  He passed himself off as a sailor on shore leave to explain his accent, and found himself a room so that every now and then he knew he’d get a good night’s sleep and a meal.  However, generally he lived on the streets and got to know many people (mostly men of course), who were trying to eke out a living.

I lived in Jack’s East End 60 years later, and reaped the benefits of the NHS, both parents’ gainful employment, and the backstop of the dole if they had lost their jobs.  However, it wasn’t until 1920 that the ‘dole’ system had been founded.  Previously unemployment benefit had been around since 1911, but only as a kind of insurance to people who were already employed.  Therefore, in 1902, if you didn’t work you didn’t eat.   

I know the streets that Jack tramped along with the poor underfed souls who had reached middle age and were finding it impossible to earn even a meagre wage, as they had discovered that employers seeking casual workers preferred younger and stronger men.   Whole families lived on the streets, being moved along by the police at night if they tried to sit down and sleep.  If  any men climbed over the park railings to sleep in peace on a park bench, it was 6 months in prison.  Some men I learned even killed their wives and children rather than have them waste away through malnutrition or be sent to the workhouse.

For those fortunate enough to have a roof over their heads, many people shared one room and overcrowding in filthy bug-ridden conditions was rife.  By the time I lived in Poplar, all the slums had been demolished and new housing was springing up.  For all I know the street I lived in could have been full of slum properties, but all that was left of them were the odd garden wall or pile of rubble.

Jack contrasted the poverty he experienced first hand with the ‘toffs’ in the West End.  As he walked through Theatreland he saw the pitiful sight of one elderly man hailing a cab for a ‘toff’ coming out of the theatre, in the hope of earning a penny.  Generous to a fault, Jack paid for food for many of the people he came across, watching in awe as they demolished three or four dinners at a time and saved every scrap of food they didn’t eat.  He watched the coronation of King Edward VII in all its richness and glory, while lamenting that just a few miles away people were dying through disease and lack of food and shelter.

He also writes of East Enders’ summer holidays, usually spent hop-picking in the fields of Kent.  Yes, my father’s family also did this and took me along with them, although due to my extreme youth I don’t remember any of it.

Thank goodness for the NHS and unemployment benefit.  Nowadays you have generations of some families ‘on the dole’ because they want the easy life and do not fancy going to work at all.  Perhaps they should have walked a mile in Jack’s broken down boots…

5 stars for a wonderful (if rather depressing) and compulsive read, written in a style that is not dated at all.

 

 

Five things a parent can do for a child to allow them to become a confident and engaging citizen.

Tags

parenting

I saw a good question worth answering on Quora recently:

As a parent, what are the five most important things you can do for your child at a young age that will allow for him/her to grow up and become a confident and engaging citizen?

1.  Show and tell your child that you love him/her:

This is the most important one of all.  Tell them you love them and don’t leave them short on cuddles, hugs and kisses.  Give lots of one-to-one time such as reading stories or playing games.  If a child does not feel wanted or loved, they may constantly seek attention or develop unsociable behaviour as a young child or promiscuity as a teenager.

2.  Reinforce routines and boundaries of behaviour to make them feel safe:

Another important thing is for a child not to grow up in a chaotic household. They need to know when it is bedtime and when mealtimes are, and what behaviour is acceptable.  If behavioural boundaries are overstepped, then a firm but fair punishment should be given so that the child knows not to do it again (care must be taken not to go overboard and break the child’s spirit).  Both parents should agree on how to discipline bad behaviour, otherwise the child soon learns to play one parent off against the other.

3.  Encourage any talents:

Show an interest in any talent they may possess, and encourage it – maybe even paying for extra lessons in the subject.  This is a good way to enhance a child’s self-confidence.

4.  Let the leash out:

Children learn from their mistakes.  Don’t mollycoddle them too much and give them a little bit of freedom appropriate to their age to explore their environment on their own and learn how to become street-wise.  Encourage them to get a paper round or a Saturday job when they’re old enough.  No child needs to be supervised 24/7.

5.  Reward good behaviour:

Make a star chart for young children, or give extra pocket money for older ones.  Show that you’re pleased if they help around the house.  Any good behaviour is worth rewarding!