Judge Not...

Oh how I used to criticise.

Watching Supernanny on the sofa (with no milkstains on the upholstery yet), in the orderly and quiet flat (that wasn't littered with musical toys, dummies and soiled milk muslins), my hair washed (sans the porridge clumps), I'd sigh and pity these people. Surely raising kids wasn't that difficult?

Then I had mine.

Felix is only eight months old, so I'm not exactly talking from a lifetime's experience, but it sure has been humbling. Child rearing theory and practice are two different realities.  

For example, TV and food used to be big issues for me. Neither should ever be used to distract a child. Right?

Hah! Meet my new best friend, the Baby Fresh Food Feeder. A tiny mesh bag with a handle, you stuff it with a piece of fruit or a biscuit... to be safely enjoyed by baby, alone. Magic. Gives you time to gobble down your own lunch.

Next, introducing children's TV. Some days the sound of Three Little Monkeys and Felix falling into silence for a minute or so means that I can go to the loo on my own, without having to hear a heart wrenching "Mamamamamamama!" from the playpen as I do my business as fast as possible (not good for the old post partum hemorroids I can tell you).

Because that's just it. I've come to see that we're not talking about toddlers being glued to reruns of CSI for eight hours whilst stuffing their faces with supersized Happy Meals. It's really about having five, yes, literally five, minutes to yourself. A short moment where you can have a pee, pull yourself together, make a cuppa or just brace yourself for the next six hours ahead. 

Keeping up with a high energy little person is hard work. I'm not saying that constantly taking the easy way out is right - or that it wasn't my choice to have a child. But it's not a cardinal sin to pacify your child occasionally with the "wrong thing" either. 

In fact, I'd be concerned if Felix stayed glued to the television like the little girl from Poltergeist. He has an very short attention span at the moment and even as he grows I really doubt I could make him watch TV all day - he's too busy discovering the world. I've also noticed that he stops eating when he's full (unlike many adults I know, yours truly included). Damage limitation seems to come as a built in feature.

Kids are really needy creatures and I for one have had to take my time to adjust to that fact. At the same time, the world is full of well meaning friends and scary statistics that can guarantee a lifetime of anxiety regarding our children's development. Yet why is it that there is no one expert formula that works perfectly for every parent and child? Because winging it with tons of love and an ample helping of common sense still seem to work best. For me anyway.

So as a heartfelt apology to all those people who I used to scowl at on the airplane when their babies cried: 

I promise I'll try very hard not to judge anymore. You're doing a great job without my help.

New Mum Anxieties

I'm an nervous, jumpy sort of person. Loud noises make me leap out of my skin, I get a stress headache from watching horror films and I once drove my car into a ditch when a wasp flew in through the open window. I live by the motto "Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong".

Bad, I know. I need to lighten up.

But then at 37 years of age, just as I felt I was entering maturity and learning to let go a little, I became a mum.

Now my fears have multiplied by about, oh, maybe a zillion. Seriously. Danger lurks everywhere.

Thank God apparently I'm not alone in this. Other mums tell me that when it comes to their babies, they immediately think of the worst case scenario too. We like to call it "catastrophising" (as opposed to fantasizing).

Here are some of my favourite Impending Doom moments:

• When dad plays rough with baby. Yes, my child is screaming with delight as he's being spun, flung and hung upside down. Me, I may be smiling on the outside. In my head I'm already dialling for the trauma unit.

• When friends, neighbours and family smother my new born with kisses (this is the thing about Spain, there's LOTS of kissing). I'm trying to appear relaxed and go with the flow whilst silently panicking about all the deadly diseases my child is catching. Afterwards, I'll clean his little face down with baby wipes. And pray.

• This is the obvious one: when he sleeps. I admit mums are not alone with this one, dad's do this too. Is the baby breathing? Will he have rolled over and can't cry out for help? Is he suffocating on his blanket/sleepy toy/milk chuck up? For the tenth time that night, despite the baby monitor and that tiny little bit of sanity you still have left, you get up and check. It's almost a relief when he wakes up screaming at 4am. At least you know he's still alive!

• When you leave him with your husband/grandparents/baby sitter/nursery for the first time. Oh. My. God. Will they give him the right food? What if there's an accident? What colour is his poo today? You check your phone constantly. Eventually you give in and call. It's not that you don't trust other people. It's just that they are not his mum.

• Solid foods. A total pitfall. Half the time you're convinced he's not having enough or your giving him the wrong thing. During the other half you just know he'll end up obese. And blame you for it.

• Now this is a trickiest one of them all: disfunction. If you've never tortured yourself by over analysing your and your partner's behaviour, now's the perfect time for it. As you nag, complain, project and over eat through your day, there are ample moments when you can stop to consider the vast psychological damage you're inflicting on your offspring by, well, just being you. Welcome to parenthood.

Seriously though, it's not all that bad. When I lie awake after the 4am feed, terribly alert and unable to get back to sleep thanks to the adrenaline that seems to pump through my body 24 hours a day, I sometimes get humbling moments of clarity:

Despite all the back chat, the arguments, the sighs of frustration and the rolling of eyes you have subjected your own mother to over the years... She was only reminding you to take your scarf and gloves, or asking for the hundredth time if you'd eaten enough, because she loves you so damn much.