The tiny big promises

I used to be reasonably big on New Years resolutions. And New Years Eve. But to be honest, with two kids – the passing of this year passed in a blink. The babies cared not that it was New Years Eve. One wouldn’t go to sleep for hours so I was up and down like a yo-yo and then they tag-teamed waking up for the rest of the night.

I had to murder someone down the street for letting off fireworks. There was no midnight kiss and sloppy toast for my husband and I. Just a “Can you take him to the other room and I’ll have this one in here with me”.

And you know, that’s OK. Every New Year forever won’t be like this. And I’ve had worse believe it or not. I’d choose two over-tired kids over drunks in town any day of the week…

But I did think about resolutions. And I did think you’re probably a pretty rubbish blogger if you don’t write a post about resolutions. But here’s the thing – I am no more capable on 31 December to re-order or reprioritise my life than I am on 1 January. I am tired. And I can’t be bothered even writing down “get more exercise” let alone actually getting more exercise.

So, in order to be kinder to myself I won’t be making any resolutions. I don’t need one more thing to not achieve. I have had a great year despite the sleepless nights. Adjusting to life as four has been wild and amazing. And I did all these little things and big things (like uh having a damn baby) despite none of these things being goals or resolutions. I mean having a baby is kind of a goal but you know what I mean…

So I’m just going to head into this year teeth bared and strong-willed as if heading into a storm, because frankly sometimes that’s what parenting feels like. And on the days where it’s mostly sunshine I’ll be ready for the sun to rejuvenate me to prepare for those days when it’s darker.

And I’m going to keep thinking about my quiet aims as a parent. They’re not big and lit up in lights. They’re changeable. I have learned so much as a parent and I am going to continue to learn. I reserve the right to change the views I have and adjust my course to better suit my whānau. There’s little aims like – Don’t rush in to “help”, have faith that my sons are learning and they need space to learn. Stop rushing them so much, let them do things in their own time (I mean they don’t need to take 45 fucking minutes to put on one shoe but you know…the rest…) Stop worrying before I need to – I need to remind myself that sometimes things work without me doing anything at all so there’s no need to stress. Toilet training was a prime example of this – but that’s another blog post entirely. These little goals and aims change all the time. Even day to day. They’re refined as I learn more – from the children, from other parents…

But the main bits, the bits that count, are the bits that I will ponder as I switch off the light each night. Even when I’m foggy and the edges are dulled from a day with too much MUM MUM MUM and wailing and bumped heads and fat tears (theirs and mine) I can usually pull these little hopes into the forefront and say each one quietly to firm them up and keep them real.

I made promises to my babies as I carried them and then as those first pains of labour started I promised again, and then when I held them in my arms I cried as I swore to them that I’d keep these promises.

I will love you always.

I will keep you safe.

I will always try.

They’re simple and they’re the same breathless teary promises mothers the world over make when they hold their babies for the first time. Or that rush they feel as they see the plus sign on a pregnancy test. Before the fear and the doubt there is a moment where those promises tumble out before you can really articulate them.

And they form the basis of all parenting. I will love you even when you’re screaming all night or pushing boundaries or buttons. When you’re grown I’ll still love you even when you make choices I don’t agree with or find hard to understand. I’ll still love you even when your actions hurt me or you hurt yourself.

I will keep you safe emotionally – I will honour your feelings and protect your heart. I’ll try my best to guide you so that you feel strong and can talk about what you need to feel healthy and whole. I will keep you safe physically – I’ll never hit you, I’ll make those hard decisions about your health until you are old enough to, I’ll make sure I advocate for you and I’ll protect you from people who hurt others. I’ll teach you to be gentle with yourself and others – hearts and bodies.

I’ll always try. I can’t be perfect. But I can commit to always trying to be the best parent I can be. I won’t always be that parent. But I hope that when you look back at your childhood you see a mum who tried her hardest. I hope if you see the days I yelled or felt overwhelmed you’ll also see the deep breath I took and you’ll hear me apologise to you and you’ll see that I was accountable and I tried. I hope you’ll see that it’s OK to fail but that we always try to do better.

And as an adult I hope I’m still the person you need, though your needs will of course be different, I hope you feel you can turn to me and I will respect your boundaries and the life you’ve created for yourself.

These are promises to my children but they’re also promises to me. They remind me that I’m lucky to have these special kids in my life. And when it’s 4am and I’m thinking I can’t possibly do this because I’m TOO TIRED and NOTHING IS WORKING – I’m reminded of these promises.

And they’re something of a guiding star for me.  Almost useless as fuck if it’s too cloudy – but most nights, a light peaking through. If I’m lost I’ll find my way. And I’ll get there in the end. Taken back to that moment when I held my baby in my arms and said – I promise….

A guide to being nice at Christmas (or the gift of not being a jerk)

Whether you have wee ones or not – Christmas can be a stressful time. Or a magical time. Or some kind of magical stressful time. I have had a number of emails in the lead up to Christmas from new mums who are stressed and tired and really nervous about taking their new baby to the big family Christmas.

Christmas can be awesome, and big families can be awesome, and these things can also be really not awesome.

It’s hard to be assertive and set boundaries and stick to them and feel OK at Christmas time when you’re around heaps of family you don’t see often and you have a new baby you’re trying to figure out how to care for AND you’re not getting any sleep.

It’s awesome if this isn’t you – it’s awesome if you have awesome family relations and Christmas Day is a super relaxing day that you’re looking forward to. This is what I think everyone should have.

But everyone doesn’t have this. So I wanted to write a post to the people reading this who maybe don’t have kids, or have grown up kids, and want to support their friends who are parents through Christmas.

And I also wanted to talk a bit about how we can make Christmas really good for kids.

And not in a – Pinterest gingerbread mansion kind of way, more in a, Christmas can be really overwhelming for little ones so let’s make this easier for them, kind of thing…

For the maybe pregnant mum

DON’T ask if they’re pregnant

That’s it. So they’re not drinking. So they look bigger. So they have been married a while. Don’t ask. Just don’t. Do you know what sucks? For a lot of people December 2015 marks a year of trying to have a baby. Imagine beginning a year and making that decision to have a baby – the excitement and joy and the little bit of fear. You might have imagined Christmas as a time when you’d be rubbing your big belly, or you’d be holding your baby. Instead, you’ve spent month after month not getting pregnant. It’s crushing. And debilitating. And now you’ve got someone asking you if you’re pregnant when you’re not. Or you’ve had a miscarriage and haven’t told family. If you’d not lost the baby you might be seven months along. You might have bought a little decoration for the tree.

If someone is pregnant and they want you to know – they’ll tell you.

End. Of. Story.

For the pregnant at Christmas mum

I was eight months pregnant last Christmas and I travelled to Auckland. It was awful. Auckland is hot and horrible even when you’re not eight months pregnant (I’m sorry Auckland). What made my Christmas tolerable and even enjoyable was the little things my family did to help me through…

DO – help the mum-to-be to rest

The best thing was when one of the Aunties set up a room for me and put two fans on me and surrounded me with pillows and let me sleep for a few hours in the middle of the day. Do what you can to help the mum-to-be relax. This might be her last chance. If it’s hot – get a fan. Put her feet up. Bring her a nice cold drink.

DO – Look after her other children

If she has other kids, keep an eye on them and keep them entertained. Soon she will have her hands really full, don’t make her chase after her kids when you can do it. She’ll be so grateful, trust me! Also, see below on letting kids be kids. It’s going to be stressful for her if you keep demanding her other children do things beyond their abilities as little ones.

DON’T bombard her with horror stories

When I was pregnant I never heard one positive birth story. It was all – and then the baby was pulled out by the leg and another friend had a baby and then they were like OMG THERE IS TWO MORE IN THERE and did you hear about the mum whose epidural didn’t work and she got pregnant while being pregnant and do you know what a Vagus is? It’s when your vagina and anus and….I rest my case….Don’t. She’ll be scared and nervous about labour. Don’t make it worse. This rule is for every day – not just Christmas Day.

For the mum with a new baby

DO – Set her up in a comfy chair

Bring her water. Bring her a plate of food. Let her relax with the baby. When today is over, she will go back to being possibly (quite probably) unsupported. Today is a great day to show her how much you all love her AS WELL AS her baby. Tell her how great she’s doing. Remind her that she’s an excellent mum and she’s doing really well.

DO – Wash your hands before touching the baby and ask first

Babies can get sick easily, but also – as a new mum, the last thing you want to see is someone put their finger in your child’s mouth when you don’t know if they’ve washed their hands. Also, don’t put your finger in the baby’s mouth unless mum says – “hey, can you put your finger in my baby’s mouth”. Don’t grab the baby. Don’t try to wake it when it’s sleeping. If it sleeps all day and mum doesn’t want you to move the baby – Too bad. You don’t get to hold the baby. Don’t ever move the baby unless mum tells you to. Sleep can be hard fought for and babies need their sleep.

If the baby falls asleep on you, I’m sorry – but you cannot move until the baby wakes up. In my house we have a rule – You wake it, you take it.

DON’T forget about her other children

If she has other children, make sure you welcome them and play with them and make them feel special too. It’s a big change for a little person – if everyone is cooing over the baby they might feel left out. Talk to them about how they’re feeling about being a big brother or sister. Let them know how proud you are of how they’re supporting their mummy and daddy. Show them how much you love them too.

DON’T hog the baby

I know you want to see the baby. I turn into a bit of a weirdo around babies. I just want to sniff them and hold them and they’re so beautiful and sometimes I feel like some evil queen who wants to eat them. I get the magnetic allure of babies. TRUST ME. I am a baby fiend. It’s my aim in life to hold every baby. But a mum has waited more than nine months to meet her baby – sometimes it’s been many, many years. Now that baby is here, mum might not want baby handled by heaps of people, and she might want to keep baby close because she’s still getting to know baby. So often I see family members holding babies while mum races around cleaning and cooking and doing EVERYTHING and I often think it should really be reversed. Mum did all the hard work getting baby here, and she just wants to get to know her baby. If baby is really fresh – do not be surprised or annoyed if she doesn’t want you to hold the baby. If you do hold the baby – make sure you don’t spend all day with the baby….Also, “I’ll hold the baby while you clean” isn’t that great of an offer. I hear SO MUCH from new mums about people visiting new babies WAY TOO SOON and just parking themselves on the couch and holding the baby while they make a new mum make them tea and coffee and fix them lunch. Don’t be that person. There will be plenty of time to hold the baby.

My next bit of advice?

DO hog the baby

Sometimes you’re like “omg if I hold this baby one more second I’m going to explode please someone take this baby” and you just want to catch up with other people and not have a hot, sweaty, sticky baby on you. In that case – hog away. Huff that sweet little baby!

Yes, this is conflicting advice – but that’s because everyone is different. Follow mum’s lead. If she looks tired and fretful and is clinging tight to baby, she probably wants you to just let her cuddle baby in peace. If she is holding baby at arm’s length and saying OMG GET IT. Well, you’re good.

DON’T overwhelm her with stupid questions/dumb advice

“Oh sounds like baby is hungry!” Guess what – mum knows when baby is hungry. If baby is crying – mum knows. You don’t need to say “must be hungry” or “baby is crying”. Don’t do ‘in my day’. Don’t hassle her for bottle feeding or breast feeding. Don’t shit on about how you cherished every minute and tell her while her nipples are bleeding that breastfeeding is bliss. Don’t give her shit for having a glass of wine. Not your body, not your choice. Don’t tell her the baby needs to sleep – babies always need to sleep. Don’t ask if the baby is a “good” baby. All babies are good. Don’t scare her with stories of cot death and how you know someone whose baby died. Just chill – talk about how cute the baby is and how great she’s doing. If she opens up and says she’s having a hard time – support her. You don’t have to provide answers. Just listen.

For the mum of toddlers

DO let the kids have fun

Just chill is my motto for Christmas Day. So the kids are running inside or one of them has opened up a present before they were allowed to. They’re kids. Let mum handle it – and if she’s not bothered, you don’t need to be bothered. Don’t step in and don’t yell at the kids. Think about whether getting angry at children for getting too excited on Christmas day is something you need to do.

If mum decides to let things slide – let them slide. She knows her kids. She has probably decided this isn’t a battle worth fighting. If you don’t like her way of handling it – wait until she’s gone and then moan. Nobody needs a scene at Christmas.

Do remember they’re toddlers

Tantrums are Normal Toddler Behaviour. Totally normal. Tantrums on Christmas Day – EXPECTED AND ACCEPTABLE. Think about it – what’s something you’re passionate about? It has to be something you love more than anything in the world. Now imagine you are going to get this thing or experience or whatever. But you have to wait a month. And you don’t really know how days work so each day you think this huge thing is happening today but it isn’t. Each day you get excited but it’s a normal day and someone says – it’s soon! But you can’t really figure out how soon. And the thing you’re freaking obsessed with is sometimes IN THE ROOM UNDER A TREE. But you can’t even touch it let alone open it. And then finally – after all this time – you wake up and TODAY IS THE DAY! You’re about to shit yourself with excitement. And then you get put into a car for four hours. And you don’t know how long you’re driving for. For all you know – it could be a year. You finally arrive at your destination – you’re hot and stressed and you’re still waiting for the thing. AND YOU ARE SUPER TIRED – you usually have sleeps during the day but today you’re not allowed to sleep or you feel like if you sleep you might miss the thing. And now there are all these people – and some of them are kissing you and hugging you but you’ve never met them. And some of them are lifting you off the ground and you’re a bit scared but also excited because your cousins and friends are there and your grandparents. And there’s weird tension. But you still want the thing. And you don’t know when you’re going to get the thing.

And did I mention you have very little control of your emotions?

Now – you’ve got to go through all of that and you’re never once allowed to get upset or cry or complain or have any kind of reaction. Because if you do – you’re bad. And everyone will tell you you’re bad. And they’ll compare you to your friend or cousin or sister who has handled it slightly better than you. And in front of you they’ll say your friend or cousin or brother is a better person than you.

This is what Christmas can be like for kids. It’s super fun – but it’s exhausting. Naps don’t happen when they need to. There’s new people, new situations, lots of travel. Worst still – people talk about you like you’re not even there and say you’re good or bad as if you can’t hear them.

Be gentle on the little ones and don’t expect too much from them. Let them be kids.

Remember – if you can handle the aunty who always gets drunk or the uncle who is really gross – you can handle the spirited toddler. Adults get SO MUCH space to be dicks at Christmas. Let kids be kids because they’re not trying to hurt anyone and they’re not being dicks. They’re just being kids. They have way less ability to handle their emotions than X FAMILY MEMBER WHO EVERYONE HAS WHO IS JUST OUT OF CONTROL.  

Don’t judge a mum for one day of the year

You don’t see what goes on every day at home. You don’t see the way she handles all the kids and gets to work on time and keeps the house running and does charity work and has endless smiles for her children even when she’s exhausted. You don’t see that so don’t think you know her by a few tired remarks on Christmas Day.

If she loses it – it will be because she’s tired and stressed and Christmas can be overwhelming. If she cries – it’s probably because she’s overwhelmed. If she snaps at the kids – she’ll probably feel awful about it, and your raised eyebrow won’t help.

Be kind. The best present you can give is letting her know that this is just one day – if the kids are running wild that’s fine, if she can’t keep up that’s ok, if she’s exhausted let her rest – tomorrow is another day. And we’re family and family do what we can to look out for each other. And there’s always next year.

If you liked this, follow me on Facebook for more of the same. I’m on Instagram too!

This year

My arms are full of babies as I write this. We are feeling sick, have been for a few weeks now, so we are all in our big bed together – the boys are dozing in and out of foggy pamol-supported sleep. It’s ground-hog day really – we have been here many times this year.

But my heart is also full. And it’s hard to  put into words the enormous gratitude I feel. Not just for these sweet babies. Of course, I thank all of the lucky stars in the sky for my precious boys. It’s incredible how in those first few weeks and months you can’t fathom loving them more but really every week that goes by you do…That sudden realisation that these perfect little beings are really here and they’re yours, and you feel woozy with all of the heartburstingoutofyourchest love and yet when they’re three and you tuck them into bed and they say “I love you more than the world” it’s even MORE. Or when they’re sick and there are big fat tears and shuddering gasps and hoarse crying and they’re red and hot and your heart just breaks for them and it’s even MORE. And I don’t know how that’s possible. But it is.

But they’re not all I feel thankful for.

It’s you. I want to thank you for this year.

I want to thank every person reading and every person who has been kind to me during this long year of learning and love.

Your comments and emails and the things you’ve said when sharing my posts, your tweets and your messages on Facebook, you have helped me so much. I can’t even tell you. But I’ll try:

A while back someone said on the Herald or somewhere “What makes you think you’re an expert on parenting?” and I thought – where on Earth did this person get the idea that I’m an expert on anything?!? Have they ever read anything I’ve ever written?!?

I’ve never claimed to be an expert and I would think anyone reading my posts would know I’m not. I’m just a mum. Writing. Trying to make sense of my world which at times feels very lonely. I’m just reaching out and saying – this is how I feel, I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, maybe it’s neither.

Often I feel like I’m very wrong. That I’m one missed step away from fucking everything up. Every time I hit publish I wonder if what I’ve said is going to help anyone. Though I stumbled into this blogging thing, I realised quickly that I hoped it would help others in the way it has helped me.

What I’ve found over this year is that there are a lot of us out there who are trying really hard to be good parents and who aren’t sure if we are, but really, really want to be. I’ve found I’m not alone in my insecurities as a mother. And that in itself is a gift.

Even more so is how much you’ve reached out – You commented, and emailed, and sent me messages, and tweets – and you were so kind. You told me stories about your beautiful children. Gave me tips that held no judgement. Shared the agony of sleep deprivation. Made me feel normal. You told me I was a good mother on days when I felt like I was doing everything wrong. You supported my idealistic and ill-thought out ventures and made them successes. That wasn’t me doing Ballet is for Everyone – it was all of you, donating money and volunteering time and sharing updates and encouraging others to give. And thank you especially to my co-founder Sarah and all of the dance teachers who put in so very much work, which made so many kids happy this year (and will continue to do next year).

You encouraged me to sleep. To eat. To do. You helped me deal with developmental changes that drove me up the wall – WHY WHY WHY. You made me laugh so much. So many times my husband hissed “turn off your phone!” as I snort laughed under the blankets cracking up at our shared hatred of Peppa Pig and fantasies about what you’d do to your mum if she said one more thing about self-soothing.

You were so, so generous. It blows my mind how generous you’ve been. Because of your support through Patreon and donations through this site I’ve been able to be home with my boys a lot longer than I ever would have been able to be.

And it didn’t end there – You got Eddie the gift of Elsa! To this day he still talks about how she came to his birthday. His little face lights up when he holds his Elsa doll. “Elsa is my best friend she came to my birthday” is one of the first things he says when he meets new people.

You donated to the Children’s Hospital in his name. You donated over $2,500 to Ballet is for Everyone. You gave me grocery vouchers when the Ham was hospitalised and you knew my husband would need to be home with Eddie.

You stayed up late and talked to me on Twitter while I cried and watched my baby unable to breathe on his own. You understood my fears, never minimised them, but helped me keep perspective.

You voted in your droves for me to win an award. You supported me when the Herald approached me to write for them. You supported me when I had my first sponsored post – and hopefully you’ll continue to support me now that I have a sponsor for this site (Thanks Flick!)

You stood up for me when people were mean about me online. You told your friends about my blog. You told me to write a book (and I’m starting to write one!) You told me to back myself and for the first time in my life I’m starting to do that.

You made me feel less alone. You created a community where we get to laugh and talk about being parents without nastiness. You showed this Mommy Wars thing is mostly bullshit – because if you’re kind to each other the online home you make replicates that. “A love boomerang” – as Giselle said.

This has been a wild, strange, awesome, inspiring year for me – from the very first post when my sister said “I just read something and it sounds like you” and I thought – how on earth did that post get to Sydney? And then when I went on Twitter and couldn’t get into my mentions. And then when Huff Post and MamaMia and others started calling… And SO MANY COMMENTS that I had to get two friends to help me moderate.

Ham was a few weeks old. Next month he will be one. And then this blog will be one.

And it’s all because of you. So thank you. Thank you for sharing with me the joy and wonder and horror and awesomeness and exhaustion and excitement of parenting.

And just as I was finishing writing this, at my door an envelope addressed to “Emily Writes” landed.

I have spent much of this week concerned about how I will pay for everything – we are no different to any other family. Actually, we are probably luckier than many families as my writing skills allow me to work from home and my husband is a very good gardener. Nonetheless, like most families I have been worried about Christmas. The children have been sick for two weeks and so have I which means no writing. And I’ve needed my husband’s help as we have been to after hours and back and to the GP again and eventually calling an ambulance after a fever spiked again. It has been stressful.

And then this.

“Emily, you do great work – this is from your community! Love xxxxx”

And inside a koha for us.

These letters of love and koha I get are almost always anonymous. If you are behind this one or any of the letters I’ve received this year – thank you. I love this community so much.

I am bewildered but overwhelmed by the way you all continue to support me and lift me up. And I love that you do this to all of the other parents who comment here. I do believe we have one of the nicest comments sections on the internet.

Again, thank you. Thank you for holding out a hand through the fog of sleep derivation. And for those who are through that stage, thank you for listening and supporting and for remembering what it’s like. Thank you for encouraging us all to raise our voices and speak out – to share our experiences of anxiety and depression and fear.

Thank you for not saying in my day or telling us to enjoy every second of every minute of every day. Thank you for celebrating with us when we cherish moments because they’re really special.

I hope this won’t be my last blog for the year. If it is I’ll say now – Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May the first relative who gives you unsolicited advice choke on their brandy. May your nights be quiet, and may your days begin well after 5am. May your little ones go to sleep easily and stay asleep. May you have a hot cup of coffee and a cold something stronger. May all the noisy toys you’re gifted mysteriously break within hours.

If 2015 has been painful for you I hope you are surrounded by love and kindness to get you through these last days.

I hope your 2016 is as wonderful as you are.

It does take a village.

From the bottom of my heart, thanks for being the best fucking village ever.

Love Emily, Eddie & Ham

x

**

If you liked this, follow me on Facebook for more of the same. I’m on Instagram too!

How to be kind

Today was kind of a wonderful day. We had our Ballet is for Everyone Christmas party. Lots of kids and parents and volunteers and friends came, and it was beautiful.

Ballet is for Everyone is a wee thing a friend and I and Twitter started that provides free ballet classes for children. It’s completely volunteer run and everything is paid for by donations. It feels like every single person who has donated or volunteered has a different reason for why they support it. Personally, I wanted to do something because my son wanted to wear a tutu and I couldn’t afford to put him in classes and I didn’t know if I even wanted him in traditional classes even if I could afford them and putting children who have or have had health problems into mainstream classes is really stressful anyway…(I wrote about it all here)

So, on a whim, we all decided to do this thing. And this thing, turned into a thing that took over my life for about six months or something. And today we had our final classes for the year.

And throughout the party everyone there just kind of kept catching looks across the dancing children and grinning and clasping hands and just thinking: Look at this! Look at all these happy kids!

For five or so months we’ve put on classes every single weekend and children have had free classes and free ballet gear and tutus and all of these things. But I think the thing that they love the most is that they have all of these adults just totally invested in them as little people. They walk into the studio and the kids know it’s all about them. It’s like a birthday party – if it’s your birthday, you’re the special guest. But here, all of the kids are. Every Sunday. They know that nothing is expected of them. We – the adults – are here to assist them in just being the incredible little beings that they are. Actually, they don’t need any assistance here. We basically just give them water when they say they’re thirsty ha!

And I’ve come to realise, that this way of being around children is so life-affirming for them. So much of Eddie’s confidence I attribute to the ballet “lessons”. Our little discussions before bed on Sundays always involve talk of ballet and tonight was no different.

But he did ask an interesting question and his answer to his question sparked off so many thoughts for me, so here I am writing about them in a garbled, please forgive me it’s Sunday, type of way…

We were talking about ballet and how nice it was that we had so many different teachers today (we had can-can dancers, a hula dancer, contemporary dancers, and a belly dancer) and Eddie asked:

“Why did they come?”

And I thought it was a fairly straightforward question but then I couldn’t quite work out how to answer it. So I said: Why do you think they came? And he said:

“Because they love all of us?”

And I thought, well yes. Why not. And then before I could work out what I should say, he said:

“It’s nice they all love all of us because when they do love all of us it makes me feel kind”.

And I thought, well. Kids are pretty fucking smart. Because he basically just told me how to teach him something I’ve pondered since the day I got pregnant.

How do we teach our kids to be kind?

Of all of the traits I want my children to have – kindness is my number one. I don’t want Eddie to make a million dollars (though it would be nice), or be a champion athlete or award-winning author (though sure, it’d be nice) or to have great fame or accolades – I want him to be kind.

I have read many blog posts on how to encourage kindness. Gratitude. Empathy. So often it turns into a ‘how to have good manners’ post or it feels very complicated for something that seems like it shouldn’t be complicated.

This evening, I kind of realised that it’s just like anything else – we make sure they feel safe and loved and we model behaviour. It’s pretty clear that when we are kind to all children, not just our children, when we let them just be the wonderful little freaks that they are – we are teaching kindness.

And of course this is the case. I mean, when I feel judged or belittled or when I am made to feel like I have to put on an act for others, I feel deeply resentful. When I feel excluded, or like I don’t belong, I struggle to have any feeling of warmth toward anyone. Community is so deeply entwined with kindness – it’s impossible to have one without the other. So of course – without community, without feeling unconditionally accepted, no wonder we struggle to be kind. Why should children be any different?

I know this is no great epiphany, but it made me have a lot of feelings. Those rare moments in parenting where you think – maybe I’m not screwing them up for life. Maybe I am on the right track. These are the moments that sustain you through the hard bits, the ‘how can I honestly be an adult right now and yet still be totally incapable of getting a fucking baby out of a fucking swaddle’ bits. When you stumble upon a parenting win, through no real effort on your part, it really does taste sweet.

So I’m feeling like I have had a win, my son feeling kind is one of those: yep, you’re doing OK moments for me. I’m feeling overwhelming gratitude for everyone who helps our kids feel kind too.

So, to all of the people who treat children with respect and kindness and don’t expect things from them and instead just say: Go for gold you super little human! Thank you. Thank you for teaching kindness.

In a world where people are shooting up healthcare centres and concert halls – it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by horribleness. It’s easy to say – what hope is there for a better whatever.

I think there is hope. (And to be fair – if there isn’t, that’s even more reason to be kind, but I digress). There’s hope in kids feeling kind and being kind. And then because someone made them feel special and loved and safe – they do the same for another. Little acts of kindness spreading like marmite on dimpled cheeks and baby teeth.

Happy Sunday x

If you liked this, follow me on Facebook for more of the same. I’m on Instagram too!