Category: Family

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Snow – Sensible or Over-Protective Parent?

It’s only November, but this is the worst snow that I can remember as an adult.  I remember snow like this when I was a child, and that was pretty special for me.  All this snow is pretty special for my children as well, because they have never seen snow like this before. 

I am not talking a few inches on the ground.  I am talking the lab up to her neck in it and the cat refusing to go out because he disappears in it.   I have had to dig out two trenches, one for the cat and one for the dog to get out to the toilet.  The photos were from yesterday when the snow was about 7 inches less than it is today.   My camera is away with youngest son for the day, and hopefully he takes some pictures with it, but I won’t hold my breath.

I have fantastic memories of out sledging as a child, wearing only jeans and trainers, and being frozen to the bone, but refusing to give up.  How on earth we didn’t end up with frostbite I have no idea.

Togging up my own children, I have them wearing three layers under a huge jacket.  On top of that, I plant them with hats, gloves, waterproof and padded trousers, and furry lined boots to keep out the chill. 

And I am STILL worrying about whether they are warm enough outside in the snow.  

Eldest yesterday brought home a friend in the afternoon who was wearing only trainers and a pair of joggers and had been out for most of the day.  This is a child who seems to be fur coat and no knickers.  He has all the latest electronic gadgets and fashion junk, but school clothes that fit, and sensible footwear don’t seem to exist.

This child ends up in our TV room, and really cold, he phones his mum for a lift.  She says she will try and get out for him.  He tells her that his feet are freezing and that they are sore.  She still only says that she will try and come for him.  He then gets worried and asks, well, what will I do?  Obviously he was stressed out about the thought of putting back on his wet things and having to walk a mile in them. 

I would have dug out and defrosted my car and taken him home if push come to shove, and she did eventually appear in her car for him.  It does make me wonder if I am too over protective of my children though.  I remember having to cope with similar situations as a teen, but my mother did not have a car, and I wouldn’t have been expected to walk home alone in the dark, at night, in the snow.

It doesn’t change my mind though about making sure my children are warm, dry, comfortable and safe, and yes, it might toughen up kids to make them fend for themselves, but I can’t help wondering at what cost.

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Eat too much, or just in the Genes?

I have three children, and  all of them have different metabolisms, strengths and weaknesses.    Watching them grow has given me a different perspective on what is healthy and what is not.  I used to have a preconceived notion that overweight children were all lazy, or their mums fed them too much.  I have no doubt that for some children, that may well be the case, but not for all.

I have started to think back recently to my own weight struggles in life.   Three times in my life I have had to lose 4 stones to be able to feel normal, and enjoy my life.   On the times I have been fat, I have never, ever enjoyed life as an overweight woman.   

When I am fat, I avoid social interaction and refuse all invites.   Being fat does not suit my life.  Yes I will make fun of it, because I have been there three times already and have managed, though excessive diet and exercise to lose it. 

Each time, it slowly creeps back over a few years to the point where I can’t live with it any more and from somewhere, comes the ability to fight my fat.   Before that day comes, I wake up each morning hating myself for not having the willpower to be able to control how I look and feel.  Each day I tell myself that this is the day I can do it, until I eat lunch and devour 800 calories in one sitting. 

At the moment I am in one of the better downward spiral stages of my life.  Everything is easier to do when you are not carrying around so much baggage.  To lose weight I need to reduce to approx 800 calories a day and exercise at least 2 hours a day on top of housework and dog walking chores.  I don’t feel sorry for me, as it is my own fault.    It’s ok for others who are happy with their weigh to stay that way, that is their choice. 

For me, being overweight is not a good choice, but I do wish it was an easier road to take.  I have often had to pace the floor to stop myself eating more than my body can deal with.   I have always had hormone issues, which is the likely explanation for my bodys’ sickening efficiency with little amounts of food.

I have times where I cannot keep to my bodys’ ridiculously low requirements for me to be healthy, and I refuse to be fat for the rest of my life.  Willpower to stick to 800 calories a day and do all that exercise is really difficult for me, and I cannot keep that up all the time.

Getting back to my children, which is the real reason I started thinking about all of this.  I have three boys.   They are the hyperactive boy type that never sit still.  I mostly home cook, I ration sweet stuff still, and my children all have healthy appetites.  They eat plenty fruit and veg, and they all play football, go to multi activity club, swim, and do karate twice a week.  

My youngest is the unfortunate one.  He is going to be like me, and fight his weight all his life.  His two older brothers (who do no more exercise than their little bro), are the long, lean, slender types.  They could eat a horse and you wouldn’t see where it went.   My youngest is the same height as his older brother, but he is over a stone heavier, and yet eats no more food, and does no less exercise.  Youngest has the broadest shoulders, and needs trousers two waist sizes bigger than his biggest brother.

How do we explain that when we are talking about over eating versus unlucky genes?  I simply can’t.

What do you think.

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Umbrella’s at Dawn

I have been moved to blog about the growing band of mummies who stand at the school gates with brollies big enough to lose three people in.  I really, honestly and truly do not like brollies of any shape, size or colour (unless they are attached to a buggy and shading a little one’s eyes).  I really do not like them. 

People barge into you, spokes hit you on different parts of your head and body and you try to squeeze past on paths and pavements, and they rarely lift the spokes up to avoid hitting you.  Then there are the head turners, who suddenly hit you with the lower end of the brolly which is behind their head and leaning on their shoulders.

This morning, set the scene, I am trying to lead a very wet dog and three neighbours children though a rainy public path.    That is on top of the two children who belong to me.  We go single file to walk through the mummy chat zone, but I have a problem.  Mummies are lined up right along the path.  There is nowhere to walk, they are blocking the whole path.   There is a lot of noise on the walkway 6 feet up, and the rain is drowning out a lot of noise.  They are also shouting to each other to be heard.

Neighbours child no 3 asks politely if one “lady” will move, no luck.  She asks if another “lady” will move and gets swatted away as if she were a fly on her coat tails.   We can’t see any faces, as they are brandishing large umbrellas which are spoke to spoke as they chat selfishly.    The hackles are rising on the back of my neck as I call all the children back to behind me. 

Then I spot a car drawing up behind us on the road and move swiftly to the passenger door.  Inside is a well known other brolly hater.  I ask her if she has a lovely big brolly in her car, and to my amazement she has.   I leave her car, also with two of her children in tow.

Armed with the large green umbrella, I make my way back to the mummy brolly tent and shove my green one into the spokes of the other mummies brollies.  The onslaught brings a parting of the path, which allows me to get my forming brood through in one piece, and without this mummy getting someone else’s brolly spokes in her eyes.  I politely mutter sorry, sorry, sorry in passing while trying to keep a straight face.  Strangely none of them seems to mind this at all.  

All of which brings me to the absolute loating I have for umbrellas at school gates, or anywhere near a school, and why, for the safety of my eyes, I am going shopping this afternoon for my very own brolly tent.

if you can’t beat em, join em.