Stubborness: innate or learned behaviour?

Both of my sons have recently demonstrated the lengths they are prepared to go to and the sacrifices that they are willing to make in order to prove a point.  I wonder if this stubbornness is something that they were born with or if it is something they have learned through watching my behaviour. I admit that I am stubborn, if you ask Steve he may have a less nice synonym to describe this particular trait in me; pig-headed or obstinate for example.  It is something that sometimes I feel proud of, and at other times, ashamed.  It will make me fight for my rights, for my children.  But it also makes it very hard for me to admit when I am wrong and to allow me to say sorry.  I have tried in many ways to ensure that all my inadequacies, weaknesses and fears are not passed on to my children through them witnessing my behaviours, so for example, I have tried bloody hard to not show my fear of creepy crawlies, especially spiders: 'oh look'  I have been heard to say  'a Mr Skinny Legs, gosh isn't he a big one?' with nary a quaver to my voice (although my palms are sweaty and my heart is pounding)!  These instances where I have tried to disguise my fears for the sake of my kids have had a wonderful side effect, being that I am MUCH less afraid of spiders than I used to be, and am also more confident and less shy than I used to be.  Makes me think of  a song:

Whenever I feel afraid

I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
I'm afraid.


While shivering in my shoes
I strike a careless pose
And whistle a happy tune
And no one ever knows
I'm afraid.


The result of this deception
Is very strange to tell
For when I fool the people
I fear I fool myself as well!


I whistle a happy tune
And ev'ry single time
The happiness in the tune
Convinces me that I'm not afraid.


Make believe you're brave
And the trick will take you far.
You may be as brave
As you make believe you are...

So, back to my children!  Last night after Tom had had his bath and was getting ready for bed, I told Sam it was Tom's turn to have some telly on, and suggested that he go and hop in the shower, and when he was done, Tom would be finished watching telly and be in bed, having stories.  Which would mean that he could play Super Mario Galaxy 2 on the wii with his dad, and once 8pm rolled around I would be finished with Tom  and I would read the last few chapters of The Faraway Tree to him.  It sounded a good plan to me, but not to stubborn child, the elder.  'I don't want to have a shower' he insisted.  'You have to have a shower or a bath, just hop in, get clean, get out'  I replied in an even voice, not realising at this point where it was all heading.  'well I don't want to have a bath, I am going to bed!'  Which he did.  I was surprised and somewhat bewildered (where had this come from? I hadn't seen it building!) and went up to his darkened room where he was huddled naked under his covers, deep, angry frown lines furrowed between his lovely blue eyes.  I asked if he knew what he was doing.  I explained cutting off your nose to spite your face.  At the end I asked 'is this refusal to have a shower worth all the good stuff you will lose out on?'  And he said 'yes', and that was that, end of story.  He was adamant.

Today, after I had taken the boys swimming, we were late getting home and I realised that my plan of sausages and potato wedges for tea was going to take too long.  So I suggested chips from the chippy as a special treat, Sam reminded me that Daddy had taken them to McDonald's for their lunch and so they had already had chips today.  Hmmm, problem.  So I said that if they were willing to try a small piece of tomato and a sliver of lettuce, they could still have sausage and chips for tea, plus cucumber which they both love.  The deal was done, we came home, Steve went to the chippy, I cooked sausage and prepared the salad.  Sam was first up and declared the lettuce 'okay' and the tomato 'disgusting', fair enough, he had done as I asked.  Stubborn child, the younger, up next.  He flatly refused to try either.  He would not be cajoled or bribed into even licking them.  I explained again and again that he just had to try a tiny bit of something new,and he would, in return, have chips on his plate.  No deal, not even the slightest amount of give.  I was astounded as I had been so sure that he would try at least one - this is the little boy who ADORES chips, chips make his little world go round (along with salami, cucumber, marmite on rice cakes, sausages, apples, crisps and sweets - these are all he eats, but chips and sweets are at the top!).  So the crux of the matter is, he had no chips!  He would not give in, and I certainly couldn't!  He ate cucumber, sausage and a half a bread bun (he sent back the first half  because Daddy did not know that he has also eradicated butter from his diet), and that was that.

Did they inherit this obstinacy from me, or did they learn it from me?  Probably it doesn't even matter.  I suppose at this point it is up to me to try and teach them the things I still haven't learned - to use their stubbornness for good and not for evil!!!! 

Mummy Time

Steve has been away since Thursday night, until Tuesday night, on his annual football Coloma Wanderers trip.  His mum and dad very kindly offered to have the boys over while Steve was away... not together, of course, Sam for two nights and Tom for one.  It has been simply WONDERFUL and I am so grateful to have such lovely in-laws.  We drove through to Guisborough on Friday morning, (early doors because we had to be back by 12 to wait in for the gas man, he arrived at 5pm!) dropped Sam off and then Tom and I came home.  My friend Katie came over with her children (Tom's friend Billy and baby Florence) in the afternoon and we chatted while the boys played beautifully.  Then they headed home and my neighbour and her youngest boy came over for tea (lasagna, salad, garlic bread and a delish bottle of rose).  Claire and I had a good old gossip and the boys had fun together.  Finally got Tom to sleep at 8:45, but didn't feel stressed or irked by it, I felt relaxed!  Saturday Tom and I pottered around in the morning, doing a bit of cleaning, reading and playing,and then in the afternoon we hit Waves for an hour of fun in the water.  And it really was fun!  We actually made it out of the ankle skimming depths of the pirate ship and into the thigh skimming depths of the children's pool.  I wasn't tense and so I just had fun with my little guy.

So alike...

and yet so different!

On Sunday something awesome happened - Tom didn't wake up until quarter to nine!!!
We went to collect Sam, had a gorgeous Sunday dinner, and left Tom with Grandma!  He was ok, had a bit of a meltdown when Sam and I were actually in the car, but when I whispered in his ear that Grandma still had ice lollies in her freezer, he set off at a run shouting "chocolate one"!  Sam and I went to watch Toy Story 3 (which was fab, I cried at the end when Andy says goodbye to his toys and goes off to college, made me think of my boys growing up up and away) and then went to Pizza Hut for a late tea.  On Monday Sam and I went to Emma's house to celebrate Andrew's first birthday, which was lovely.  I realised while we were there that I wasn't going to be able to drive there and back to Guisborough again, especially as the rain was pelting down, so rang to ask if we could all sleep there that night and head home the next morning.  My wonderful in laws offered to drive Tom home to spare me the trip!  It was very kind of them. and hugely appreciated.

It was fantastic to have some time with each of my boys on their own.  This summer holiday has made me realise how hard it is to keep them both happy day after day, to make them both feel like they have some uninterrupted mummy time.  Sam in particular has really struggled, as Tom is very jealous at the moment, and does not like to even let Sam sit next to me, so it felt so good to just concentrate on him and listen to his stories and thoughts, and to spoil him a little bit.  As we spend all day of every day together (more or less) I am made aware of how different my boys are, not only in temperament, but also in the differences that their ages have on what we can do.  Tom is just too young to play games even like snakes and ladders, and Sam has out grown things that still entrance Tom. I thank god for whomever invented the wooden train set, with all its different bridges, turntables and engines... it keeps all three of us busy and happy for ages, as even I enjoy the challenge of creating a new layout every time!!
Will it get easier as they get older?  Or more difficult?  Only time will tell!!!!

Red Red Blood

Sam was off at a friend's so Tom and I decided to do some work in our little patch of garden. I started off by getting a ladder to try to reach our small crop of Damsons, which were growing very high up on our tree. The ladder helped me reach a few, but in the end I had to get a the kids fishing net and teeter precariously on the wobbly ladder! There were some not yet ripe and others I just could not reach, but in the end I managed to harvest a whole 20 teeny tiny damsons! Now I have to find a recipe that only uses a small amount of them.

We cleared out dead leaves, removed a caterpillar, a snail and a slug (yech) and sprayed the sunflowers against blackfly (yech again). Transplanted some sunflowers from the boy's planters to make more room for all the little flowers struggling to grow under them and pulled out some weeds. It was while I was doing the weeds that I heard Tom wail and cry out "it's all red!", I went over and found blood pouring out of his big toe! I have no idea how he did it, but he has a small, but deep cut on the inner side of his big toe. He was traumatised by the redness of his blood, but did not seem to feel much pain.


He is an aspiring photographer, or at least he is this week! Here are his pics from the last few days...

Fishing for damsons

Interesting patterns on the path(apparently!)

Injury

My damson haul!

Big moves

I talked to my mom today and she sounded upset.  It seems that my brother's threatened move to Cape Town due to work is finally coming true.  I feel so much for my mom because I know what a huge impact this will have her.  Her only son and last child left in South Africa, along with his lovely wife Julie and gorgeous boy, James, are no longer going to be 5 minutes drive away.  James will grow up away from her, in the same way that the first 4 grandchildren are doing.  Anton will not be just round the corner to help out with any of those "man" type jobs that he has taken over since my Dad died.  Julie won't be just round the corner to help out with any of those "daughter" type jobs that she has taken over since Lara and I chose to live in other countries.
You can tell from this what wonderful, generous, kind people my brother and sister-in-law are, and how much my mom would miss them all.  So she is now faced with two choices, equally unpalatable, stay in her home; which she loves, with friends near by, where she knows where to go to get anything she needs, where all the roads are familiar, where memories of my dad are invoked , where her garden is, upon which she has lavished so much care and time and work... where her family no longer live.  Or move to Cape Town; leave her friends, house, garden, memories... no mean feat at 68 years old, but at least she would then be near her family.  She is finding it very upsetting and I can't say I blame her.  But I think she has decided that she doesn't really have a choice, she wants to be near Anton, and the only way to do that will be to move.  I know that Anton and Julie will be very happy if she does, and I hope that in the long term she will start to look at it is an exciting opportunity and not just as a necessary evil.

Granny and James

Anton and Julie on their honeymoon in Thailand

Citizenship

I took the boys to Grandma's today to give Steve the chance to clear out his workshop, now that it is finally waterproof.  While we were there I got a call from Steve to say that a letter had arrived for me from the Home Office, and did I want him to open it?  Yes, yes was my reply!  And the news is... I have British Citizenship!!!!!!!!!  I will receive a certificate stating this fact at a citizenship ceremony.  I am actually quite excited about this ceremony, although I have no idea what it entails.  But I do think I should celebrate with some sort of citizenship-obtained party!!!


I am pleased to finally (after 13 years in the UK and 8 years married) have my british citizenship, although if I would have had to give up my South African citizenship, I don't know if I would have gone for it.  I am very grateful that the UK is happy for you to have dual citizenship, because as much as I love this country, I am still South African  and very proud of my African heritage.  I am also determined to do everything I can to make sure that my kids know that they are half South African, that they will support the Sharks and the Boks!


The kids had a lovely time with their grandparents, they played, had pizza,went to a museum (which Sam loves doing and Tom just loves running through, shouting random things - like GONK!), playground, ice cream, finishing off with Grandma's legendary mince and dumplings... YUM! 

Treasure is in the eye of the pirate

School holidays are hard work.  Now there's an understatement!  My boys usually rub along fairly well,with occasional fights and tantrums, but now that they are together from morning to night, it is hell.  They start to squabble within 5 minutes of laying eyes on each other.  And I close my eyes and sigh as I resign myself to another day of screaming like a fishwife and thinking up new and inventive ways of making them do as I ask.  It is so frustrating because I consider myself to be an understanding mum, who asks nicely the first time!  I sometimes wonder if my voice is on a different frequency to that which they are on!!!
Anyway, we had a treasure hunt which was great fun.  I drew a load of of picture clues and stashed them all over the house and they had to find them and work out where the new clue was directing them to (no small feat if you saw my drawing).  The final clue they had to figure out what the treasure was... ice lollies!

Teddy Bear's Picnic

The boys and I went to Tescos on Tuesday for some essentials and also some non-essentials like poster paint, which I can't seem to get in Whitley Bay (?).  While we were there Sam spotted a "homework helper" for literacy,  ages 6 to 8.  You know the sort of thing, puzzles and quizes that feel like games, but are at the same time, educational.  It was expensive (a fiver!) but I thought it would do him good to keep practicing all he has worked so hard to learn, so I got it for him.  He was paging through it before tea tonight and getting excited about some of the activites and eventually asked if he could do some, 'of course!' was my reply (trying to disguise the eagerness).  And then, to my horror, he started - completely randomly - in the middle of the book!  I had to go into the utility room to stop myself from telling him he had to start at the beginning and work his way methodically through!! Oh my god, how sad am I?  Whatever happened to the footloose, fancy free me? When did I become so anal?  Is it just getting older?  Blimey.

On the fun mum side, we had a teddy bear's picnic this afternoon which was much enjoyed by the 3 of us and the 3 hundred teddies...
All the food was healthy as I knew I would be bribing them with sweets this afternoon!  We lounged about (on the teddies) and chatted about the things  little boys find interesting, specifically lego, the planes which won the world war (the Apache apparently)... and poo

My Dad

I was lying in bed last night thinking about this blog that I have undertaken, feeling quite excited, musing about what sort of things I would write about, frankly, wondering if I would have enough to write about!  That made me think about the sort of things I would like my children to know about me, my life with them and my life before them...and that made me think about my dad.  Pretty soon there were tears trickling down my face and not long after that I was in full blown sobbing.  I just cannot get past the fact that I never got to see my dad before he died, and he never saw me.  As I write my eyes fill.  It was so unexpected. I talked to him on Christmas Day and berated him for not going to the doctor like my mom had told him to.  I talked to him on the 4th of January, his birthday, and Sam sang happy birthday to him.  He couldn't talk very well because of having tubes down his throat after his surgery.  He still sounded like my dad though and he made me laugh.  He made a cryptic comment about the gifts that my boys had given him for Christmas which I didn't really understand.  It was only after he died and I was back in South Africa helping my mom go through his things that I found some Christmas present tags that he had written for himself, from the kids.  He had bought himself some things he wanted and written funny little messages explaining them.  I also found cards that he had written for my mom, but not from him, they were from the birds and the cat!  I laughed, and I also sobbed.


You hear lots of stories about the tragedy and grief when parents lose their children, but you don't hear about the raw pain of losing a parent, when you are an adult.  Maybe it's because it is the cycle of life, it is expected that children should outlive their parents.  But man oh man does it hurt. Two and a half years later and I still struggle, on a nearly daily basis, with the fact that I won't see my dad again.  Or be able to tell him how much I love him.  How grateful I am for all the thing he did for me, all the sacrifices he made.  I guess the only salve is time, that as the years pass, the edges will be less ragged, will start to smooth over, like scar tissue. 


I hope.       

Where it began

I used to think that I knew a lot about a lot of things.  I was, of course, younger then and more importantly, I did not have any children.  Now days I am painfully aware of how little I know about anything, especially that thing which I have chosen to dedicate this part of my life to: My children.  My beloved, gorgeous, funny, exasperating, bewildering, maddening, earnest, clever, mischievous, loving, infuriating, affectionate, know-it- all boys.  Oh the irony!  That just when I have realised how little I know, I am blessed by two little boys who think they know everything and are so willing and eager to impart this knowledge to their poor, gormless mum!!

Sam, age 6 and Tom, nearly 3