I don’t do very much in the way of journal-type blogging but suddenly feel an urge to, so here goes!

This morning we went to our NCT toddler group.  It’s held in a children’s centre and a lot of my non-HE friends go there with their children who our children get on very well with so we all look forward to it.  The first part of this morning was very hellish indeed, though.  I have this totally irrational need for the girls to both get dressed first thing in the morning.  It’s partly because leaving anywhere, including our home, with three young children is hard work, but having one or more to dress first as well just makes it a nightmare, so if they’re all dressed before we start the day, then that’s less stress for me when it comes time to leave the house.  Mopsy, however, has recently decided that she doesn’t want to get dressed in the mornings and that she would rather stay in her nightclothes all day.  This is really, really stressing me out.  It’s fine on the days that we have no morning appointments because we can just stay upstairs playing and find a way to make a game out of getting dressed.  Those mornings go very pleasantly.  But when we have morning plans and I don’t have enough time to faff around with creative ways of dressing stubborn toddlers everything just goes to pot.  And stubborn really is the best way to describe her.  When she decides she doesn’t want to do something, she just will not do it, and she’ll refuse to do everything else I suggest to boot, just because I’ve suggested it!  She really cuts off her nose to spite her face, suddenly deciding she doesn’t want to go to the toddler group or to do whatever else she’s been very excited about doing. 

What I *should* have done is just collected together Mopsy’s clothes and taken them with us in the car, in the hope she’ll at least get dressed when we get there and, if she didn’t, just gritted my teeth against any strange looks at my be-nightied toddler (which was DH’s sensible and rational suggestion when I rang him in hysterical tears).  However, what I did instead was to get crosser and crosser until I ended up physically forcing her into her clothes in an absolute rage that her stubbornness would mean that all of us would be late to, or even absent from, something that *all* of the rest of us wanted to go to (including her).  She was crying, I was crying and Flopsy was running around being all sweetness and light as siblings are wont to be when one of them is messing around.  Then Cotton-tail did a poo in her nice clean nappy and spilt chocolate milkshake all over her clean clothes.  And Mopsy kept defiantly taking her left sock off.  And I ended up lying on the floor wailing and despairing at her stubbornness and defiance but mostly at my own completely crap and shit and terrible handling of the situation so that it spiralled so out of control that I behaved in a way that I feel is one of the crappest way of parenting.  Bizarrely she was more than happy for me to put her shoes on, just not her clothes. 

We got out in the end and I drove to the group crying and wondering how on earth I was going to compose myself before I got there.  I managed to look not too blotchy-faced when we got in but one of my friends said ‘Hi Clare, how are you?’.  ‘Not very good this morning’ I replied and burst into tears.  My friends were wonderful and helpful, despite not really subscribing to the non-coercive way I *try* to parent so not really understanding why I was beating myself up so much.  One reminded me how I’d described how I’d had to get through a couple of weeks of non-stop tv when I first stopped limiting it, until they started to self-regulate it, and suggested I just let Mopsy wear what she wanted and grit my teeth about the irritation it causes in me in the hope she’ll get it out of her system.  I think I’m going to have to do this, and just keep my fingers crossed that I don’t get too many strange looks.  

What made me also furious, though, was myself.  The fact that I was putting social norms above the needs of my child.  I was being awful to my baby just to make her conform!  What is the matter with me???  I’m the queen of not-conforming!  Why do I have such a bloody block over this getting dressed thing!  What is the worst thing that will happen if she goes out in her nightie?  She’ll get odd looks, and she’ll get cold.  So I ignore the looks and feel proud of my self-assured little girl; and I take spare clothes and warm over-clothes for her to wear when she gets cold.  I *know* all this in my head, but I have such a problem putting it into practice.  I need to write myself some posters to put up round the house reminding me not to be such a control freak and to stop seriously not taking my children seriously!

Anyway, moving on from this rather miserable start, once I stopped crying at the toddler group, I really started to enjoy it and the girls were happy the minute I got them in the car to go there, so they were fine.  After the toddler group, we drove home and rang my very good (HE) friend (who we had planned to visit that afternoon) to ask if we had agreed to eat lunch with her and if not, to say we’d be late as we hadn’t yet eaten.  She said she’d happily feed us, so I gathered up wellies in case we went to the park, and we drove off again to her house.  Another good friend (also HE) was going to join us there too with her children.  The afternoon was lovely.  Sometimes when we visit this friend, our youngest three children rub eachother up the wrong way, but having the extra children there kind of diluted the atmosphere a bit so it was much calmer.  And the extra adult made a difference in terms of protecting Cotton-tail.  My friend reads this blog so I have to be nice about her.  Ha ha, only joking, K.  Honestly, we love meeting up with this friend, and happily our children mostly get on really well too.  It’s only that on occassion the younger ones clash because they haven’t yet gained the ability to not lash out when they lose their temper.  Myself and the other vistor took some of the children to the playground at one point, while our host made cakes with Mopsy and her two youngest - Flopsy watched the tv (very sociable!).  Then when we got back it was time to leave and we came home.

When we got in, I checked my emails while Flopsy and Mopsy played some very inventive game which involved making it all dark in the living room, and pretending to go to bed.  But they also had to jump of sofas, or something, and Mopsy hurt herself at one point.  Then Mopsy saw an empty tray similar to the ones we keep the playdough in and asked to get the playdough out.  I told her that Flopsy knew where it was and to ask her if she’d do it, which she was more than happy to do.  And DH came home to both girls playing happily with playdough, making ‘ice-cream’, and Cotton-tail crawling round the floor screeching as she is wont to do.  I’ve done an hour’s shift on the breastfeeding helpline, and we’ve had supper, and the girls are watching Bedknobs and Broomsticks.  I wonder when they’ll go to bed…