Helicopter

The kids are back to school and I finally have a moment to reflect on a blog
post. I fear it might resemble a Dear Diary entry, or more likely a spewed out
verbal diarrhoea block of text that makes little sense. What an image eh?

So Sybbie is pretty much a delight. I can’t put into words how incredible it
has been to see her little smile light up the room and watch her kick at her
swimming lessons with pure delight and contentment. I haven’t been able to give
myself the time to reflect back on the birth or the first few agonising months
but I will as it has been so hard, it needs addressing otherwise I might have a
little breakdown one day when I least expect it.

I loved her with all my heart even on the darkest days but it didn’t stop me
worrying I had ruined our little family. Was a third child a step too far? Is
this just what girls are like? Will she scream like this forever? I genuinely
couldn’t picture a future of normality with a baby doing what a baby does.
Instead I feared she might not learn to sit or crawl as she was a constant
feature of my arms. In many ways she has blossomed at the perfect time as we
can finally get out and about. I think we would have abandoned many lunches and
shops in the first few months, so timing wise I am grateful!

The pandemic has really played havoc with my parenting though now we can get
out and about again. I almost need some sort of AA equivalent. Hi my name is
Ailsa Adams and I am a helicopter parent. I hate myself for it but the lack of
days out, fear of the invisible killer corona and rise in dog kidnappings has
me convinced more children will be snatched now we are freer. It is completely irrational,
and I definitely need some Anna Mathur words of wisdom. I am like Bambi on ice,
a first time parent born again as I scan the play equipment for eyes on both
boys nearly constantly, often with an AC-12 style internal commentary,
“eyes on suspect one.” (I think I really need to get a life).

I am hopeful the more days out the better it will become as they have only
known the compounds of the garden and it has all felt very safe. I sometimes
wish I could be that super chilled parent with no boundaries, confident they
will come back to me at some point but nope, that is not me! Sometimes I think
we just have to accept our personality traits, parenting styles and abilities
and just go with it with confidence and gusto. Though it would be way easier if
everyone did it the same so you never had the cringe “but Horatio is
allowed to…” awkward conversation with your child in earshot of the
person. My friend once said, “different mummy, different rules” and I
have definitely stolen it as a mantra.

A little one went missing at Sacrawell Farm the other week and the sheer
panic on the mother’s face was undeniable. You knew instantly the drill as she
walked as calmly as she could around all the play equipment. Fortunately, the
little girl was found moments later right down near the stream but that sheer
panic goes right through you. Wilf decided to give us a little taster of this
at the weekend. One minute he was on the balcony of the caravan we were staying
in, next he was nowhere to be seen. The rational part of your brain in calm
telling you it will be fine. The irrational is chanting, “if you don’t find him
in 30 minutes you are statistically less likely to ever see him again.” The
little so and so had sneaked in the caravan and was hiding under the bed. He
said he was too scared to come out when we shouted as he thought he would be in
trouble. Oh Wilf!

Here’s to warmer weather and more fun days out. Looking back it is hard to
comprehend how we managed to spin all the plates over lockdown but we did it!  I guess in conclusion I am very rusty with the whole parenting thing and probably, in the words of Rob Beckett need to be less of a stiff neck.

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