Secret Diary Copy Friday 15/6/01

[Guest guest]

I was moved to tears this week when Kieran got on his birthday

present - a " grown up " bike with no stabilisers and with minimal help

from , cycled off proudly solo. He struggles so hard with life

sometimes that it was wonderful to see him acquire a new skill so

joyfully and effortlessly

I often wonder if I would have had children if I had known just how

much crying was involved. In the years BC (before childbirth) I

thought I was pretty tough apart from an annoying tendency to sniffle

whenever watching anything about animals. I could stand any amount of

human suffering dry-eyed but show me a wounded dog and I was a soggy

mess.

I've probably cried more in the nine years I've been a mother than at

any time in my life since my own childhood. I sobbed my way through

pregnancy; anything would set me off, from the sight of someone with a

flat stomach to " Children's Hospital " . It's the hormones, I told

myself - and , who was beginning to worry about how much this

was costing him in tissues. It'll get better once baby is born.

One caesarean scar and two redundant boobs later, I howled my way into

my first New Year as a mother with Emma bawling beside me. Something

had happened to my hard centre and I now have the tear ducts of a weak

and feeble woman.

The children haven't been particularly bad in the crying department.

Emma was a very smiley baby and you hardly heard a peep out of Kieran

except when he was hungry. Carys was fine once she had convinced me

that she needed continuous carrying about. Its pretty much how they

are now.

Emma will almost never cry; it interferes with her cool image. She is

the class clown, reducing her peers to tears of laughter with her

funny face pulling and silly voices. However, like me at the same

age, she has a very soft spot for animals and I have to sit with her

if she watches vet or wildlife programmes.

Kieran hasn't yet been indoctrinated by his peers into the big boys

don't cry ethos but I'm sure it won't be long. On the whole he is one

of the happiest kids I have ever met but his language difficulties

cause tears of rage and frustration sometimes as he cannot win a war

of words.

Carys is currently experimenting with tears. She cries at the drop of

a hat - quite literally this week when she managed to throw her sun

hat out of the window then realised that she quite liked it. Still,

she cheered up no end when she got to watch mummy playing dodgems with

the traffic whilst trying to retrieve it.

She is practising the art of making grown ups feel guilty and

inadequate by crying for the parent who isn't there. I was away last

weekend and was heartbroken to hear she had been crying for me. She

got up on Monday morning, lost a battle with me over wellies (her

choice) versus jellies (my choice) for nursery and promptly wailed to

have Daddy back again.

I am trying to teach her that weeping and wailing doesn't get you

anywhere in life and no means no.

When we went to look at bikes for Kieran's birthday she fell in love

with a Barbie bike. Her own birthday is only a month away but she

already has a perfectly good hand trike recently vacated by her

brother and we have bought something else so we said no. A couple of

days later my parents came on a visit and were watching Kieran show

off on his new bike. Carys burst into tears and my Dad asked what was

the matter.

" I want a Baaaaarbie bike! " she sobbed piteously but prettily,

blinking wet eyelashes at him.

Guess what Carys is getting for her birthday? I could have wept!

Copyright Evening Chronicle 15/6/01 - sorry its late folks!

Lesley

ANT, tr BFC, Mother, Wife, Friend, Mender of Broken Hearts,

Keeper of Secrets, Chauffeur, Cook, Maid, Writer. Overweight, Over

thirty, Over here in Worthing..

" Believing Oneself to be perfect is often the sign of a delusional

mind! " Star Trek.