We're all Normal

I recently read this post on Dr Mama's blog in which she wonders if she is doing something wrong as a mother because her son is, well, by the sounds of it, completely normal.

All parents ask that question at some point. I know I do each and every day. Not so much with Henry as I did with Maya but I still wonder sometimes if I was a different kind of parent would I have raised a much quieter, less willful, and more co-operative child. I know the real question should be - won't somebody take this child away from me for half a day so I can breathe quietly and concentrate on one thing, such as using the lavatory.

Dr Mama says her child needs to be with her constantly. Well that sounds fairly normal to me. Henry NEVER. LEAVES. ME. ALONE. EVER. He needs to have me with him at ALL TIMES doing whatever it is he happens to be doing. No one else will do. It has to be me. I should be flattered that he thinks so highly of me and sometimes I am. Sometimes I just want to be able to pick the hairs out of my nose, all alone, without having to pretend I'm driving a fire truck at the same time.

I've often told expectant parents to have someone follow them around 24 hours a day tapping them on the shoulder and calling their name every ten seconds in order to prepare themselves for the fact that they will never, ever, be alone again because that's just what it's like. It's like having your subconscious sitting right on your shoulder, watching that you don't ever let yourself slip into a state of idleness. Watching that you don't misuse your alone time and that you keep your toilet breaks to a minimum of two minutes.

Just this morning to kill some time and get some exercise Henry and I walked to the local shops to run some errands. It started off ok but quickly turned into an outing (like all others) that I wished I'd never attempted. He can't stay still. Not for one second. He cannot simply stand in one spot or sit on a chair for more than a second or two. In the few minutes it took me to hand over the prescription to the pharmacist he ran up and down the aisles, rearranged all the neatly lined nail polishes, moved the Vitamin C bottles into the Fish Oil section, opened a few boxes of tissues and pushed the pram into a lovely display of facial moisturisers and knocked them over. Then we had to wait for the prescription to be filled. I tried to encourage him to sit still in the chairs that had been placed there for waiting customers but that didn't work. He'd seen some lipsticks that had not been nailed down. Before I could get to him and save them he'd opened them all and changed the lids around on some of them.

We left there all apologetic and made our way to the butcher. While I was being served he had to open and close the door several times to make the customer alert bell ring just because it sounded like a fire alarm. I was going to attempt the supermarket but I was too exhausted. Instead I headed for home. But as Henry knows the way to the supermarket and had heard me say earlier in the morning that I needed to go there he threw an almightly tantrum when I continued on past the street that would have led us there. I had to bribe him by telling him he could help me make his birthday cake when we got home. He didn't forget that and as soon as we neared home he ran up the driveway and into the house and had the oven open before I'd even had a chance to put down my shopping. "Come on Mum, we need to make my birthday cake". Every day is like this. I have to, as many parents do, continually think about what I say before I say it because he has a memory like an elephant. If I don't follow through on a promise, he throws a tantrum strong enough to wake the dead. The good thing is though, when he does this at home, he realises his mistake and takes himself to the naughty corner.

Parenting is tough, sometimes it even totally sucks. We're under much more pressure than ever to make sure our children are stimulated enough and learning enough and dressed well enough and eating a nutritionally balanced diet and are not exposed to any potentially psychologically harming situations and the list goes on.

Sometimes I deliberately ignore Henry when he's whimpering for my attention. Most times there's nothing wrong and he simply wants me to find the fire truck he can't be bothered to find himself. He usually only does this when he thinks I might be doing something that is not related in some way to him. The only times I'm not with him lately is when I'm at work and on the toilet. Anything else is impossible to achieve and there are some things I rarely attempt if I have Henry with me, like clothes shopping, shaving my legs, making a phone call, paying a bill, writing on my blog, catching up with friends because the pain that I feel when doing those things with him attached to me is not worth it. I'll do them when he's older. By then I'll need a tree trimmer to take care of my legs, my friends will have all disappeared and I'll be only be capable of singing the Fireman Sam theme song over the telephone.

Every child is "normal" in that they will, at some point, drive their parents completely insane. There are no parents however who would give their children back simply because they've been driven insane.

Tomorrow is Henry's third birthday. Three years ago today he started to make his intention to join the world clear to me. Despite being occasionally difficult he has been the most precious gift to all of us and we're overjoyed to know him. He can destroy all the pharmacies he likes and try to force me to play trucks all day because not being able to do that would be far worse than having to.