Toilet Talk

"Mummy, when did you and Daddy break up and live in different houses?"

Not the question I was expecting as B was sitting on the toilet. Let's be honest, not the question I was expecting at all, toilet or no toilet. 

I've been apart from his dad for over two years now. At the time, we were very careful to spell out (as clearly as you can to a 3 year old) what was happening, that mummy and daddy decided not to live together any more, but that we both love him more than anything in the whole wide world and it's not because of him that daddy wouldn't be living with us any more. I reminded him of that often in the first year, I searched for story books that might help explain the situation to him (not an easy search, I can tell you, but those I did find made me cry most of the time), I been there to give him extra hugs when he said goodbye to daddy each wednesday and each saturday. 

It's gotten a little easier in the months since, but a little is probably the best it has been. B still gets a bit teary saying goodbye to daddy (not to mention my own tears at saying goodbye to B every weekend, but that's for a different post).

It had already occurred to me recently that I haven't spoken with B about the split for a while. It's easy to forget, in the daily grind, that maybe he isn't sure what happened, or why not everyone's daddy lives in a different house. But I realised I couldn't go further with any explanation until he was old enough to understand relationships, even in their most basic form. And at the moment, he is still too young to get it. He knows mummy and daddy got married, and that we all used to live together, but he doesn't really understand what 'getting married' means, apart from the photos he's seen with mummy in a pretty dress and daddy in a kilt.

So it was a bit of a surprise to hear him use the phrase 'break up'. Maybe he is understanding a bit more now, he's obviously picked things up from the playground. But when I probed a bit more, "have you been thinking about why mummy and daddy aren't living together?", "what made you think about mummy and daddy breaking up?", I realised he really doesn't get it. And he has kind of forgotten why we weren't living together. This made me feel really guilty for not keeping up with the reminders and the books. I certainly have kept up the hugs. Scrap that, that makes it sound like hugs are a chore, hugs from B are the best thing ever!

So the next time he's on the loo, I know what we can talk about.

Linking up with Just Write over at The EO

#R2BC - Home, Hols & the Little Devil

It's #R2BC time again. My mood is not quite as buoyant as it was last week, but I will dig deep for some Cheerfulness. Positive thinking, 'n all that.

 1. I'm going back home this weekend, the first time I'll have seen my dear ol' Dad and my sister since Christmas. That's quite a long time for us, I usually manage to get home at least once a month with B, as we're only an hour a way. We're also going out for a nice lunch as we usually do when I get through (although a bit more difficult to book anywhere given it's Mother's Day...)

2. I'm booking a couple of days away for B and I for the Easter Hols, just waiting for confirmation from the holiday park. It's not far and it's not fancy, but it's going to be a different four walls which is all I am looking for, really. That, and some nice weather, obviously.

3. After experiencing B's Jekyll and Hyde moods all week and going through the emotional turbulence this brings, I feel better having accepted this behaviour as obviously a brief phase (such that I've seen before), connected to a growth spurt or whatever, and he'll return to his undevil-like self soon enough. I just need to keep myself calm in the meantime so that other parents in the playground don't need to wonder why the bonkers mummy is crying at 8.40am in the morning.

4. I'm constantly in awe of the amount of information and learning B soaks up in school, with his letters, sounds, common words and numeracy (although he always has been a bit of a genius when it comes to numbers...)


That's about my lot for this week. Hop on over to Mummy from the Heart to see other Reasons to be Cheerful.   

90 words from 90 bloggers

Kate on Thin Ice is supporting Breakthrough Breast Cancer by challenging 90 bloggers to write 90 words about an important woman in their lives.

I wrote a post last year on 26 August about my mum, and I think it's appropriate for this challenge. It's a bit more than 90 words but I'm hoping that doesn't disqualify me!

20 years

20 years ago today my mum died after fighting cancer.

I was 16, just about to start back at school. We weren't a close family in terms of 'sharing our grief', we each dealt with it in our own way, with our own friends for support. But we carried on, my dad carried on, and he has dealt with a lot of sh*t over the last 20 years on his own.

I don't go to visit her memorial stone very often. Sometimes I feel guilty for this, but I know that just because I don't stand in front of a bit of stone, doesn't mean I'm not thinking about her. I don't get morbid or sad too often nowadays, usually I think about her in terms of what she'd think of me or my own situation, whatever that may be. I wish she could have met B of course, but he will know about her, has seen her photos, knows she is up in heaven.

20 years. Forever loved, never forgotten. xx

“Pink Ribbon Bingo have pledged to support Breakthrough Breast Cancer all year round with 15% of the gross revenue accrued through online play on the site being donated to the charity.  Visitors also have the opportunity to donate a percentage of their winnings directly to the charity.  Along with the fundraising element, Pink Ribbon Bingo and The Daily Mail online will be helping the charity to raise awareness by promoting their vital health messages such as TLC (Touch, Look, Check).“

20 years

20 years ago today my mum died after fighting cancer.

I was 16, just about to start back at school. We weren't a close family in terms of 'sharing our grief', we each dealt with it in our own way, with our own friends for support. But we carried on, my dad carried on, and he has dealt with a lot of sh*t over the last 20 years on his own.

I don't go to visit her memorial stone very often. Sometimes I feel guilty for this, but I know that just because I don't stand in front of a bit of stone, doesn't mean I'm not thinking about her. I don't get morbid or sad too often nowadays, usually I think about her in terms of what she'd think of me or my own situation, whatever that may be. I wish she could have met B of course, but he will know about her, has seen her photos, knows she is up in heaven.

20 years. Forever loved, never forgotten. xx