So let’s start with a question.
Does anybody else have a baby that on occasion will randomly stare into an empty space? We’ll be happily playing as little one sits on my lap and suddenly her head will pivot to stare into the dark corner of the room as if there is something untoward taking place.
What could be so interesting, do they think they see something… do they ACTUALLY see something? Do babies have extra sensory perception that we lose as we get older, if they could talk what would they tell us? Would we want to know?
Other strange fixations our little person has are feet! Yep, feet! The rugrat will grab your toe if you stand still for too long and will promptly shove said toe into her mouth and chomp down… it started out cute and funny. Now, she has teeth and when the little fangs are plunged in it bloody hurts!!! She won’t try and chomp through a shoe, so it has to be a toe thing, male or female digit she will roll towards you and try to eat it. Freak!
Another one of her obsessions is lampshades. We have a few in our house but she shows a keen interest in two in particular. Firstly, the one in her bedroom – It has cartoon animals and what look like little tags on it, so I guess you could understand wanting to grab it. The second lampshade of interest is in our living room and has no pattern, yet she will attempt to hold it, push it, really happy to just touch it.
With me over 6ft she gets pretty close to the lampshades so she is in prime position for a whack or a grab, usually knocking an avalanche of dust flying, perhaps that is the attraction? Or perhaps it is revenge… I have been guilty once or twice when playing ‘throw the baby in the air game’ in throwing her too high and causing a bit of a collision between baby head and light fitting.
So she has her weird little idiosyncrasies, and I guess looking at things from her point of view I have mine. A good friend of mine and a new dad himself asked me the other day whether I speak ‘mumbo jumbo’ to Bea as he does to his daughter. I sure do, any random noise seems to keep her attention so I will speak utter jibberish sounding something like Pingu/Morph on caffeine.
I am also guilty of smelling her LOTS. Any given opportunity I will grab a quick sniff of her head or neck, the new born baby smell has passed, but she now has her own distinct aroma, AND. IT. IS. LUSH! My mum used to do the same thing to me and my sister… this carried on well into our adult life, causing us much embarrassment when a hug in public would result in a big inhale and a resounding “Aaaah” noise of contentment . I now understand why Mum would sniff us; I guess there is something animalistic or innate in us, to sniff out our offspring to ensure they are close and safe.
I have been thinking a lot about my Mum recently as she would have been 61 years old in April. Dealing with a poorly baby full of cold, teething, constipated or worse; made me think of all the late nights/early mornings, tears, projectile poos/vomit etc that Mum dealt with when raising me and my sister. As kids you say thank you for certain things your parents do for you; birthday presents, help with homework, a cooked meal. As you grow older you thank them for their vital advice about work, relationships etc (even if you don’t want to admit how vital it is). Now as a parent myself I feel like I owe my mum a different kind of thank you, one that you can’t put into words really, it is more appreciation, a thank you for everything that got me to this point in my life allowing me to be a parent with a small understanding of what I am doing.
I can’t say that thank you in person that and the fact that Bea will never meet her Nana is something that has me in tears often. This blog isn’t some cathartic note, I promise. But I have been thinking recently how I get across to Bea how amazing her Nana was. We’re lucky to have so many of Mums friends who can tell stories from her past, likewise my aunties and uncles. Mum worked as a Teaching Assistant in a school and during their grieving process they got staff and pupils at the school to write in a memory book, the notes in it give a great indication of how caring Mum was to any child who needed some extra attention. Stories from her colleagues in the book also give an insight into her cheeky mischievous side. One day we will go through the book together.
I have started to tell Bea about her Nana and we have some lovely photos of Mum up in her nursery so she will know the face… albeit she probably links the pictures with me welling up at the moment!
I am still hearing new stories about Mum, recently I was told a story about how on a school trip to see the Olympic Torch relay Mum low fived a traffic cop as he rode past on his motorbike, turned to the kids in her care and just winked. Apparently the kids all thought she was the coolest.
She was the coolest!
So let’s end as we started; with a question.
How do other parents ensure that those that have passed away are remembered by those that don’t have any memories of the loved one in the first place?
I guess the biggest thank you I can give to my Mum is providing memories of a positive childhood to Bea and any brothers and/or sisters she may have in the future, in the same way me and my sister have from our time with Mum. Her crazy playful nature lives on in us both that’s for sure, she inspired me to work with kids and that motivation makes me work harder to keep our little charity going providing play and childhood memories to those less fortunate than most. Her empathy and care for others I hope is exhibited by us on a regular basis.
If you still have the chance to, can I suggest thanking your mum, your dad, or whoever did the feeds in the night, cleaned the poo off the carpet after a poonami, comforted you when you were teething gave you happy memories of childhood and got you to where you are now.
Not all of us have the chance to do it face to face anymore.
Thanks Mum x