Rex
"But what about when you meet a girl and want to get married?" I asked.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"Ugh. No. I want to live with you, here, forever."
The 'here' part particularly made my stomach sink. Ever since I split from my son's dad I have been having a head and heart struggle over whether or not I should stay in the family home.
Part of me desperately wants to move away; I have lived in the same town for almost 40 years and once my son has to change schools in two years time, I will have absolutely no reason to stay living here.
But another part of me is inextricably tied to my home; the place where my son was born, where all my memories of his babyhood are.
I know of course that I can take those memories anywhere, and will always have them, so I am slowly coming round to the idea – perhaps the realisation – that I will not live in this house forever. But I do not like change, I am not good at it or with it, and I can see that is a trait my son has inherited.
Which worries me.
I know all children – because they ARE children – struggle with the concept of ever moving away from their parents. Just in the same way it is hard for us as parents to see our child beyond the stage they are at now. (So we agonise when they are three about how they might cope at senior school for example, because we can only imagine them being THREE and having to deal with their heads being flushed down the loo Grange Hill style).
But I also worry that because it is just me and him that my son could turn into one of those - forgive me - weird men who live forever with their mums. Who at 40 trot off down the street with an old lady shopping bag over their arm at the same time every morning to pick up the daily supplies. Who maybe stop for a swift half in the local – where they are known as 'that man who lives with his mum' - before saying to no one in particular, 'got to go now, got to get back to mum'. And mum (me!) will be at home in old lady clothes waiting with a bowl of hot soup and a sandwich and a gentle telling off about the swift half in the pub.
And, in my head, obviously all this will be because I brought him up on my own as a single parent.
So action must be taken (signing the both of us up to a dating agency forthwith, maybe?) because I simply cannot allow myself to see out my dotage as the mother of the man who lives with his mum...
What not to say to mums
- 'I didn't know you were pregnant again!'<p> You might have a bit of <a href="http://www.parentdish.co.uk/2011/06/23/match-the-celebrity-mum-to-her-post-baby-tum/" target="_blank">mum tum,</a> but you, really, really don’t need anyone to point this out, let alone imply you’re expecting another baby. We suggest a cutting remark back, something like, ‘yes, but not twins like you, you must be thrilled!’ will do the trick.</p>
- 'She's beautiful, but doesn't look much like you, does she?'<p> Don’t rise to this one, it’s harmless, but can certainly hurt your feelings. Remember your baby is exactly that - you made her, and you’ve got the stretch marks to prove it!</p>
- 'Are you sure the way he's doing that is normal? I haven't seen other babies do it'<p> Of course, you’re not sure if it’s normal, or if your child is completely off the scale for oddness and has a life of anti-social behaviour stretching out in front of him. But actually you'd just thought it was sweet until then - and the last thing you want to do is discuss it.</p>
- 'Do you actually work or are you just at home with the kids?'<p> This one usually comes from someone without children, who has never done a night feed, morning routine and entire day with small people hanging off them and hasn’t a clue that yes, you work, every minute of every day, and usually through the night too. Suggest a ‘swap day’ where they look after your little ones and you head to their office. They’ll be begging for 9-5 back before you’ve even left the house.</p>
- 'You must be so busy!'<p> Yes, so please go home or help me.</p>
- 'Is it time for another?'<p> You’ve only just got your body and brain back from the first, and someone suggests this ridiculous idea.</p>
- 'What a beautiful boy!' (when you have a girl)<p> This one is inevitable, especially if you have a bald baggy in practical clothes. You'll get used to saying 'she' she's a girl' wearily. You really do not need to festoon your baby in pink and bows if you don't want to.</p>
- 'You've got that real mumsy look about you now'<p> You always said you’d never turn into a ‘mumsy mum’ and now someone has come right out and confirmed your fears. If this comes from someone younger and with anything less than a size 10 waist, you have permission to de-friend without delay.</p>
- 'If that was my child I'd...'<p> We don’t care! Like every good parenting book states, every child is different, so keep your bragging and comparisons to yourself thank you very much.</p>
- 'How much sleep are you getting?'<p> Ok, so the yawning and dark circles might give it away, but whoever asks this is clearly expecting a horror story answer. Give them one and enjoy the reaction quicker than you can say ‘eye bags’.</p>
- 'Don't you worry about what he's eating?'<p> Yes, constantly. The cupboards are stocked with every organic, free-from, no nasties, no preservatives children’s food on the market, costing a small fortune. But right now, cake is all that keeps the peace. And no, you can’t have any.</p>
- 'Poor little thing, does she need a feed?'<p> This is thoroughly unhelpful, especially if said in the middle of a supermarket, or on any overcrowded public transport. A scathing look should suffice.</p>
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