The hardest job for me, was simply being a parent. I was under the impression, that having been born a girl, it would be the most natural thing in the world. Aren't women supposed to be Mother Earth?
When my first son was born, I floated around in a haze of happiness, scarcely daring to believe that this bundle of warmth and love, had been created by me, and his father. But my son was not as content with life as I was, he had wind, he couldn't sleep at night, and because he was small, I found myself breast feeding him almost every two hours at first. The funny thing was, no matter how tired and grumpy I felt about getting up, when his tiny little fist clutched at my fingers, none of it mattered.
I read all the baby books, hoping to be the best parent I could be. It was ok to let him cry himself to sleep at night, the book said, but James had other ideas. He screamed until his face was red, so I bought him a dummy. Was I a bad mother?
When he reached the terrible twos, he was liable to fling himself down in temper in the most awkward places. The book said, just step over him, and walk on, but that was impossible at the top of an escalator that he didn't want to go down, so I had to scoop him into my arms, his legs and arms flaying out wildly, and grit my teeth, whilst everyone looked at me as if I was about to commit murder.
When he started school, we only lived a little way from it, and I was amazed to see him come home at first break. He thought the day had finished. I took him back, of course, as that was in the days when it was possible for children to get out of school alone. I spent the rest of the day worrying about him, but after the first week he had cracked it, and made friends.
The teenage years were not easy. He didn't speak much, played loud music continually, stayed out late, smoked, and went out with totally unsuitable girls. Then he got a car, and became even more independent. He had a job, and then a flat, and all of a sudden I realised that I missed him. He had grown up, and he didn't need us any more.
Now I look back with a mixture of relief and nostalgia. I had 4 children in total, all with very different personalities, all needing to be handled in a different way. All I can say is I did the best I could, but being a parent has to be learnt, and there are many mistakes to be made along the way. The one thing my children had was love, and loyalty too. They seemed to have turned out to be nice people, and I'm proud of them, even if I didn't do it by the book.
