“I’m going to miss you Mummy.”

This sentence alone is enough to melt any Mummy’s heart as she stands, feeling the new chill in the September air, waiting for the doors of Playgroup to open and welcome her small child within. But when that sentence is swiftly followed by the heart string tugging fall of said child’s tiny face as she trudges through the aforementioned doors, it’s enough to send one over the edge into a swirling panic involving bundling the small child up in one’s arms and making a run for it before the register is ticked and the ‘point of no return’ has been well and truly passed.

Instead, this particular morning, I decided to take the route of distraction. Generally involving mention of some kind of foodstuff or favourite toys, distraction is one of the most commonly used tools in my Mummy arsenal. A simple mention of the sumptuous (to a toddler anyway) lunch I will have ready for my little lady on her return home is enough to cheer her such that the toys within the small room beckon and, after a gorgeous kiss and a “bye Mummy, love you” she skips happily off to busy herself with her morning’s chosen activity.

I can’t believe it has come around so quickly, but the days of Playgroup have arrived already at the Bowman house. A mere two mornings a week at this early stage, but the transition from full time toddler at home to ‘big girl’ at Playgroup seems (seeks some conveniently placed wood to touch) to have gone smoothly. We’re now a few weeks into this new and exciting stage of life and my little lady has taken to it like the proverbial duck to water.

So what am I doing with the newly found hours of ‘me time’ this regime allows? Huh, mainly washing, ironing, cleaning, hoovering, dusting and restocking the cupboards. Not all that exciting at first glance. But after almost three years of having to plan every outing to the nth degree, it’s quite refreshing to welcome back that element of ‘popping’ into my life. I can leave the house with nothing but my handbag and a merry whistle – at least for six hours in every week. Lovely.

And I’m absolutely making the most of it, because this rediscovered freedom has a very real time limit. You see, I have a confession to make. The little Bowman household of three jolly souls is set (very, very set) to welcome another little member at the end of the year. New Year’s Eve actually, so who knows when our numbers will expand?

So yes, I’m making the most of these mornings while I can. I adore my family and I wouldn’t swap any one of them for anything in the world. But I can’t deny that a few sanity restoring hours to myself are a total luxury of which I’m growing very fond. But I know that, at the strike of midday, when I step back through the Playgroup doors to collect my gorgeous first born, her high pitched, joy filled exclamations of “Mummy, yeay, Mummy, Mummy” will fill my heart more full with joy and pride than could any amount of hours of ‘me time’.

by Helen Bowman © 2013

Helen Bowman is a freelance writer, editor and proof reader who lives in Whitley Bay and works with small companies, individuals and groups to write, edit and proof read articles, press releases, website copy and all forms of the written word.

Contact her on 07725 196929 or at helen@in-the-detail.co.uk for more information.

 

As I write this I’m sitting in the corner of a soft play area, notebook on the table, a hot drink next to me and my discarded shoes on the floor…

I have to apologise if my thoughts seem disjointed, punctuated as they are by shouts of elation, squeals of glee and the general hubbub of a small room crushed to its very brim with over-wrought toddlers.

So soft play. This is a fairly new phenomenon for me. Holly has only just become interested in such fun-filled, padding protected frolics. And although soft play has been available in the north east for many years, its advent came just a little too late for me and my older brother.

I remember it was Dickens (now Boundary Mills) which first introduced the joy of soft play to the area. Alas, the innovation was a few centimetres too late for us both as our immeasurable excitement was cut heartlessly short by a burly, brusque man telling us “Sorry boys,” (I was often mistaken for a boy back then) “the soft play is only for small children.” Still, I’m not bitter…

And so, on a bleak spring (ha!) day, when the traditional outdoor park is nothing but a pipedream, this soft play is a blessed relief indeed. I can curl myself around a hot, comforting coffee and sit a while.

But I can never get quite comfortable in such a situation, because before long the dulcet tones of my very own over-wrought toddler will demand my company on the plastic and padding clad apparatus to help her up an over-tall step, through a slightly precarious creep hole or over a gravity defying net which halts her playing progress. Hence the aforementioned discarded shoes under the table.

And I like to pretend that such forays into a child’s world are a nuisance, a chore. That they disturb my grown up reverie and tear me away from many an important thing. But really I love to venture into the colourful maze to save my little lady from her imagined tight corner. Mummy to the rescue. Because I love that she needs me so much. And because I know that all too soon she won’t automatically shout ‘Mummy’ when she’s slightly unsure and I’ll barely get a glance over her retreating shoulder as she goes off to play with her friends.

So what if my coffee goes a little cold and my article goes unfinished? I’m slipping off my shoes, rolling up my sleeves and heading, on all fours, into a fun, hectic, over-warm world where my daughter explores, learns new skills and pushes her own boundaries in the name of play. Where I can rekindle my own happy childhood memories and help Holly to make some of her own. Because who knows what her first memory will be? Just as long as it is crammed from side to side with laughter and smiles, I’m a happy Mummy.

by Helen Bowman © 2013

Helen Bowman is a freelance writer, editor and proof reader who lives in Whitley Bay and works with small companies, individuals and groups to write, edit and proof read articles, press releases, website copy and all forms of the written word.

Contact her on 07725 196929 or at helen@in-the-detail.co.uk for more information.

 

As our minds turn to spring and the trees begin to burgeon with blooming buds I, for one, experience a tinge of anticipation for the explosion of blossom on our local trees. It’s one of the small things I always missed when I lived away from home. And yes, I do know that blossom exists in other parts of the country. But it was never displayed with the same gusto as the one particular stretch of Monkseaton Drive in Whitley Bay that I remembered as a child. And this ‘blossom time of year’ still fills me with a great deal of joy, without fail.

But 2013 has brought with it another kind of blossoming which is lighting my interest, filling me with wonder and inspiring my days. The blossoming of my daughter from a baby, reminiscent of a Mabel Lucy Atwell character, into a mischievous, exploratory, fascinated and fascinating little person.

No longer content to toddle around the place watching, taking everything in and processing things quietly, Holly now takes life at a gallop. She mimics, she squeals with delight, she chases her friends, calling after them by name. She joins in with songs and throws herself into the actions each song calls for. Mention Sleeping Bunnies or the Hokey Cokey and my little lady is in her element.

Just the other day, at a party for an older friend, Holly joined in the activities requested of her with aplomb. Not phased by the fact that she barely knew any of the other children, Holly took her leave of me (something she rarely does without a fight) and set off on a bear hunt with a huddle of older, more confident children and loved every second of it. It was while standing on the other side of the room, watching her from afar, witnessing her rapt attention for the party organiser, that I was forced to stand back and realise just how far she’s come on as a little individual.

It still amazes me when Holly bursts into song. But her love of song is such that I often spend many an hour fielding requests for songs from the back seat of my little car. “Mummy, how ‘bout…Daisy!” At which point I have to lead into one of the Night Garden songs and am joined with much enthusiasm by my happy passenger. Her request list, while still limited, does allow me to pick and choose any song that contains some kind of reference to the requested word. Doggy, Car, Mummy, Daddy and Lighthouse are all favourite topics at the moment. I have, on several occasions, been known to completely make up a song, tune and all, in order to fulfil my ‘Mummy obligations’ in this regard. I’m only thankful that no-one except Holly (and my very forgiving, if always amused, Mum) ever hears my sorry attempts at songwriting!

New words, new actions and new accomplishments are very much a part of our lives these days and, I hope, will continue to be so for many years to come. We are standing near the bottom of a very steep learning curve and the view upwards is dizzying yet intriguing. I love it.

Now, I’m off to learn a song about a lighthouse before the next round of requests begins.

by Helen Bowman © 2013

Helen Bowman is a freelance writer, editor and proof reader who lives in Whitley Bay and works with small companies, individuals and groups to write, edit and proof read articles, press releases, website copy and all forms of the written word.

Contact her on 07725 196929 or at helen@in-the-detail.co.uk for more information.

 

I’ve said it before but, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’ll say it again: time really is flying by stupidly quickly these days. I still stop to wonder, every now and again, just what it is that makes the hours, days, weeks and months rattle past quite so quickly.

It only seems like a couple of weeks since, this time last year, we had celebrated our little girl’s first birthday and had just enjoyed her first ‘proper’ Christmas. And now, in the blink of any eye, here we are again. Holly is two years old and we’re sitting in amongst a mess of new toys, strewn wrapping paper and an empty ‘Hello Kitty’ advent calendar to remind us that Christmas has definitely happened in the Bowman household.

The end of the year is an increasingly busy time for us these days. What with a spattering of incredibly important birthdays in the few weeks before Christmas, plus the onset of the festive period happening in (what seems like) August, there’s not much time to sit down and do very little.

But this year has seen a marked step up in the excitement levels brought on by the Christmas holidays. Holly’s birthday at the end of November provided us with a lovely occasion from which to jump start the festivities. For the first time Holly has begun to understand the importance, significance, meaning and pure joy of receiving presents. Just the mere mention of the word catapults her into spasms of glee, accompanied by much raucous hand clapping until said present has been delivered within arm’s length. As Holly is still only a tender two years, my husband and I decided that quantity rather than quality of presents was the best way to go this year, happy as she is with simply ripping the wrapping to pieces and proclaiming a wondrous ‘Wow’ to every present. The jubilation is incredibly short lived as each new toy or book is discarded just as quickly as it was opened to move on to the next. Thank goodness, at this time of her life, for the abundance of almost perfect toys and books in charity shops!

But the real joy, for me at least, has been the chance to watch my little lady gaze in wonder at the Christmas lights and decorations used to adorn many of the houses in our neighbourhood. Doubtless most of those lights will be taken down in the coming days, if they haven’t already been stowed until Christmas 2013, but for the few weeks surrounding this Christmas they’ve provided me and my little family with a great deal of satisfaction. Unused as she is to venturing outside once the sun has gone down, Holly has relished the chance to stride around our local streets and perch excitedly on many a garden wall to examine flashing Christmas trees, animated Santas and many a twinkling star decoration.

What a lovely way to round off another year and welcome in 2013 with its promise of more memories to make, milestones to reach and long-forgotten discoveries to rekindle through our daughter’s eyes.

Happy 2013 everyone!

by Helen Bowman © 2013

Helen Bowman is a freelance writer, editor and proof reader who lives in Whitley Bay and works with small companies, individuals and groups to write, edit and proof read articles, press releases, website copy and all forms of the written word.

Contact her on 07725 196929 or at helen@in-the-detail.co.uk for more information.

 

Time was when I would have marked myself down as a fair conversationalist. I suppose I’ve been brought up to suss out any given situation and adapt my conversation style to suit. Through my work I’ve developed that ability and could, in the majority of cases, be taken just about anywhere and be trusted not to show myself or my companions up in any way.

Since having our little girl, however, I’ve noticed my skills in the area of conversation have changed somewhat. Don’t get me wrong, I believe I can still enter into a half decent conversation given the right timing, location and situation. On the other hand, catch me on the wrong day, at the wrong time and with a marauding toddler in tow and the experience could be a whole other kettle of fish.

One situation in which I can pretty much be depended upon for a never ending source of ‘stimulating’ conversation is with other parents. Trust me, this isn’t a skill I set out to perfect, but with Holly as my constant companion I seem to find myself in just the perfect position to speak to other parents on topics unfathomable to the unaccustomed. And at great length too. And thus my skill for the art of conversation has change immeasurably.

In my life BH (Before Holly) I was adept at chit chat about the weather, about the recent news, about (certain aspects of) politics, about the state of the economy, the state of the roads. I’d happily enquire after the health and wellbeing of the families of others, extol at length the fitness of my own family and slot in to any conversation I felt it polite to do so. In recent months, I’ve managed to amuse even myself in the realisation that my current areas of expertise, as well as those around me, can be summed up as follows: one’s capacity to hang out washing with the inclement weather we’ve been experiencing this year; the marvellous art that is cooking for children (and most especially disguising all that is vegetable); the amount of water one child drinks when compared to another; the length and ferocity of tantrums, as well as their triggers and ways of ending said tantrums; the pros and cons of various toddler snacks; the frequency and consistency of soiled nappies; potty training and birthday parties. And several other variants thereof.

And yes, these topics of conversation are totally and utterly acceptable (nay, compulsory) between parents. Spare a thought for my poor husband who, following each and every stressful day’s work teaching and dealing with adults young and old(er), comes home to be bombarded with news from ‘the world of toddler’, including new words, refined skills and updates on eating and toileting habits aplenty. He loves it really.

But if you do happen to bump into me while I’m out and about, please do try, if you will, to engage me in a more adult conversation. Following a momentary glimpse of the rabbit in headlights, you’ll be rewarded with a great rush of enthusiasm and gratitude for any given topic beyond these parameters. I can’t promise, however, that the skills and execution will quite match up to that enthusiasm. Bear with me though, I’ll hone my skills again eventually!

by Helen Bowman © 2012

Helen Bowman is a freelance writer, editor and proof reader who lives in Whitley Bay and works with small companies, individuals and groups to write, edit and proof read articles, press releases, website copy and all forms of the written word.

Contact her on 07725 196929 or at helen@in-the-detail.co.uk for more information.