The Birds and The Blokes

Tomorrow I will be borrowing a book from my parents that I remember very well.  It's called 'I Wonder, I Wonder' and it's the first of three books that my sister and I read with our parents over a few years, which took us through the basic 'need to know' of the facts of life. The books varied in how they presented the info and how much they really presented at all, according to the age of the intended audience. So the first book was mostly about how boys and girls are different and how families change when new babies arrive. As I remember it, the family in the story had twins, conveniently a boy and a girl who turned out to look very different at nappy changing time. There was some talk of seeds and eggs, but nice and vague at this point. The second book is called 'How You Got To Be You' and was a bit more biological - I remember a lot about ducklings for some reason and then some stuff about puberty and how bodies change. The final book was really for ten year olds or older and talked much more about sex as such - placing it in the context of relationships as well as explaining the basics. I can't remember the title of this one - clearly I have been traumatised by memories of reading it with my parents and wishing I could be anywhere else.

Actually, it wasn't that bad! I am happy that I found out about sex from my parents, in a safe environment, where I was able to ask questions.  That way, when it was becoming more of a topic at school, I wasn't uninformed and gullible.  I certainly learned a lot more from school mates, as one does, but felt pretty clear that I wasn't in any rush to experience something I had come to see as part of marriage rather than part of being a teenager.

This is all very well, but the boot is on the other foot now, and we are gearing up to sit down with Matthew and start looking at the first book together.  Hopefully the books will do a lot of the work for us!  Matthew is only six, so we are not going to be talking about sex as such, but I guess laying the ground work for future conversations. It has become increasingly evident that both boys are thoroughly entertained by bums, willies and anything remotely toilet related. Sigh.  I guess that's as good a place to start as any, and if we get through a few good chats and Matthew comes out of them knowing how to be appropriately private and safe, then that is good enough for now.

One thing I am very clear on is that I don't want to lie to him.  It is hard to balance 'telling the truth' with not giving a young child more information than they can handle.  I have seen both scenarios in action with different friends.  One friend's boy was curious about how puppies had come out of a dog he knew. In a bit of a panic, and not wanting to be too graphic, his Mum ended up telling him they came out of the dog's belly button.  This seems a bit bonkers to me!  What harm could come from telling him the truth? On the other hand, a different friend was pregnant and determined to be very open with her older son and to answer any questions he had.  He ended up being almost obsessed with some aspects of the baby, in particular with breastfeeding.  I don't think a 3 year old needs to know what an areola is...

Parents will know their own kids and be able to judge what they can handle. It would seem sensible to me to get to your kids early with the correct info before they end up with some garbled account. Some people say that early sex ed leads to earlier sexualisation and being sexually active.  That was certainly not true in my case and I would rather be open and honest with my boys than have them find out from their friends - especially if they ask the kid who thinks babies come out of belly buttons!

Lies, Damn Lies, a Fairy and a Bishop

Isn't it peculiar that we teach our children that honesty is vital, when we actually promote and foster several complete fabrications throughout their early years? Lying is the worst thing, and we teach our kids that they must always tell us the truth, even if it's to confess something they have done that will make us angry - we will be more angry if we find out they have lied than about the actual crime, whatever it may be.  I remember as a young child, the word 'lying' conjured up a real sense of evil and seemed like the worst thing anyone could do!

Yet we are all complicit in several huge scams in which children are utterly deceived!  Yes, I am about to reveal that the Tooth Fairy and Santa are not in fact true... If I have just burst your bubble, I do apologise.  (A bit.)  (Not really...)

Ok, let's not get carried away.  We are of course not really lying or deceiving anyone. (Technically though....) Of course: the Tooth Fairy helps kids see a possibly traumatic and bloody tooth loss as magical and beneficial - it's a lovely idea in many ways! And I understand how Santa came to be the fat bloke from the Coke ads and Hollywood, derived all the way from a Turkish bishop. 

Matthew lost his first tooth yesterday and was thrilled when he woke this morning to find a shiny coin under his pillow. By the time he came home from school, a classmate had told him that she thought the Tooth Fairy didn't leave the coin, but parents did. Notice she didn't say there was no such thing as the Tooth Fairy! Matthew kind of told me this without asking me directly, which meant I didn't have to lie.  By this evening he was chatting away again about the Tooth Fairy and giving his remaining teeth a good old wiggle to hasten the arrival of more under-the-pillow riches. Perhaps he decided to hedge his bets in case lack of belief meant lack of money!

If he had asked me straight out if I had left the coin, I would have said yes. This would have been followed quickly by the instruction to keep this quiet and not to spoil this for his classmates. By six I think a child should be able to do this. In fact, I know they can, because I was that child: I didn't tell my classmates that there was no such thing as Santa. Or indeed Sinterklaas.

How did I find out by six that there was no Santa? Well, call it another Third Culture Kid situation.  As we were growing up in Holland my parents had to decide how to handle the whole clash of Sinterklaas and Santa. Here's a quick introduction to Sinterklaas for the uninitiated: he is absolutely also derived from St Nicholas of Smyrna. In fact, he is still dressed as a bishop, with a mitre and everything.  But he lives in Spain, not the North Pole. And he travels by boat to Holland and then around the roofs by horse on December 5th, not 25th. He doesn't nip down the chimneys himself, but has Black Peter, his servant, who leaves presents in the shoes that are left out. Naughty children run the risk of being put in a bag and being taken away to Spain by Black Peter.  There are many other features; families get together and give each other very complicated gifts, with poems. ( I really am not making this up.) There is a big tradition of chocolate and marzipan letters and sweets. And of course Sinterklaas' arrival in Holland is broadcast live and is cause for huge excitement as his helpers throw special sweets called Pepernoten to people.  It is a big big deal.

So how do you explain to your little girls what this is all about when all their cousins in Ireland and England are talking about Santa? My parents decided to cut their losses and as far as I can remember, I always knew that neither Santa or Sinterklaas were real.  The most important thing, however,  that my sister and I were told in no uncertain terms, was that we were absolutely not permitted to burst anyone else's bubble... If you can believe it, we never did. I remember many conversations where we played along with our excited classmates in anticipating the gifts Sinterklaas would bring, despite knowing full well it was all a load of rubbish.

One of the reasons my Mum was happy enough to tell us the truth early on, was that she has never forgotten the crushing and humiliating disappointment of discovering that her whole family already knew that Santa wasn't real and she was the last to know, as the youngest of six. That was the year she got a bike and her Dad had even put soot on the saddle! This just added to the sense that they were all playing a big trick on her, and she was pretty devastated. 

When it came to my kids, I would have been quite happy to go the same route and do without the whole Santa thing. In discussing this with friends when Matthew was much younger, some of them looked at me like I had suggested cutting off his legs. Seriously, I wonder how many of them considered calling social services...  In general Andrew and I were quite taken aback by how much Irish people went on about 'Santy' and asked us if we were taking Matthew to see him at his very first Christmas. He was 4 months old! 

Andrew wasn't impressed by the idea of not letting the kids believe in Santa and felt it was taking away the magic of Christmas. Having never believed in him and always absolutely loved Christmas and felt it was quite magical enough, it was hard for me to understand this.  In the end, I was outflanked as both boys learned about Santa at such a young age from their play schools and were so convinced and excited that it would have been absolutely awful of me to take some kind of stand on this. So, in our house, Santa brings the contents of their stockings and the rest of the presents are from family and friends.  This limits the gift lists as well as Mum and Dad's wallets are not as bottomless as Santa's!

In the end, I don't like the idea that I am not being honest with my children, even if my motive is to give them a bit of magic in the middle of their childhood. I will never lie if they ask me straight out if Santa or the Tooth Fairy are real. For now, these questions haven't even begun to occur to them, so the myth remains intact. We will see what happens when they do find out and I guess my one concern is that they may begin to question the truth of all kinds of things and I would hate for them to throw out the baby with the bathwater, by which I mean baby Jesus when it comes to Christmas at least! On the other hand, I can see the value of them questioning this as it may lead to some good chats. We shall see.  

I wonder when the myth will be exploded! Apparently Paris Hilton believed in Santa till she was 17. I started out talking about lies, and this may be a whopper, or at least an urban myth.  But as a matter of fact I have no problem believing that she was that stupid and sheltered. I expect she probably still does believe in the Tooth Fairy.

Less of a Person

It's been a while since I have blogged!  Life has been pootling along in a nice rhythm of school runs, football, swimming and housework... Nothing has really been exercising me or getting me riled up enough to blog. And I am not blogging today because I am riled up, but because I am inspired...

 I just got back from a Slimming World meeting in Stillorgan.  The usual stuff was going on: women queuing happily to pay for the week and handing fruit into the basket to be given to the slimmer of the week. 

Then everyone joins the queue for being weighed.  This queue is noticably less chatty and relaxed.  People start stripping off as much as they can get away with before they have to get on the scales, so the side of the queue looks like a jumble sale: boots, scarves, jumpers...  I have seen women take jewellry off.  If your jewellry is going to make a difference to your weigh in, it might be time to de-bling somewhat... Just a thought!

Sighs of relief or grimaces of disappointment follow the weigh in and people find a seat and congratulate or commiserate with each other. Then the awards go out: people get a round of applause and a certificate for reaching certain milestones, like a half stone loss, or 10% of their body weight. This evening Rachael, the group consultant, called forward a lady and told us she had reached her target weight.

A very slim, very nervous lady came to the front.  She looked really slender and pretty and I immediately assumed she had probably lost a couple of stone and used to be a bit plumper.  But no, she had lost over 8 stone. I think it was 8 stone 2.  EIGHT STONE TWO!!!  That is 114 pounds, about 57 kilos. That is just phenomenal! At first I thought she was telling us her current weight, but thought she was a bit tall for that to be her final target.  I was very shocked to realise that was her total loss - amazing!

Yet she had no loose skin or anything like that as she had exercised once she lost enough weight to do so. She told the group that she had gone from a size 22/24 to size 10 and can get both her legs into one of the legs of her old jeans!  She spoke about how different her life was now and how much healthier she has become since she started this in May 2011.

It was really inspirational to see her and there was a palpable sense of awe in the room at her tremendous achievement. It was especially encouraging when she talked about the weeks she had gained weight or the month when she plateaued and was stuck at the same weight. Yet she stuck with it...

So, I am feeling motivated and am continuing to enjoy the Slimming World journey!  I have my own jeans story too: Andrew bought me jeans in America last March, which was brave!  I could barely get them over my knees, never mind do up the button.  Last week I tried them on again and they fit! I was very very pleased! Maybe he should buy me the next size down for continued motivation? Maybe not...