My Baby Was Born On A Zebra Crossing :: when birth doesn't go to plan

When birth doesn't turn out the way you had pictured, it's not always easy to make peace with your experience.  That isn't to say that I was disappointed with my birth experience for either of my boys.  My babies arrived alive, healthy and with no real trauma for either them or me - there are a lot of women out there who can't say the same thing, so in the bigger picture I know I am lucky.  But when your birth experience plays out differently from your expectations, it can still take a while to wrap your head around what has happened.

I got pregnant with Mini Milk just a few months after we started trying for him, but while he was conceived fairly quickly he was many years in the making as we waited for the time to be right.  And those years involved a lot of worry and uncertainty about the state of my fertility after cysts robbed me of most of my ovarian reserve, culminating in basically being told not to leave it much longer.

In those years I saw many other births.  Actually, I did more than that - I delivered many babies.  My experiences as a student midwife taught me many things, but the biggest of all those was that that you can never predict how a birth is going to play out.  It made me even more of a realist than I had been when I had Half Pint, and I went into my pregnancy with Mini Milk with my mind wide open, no concrete ideas and the acceptance that a fluid birth idea is better than a inflexible birth plan.

But I would be lying if the idea of the kind of birth I'd like wasn't very much what I had my heart set on.  I knew I could cope with minimal pain relief from my experience of having Half Pint on just gas and air, so that wasn't an issue.  What I pictured was a chilled pool birth, with my choice of music playing in the background.  A simple idea, and one I accepted may not happen if by chance I went into labour at the same time as another water-loving mamma.  But as my pregnancy went on my heart settled on that image of birthing in the water, and when I was told that I couldn't give birth in my local midwife-led birthing unit and instead had to make the 40min journey to the nearest maternity hospital, I was crestfallen.  But there was a pool at the hospital, so it wasn't the end of the world...right?

where the magic actually happened

Wrong.  Instead of a calm, relaxed labour I spent a lot of it in the car.  Instead of enjoying pushing my baby into the world, I was desperately trying to hold him back in fear I would give birth on the Erskine Bridge.  Instead of birthing in a warm pool, I delivered on a zebra crossing with an audience of smokers (one wee guy in particular I don't think will ever recover).  I'd carefully packed my hospital bags for nothing, and didn't even get to listen to the playlist I'd made.

But as B-movie as my story sounds, I do try to focus on the positives of Mini Milk's birth.  And actually, there are quite a few.  For one thing I fulfilled my ideal of using as few drugs as possible - a grand total of two paracetamol (and a TENS machine, which to put it bluntly was a pile of pish).  I also got to eat in labour...the fact that what I ate was a McDonald's is neither here nor there.  And I didn't totally miss out on the benefits of water, as I got to spend an hour or so in the bath at home before our mad dash to the hospital (even though I did have to stop the Pooch from using the tub as a giant water bowl).  I even managed to give birth in public without flashing my bits to the world, thanks to some incredibly roomy Primark jammies.  Above all it was quick, and there was not one bloody doctor with their trigger happy interventions in sight.

And of course, there is my gorgeous little baby.  A baby who was delivered by his daddy, and there aren't many who can say that.  But for the record, if ever get to do it again I'm having a pool installed in my house...even if that means a paddling pool in the back garden!

I'd love to know if anyone else has given birth in an unusual place...was it planned?!  And are there any other mums out there whose birth experience didn't go as they had hoped?  Have you been able to make peace with it...if so, let me know how.

Read more

A summary to end all summaries

So Mini Milk has been one for less than a week, but although part of me is sad and can't believe how fast it has gone, the other part is excited about this time in his life and looking to the future as he grows into his personality and becomes more of a person.  I keep waiting for the wave of emotions to hit me, but they don't and I think that is because I'm just enjoying him too much right now to get caught up in looking back.

For instance, he is starting to pick up on language.  He has known his name for months, and a month or so ago he imitated his first sound.  That word happened to be poop!  Considering he spent a good chunk of his first year struggling with his digestive system, there was something very fitting about that!  He has also imitated water and banana, and this week he also tried out cake as he was wild for the one I made him.  In terms of words he seems to know and is trying to use appropriately, mama and dad seem to be coming along best.  He also seems to be using dog too, much to the Pooch's disgust, as she is still terrified of him.

Physically he is coming along well too.  He mastered climbing the stairs a couple of months ago, and cruises around furniture easily.  He has figured out how to get off the sofa too, but still has no awareness for the edge or how it isn't a good idea to lean backwards whilst near it (*touch wood* no falls yet).  Standing unaided isn't really happening yet, though we had a breakthrough tonight thanks to the new toy his grandparents got him - he let go an stood for all of five seconds!  The girls at nursery think he's hilarious because the two snack tables are just a little too far apart for him to cruise between them, so he stretches out starfish-like still holding on to one table and not quite able to reach the next, but refuses just to take that unaided step.  Even if you try to hold him by just his hands and get him to step forward he often just sits down, so I think walking is still a way off.  His latest hand trick is to point at things.  Sometimes it seems random, but most of the time he does seem to be pointing at something in particular.  He still loves to clap and beat rhythms with anything he can hold, and is constantly waving goodbye/hello/just because. 

His eating is coming along quite well, I'm trying to introduce more texture into the foods I make him as he's coping well with more solid food that we give him off our plates.  And god, we have to give him food off our plates!  It's got to the point that if we go to eat out we don't always take an extra meal for him from home as he loves nothing more than to share ours (particularly off a fork, but as finger food too).  He loves bananas and bread, probably because he can get his teeth into them (I think we're on ten teeth now - four bottom front, six top front).  I have no idea what he weighs though, as I can't take him to the clinic now I'm at work and I haven't even popped him on the bathroom scales just to get a rough idea. 

He is sleeping fairly well, going down between 6.30-7.30pm, but he's in this awful pattern of waking up at 4am for a bottle before going back own again until about 6am.  He has one or two naps during the day too, which can be anywhere from 45mins to 2hrs.  We moved his cot into his own room about a month ago, and he wasn't phased at all.  I had hoped when he moved into his own room we'd be in a new house and I could decorate it and make it all his, but because Pink Milk uses it at weekends I can't really do that.  Her colour scheme around her bed is pink and turquoise, so I'm hoping I can bring the turquoise tone to Mini Milk's area of the room in some way and make his section more him.  But I'm not in a rush for that, because I am so not in the mood for decorating any time soon!

He had his first haircut at the start of July, and his second one yesterday - my hairdresser trimmed his fringe and a little round his ears when I was in there getting my hair done.  He coped so well, which is good because he has a ton of hair!  He's very lucky, Half Pint's first haircut was done by me, where I basically just cut a straight line above his eyes...poor kid, I look back at his photos from then and cringe!

Mini Milk is such a little character...I think he's going to cause us no end of trouble!  He's cheeky, and can be quite devious.  He seems to understand when we say "no" to him, but he often just looks at us and then carries right on with whatever he's up to.  And we've noticed that he'll try sneaky ways to do what he shouldn't - at his grandparent's house he wants to get into the ornaments on the fire hearth, so will throw his toys near them so that he has an excuse to crawl over to them.  When you catch him at things, he'll often give you a big grin and turn on the charm.  And what charm!  Sometimes I can't stand the levels of cute.  Especially now that he seems to tolerate snuggles a bit better!  He likes to feed me his toast, and even gives the occasional kiss. 

The reflux he struggled with for most of his first year seems to be a thing of the past.  Thank god, as looking back on those days where I spent the whole time stinking of puke and having nervous breakdowns as he ruined his outfit seconds before we left the house still make me want to curl up and cry.

Read more

When Baby Makes Three - remembering to have a relationship when you become parents

By the time Mini Milk came along, the Milkman and I had been together for over five years.  We had both experienced parenthood separately, and our experiences of parenting with a difficult/awol ex-partner meant we both wanted to do it the right way if we ever became parents again.  We tried for Mini Milk once we had made sure our foundations were rock solid, and so although I knew there would be a shift in our relationship once a baby was added into the equation I didn't think it would be particularly noticeable.

But when I saw the man I loved holding our son for the first time, it was as if everything around us stopped and I saw him in a totally new light.  I hadn't thought I could love him more, but just like a parent is able to love a new child without loving their other child any less, I found a new reserve of emotion.  Those first two weeks existing in the sleepy newborn fog whilst the Milkman was off on paternity leave were a blissful cocoon of love and happiness.

Of course, reality has a nasty way of throwing open the windows and letting the cold air in to slap you in the face.  The Milkman went back to work, Mini Milk became more alert and demanding, and life happened once again.  That is when a relationship really gets tested, and I challenge you to find one couple who can truthfully say that they never felt the strain.  I was home all day with a demanding, crying, refluxing baby, struggling to dress and feed myself whilst keeping on top of the housework, whilst the Milkman swanned off to the adult world and his freedom, simply swooping in at the end of the day to indulge in some daddy moments before bed.  Or I was at home all day with no commitments, enjoying all the precious first months of Mini Milk's life while his daddy was working like a dog all day and only seeing his son briefly in the evening.  Sometimes I was jealous of the Milkman, and I dare say sometimes he was jealous of me.  We would often find ourselves at check-mate in a game of competitive tiredness as we ran on our own separate hamster wheels.

Thankfully, the solidity we had built before Mini Milk arrived and the continuing afterglow of that smug, Disney-esque start to our journey as parents together has meant we've never reached crisis point.  More than not, we have worked as a team and - whether out of genuine respect or simply a lack of energy - we have never come to blows in dramatic, blazing rows where things that can't be un-said slip out.

It is so easy to be caught up in keeping the kids dressed, clean and fed in a house which is (semi) habitable that the relationship becomes an afterthought.  It's kind of scary how you can live in the same house as someone, wake up with them every morning and sit with them on the sofa each evening but feel as if you never see them.  I think that is dangerous territory for a couple, but it is ground you can stumble into without noticing.  

A few weeks ago I read a great blog post by Glasgow Mummy called "Do you have a TV in your bedroom?" where she discussed some pitfalls in relationships, and how to keep a relationship healthy and happy.  I agreed with most of what she said, and so to keep our relationship thriving the Milkman and I are going to pop a vitamin in the form of a "date night" every month or so. With Mini Milk now a year old, I'm going to bite the bullet and leave him overnight for the first time so the Milkman and I can enjoy a night in the riverside Hilton and a grown-up meal for two at Red Onion!  I feel a bit cheeky doing this, as we've actually been lucky enough to have wedding shows to attend this weekend and last, so it's not as if we've been totally deprived of child-free time, but this will be different.  It's not time without kids that is the aim here, it's time to centre ourselves...and you can't do that in the pandemonium of a wedding show!  I'm really looking forward to the chance to re-connect, relax and be us for the night.

Has your relationship changed once a baby was added to the mix?  What tips do you have to keep your relationship healthy and happy whilst wading knee-deep through the swamp of dirty nappies, laundry and sleep deprivation?  Drop me a comment to let me know! 

Read more

Teenage Motherhood vs Motherhood in my Twenties

As Mini Milk turns one, I've found myself reflecting on how different my experience of motherhood has been this time around.  There is over a decade of an age gap between my two boys, and a world of difference to my experiences of being their mother.  I had barely turned 18 when I had Half Pint (if he'd not been so late, I'd have still been 17), I had only just left school, and in the last few weeks of my pregnancy I found myself single too.  Ten years older, wiser and more settled, I became a mother again.

I have always felt that I had it pretty lucky as a teen mum, in terms of attitude from others.  Maybe that was to do with the fact that I was an older teen, maybe its simply because people in my area hold their tongues better, but whatever the reason I've not had the same experience as other teen mothers I've met.  I know girls who actually had negative comments made to their faces, from utter strangers, when they were simply doing their shopping or walking down the street.  These have ranged from plain rude to outright abusive, and most of the time were sparked by nothing more than the fact the mother looked quite young. 

I also know I've been very lucky in the support I had from my family.  They not only helped me raise Half Pint, but also ensured that doors to opportunities such as a university education and the chance to still go out and have fun didn't slam shut in my face just because I had a child when I was young.

But even though I probably had it a lot more easy than some others, I can still notice inequalities between parenting as a teen and parenting in a more "respectable" age bracket.  I've tried to narrow these down to three areas, though I could probably write a novel on the topic!

Shocked Reactions and Rude Questions

looking too young to be his mum

The biggest difference I've noticed is that I no longer need to brace myself when I admit to being a mother.  People barely seem to blink when I say I have a baby these days...at least, until I drop the "and an eleven year old" bomb, and then all the old familiar shocked expressions get an airing.

I don't get the accusatory "but you don't look old enough to have a baby!" comments this time around either...comments that always politely insinuated that I was too young to be a mother.  Maybe it's because I look so haggard these days, but it's refreshing to not have to justify my status behind jokes about good anti-wrinkle creams.

I've also noticed that people seem to respect your privacy more readily when you are a mother of an approved age.  I don't think I've been asked once whether Mini Milk was planned, or whether I'm still with his father, yet with Half Pint this seemed to be the natural flow of the conversation.  Followed by the awkward silence when I answered their questions honestly...

And of course, this time around I also haven't received the patronising "well done you" verbal pat on the head.  Obviously once you pass 20 it is no longer a shocker that you can be both a mother and hold down a job/have a home/not look like Vicky Pollard/hold a conversation without calling in Jeremy Kyle/etc stereotype etc.

Place on the Mummy Totem Pole

I have never been in the mummy crowd, a crowd which seems to embrace all shapes and sizes and colours and classes and formats of mother...but not all ages.  As the only teenage mother of Half Pint's year group (despite the fact I was in my 20's by the time he started school, the hat seemed to remain firmly in place), I have always been on the fringes.  Women who you wouldn't ordinarily have grouped together seemed to mesh tightly at the school gates, but I never felt part of that tapestry.  There have been the stand-out few mothers that always have a smile and some polite small talk, but even now after seven years of parents evenings, sports days, birthday parties and school runs there are a noticeable number who still look through me like I don't exist.  In many ways this is more hurtful and has caused me more damage than I could imagine an ignorant comment from an old biddie in the Co-Op might have been.

This time around I am obviously yet to encounter the school gate hierarchy, but I can see the differences and also see the impact my past experience has had on me.  Though ten years has passed, I am still younger than a lot of mothers I have met at clinics or groups.  Even though that age gap is smaller now, I still feel it just as big as if I was 18 again.  It's a struggle trying to appreciate that I am now on a more even footing with most of these women, and am in fact older than a small number of the others.  I certainly feel accepted more readily, but I struggle to get comfortable in groups of other mothers thanks to years of always feeling like the outcast.

Baby Wrangling Confidence

This time around I made a point of signing up to a baby massage class and heading along to play sessions for under ones most weeks during my maternity leave.  This was a huge leap from how I was with Half Pint, when I didn't even have the confidence to attend my antenatal class post-birth meet up.  I didn't attend playgroups either (though my mum took him when I was at uni, so he didn't miss out), and on speaking to other teen mums it seems that is quite common - unless there is a dedicated young mum group or they have at least one other young mum friend to go along with, teen mums stay at home.

I have the confidence now to go wherever I want with Mini Milk in tow, but it was a lot different when I was younger.  I used to feel people were judging me when Half Pint cried or had a tantrum in public.  And now I've experienced those things with Mini Milk I have noticed that people do react differently - when I was younger I would either be drawn looks or have people telling my son that I hadn't done this/that/the other thing right.  Now, people either just share a sympathetic smile with me or just simply let me get on with being yet another mother with a crying baby.


And of course the biggest difference is that I feel no shame in declaring that I have kids!  When I was pregnant with Half Pint, I actually left my job at 30 weeks pregnant without telling anyone besides my boss that I was knocked up.  I even denied it when one particularly nosy co-worker asked me straight out if I was.  I avoided talking about being a mother to most people in my undergrad class at uni, and it would be the last thing I told anyone new I met.  Now, being a mother is who I am and I couldn't be prouder.  My boys shape who I am - Half Pint probably has more of a hand than anyone else in who I am today.  I wear my title as a badge of honour and I wont let anyone make me feel as if anything removes that privilege from me, least of all my age.  I just wish I'd felt that way ten years ago.

I'd love to hear what you think of my experiences, so drop me a comment.  Are you or were you a teen mum?  Do you identify with anything I've said or were your experiences very different?  Is there anyone else out there with two very different experiences of motherhood?  Let me know!

Read more

You Had Me At Hello :: my baby turns one

Mini Milk turned one yesterday, and I had planned on writing a Broody Tuesday entry on the eve of his birthday to mark the occasion. Unfortunately he was up most of that evening screaming, which kind of nixed those ideas. At first I thought he was ill, as being struck by illness just before a major event is a specialty of my kids - Half Pint got his dose of the chicken pox at Christmas, broke his thumb at the height of his goalkeeping career and threw up on at least two birthdays...why should Mini Milk be any different?!  I now think it was simply a night terror that he had, but it took so long to settle him that my lovely entry got pushed to one side.  I didn't get to blog about how he was on the verge of having a number to his name or reminisce about the fact that exactly a year ago I was furiously bouncing about on a birth ball like a demented kangaroo, trying to force him to come out (and worrying that my vigorous bouncing may cause him a head injury...).

But as I lay in bed last night with my head still reeling over the fact that my tiny baby is already one, I decided that I would instead have a whole string of posts to mark this moment. After all, there may not be any more first birthdays for me to celebrate, and at one time it seemed as if the thought of celebrating this one was an impossible dream.

It's been one heck of a year. He kicked it off in dramatic style by being born in the hospital car park, delivered (well, more like caught) by his daddy on the zebra crossing. His birth sums him up so well - eight days late, but couldn't wait a minute longer. Mini Milk showed a strong personality from the very beginning, he knows his own mind and marches to his own beat

But I'm getting ahead of myself - I'll go into his development in another entry, and I'll also blog about his birth in more detail. I plan to blog about the differences between motherhood this time around compared to my experience of being a teenage single mother too. There will also be an entry on how having a child together has changed the Milkman and I's relationship, and one about how having Mini Milk has changed me as a person. Hopefully I'll also get the chance to write about his favourite books and toys, and I'll also share the "no added sugar" birthday cake I made him!

But for now, let me end with some cute...

A year ago today...

Read more

Returning from Maternity Leave :: How to Survive as a Working Mother

If you have read my blog before you'll maybe be aware that I have gone back to work following the end of my maternity leave.  I would bet that's a fraught experience for any mother, whether she was dying to get back into the adult world or not, whether she's taken the minimum maternity leave or been a SAHM for years, and whether she returns full time or for just a few hours a week.  But I then added the nerves associated with starting an entire new career in a new field in a new organisation.  To say I was a little bit anxious is like saying that Nuts magazine is a little bit sexist.

Panic took up every last scrap of space in my mind in the run up to kick off - sorting out a childcare strategy, being able to get out of the house on time, managing to get dinner on the table, preventing our home from becoming derelict from a lack of housework, squeezing in some exercise/couple/me time and finding time to sleep...  I couldn't even let myself wallow in my heartbreak at the thought of having to leave my baby, because my mind was so full of the logistics of it all.  I was certain I had bitten off more than I could chew and was getting more and more scared.

But thankfully, it hasn't been that bad.

My new job is a vast improvement from my old one, and I'm enjoying it.  I am working full time, as needs must, but instead of getting hung up on wishing I could be at home more I have decided to just accept that this is how life is, and unless I win the lottery it ain't gonna be changing!

Making peace with the fact that that this is how it has to be has actually done a lot to ease my transition back into work, and isn't a mindset I only apply to my hours.  This got me thinking whether there are any words of advice I could pass on to other mums on the verge of returning to work...or indeed, any mum who has already returned and is feeling a bit overwhelmed.  I'm definitely not claiming to be an expert, but these are things that are getting me through:

To Do Lists 

I am a list junkie.  I find solace in crossing things off a list (maybe that's why I'm doing the Day Zero challenge).  During my lunch break I draw up a list of housework that needs done, homework that needs supervised, appointments that need to be made...you name it, if it needs attention that evening it is on my list.  If I have time I even re-write it in order, fitted around things that will always need done, like cooking dinner and bathing the baby.  The result is that I come home with a plan in my head, my time is used efficiently and things get done without me rushing at the last minute or getting stressed (well...at least not as much!).

Zen

By this I mean making peace with the fact that you are human.  Not everything is doable, and it is OK to let little things slip either until the weekend or entirely. It's a judgement call between the less important things and your own sanity.  Always chose your sanity!

Sleep!

This came up on my FB feed earlier, how relevant!

It can be so tempting to stay up late to catch up on some reading or watch some of the inevitable backlog that is building up on your Sky+ box...but you will regret it in the morning!  This kind of ties in with "Zen" - some things just have to be put off until the weekend or ditched completely.  I'm trying to switch my perspective from "sleeping is a drain on my free time" to "wow, look at me - I'm making the most of my precious time by only spending it on things that I really love."  My earlier bedtime isn't eating into my freedom, it is simply using the time I would otherwise have wasted on crap tv or aimlessly surfing Facebook.

Tag Team

Now, as an ex-single mother I can fully appreciate that this isn't a luxury afforded to everyone.  But if you do have a partner, then it goes without saying that you should be sharing the load as equally as possible.  The way that works for us, at least right now whilst Mini Milk thinks 4am is an appropriate time to start the day (you are very much mistaken, little man), is to take it a day each.  It makes the early mornings less of a killer when I know that the next morning I'll get the treat of a lie in until 6am whilst the Milkman takes his turn!

Firsts only count if you're there to see them

This may not be the approach everyone would take, but I am a jealous woman by nature.  The thought of not being there for Mini Milk's firsts hurts me on a very deep level.  And so for some emotional armour I have decided that unless I was there, they don't count.  I don't really even want to be told that they have happened, though given that a large chunk of our childcare is provided by grandparents I know it would be a bit bratty of me to deny them the pleasure of telling me!  But still, I simply smile and put it down to their imagination, until I see it for myself.  This approach is working so far, but I have a feeling that the first unaided standing and first steps will be tougher to ignore if I miss them.



And at the end of the day, what always gets me through is the thought of coming home to my boys.  I may be tired when I turn up to collect the kids, but that all melts away when I see Half Pint grinning at me or Mini Milk power-crawling towards me for a cuddle.  Those moments remind me why I'm doing this, and are also my reward.


If anyone else out there has any working mum survival tips, I would love to hear them - drop me a comment and help me keep my head above water in this new stage of my life!

Read more

Why I'm more scared about high school than my child is!

This will be the first of two Broody Tuesday posts on milestones, because both of my boys have hit (or are about to hit) pretty big ones.  This post is dedicated to my first baby...or rather the fact that he is most certainly not a baby any more.

Was this really six years ago?!

The summer holidays came to an end a fortnight ago for Scottish kids, and Half Pint is now in his final year of primary school.  In fact, if we were living in England he would have been starting secondary (or as we tend to call it up here, high school).  That is a thought that makes me come out in a cold sweat.

Children have an eerie talent of making time speed past behind your back.  I can still remember Half Pint's first day of primary school as if it were yesterday, and yet here we are on the brink of adolescence.  I am not ready for the next step. The thought of packing him off to high school and all the things he will be exposed to makes me feel queasy.

Half Pint is smart and picks things up easily, and so my worries about high school don't have anything to do with the workload.  He has never had any problem mixing with new people either - in fact, he's in a good position as he knows kids from all the different primary schools due to living outside the catchment area of his school and through his numerous sports clubs from over the years.

My worries are about the social side of high school, and the influence of the older pupils.  I only left high school 12 years ago, so I can still remember very clearly what that world is like. I can only imagine the conversations and sights he will be exposed to by mixing with older kids, kids who are practically adults...or who at least think they are.  My own memories merge with flashbacks from Grange Hill and I break into palpitations!

I doubt anyone could accuse me of being the type to shelter my kids.  However, I do think that childhood shouldn't be forced to end abruptly in the school corridor when 11 year old children who are only interested in Minecraft and Harry Potter have to share a space with 17 year old louts who go drinking on the weekend and are constantly trying to see just how deep in the gutter their minds can sink.  In this instance (probably only this instance) I think the American school system has a one-up on the UK - they have middle school, which appreciates the fact that there is a world of difference between a tween and someone approaching their 20's.

This weekend as I was mulling my fears over (again...), when I was struck by the realisation that such fears don't give Half Pint enough credit.  That whole blink-&-miss-it thing has been at play, and he's actually become more grown up than I had been willing or ready to admit.  This came to me me whilst I was watching him compete in a swimming meet.  From the spectator gallery I was able to spy on him as he sat with his team between races, and was struck by how mature his actions and way of carrying himself seemed.  He takes the pressure of these events in his stride, and in his way of interacting with his team mates and the adult coaches alike there was a confidence which seemed to belong more to an adolescent than a child.  I got to thinking that maybe I don't need to be so scared, because there was my gorgeous young man and he looked as if maybe it wont be such a stretch for him to be ready for high school.  In many ways maybe he is a little more ready than some, given that I have always raised him to be comfortable enough to have quite frank conversations with me about friends, feelings, sex, the meaning of some of the more colourful language he hears at school, and anything else that pops into his head.  His ability to ask questions and also to identify things that perhaps aren't appropriate (at least in front of adults...I'm sure we are all very aware of the sorts of things kids say and get up to when we aren't there!) probably puts him on a better footing than some who will be moving up to high school with him.

This doesn't totally eradicate my worries, but I at least feel a little more reassured.  After all, primary seven is a year of growing up and we're only at the start of it.  Maybe it won't all seem so scary come this time next year.
 

Anyone else out there having panic attacks at the thought of their babies heading off to high school?  Or even better, are there any parents out there who have been through this gut-wrenching stage of raising kids who can share their survival tips?!

Read more