It’s been four years in the making, but it’s finally here. If you’re in Scotland you’ll be able to see my documentary, Old MacDonald’s Farm on BBC Two this evening at 7:10pm. If these guys can have 27 fostered kids in their home… ALL at the same time, then I can keep going being step-mum to two, no probs!
Well slap my wrists and tell me I’ve been a bad’n. I’ve been away for my blog for quite some time now and for this I apologise. But I have an awesome excuse: I was busy making a baby. What can I say? Mini-us is on the way in May! I thank you.
I’m sure Mini is already rocking the beginnings of an afro and was definitely busting some serious hip-hop moves in there during the scan. He/she obviously takes after his/her proud father who, when telling folks we’re expecting, promptly follows the felicitations, back slaps and hand shakes with: “I did it myself”.
The girls are over the moon too and are already listing possible baby names: Joseph if it’s a boy and Mary if it’s a girl are top of this week’s list. They’ve obviously got Christmas on the brain already.
Meanwhile, my new-found status of Mummy-to-be meant I found myself in London yesterday, on a photo shoot for Pregnancy and Birth Magazine. I’ll write more when the piece itself comes out in Jan/Feb but you might like to take a look at the wonderful blog of Hannah Jeeves (@theREALjeevesy), a lovely fellow preggers lady with THE best due date (12.12.12!) who has written about her experience of the same day here.
But what I have mention now is the bizarre but gorgeous house we were in for the shoot. Wow. I was gleaning interior ideas left, right and centre but my two daring favourites were the reupholstered patchwork chair and the stuffed penguin in the bathroom – surely every home should have one?! I feel a sewing machine purchase and a trip to the local zoo coming on.
The girls were mortified today when they looked at the medal they gave their dad a little more closely.
Mr and Mrs Suddenly Mum on BBC Radio Scotland.
Mr and Mrs Suddenly Mum were on BBC radio Scotland this morning. How DID he get his scar above his eyebrow and how does an African carve a chicken? Hear more about what makes us tick here 🙂
Just a wee note of thanks. Your votes got me to number 5 in the Top 25 of Moms with Blended Families. Happiness 🙂
I have been ruthless and shameless these past few weeks, bugging people for votes. For this I apologise! But I’m up for the Top 25 Blended Family Blogs on the Circle of Moms website. Very exciting! If you have time to hit the button below and vote for Suddenly Mum before this Thursday 29th I’d love you forever! I’ll stop there 🙂 Shameless, shameless, shameless!
One from the Archives! Happy Mothers’ Day.
This Sunday was UK Mothers’ Day or Mothering Sunday and this was the first time I could legitimately stand up in church with all the other mums to get some chocolate! Before I did though I looked down the row to the girls to confer. Did I count being a step-mum? Chocolate was at stake here so I was hoping for an affirmative answer. I got the thumbs up and stood – no, jumped up. Chocolate has never tasted so good!
They then played this on the big screen in the service. I cried with a bitter-sweet blend of laughter, a mini chocolate-high and utter shock as I heard my mother and now myself in these lyrics. I may not have the bingo wings yet, but after only 7 months of my step-mum crash course, I’ve been wheeling out most of these corkers already:
It’s not been the easiest past…
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This is Sweetpea’s favourite question at the moment. She’s determined to find someone pre-Edison. The concept simply fascinates her. It’s a little embarrassing when she wheels the question out for the slightly more mature generations though. I’ve seen people splutter their champagne at weddings, or suck in their stomach a bit more. But the innocence in the eyes lets her off the hook.
Her determination and meticulous interrogation of the older humans in her world eventually paid off this weekend though when my Grandma, at the ripe old age of 80 (but still busting some moves on the dance floor), said she remembered going on holiday to a farm where they only had gas lamps and no electricity. Result!
And great, great Granddad, Chief Lobanga probably didn’t have the luxury of a George Forman Grill to cook his freshly-caught leopard or missionary either.
Much like Lobanga after his dinner, Sweetpea seemed to be satisfied.
But… something that really rocked her socks – and her big sister’s as well – was the thought of no internet…
The best conversations usually happen when I’m doing something else – often the washing-up or cooking, so thankfully I can smirk or stifle a giggle without being rumbled.
We were talking about electricity again (I think we should probably cover the plug sockets or something) and I was desperately wracking my brains to find something that really wasn’t around when I was younger. Then it hit me…
“We didn’t have the internet when we were younger” I said.
“No internet!?” they both squeaked in unison, a look of utter disbelief on their puzzled faces.
“But how did you send emails?”
“We sent letters and used the phone instead.”
“Wow, that must have been so weird.”
And there we left it. I’m not sure what this concluded – I’d like to think it was that I wasn’t ancient enough to remember starting fires with flints, but that they were so young that the concept of no internet simply didn’t… well… compute.
Since then the question of electricity has been trumped only by the query that began, “Erm… You know when you get your head chopped off…” but I’m afraid I can’t remember the rest of the question as I was in fits on the floor.
Here’s my latest Guest Blog for Dancing Fish. Yay!
“A Yorkshire lass living in Scotland and married to the great grandson of an African chief who would eat people if they caught him having a bath. My husband prefers showers… and chicken. I’m a TV bod, script supervisor, production manager, writer, swimmer, believer, wife and full-time working step-mum to two fantastic girls (11 and 8) who are my stylists, my daily cheer and my reasons for cleaning.”
I had my first cup of coffee when I was 5 years old. Dad had a new percolator. Proper 80s swish. The 70s Teasmade had died its passé death, relegated from the bedside table to the local dump. Ground coffee was the new thing and my early love affair with the liquid black gold began right there as I watched the bubbles, listened to the gurgles and saw the clear water transfer from its see-though container to appear as if by magic…
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I’ve guest-blogged on a site belonging to my good friends at Dancing Fish Productions in Texas. If you fancy a look to see what connects the three things in the post’s title* then click here.
(*My job, basically)
Merry Christmas one and all! In this crazy festive time of final preparation and wrapping presents late into the night I thought I’d quickly share Sweet Pea’s Christmas list to Santa. It’s quite a corker and very specific so if anyone knows where I can get a cake machine at this late stage do let me know!
And then, of course, there was a separate list for us. Only pretty necklaces allowed! She does get points for being so polite though…
Oh and there’s more!
My particular favourites are ’20 or less rubers (if possible)’ and ‘A big teddy bear – nearly the size of me!’
Good luck Santa, Daddy and Step-Mum!
Woohoo! Thank you libraries! Please Lord, don’t close our local one down! Well… after much deliberation, reading helpful comments on my blog (thanks everyone!) and choosing the right moment… I formed a battle plan for the second part of ‘The Talk’ – the sex part – with step-daughter number one, Sunflower.
There, like shining beacons in the personal development and parenting section of our local wee Glasgow Library, right next to ‘Living with a Willy
Girls Only! All About Periods and Growing-up Stuff
Usborne Facts of Life, Growing Up (All about Adolescence, body changes and sex)
… And not one hint of a sex robot. Usborne had redeemed itself.
When I came back from the library, we sat on Sunflower’s bed and I handed the books over. “These are more factual,” I said, “The Margaret book was more of a story but this tells you the facts… for example…” I said coolly, calmly, cracking open the spine and picking a page at random, this talks about things like…” I looked down at the book… ‘erections’.
Well nothing like jumping in the deep end.
Sunflower’s eyes were wide again as I tried to explain this part first. Then I stopped and started again.
“OK,” I said, as if coming clean, “we talked about periods and puberty last time, but we didn’t talk about sex.”
Wider eyes.
“How much do you know about sex?” I asked as I’d suspected that there was likely to have been some playground chat about it already.
“The boys in my class told a joke last year and that’s how I realised what happens.”
Oh boys have a lot to answer for don’t they? These were the same boys who’d been teasing her about her bra and her changing shape last year. She’s been the first in her class and it’s been tough on her. If only the boys knew what was coming to them soon. And so, seeing that the book appeared to be open on the relevant page I figured we may as well start there. I explained how one day soon they would be reading books like ‘Living with a Willy’ and discovering all sorts of surprising things about their bodies, often in the most awkward of circumstances. She laughed, I relaxed, we had begun.
And so… not glorifying it yet not treating it as taboo we went through the facts to check that what she’d figured out at school covered all the bases. We talked about the risks, the responsibilities, the fact that I’d deliberately waited until I was married (yup) and how tough but ultimately rewarding that had been. I mentioned that a condom and a carrot may figure somewhere with the health teacher at some point. And how there must have been a vegetable famine in North Yorkshire back in my day, as we had to practise correct application on our class mate’s hand instead. Yuck!
We were giggling. It felt good to talk about it and she said so herself. Whoop!
And as suspected, just as was the case with Margaret, the books were devoured in less than a day and this Friday I noticed they were brought out to show a school friend who was sleeping over. I hope her mum’s OK with that, but girls will talk. And thank God that this big girl and her growing-up-girl managed to do just that, in the end.
Sunflower (11) was in tears. Daddy didn’t know why and she didn’t want to tell. They both looked at me. Perhaps this was a time for step-mum to step in. Oh boy. I sensed ‘The Talk’ might be looming.
After gulping down the tears Sunflower told me that the health teacher would be coming in to school to talk to all the girls soon and she didn’t know whether she should go or not. Was it something she should know too? I sensed a hint of conservative African attitude coming through, residue of her past perhaps. We don’t like to have taboos in our new family and I tell the girls we can talk about anything. Anything? Gulp.
My mind immediately jumped to my own experience of ‘The Talk’, back when I was on the receiving end.
Does anyone remember this book from their own time of puberty?
Are You There God? It’s me, Margaret.
It’s a corker; a timeless book that speaks to all young women about what it feels like to be growing up. It speaks frankly about body changes, emotions, life as a nearly-adult… All experienced by Margaret and expressed through her chats with God, the only one who seems to be listening. A copy of it passed around all the girls of our tiny village primary school in the eighties like it was the holy grail of what our parents hadn’t quite got round to telling us yet. A classic written in the 1970s and still devoured by young girls across the globe today.
I remember, towards the end of primary school we had a health visitor come and hand out booklets to the girls. The boys were very suspicious and intrigued, wondering what we were all up to in the school hall. I think this is maybe the point when boys start to form an interest in girls, wondering what magical mysteries we’re talking about on that momentous day.
I took the booklet home and nervously noticed that my mum had nervously noticed. I read it avidly that night, from cover to cover, and then again. Then my mum came into my bedroom and our ‘Talk’ went something like this…
Mum: ‘I saw you got a booklet from school’
Me (flushing red): ‘Yes’
Mum: ‘Have you read it?’
Me (clenched toes): ‘Yes’
Mum (probably also with clenched toes): ‘Do you have any questions?’
Me: ‘No’
Mum (relaxing said toes): ‘OK, goodnight.’
I also seem to recall a story about the perils of a girl she knew who put on her sanitary towel upside-down, but other than that, that was pretty much it.
But this was only Part 1 – the periods and body changes part. Part 2, The Sex Part hadn’t come into it yet. I found that out later thanks to Usborne’s disturbing pictures of a man robot and a lady robot making love. I remember being horrified at what I saw! And still to this day cannot get the image out of my head. Well could you?!
Robot Sex. Enough to disturb any 11 year-old.
How Your Body Works. Usborne Books 1975.
This general coyness of parents and teaching materials alike could explain why my friend, now in her thirties and bearer of a child, only found out she had three holes ‘down there’ at the ripe old age of 26! The mind boggles!
But anyway, back to Sunflower and her 2011 ‘Talk’ with nervous step-mum.
Before meeting my husband and getting married I didn’t think I’d have puberty-age kids for at least another 12ish years, but, always one to do things differently, here I was having skipped the nappies and breastfeeding and gone straight to the birds and the bees.
And so… the next weekend, Sunflower came to sit on our bed, Daddy was downstairs and Part 1 began. I made sure knowledge of the three holes was sorted first! No more of that misconception! And eyes widened when the tampon came out… Perhaps I should rephrase… When I took a tampon out of my handbag!
‘These are for when you’re older,’ I said. ‘You would start out with towels first’.
But I showed her how a tampon works by dipping it in some water and I found myself repeating the story of Grandma’s unfortunate upside-down friend.
There were a few questions and I think she felt better afterwards. I know I did. In fact I think I felt more grown up than she did when it was all over. I’d managed to get through it without seeming nervous and it was actually good fun and nicely girlie.
More recently I bought her the Judy Blume book, some pads for her school bag, just in case, and a pretty protective tin to put them in. The book was gobbled up in one weekend. It’s now circulating her friends at school. Good old Margaret.
I’d like to say that that was that. But there’s one thing I chickened out of and that was ‘Part 2’ of ‘The Talk’ – Check me with my euphemisms; Miranda Hart is right, us Brits are rubbish at saying ‘sex’. There, I said it.
I have resolved to check the level of understanding in the area of sex shortly and will endeavour to talk it through. Any tips on how to go about this next step though would be very much appreciated! I’d rather she hear it from me than through whispers in school or on TV or Heaven forbid, those crazy Usborne robots!
Are you there God? It’s me. Can you help?!
The girls came home with their end of year school reports this week and I am so proud. They’ve both done so well! I’m understanding more and more about what it is to be a proud parent. It almost feels like the reports are a reflection on us as parents – time for the teachers to grade the parenting – How well have they been supported through the year, mentored, brought up, presented, dropped to school on time, how are their times tables… I’m so relieved! Times tables in the car on the way to school has paid off for all of us! But most of all I’m so chuffed that the girls have worked so hard this year and that their teachers have noticed a big difference.
Our first year together as a family is coming to a happy conclusion. We have so much more to learn about each other and about being a family. But I reckon we’re doing OK. All we need to do now is get through the summer holidays!
Oh and 7 x 7 is 49, by the way.
This Sunday was UK Mothers’ Day or Mothering Sunday and this was the first time I could legitimately stand up in church with all the other mums to get some chocolate! Before I did though I looked down the row to the girls to confer. Did I count being a step-mum? Chocolate was at stake here so I was hoping for an affirmative answer. I got the thumbs up and stood – no, jumped up. Chocolate has never tasted so good!
They then played this on the big screen in the service. I cried with a bitter-sweet blend of laughter, a mini chocolate-high and utter shock as I heard my mother and now myself in these lyrics. I may not have the bingo wings yet, but after only 7 months of my step-mum crash course, I’ve been wheeling out most of these corkers already:
It’s not been the easiest past couple of months. We’re all getting a bit more used to each other as a family now and with that familiarity have come a few mood clouds (both in the kids and me – but probably more in me if I’m honest!). Forgotten gym kits, fathoming last-minute maths homework (again, them and me) and the morning scrambles for getting to school on time have all led to a few raised voices and the odd tear and sniff… And as Mothers’ Day has approached, I wasn’t putting to much weight on the day. I wasn’t sure where I stood as a step-mum. I didn’t want to stake a claim on something that was really the girls’ own mother’s day, right?
When we were at the supermarket a week ago I asked the girls if they wanted to choose a card for their mum. They did. Sunflower (10) chose in a flash, a card with a monkey on the front, but Sweet Pea (7) took what seemed like an eternity to choose hers as I made myself look busy and not-at-all a little uncomfortable, staring intently at some decorative secateurs across the aisle for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Eventually she made her choice and asked me what I thought. ‘Thank you for always being there’ it said inside. And for her mum, who isn’t allowed to see the girls without supervision right now, I tried sensitively to help her pick out more appropriate suggestions. In the end she settled on a pink, sparkly design which dazzled with love and affection… and I settled on the fact that they will always have their mum whom they love very much. She’ll never stop being their mum. But I would do my best to always be there… as their step-mum.
Soon afterwards I sat down to write my own mum’s Mother’s Day card and suddenly realised that this was the first non-sarcastic, non-arsy, non-jokey and somewhat sincere card I’d bought for my mum. And then it struck me, I think I was starting to understand this motherhood thing. Only the very beginnings of it. The very tip of the iceberg. But I could finally appreciate, after 31 years, what mums, step- or otherwise, are all about.
On Mothering Sunday morning, the girls were waiting for me outside the bedroom door. Before I could even engage my brain, the mum-esque words of, ‘What are you two up to?’ tumbled out of my mouth, only for them to count to three, stand up and declare in unison, ‘Happy Mother’s Day!’ I was then handed two beautiful hand-made cards complete with sparkly paint and screwed up tissue-paper flowers, ribbons and pictures of puppies and daffodils.
And inside the recently-not-so-sunny Sunflower’s card it read:
To the best Step-Mum in the World!
We have been through some hard times, laughing, crying and just being moody, but you get me and I thank you. Happy Mother’s Day.
I ate my chocolate at church with pride that night. My new life as a step-mum had definitely begun.
Striving to be me again, and raise two children well, by the age of 40!
The many jumbled boxes where I collect my thoughts, rants and affirmations
Digital Portfolio
Chewing the cud with the thinkers of the world.
Suddenly Mum 