Hannah Hopkins's Blog, page 3

Why are mum and baby groups so scary?

Okay, I don’t know if it’s just me, but for some reason attending a baby group has the power to transport me back in time, making me feel as though I’m five years old again, clutching my book bag tightly ( remember those?!) as I walk into a classroom full of children I don’t know. It seriously does feel like the first day of school and at times I find the whole concept so stressful, I start to wonder why I put myself through the ordeal on a bi-weekly basis.

Its true, getting out of the house even just for an hour and having excuse to put make-up on can do wonders for my mood and well-being. There’s also no doubt that Samuel, my 22-month-old, thoroughly enjoys running around and playing with whatever toys-with-wheels he can get his hands on, but when it comes to actually communicating with the other adults in the group, I suddenly find myself completely socially inept and awkward. Why is that?

The entire point of these things, especially before your little one is old enough to actually engage in what’s going on, is to get out and meet other mums. Friendly mums, who just like you are struggling with the same daily challenges- hastily wiping snot and crumbs from their leggings before anyone can notice and trying to remember to brush their hair at least twice a week (or is that just me?). I’m not denying that I’ve met some lovely women at these groups and had some very pleasant conversations with them, but the dialogue never seems to go beyond the standard “Which one’s yours?”, “How old is he?” discussions.

Perhaps I’m feeling biased today. I cant deny that I get a kick out of watching Samuel having such a good time and would never stop attending the groups for this reason, however this morning I had a classic first-time-at-group experience that I feel I want to share…

I’d decided to try something new. I’d been taking Samuel to a structured toddler music group and he absolutely hated it. In his opinion, there was no need to be wasting his time singing and doing actions when he could run around the room and pull out as many toy boxes as he could find and un-stick all of the “happy mums with their happy children” displays from the walls. At one point, he even ran to the door and started whining loudly at me to please let him leave this horrific ordeal in the middle of a quiet moment, meaning we had to stand by the exit for the entire “goodbye song” with everyone staring at us from their neat crossed-legged  little circle on the floor as they awkwardly chorused “goodbye Samuel..we hope to see you soon”. After that I decided that toddler music wasn’t for him, and he probably isn’t going to be the next Beethoven, so I did a little bit of research and found that there was a free-play group on a Friday morning, much more to his taste.

Getting Samuel dressed for the event proved tricky. When I told him we needed to get ready so we could go out, he promptly ran to the front door and began banging impatiently, thinking we were going to leave at that very moment. I calmly pointed out that we were still in our (batman) pyjamas and we couldn’t go out in public like that. His response to this issue was to pull his pyjama top off and start dropping his trousers, believing a nappy to be much more suitable attire for the outside world.  When we finally got upstairs, putting clothes on took about four times the length that it should have, with Samuel running round me in circles, his arms not in his sleeves which were flapping around his head as he moved- something he found very amusing.

After wrestling and battling with him and chasing him around the landing to brush his teeth, we finally managed to make ourselves presentable and get into the car, making the quick trip over to our local children’s centre which went fairly smoothly ( save for a small battle over the last parking space in the car park, which I won by driving maybe a little bit too aggressively into the space).

Arriving into the room full of toddlers and their parents, I instantly noticed three things:

Everyone was at least ten years older than me, a norm for these situations.
Everyone was sitting in pre-established cliques and seemed to be the best of friends already.
The woman who’s parking space I essentially stole was there with her three year old daughter. And yes, she did recognise me.

Luckily for me, Samuel spotted a table full of vehicles in the corner and made his way over confidently, myself sheepishly in pursuit. We played on our own for about twenty minutes before the lady who runs the group came over to suggest we try going outside in the garden, where there were diggers and dumper trucks available for the taking.

Obliging, I carried Samuel down a surprisingly long and steep staircase considering the building was designed for toddlers and made our way outside. The woman in charge ran after me, informing me that there were wellies for the children by the door back inside. Not wanting to make the steep climb back into the room ( it was an embarrassing amount of effort to get down, even for someone who’s eight months pregnant), I babbled something about him being fine in the shoes he had on. She glanced down at his flimsy, canvas shoes from Clarks and laughed awkwardly, giving me an odd look and then going back inside. My smile quickly faded when I turned round and saw that the garden was literally a bog. I mean, there was mud and water everywhere, the ground was sodden and there were puddles someone Samuel’s age could easily lose a foot in. Another amazingly off-beat faux-pas from me! Still, Samuel seemed to enjoy splashing through the mud-water and spraying dirt everywhere, so not all was lost.

Despite my failings, I will be going back next Friday. Is it simply an excuse to get out of the house or am I really that selfless that I’ll put myself through it again so Samuel can have a nice time? It’s hard to say. One thing I do know for sure though, is that if this is the end result, our attendance is more than worthwhile:

 

[image error]

Note: This post now has over a 1,000 views which is incredible and far more than I expected! If you enjoyed reading, please like my Facebook page “the mum who writes” for updates and more. Feel free to check out my other blog posts too! Thank you

I made it!

Wow, I made it to my first blog post and it was no easy feat- let me tell you that! There were quite a few obstacles I had to overcome to get here.

First, my 22-month-old tried to hijack my laptop after it started loudly playing the tractor video on YouTube that he was watching earlier before I shut it down. It took quite a lot of distraction and bribery using CBeebies to get him to allow me to regain control of the device.

After tussling with him, my washing machine beeped loudly to inform me that it had finished it’s spin, meaning I had to leave the laptop momentarily unattended and venture into the kitchen to turn on the drying cycle. When I returned, I was surprised to see my laptop still in tact. However, the charger had miraculously managed to find itself stuffed down the side of the sofa cushions. It took a five-minute wrestle with the wire, which had got caught on the mechanism that turns the sofa into a bed, for me to be able to rescue it, plug it in and finally load my laptop.

It was at this moment that the afore-mentioned 22-month-old decided that this was moment to begin whinging for a biscuit (his third of the day). One trip to the cupboard and a tantrum over the lack of jammy dodgers later, and I was at last able to set up my fancy new blog on WordPress. What I wasn’t betting on, was how damn difficult the internet has become!

Now, at 23, I am by no means ancient, and have a wealth of experience in Facebook stalking and posting hundreds of irritatingly cute pictures of my son on Instagram, but beyond this, I have discovered that I do not have the first clue how to navigate the world of the internet anymore! I was mesmerised by creating my Twitter account, having not used the website since 2013 when, in my opinion, it’s primary function was to passive-aggressively tweet sarcastic remarks about whichever male had annoyed me that week. After eventually managing to set that account up, I returned here, where I will admit it took me an embarrassing 45 minutes to figure out how to write my first post. When did I get so un-savvy at technology?!

With a final interruption that involved a quick read of “Spot’s Birthday Party”, I’ve finally managed to successfully write something. You’re probably wondering why someone as hopeless as myself would choose to create a blog and accompanying Twitter account in the first place and the answer to that question is simple:

I love to write. In any way, shape or form. It keeps me sane during my stay-at-home mum days where everything else seems to be falling apart around my ears. It reminds me that I still have an identity and a purpose other than cutting the crusts off sandwiches and wiping bottoms (well, just the one bottom. My partner’s got the hang of that himself now). It helps me keep my brain alive and ticking so when the earthy thirty-something mums at the toddler groups we go to speak to me, I am able to actually formulate a response that doesn’t take the form of baby-talk (most of the time). As mentioned in my Bio, to be an author is my ultimate dream and if writing a blog helps me in any way, then I will happily to commit to the confusing practise until I get the hang of it.

So, thanks for reading. Here’s hoping that the next post will be all about how I’ve become a technical wizard and am mastery of all social media platforms! (Don’t hold your breath)