Practical Parenting

This page is full of little anecdotes that I have recorded as my children have been growing up. My "children" are now 26, 23 and 19 years of age but I'd like to thank them for providing me with so much material. Even as young adults they are still my children and still make me smile.
This is a work in progress as much of my writing is in a journal or an E Mail, so keep visiting for updates.

Empty Nest SyndromeOrPersonal Learning and Thinking Tools for Toddlers, Teenagers and T’Adults

I wrote this one weekend as I was feeling a bit melancholic about having an Empty Nest. It may help all those parents out there who wonder how you cope when all your children leave home. The answer is quite simple.....very easily



After 26 years of having a house full of young people and their friends and their problems as well as their fun, all my children have all grown up and have now flown the nest!

It occurred to me that I should be showing signs of someone suffering from “Empty Nest Syndrome” as my home was now devoid of young people.

I looked up the word syndrome in a dictionary. It reads

“A group of concurrent symptoms of a disease”

Did I have a disease? Was it contagious? What are the symptoms? Could the disease be cured, halted, slowed down? I wondered what I should feel like.  Sad? Lost?  Depressed? Bored? Worn out?

Based on the last 26 years I should feel all of the above, but I never put it down to a syndrome, I just accepted that these were all part and parcel of being a parent.

I have certainly been very reflective recently and thought this may be the first stage of the “Syndrome”

I have been reflecting on my life as a parent and it’s certainly true to say that it has never been dull. I often look back and wonder would I do it any differently if I had had the chance?

The answer to that, is no. I have always done the best I can, like any parent, and we all do it differently depending what tools we had at our disposal.

Now I have never been what you would call an overly motherly parent. I put that down to being a teacher longer than I’ve been a parent.

I have tried to give my three kids and my stepson the tools for life, in teaching these  are known as PLTs. PLT stands for Personal Learning & Thinking Skills

Some teachers think they are quite a new concept but in fact my mother put these tools in my toolbox for life and that was some time ago so maybe they are not so new.

For those non-teachers reading this I will explain a little bit about PLTs.

There are six of them and as teachers we are expected to encourage all our students to use all of these tools at some point in their learning journey.

My mum had encouraged the same qualities in us as children so, as she was my role model as a parent, I passed on these tools for toddlers and teenagers to my children and they also became their tools for T’Adults. 

Be a Team Worker

Be an Independent Enquirer

Be a Reflective Learner

Be a Creative Thinker

Be a Self-Manager

Be an Effective Participator

I have actively encouraged all my children to nurture these tools and at a certain point in their life I help them to pack all these tools into an imaginary suitcase and point them in the direction of the grown up world. This is when they become Tools for T’Adults. 

I remember my eldest daughter telling me she didn't like being a grown up and I was a bit confused because at this point she had left home to go to university and I think she mistook going to university as becoming part of the grown up world. It was only when she chose to leave university and become a parent with a mortgage that she realised that adulthood was much tougher than she thought. Good job I had packed all those tools into her suitcase I thought!

I’m not sure if packing all the tools up in an imaginary suitcase is what you are supposed to do as a parent and I’m not convinced that all my children had totally grasped the concept of all the tools but so far, they have all survived and are passing on some of my tools to their families.

I listen to other parents and they talk of missing the closeness and friendship of their children once they have left home. Maybe they were lacking some of the essential tools?

I never really considered myself to be a best friend to my daughters or an agony aunt for my son. I have been the kind of mum that made sure they remembered their manners, nagged them to write thank you notes after birthdays and Christmas and tried to teach them right from wrong.

They certainly didn’t learn anything about latest fashions or make up from me and cooking and baking was always left to their grandmother.

I didn’t purposefully keep my distance I just felt that once a child gets through adolescence there needed to be space for them to grow up and discover adulthood for themselves.

So getting back to the “Syndrome?” Was I suffering from it? Well I didn’t feel unwell however some diseases can be a little tricky to detect and as I rattled around my very tidy and relatively clean house today, I did find myself missing the buzz of those early parenthood days!

So before I became too sentimental and caught up in the disease I thought I would practice a bit of reverse psychology on this “Syndrome” I started mentally listing the benefits of having an “Empty Nest.”

•  ·      I love that I can clean the bathroom and no one will leave hairgrips with copious amounts of hair in the shower and towels on the floor.
• ·      Its nice to afford and buy food and drink from Marks and Spencer and know that it will still be there when you return from work.
• ·      Its good to be in control of the TV remote and not to have to watch Holly Oaks on replay!
• ·      I enjoy having room on my settee and being able to change into my old comfy pyjamas, lock the door and know that no one will be calling late at night.
• ·      Its good to know that I can have more than 2 glasses of wine because no one will want a lift from the railway station

Of course I miss my family. Of course I miss those hectic days.

In a recent conversation with my sister we wondered if mum ever missed us when we had all left home. I’m sure she did but I’m also sure that if she was anything like me she was ready for the peace and quiet and for the independence that she had before she became a mum.

I do miss being able to ask mum about this. She would probably have said that we didn’t stay away too long and when we came back it was with our own kids and a divorce to sort out, so not to get too used to the peace and tranquility and make sure I always kept my toolbox close.

Quick reality check there thanks mum!

So with mum’s words of wisdom ringing in my ears I began to think about Emma, my youngest daughter in Australia. She has got a job at a Sales and Marketing Company in Adelaide. I sat on her bed and wondered if she had finally left home and if I had provided her with the right tools.

She left for a 3 month holiday break to Australia 5 months ago. She keeps extending her stay. Who can blame her? Its 30+ degrees in Oz and its – 3 degrees here in March! In the 5 months she’s been away she has climbed Sydney Harbour Bridge, swam with dolphins, water skied, sky dived, snorkeled the Barrier Reef, visited Sydney, Adelaide, Brisbane, Melbourne, Kangaroo Island, Byron Bay and Hamilton Island.

She lives near a beach and has a swimming pool in her back garden! Go figure!

She is the youngest of my children and in my head she still officially lives at home! However I know that when she does eventually come home, that 18 year old anxious girl that got on the Mega Bus from Sheffield to Heathrow way back in November will have blossomed into a confident ambitious 19 year old young lady who has experienced things I could only have dreamed off at her age.

So I reckon that the Emma that lived here in November has most certainly left home it’s just that I didn’t pack all her tools and prepare for her to leave. I thought she would go to University so I had sort of mentally prepared for Empty Nest Syndrome in 3 years time. When my older children moved out of the family home, I was ready for them to go; in so much as I knew it was time. They needed their independence and I needed my space and their tools were already packed in that imaginary suitcase.

So I suppose I do have an  “Empty Nest” If that’s the case shouldn’t I be sad, lonely, and depressed?

I actually smiled at the answer to that question. I am none of these. I am in fact proud, happy and totally content in my “Empty Nest” Maybe I actually like having an empty nest. That doesn’t make me a bad parent, I don’t think. I reckon it makes me a parent who is ready for change.

Ready to get out my toolbox and put those tools that my mother packed for me to good use again.

Ready to reinvent my life and enjoy the next stage of being a grown up, albeit a much older and wiser one!

I thought about those parents who sank into the depths of despair when the last of their children leave home. They obviously didn’t have the tools in their suitcase to deal with empty nest. I see this as the time for me to become a friend to my children as well as being their mum. We can meet for lunch and go for a drive to a nice pub. Not because my children or me feel guilty but because we want to spend time together.

My house may not be full of my children and their friends anymore but its still a family home that my adult children return to with their children on a very regular basis. That I wouldn’t change.

So for all you parents who may be worried about suffering from the ‘Empty Nest Syndrome’ I am here to tell you that it is not at all painful and it does have its benefits.  As I clean my empty nest I do look forward to Emma returning from Australia and I thank my mum for providing me with a great selection of tools for my toolbox. 

Meanwhile I will keep feeding Emma’s fish and dusting around her trinkets and I hope that she has all the tools in her toolbox that she needs until she decides to eventually come home.

Living with Teenagers....the real story!

After a conversation with my son's partner, Dawn, I was reminded of something I wrote in one of my journals. Its obviously a few years old now as my kids are all young adults.  My son is now 26 and living with Dawn, who has teenagers. She was struggling a bit with one of her teenagers. This little anecdote brought back some memories. 

My kids were 11,14,16 &17 when this was written, and it is all very true!

Now I have read nearly every handbook on how to be a good parent but I haven't yet read one that tells the real story. My young family seem quite dysfunctional at times and I seem to look at other families and wonder if they have the same problems. I talk to colleagues at work and they seem to have daughters who love their siblings and sons who have aspirations to work in the trade.

I feel I should write a book, however for now, I will just offer some advice  that may be of some use to other parents in the future!

• If you have teenage daughters then move to a house with an ensuite for you and your partner, and if possible separate rooms for each of  your daughters. Teenage girls will  lock themselves in the bathroom for hours and show no respect for your personal toiletries.
• You may be hoping that your daughters will be best friends. Well in my experience this comes much later. Be prepared for the verbal abuse that will be hurled between bedrooms. Loud music or earphones help, but the best solution is to go for a drive in the car to a friend who doesn't have children.
• You will be hoping to offer advice to your teenagers as they move into puberty. Be aware that your advice as a mother is not as good as any advice from a teenage magazine, so don't even try to compete. 
• Sons will take an interest in car magazines but on closer inspection they are full of scantily clad females adorning the bonnets of fast cars!
• When your son gets a job teach him how banks work. That is you can only get money out if you put money in! 
• Paying tax tends to confuse them. They don't seem to understand that when you work not all your earnings are available to spend!My eldest son is about to start job number 6. Thats a new job every 3 months! What ever happened to a job for life!
• Once your teenagers leave school make sure you explain to them what that means.. My step son left school 6 months ago and still thinks he's on his 6 week holiday.
• Multi tasking has a different meaning to teenagers than it does to adults. They think that multi tasking is listening to music, whilst watching TV and playing on the playstation. They are very good at it!

My journals last week make interesting reading and seem to confirm what I have written. See what you think?

JANUARY 10th 2005

Today was a difficult day in the Abbott household

• I had to remove the door handle from Emma's room to stop her from locking herself in and me out. She has been staging a lock in to avoid school.She reckons her freckles make her face look fat and her arms are too hairy. She insists we see someone to have the freckles surgically removed and the hair waxed off!
• Lauren, also refused to come out of her room and would only communicate with me via MSN. I believe she is protesting because I have blocked mobile phone calls from our land line. Our phone bill was so much that I actually thought that BT had mistakenly put the whole of our cul de sac on my bill.
• Adam didn't arrive home last night causing a lot of worry as the last time he didn't get home he was locked up in a police cell. However we found out this morning that there was really no need to be worried as he had made the mistake anyone could make....... he had  ordered a taxi at 3.00am in the morning to pick him up from Doncaster when he was actually in Barnsley. He had spent the whole night waiting for the taxi!
• Shane asked us if we would go with him to make a complaint to his bank. He had been refused money from the cash machine for insufficient funds! He had no idea that his family allowance stopped when he left school!
• Mark, my long suffering hubby, was not amused as he sought peace and quiet in the bathroom, only to find all his shavers are blunt and the bath was full  of Emma's body hair.

JANUARY 12th 2005

Today has been a good day in the Abbott household

• Lauren and Emma aren't speaking to each other so phrases such as "Freak" "Fat Cow" and "Lazy Pig" have thankfully not been hurled between bedrooms since I arrived home from work.
• Adam  phoned to reassure me  that not only can he remember what time he arrived home but he can also remember where he's been and who he went with.
• Shane is relieved because 3 Doctors at 2 hospitals have confirmed what Mark and I had already told him. That his constant headaches are down to too much TV and incessant computer games, and his stomach problems are due to eating the wrong foods at the wrong times. Isn't medical science wonderful?

That is just 2 extracts. Every day is different. The only thing that doesn't change is my love for them no matter what they say or do and the certainty that  without my little "dysfunctional" family, my life would be quite  boring.

Being the parent of teenagers is challenging but so is life.

Gonna go now and watch the Simpsons now thats a programme I can connect with!

Fairies, Fuchsias and  Frozen Stuff

I wrote this piece a number of years ago,  just after christmas, when we had a several inches of snow in a matter of hours.  My children were still very young and as a mum I was never really bothered about playing with them  in the snow. The recent snow has seen me out playing with my 2 year old granddaughter and I sort of think I missed out  on something as a mum because I have had so much fun with my granddaughter in the snow.If there are any new parents out there my advice is forget the washing, ironing and cleaning, get out there and have fun with your kids. They grow up very fast. Hope you enjoy my snowy day saga.

The fairy on top of the balding christmas tree is dangling precariously from her lofty position. She has got that rescue me look on her face. You know the one, its the look that you give to a partner, relative or friend as the festive season draws to an close.

The children have played with all their toys, eaten all their chocolates, stripped the tree of everything edible and are now in the boredom stage. The family film is not exactly holding their attention and the pop up pirates has lost its novelty value.

So when it starts to snow I breath a sigh of relief and begin searching for the hats, scarves, gloves, wellies  and waterproofs that have  all been stored somewhere safe since last year's winter weather.

I offer feeble excuses as to why its better that I remain indoors and view their antics from the warmth of the kitchen but I watch as my children and all their friends take it in turns to sleigh down my garden and into my Buddliahs and Fuchsias and realise why it is that my garden shrubs never survive the winter!

I think I understand why my house and garden are so popular. I expect that all the other parents are avid gardeners and don't really appreciate their lawn being transformed into a bob sleigh run with the slide and climbing frame as obvious obstacles.

I remember thinking about the strange fascination that children have with snow. They laugh and roll around in the stuff and I wonder what possible enjoyment they can get from hurling freezing and rock hard snowballs  into someone else's face!

I continue to watch as my children use their imagination and cover the wheelie bin in snow and design a rather unusual  square snowman which looks quite scary as they adorn it with buckets and spades from the sandpit, as well as rocks and stones from the rockery I made in the summer.

They then decide to turn the climbing frame into an igloo and seem to think that our pet cat would love being held in there together with a random plastic chair from the patio.  The cat made a dash for freedom into next doors garden which apart from our cats footprints still resembles a scene from a christmas card whereas my garden looks more like Beirut on a bad day!

The fascination with the snow lasts at least as long as it took to kit everybody out in snow gear.

Within minutes of leaving my snow filled garden my children and their friends are stripped of all their outer gear and some of their underwear and have found a new found interest in the family film. Meanwhile my kitchen floor is awash with wellies, soggy socks and enough hats scarves and gloves to set up a market stall.

I glance through the kitchen window to see the aftermath of just 30 minutes in the snow. Almost 4 inches has fallen yet there is no evidence of any of the fluffy stuff in my garden.

I convince myself that in some child psychology book I may be described as a parent who is allowing her children to explore their surroundings and be adventurous and creative. For some reason I'm not quite sure I would ever buy that book.

I return to my lounge to join my family and their friends as they play with the Pop Up Pirates. I glance up to the fairy on top of my balding christmas tree and I wonder if she recognises that rescue me look that I have on my face. I raise a glass of wine and whisper "Happy New Year" and I'm sure she winked 

Pterodactyls in the Bathroom

Here is a similar  piece that  I wrote when my children were aged 9, 6 and 2. 
I was, at the time, a one parent family, working full time. My house was always full of children and only 3 of them were mine! I had to write, otherwise I would have gone mad. I wonder if any of you had similar gardens in the summer? 

This is a rare and treasured moment of my summer break.

A moment of peace and quiet in my garden on a beautiful Summer’s day.

The thing is, its such a rare occurrence that I'm not sure what to do.

I suppose I could

·      Untangle the pterodactyl from the bathroom blind or

·      remove the stegosaurus from the sink.

On the other hand I could

·      Salvage some pegs from the paddling pool and hang out the washing or

·      Remove the blankets and sheets from my patio table and chairs but then I risk upsetting the kids for destroying their 'den'.

I could even

·      put the dolls and teddy bears out of their misery and untie the skipping rope that has been used to hang them from the lilac trees.

I wonder whether it's worth

·      Removing the carefully tied strips of fly-door from my buddleias and fuchsias or

·      Picking up the geranium heads so delicately beheaded and strewn about my patio.

Maybe I'll release the grasshoppers, butterflies, ladybirds and caterpillars which are staring at me from their jam jars.

The jam jars are all  carefully lined up on the kitchen window sill and are generously filled with a wonderful selection of flowers and leaves picked especially for them from my garden.

I suppose I could collect up all the balls, buckets and paraphernalia in readiness to mow the lawn. But to do that I would have to empty the paddling pool, dismantle the tent, move the slide, negotiate the climbing frame and brush up all the sand from around the sand pit.

…Maybe another day.

l'm sitting here contemplating cleaning up the scrambled egg from the dining room carpet or sorting through the Lego to find the discarded pieces of toast.

I need to prepare a meal.

A quick glance in the kitchen reveals half empty water pistols, wet towels, wet clothes and swimsuits strew across the floor, all evidence of earlier water fight.

Lurking on the work surface are the remains of an abandoned picnic - lunch boxes full of half empty yoghurt cartons, crisp packets and melted chocolate biscuits.

The thought of food makes me peckish,perhaps a light snack?

An open fridge door reveals pot-shot yoghurts, cheese triangles, cheese slices and cheap cartons of pop.

The freezer houses ice-pops, lollies and cheap ice cream.

I imagine a cooling bottle of medium dry, white wine, a crusty baguette, a choice of mature cheese and an idyllic French village in which to enjoy them and I wonder if there are gardens somewhere

in France that look like mine.

I sit here and wonder what other mums do in these rare moments of peace and if they too find that, as soon as they embark upon one of the many jobs that need doing a sleeping baby awakes and children who were playing at friends arrive, with their friends, to be fed and watered yet again.

So what do I do?

I pour myself an ice cold drink and dream of idyllic holidays in France.

Cheers - C'est la vie Mon Amie!!!!

The Day Sparky’s Lights Went Out.

My Daughter, Emma is now 18 and is enjoying a “Gap Year “in Australia. She has left me in charge of her Tropical Fish Tank. I feel quite privilidged actually as she never really forgave me for my lack of empathy when her first ever pet fish died. Here is an account of that sad occasion

Emma  was only 10 when she got her first pet. A fish! She  took full responsibility for her  pet and every week she would clean out her  newly aquired fish tank following the instructions to the letter!

This particular week she decided to clean out the tank twice because she said the water was "smelly"

Having carefully removed the fish into the spare bowl containing some luke warm water and some food, she meticulously cleaned out the fish tank and all its contents.

She carefully replaced the fish into the lovely clean tank and put in some more food.

It was only when the fish adopted quite a unique way of swimming that she called for my assistance.

" I think there's something wrong with Sparky!" she shouted. (Sparky is the name of the fish)

Well you know me and my very unique motherly affection I just took one look at this fish, which had gaping eyes and was floating sideways in its immaculate tank and I just said

"Looks like Sparky's light has gone out!"

At first she didn't quite appreciate my quick wit, in fact she just said,

"What do you mean?"

"This fish is dead!" I replied in true Monty Python style and unfortunately I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I scooped the very dead and very smelly Sparky from its absolutely spotless home!

Apparently it was "swimming" like that before the big clean up and Emma just thought it was asleep!

Of course I couldn't explain why I found the concept of a totally innocent 10-year-old, spending 2hrs of her time, cleaning out a tank for a dead fish, so amusing.

Emma was not so amused and didn’t speak to me for at least a week even though I provided a perfectly good vitalite tub in which to bury "smelly Sparky" and I stood in the pouring rain while she added yet another plastic butter dish containing the dead remains of yet another Abbott Family pet to the little pet cemetery at the bottom of our garden.

Thank God we never owned  a horse!

So as Emma enjoys herself in sunny Australia I was reminded of the sad demise of Sparky the fish, as I flushed 2 of her tropical fish down the toilet this morning.

I wonder if she will read my blog and remind me what to do as I am worried that I will have have to replace the entire contents of the tank before she returns in April.

Maybe I should have listened to her instructions more carefully?