18 Spins around the sun - Thoughts on raising our wonderful lad

Next week our son turns 18. This significant milestone comes with a barrage of mixed emotions and plenty of reflection on nearly two decades of parenting. We’re feeling a sense of sadness at the loss of childhood, excitement for the future and breathing a long sigh of relief that the hideousness of adolescence is almost behind us. This landmark has also made us think about what our family dynamic will look like with adult children. What about our relationship? Have we invested enough in each other over 18 years, with the demands of footy, nappies, hiding vapes, changing passwords, maths revision, driving everywhere and looking for shin-pads? Turning 18 is a man-made milestone bought about by western legislation but it has made us pause and ponder.

From the moment our giant baby was born (nearly 10lbs- ouch) it was clear he wanted to eat and move. With these needs met he was very contented and almost completely ambivalent to what was going on around him. When we’d pick him up from nursery he would crawl across anything in his path (including other babies) to reach his destination. Whilst other toddlers were colouring in, our son would be scaling bookshelves and flinging things across the room. He didn’t bother to walk and went straight to running, full throttle. He was completely un-phased when his sibling was born and on discovering that the baby didn’t do anything interesting, he went back to careering around in his typical style. When struggling with crippling post natal depression after my second child, I was terribly worried that my anxiety would have a profound and lasting effect on him. My psychiatrist reassured me that he was absolutely fine as our son ran around the clinic with a box on his head shouting ‘funny man’ at all the other patients.

Adolescence was a completely different ball game. I felt that our sunny little boy had vanished and been replaced by an angry, impenetrable teenager. It was a brutal curve ball that I never expected and I mourned my little boy. The swearing, room trashing and disengagement was brutalising. Emails came hard and fast from the school and I would shrink away at parents evenings as we heard the same old words ‘distracted’ ‘disruptive’ and ‘not meeting potential’. I possibly lost more sleep during this time that during the first few weeks of my sons life and would swap mastitis anytime for a full blown teenage row. My Mum patiently reassured me that this was a phase and he would revert back to his true character which shone through as a little boy. I kept a cute photo close, held my nerve and gradually he came out of the chrysalis.

We are now in ‘the alpaca years’ : easy going temperament with a propensity for anti social behaviour including spitting and carefully curated ‘mop’ (for more context google popular teenage boy haircut). We have lovely, albeit brief conversations. He adored our recently hatched chicks and accuses me of ‘cruelty’ when I put sunglasses on the dog. Our son is absolutely locked in and committed to his A Levels that will hopefully lead to a university placement and a bright and shiny future.

I am not under any illusion that this parenting lark is done and dusted. Our son is still finding his way out of that gnarly teenage chrysalis however he is almost unrecognisable from the ogre on the play station 18 months ago. There’s still plenty of fruity language during Chelsea matches and questionable behaviour in Spoons (spiritual home) but the spark is back and I am pretty sure he’s going to be ok.

Dog Person : My love affair with a rogue spaniel

I wasn’t always a dog person. My eyes would inwardly roll when folks would swoon over their new doggie friends, sometimes even referring to themselves as the pooch’s Mama and Papa. Don’t get me wrong I liked dogs, but I couldn’t understand how and why they made their owners gush with babbling baby talk and impose their boring doggy requirements of walking, pooping and training on the already strained lives of busy families. Then in trotted Dotty, the naughtiest spaniel in the world and I completely changed my mind.

My Mum recently asked me why I liked the dog so much, to which I responded '‘because she’s so nice”. There is no rudeness, door slamming, passive aggression or tantrums; just a waggy tail and a willingness to please. She makes me get out and enjoy beautiful parts of the Cornish coast, providing much needed breathing space in the middle of my busy day. A GP and a psychiatrist have both independently told me that they wish that they could prescribe ‘dog’ to their patients. Not only do they impose routine and exercise on their owners but provide company to those amongst us who feel afraid and alone. I have to say that I have never felt lonely with the silky spaniel at my feet and those big doe eyed stares are the perfect antidote to stroppy teenagers and tax returns..

Of course doggy ownership is not without its challenges. The puppy phase nearly killed us and bad Dotty was sent off to boot camp/Borstal for 4 weeks intensive ‘correction’ (she only just graduated!). She destroyed the builders shoes, dug a hole in the sofa and would run away for hours, living it up chasing cats and raiding bins. Honestly there were so many times when I thought to myself that she would have to go.

Dotty has now given up being a badass, although she’s still partial to a sock and enjoys stealing sandwiches from toddlers as pastime. I am glad we persevered and can’t ever see myself without a canine friend for company; I guess that makes me a dog person after all.

Sophie xxx

PS. I really enjoyed ‘Everyone died so I got a dog’ by Emily Dean and ‘Lost Dog’ by Kate Spicer. In both of these brilliant memoirs ‘the dog’ is the steady, grounding and important element of the authors lives.

Spaniel (currently not for sale) Cushions in Liberty of London print Betsy and Capel.

When you're not feeling the sparkles

There's nothing quite like forced joviality to make you feel more rubbish if you are feeling really low. A number of years ago, I had crippling Post Natal Depression at Christmas. On receipt of a lovely, well wishing text suggesting that we would be having a wonderfully snuggly time with our gorgeous new babe, I smashed my phone against the wall (terribly counter productive, resulting in hours swearing in The Apple shop with a crying baby). The fact is, shit doesn't stop happening just because its Christmas. For plenty of people out there, it will be a challenging test of endurance rather than rocking around the Christmas tree wearing a paper hat at a jaunty angle. So, for those of you feeling really rubbish, this blog is for you.

If you haven't read 'Reasons To Stay Alive' by Matt Haig, please do. In fact, give it to everyone you know. It's a book about depression which isn't depressing, nor is it preachy or insistent that you follow some kind of radical regime that involves weird things like stuffing coffee enemas up your bum and refusing conventional treatment. Matt nails the experience with his deeply moving personal account of his battle with acute depression and anxiety. With the support of his great girlfriend and family, Matt finds his way through and learns to accept and even find meaning from his debilitating illness. His account is absolutely spot on. If you have ever struggled with your mental health, reading his book will be like listening to lyrics in your 'break up' soundtrack, his words feel so true. I particularly liked this passage: 

"If you have ever believed a depressive wants to be happy, you are wrong. They could not care less about the luxury of happiness. They just want to feel an absence of pain. To escape a mind on fire, where thoughts blaze and smoke like old possessions lost to arson. To be normal."

Matt tells us about his most frightening experiences, but doesn't dwell on them; instead he gives hope to the situation and reveals that depression has given him greater empathy and an ability to feel more in the world. The book isn't about well-being buzz words and Matt doesn't refer to a 'journey' unless he is actually going somewhere. If you're wondering whether or not this book is for you, it probably is. Whether you suffer mental from health issues, know someone going through this stuff or even if you just want to know more about the experience of being human and being alive, go and grab a copy.

If anyone reading this is going through a horrible time, I understand (and so does Matt). Christmas will be tough, but they'll be another one next year. I promise you that you will feel the sparkles again and they will be brighter and more sparkly than before. I  always think that the best experiences and moments in life are the ones that aren't scheduled. Lurid jumpers, awful shouty songs about how it should be christmas every bloody day and getting crushed in the shops can all be appreciated another time. 

Sophie xoxox

PS. All Matt Haig's books are total winners. I can highly recommend them all.