My son has many fantastic qualities.

Qualities which any parent would be proud of. He likes to wear a sharp suit, he has a wide and varied taste in music and film and he loves to cook. He loved dance and drama when he was younger and for quite some time aspired to be an actor. 

Ever since he was little he has been a sensitive sort. Never interested in the rough and tumble of playing with other boys and always more into the arts than sports. We always knew he was a little different. 

He wasn’t particularly clingy by any means but he was always up for a cuddle, never afraid to show his emotions or talk to me about anything really. Or so I thought. 

I have always tried to instill acceptance of others in my children

I have always taught them that people are different but difference among our community is an opportunity for education. The world is rich and varied and it is all there for them to learn about and enrich their lives hopefully as a result. I once thought that I could accept anything my children wanted to be or do. 

All I wanted for them is for them to be happy and to be loved. To be content in the life they choose to lead and know that they are avoiding regrets where possible. Not much to ask? 

Our little talk started innocently enough

I had just come home from the shops and Col was doing some washing up. We chatted about his College interview next week. He wants to see the world so he has applied to study travel & tourism with a view to becoming cabin crew. I am incredibly excited for this path he has chosen and I can’t wait to see how it all pans out. 

Then I asked him something I had been wondering for a while. I asked him had he been old enough, who he would choose to vote for in the General Election next week. 

He looked me in the eye and in 1 sentence he said something I could never have expected. “I wouldn’t vote at all” 

I didn’t take it well

He went on to say that he felt like his vote wouldn’t make a difference so what was the point? I told him that the point was that each vote makes all of the difference – if everyone decided the same then what would happen? 

He said that he thought that governments are corrupt so it doesn’t matter who is in power. He just doesn’t see the point. I tried to reason that if people of his generation didn’t use their vote then there would be no reason for political parties to incentivise them or even consider them when deciding key policies. I pointed out that when we voted for Brexit (which, by the way I did not. Staunch Bremainer here) a high proportion of the youth vote was to remain but over 60% of youths didn’t vote at all. If they had then the result may well have been completely different.

I have always used my vote

Maybe that is why his apathy riled me so much. I have always felt very strongly that the quickest way to lose our democratic right is to not exercise our right to vote. I thought I had always made my feelings on the matter known. But I guess it’s not really my choice. I guess that’s the point.

The funny thing is that I could accept basically any other life choice (aside from maybe declaring himself a nazi but that’s unlikely) but I just don’t see how not voting can be a viable option. These were my reasons for him (when the time comes) to haul his butt into a polling station

People made sacrifices for him to have the right to vote

Suffrage was not just a feminist issue. In fact before the 1870’s the electorate was made up of just 30% of men. Elections were irregular and there was no secret ballot meaning that even if you were eligible by way of property qualification you could still be out of a job or a home if your boss didn’t like how you cast your vote!

Men had to fight and it wasn’t in demonstrations or debating halls. It was the case that during the first world war, men aged 18-41 were subject to conscription to die in their millions for a war that they had absolutely no say in.

There were men who stood against the establishment and through their sacrifices (whether that be their exile or death in squalid prisons) electoral reform was made possible. In 1928 a bill was passed which not only gave the vote to women aged 30 and over but also to all men aged 21 and over whether they owned property or not – this was only lowered to 18 years for all in 1969.

You cannot afford apathy

Did you know that under our current government there is no entry to the “national living wage” until you are 25? It is also the case that only 40% of those aged under 25 come out to vote. Coincidence? I highly doubt it.

If you want issues which directly affect you to be addressed by our government then you cannot afford apathy. Think that not casting your vote is an act of protest? think again. If politicians know that those aged 18-24 will sit out an election they will continue to centre their policies around the people who will vote. Mainly those of retirement age. Sure, we will all get there eventually but why would you want to be largely ignorable until then?

Its not just about policies

The word Democracy is made up of 2 Greek words; Demos meaning people and Kratos meaning power. It literally means power belongs to the people. If people do not participate in democracy then how much democracy will be left to participate in?

I told my son I don’t care how he votes. It is HIS vote to do with what he will; just vote. If you don’t know who to vote for then vote with your heart. Vote for the party you believe will implement a change. Yes of course our various medias have their agenda but if you feel like that then read something other than your facebook feed and make your decision. Don’t leave it up to those who would revel in your losses to line their pockets. Be engaged.

In V for Vendetta, Alan Moore wrote; “People shouldn’t be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people.”

I believe he was right. The only way to get the government we deserve is to make our voices heard – no matter the age group.

The best we can do as parents is to lead by example. So please, use your vote. Talk with your children about why you are voting. Open a dialogue about what they would vote for, how they would like changes to be made. Perhaps if we engage our children before they are 18 we can change the statistics and push them to the forefront of our governments policies. Worth a try, right?

love 

Mummy & Moose 

x

I went to bed last night and as per usual spent far too long looking through social media on my phone.

Opening Twitter I saw Manchester was trending. I clicked through to see what was happening and there were a few Tweets describing a bang at the Manchester Arena. Many Tweets claimed that what had been heard was nothing more than a couple of balloons and that the response was being widely exaggerated. I hoped that last part was true. 

I awoke after a restless night to the awful news that last night had not been a balloon but a bomb. A suicide bomber had detonated a bomb at the exit of the concert. He had intermingled with his victims and spent time choosing the place at which he could stand and murder the most people possible. 22 people. 22 innocent people who just wanted to spend the evening enjoying music. This murderer also injured many others – 59 at the last count. The reason he did this holds no meaning for me. It is irrelevant. 

The thought of how scared those poor children and teenagers (as well as their parents) must have been has played on my mind all day. 

I have heard several people on the news say that we should carry on regardless. Get back to normality they advised. I can’t. Not today. 

Perhaps once I could have watched the news reports and although I would have felt sorry for the victims and their families I could have gone on with my day as normal. Since becoming a Mother though that has been getting harder and harder to do. I am unsure whether that is because I am a parent or because of the frequency of these attacks. 

I have an 11 year old who adores Ariana. She watches all of the shows she is on, on tv and listens to a lot of her music. She wanted to attend the concert last night. Maybe that is why I feel affected. Any of those children could easily have been my child or your child. 

Don’t let hate win, they say. But what about fear? How can we stop fear winning?

I want my children to be able to experience the joy and beauty of this world. Seeing the news was upsetting for my daughter this evening; we did of course talk about what had happened but nothing really prepares you for seeing it on a screen I guess.

She turned to me and said, “I won’t be allowed to go to a concert like that for a while then. Who knows when it will happen again”. My instinct is to wrap my children up away from the world and keep them safe by my side. But I know that would not be any kind of life for them. 

Instead I forced myself to say “No, concerts are amazing. You will go to plenty I’m sure”. I explained that although there are bad and dark things in the world, they are outnumbered by the good. If she (and my boys) hide indoors away from the dark, then they will miss out on the light too. 

People were hurt. It was awful. Amid the carnage and chaos though were the lights. The taxi drivers who switched off their meters to assist in getting people to safety. A man called Jay whose evening with his daughters ended with him cradling a little girl who was alone and injured in his arms. The homeless man called Steve who upon hearing the blast ran into the arena to help. A woman called Paula who led 50 children to the safety of a hotel room until they could be assisted. 

They are just a few of the many lights last night. Too many to mention. But I will read their names and try to remember as many as possible because they (along with the victims) are the names which matter. The people of Manchester should be proud of themselves.

Our children need to see the lights in all of this darkness in the world. I would love to be able to protect them from all of the pain and the hurt but it would be naive to expect to be able to. Instead we should try to teach them to be strong enough to fight when they need to. Mentally and emotionally as well as physically because that strength will be their shield and their weapon. 

So please. Don’t ask me to act normal.

Don’t ask me to go on with my usual life and draw a line under this. I can’t. But what I intend to do is to keep showing my children those reports of strangers helping strangers in the hope that they can see that on the whole people are good and they are strong and these acts of terror are not and never should be normal.

Love 

Mummy & Moose

Dear Bess

This morning was a normal morning. I had to shout you to get up, persuade you to rise from your warm bed and stumble into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face ignoring your protests that you needed just 5 more minutes snooze. The same routine we have carried out nearly every day for the 4139 days you have been here. I saw you though. A slightly tense expression and the nervous hair twiddling. Today was different for you.

4140 days ago the world was a little less bright and a lot less fun.

You more than anyone else have made me think about how I see life. About more than myself. How women and girls are treated in our society and whether I can adapt my behaviours and my thoughts to try to make life easier for you and girls like you.

To teach you to live freely holds the same importance to me as teaching you to read and write. I hope you can be a little selfish in your choices for your future. I know that you will find it tough to not put others before yourself always because you are just that sort of a person. A good person.

You should know that even at age 11 you are already one of the smartest people I know. I am pretty sure that you have barely been without a book since you were a toddler and your thirst for learning seems to be unquenchable. This, coupled with your kindness is my most favourite trait of yours.

You see, dear daughter, this week you have no need for nerves. I tell you the same thing which my Mum told me and her Father told her;

Ok so it’s perhaps not worthy of inclusion in the top quotes of all time but that doesn’t make it any less true. I hope you remember these words.

The fact is that I know you will be amazing this week.

Not because of what you know but because of who you are. You are so strong, so able and so determined to succeed. I have seen how hard you push yourself and you deserve every single accolade. You have earned them.

I asked you this morning how you felt about this week. Your answer was perfect; “Mum, they’re just tests” you said with a shrug. “I’m just happy school are doing free breakfasts”. You went on to admit that though you had woken up a little bit anxious, you felt like you had listened in class so you were confident you would do Ok.

I know that you are in the best possible hands this week. The adults with whom you spend the bulk of your day will be there to remind you to keep smiling and that these tests do not define you. I am so grateful that your teachers and headmistress ensure that they help to empower you and your friends with a strong sense of self worth.  They tell you to:

 We all want you to do the best you can do but remember always that no matter what your scores in their tests are, you are enough. You are loved.

SAT’s cannot see how much you enjoy reading or writing stories.

Tests don’t catch how kind your heart is and you demonstrate that – often.

They don’t hear you question the fairness of the world around you and not just question it but actually talk about what can be done to change things for the better.

An SAT will recognise how well you do in Maths and English but it won’t know your ability to make music or be an amazing friend to those who need you.

You are growing into an able, beautiful young woman and no matter your SAT’s results I know that you make the world better just by continuing to be yourself. I hope you know that too.

Now go and smash it!

Love 

Mummy & Moose

x

Recently Moose and I took a trip into town.

Nothing was particularly needed but for a change of scenery and some fresh air. Somedays Moose is more than happy to play in the lounge and some days. Well. He isn’t.

He did well, we walked around the shopping centre for a while. Admired an art installation. Went for cake. Walked like pigeons… the usual. Then my little man started to walk a little more slowly, he had an occasional rub of the eyes, then a little yawn. It was time to head home. In fact that time had passed and I should have known better. I was well aware of the ticking time bomb I had on my hands and so back to the car we started.

We almost made it. As we came to around 5minutes from the safety of my car IT happened. Moose just stopped dead. I did what I could, I swear. I came down to his level, I sympathised that he must be tired but just a few more steps and he could relax. Not good enough. Not even close. He went for it.

Crying, shouting, thrashing. There was no way I could carry him, by then my hands were already full. I cursed myself for not bringing a backpack and then told Moose that as soon as he was ready we could get going. He kept thrashing. I was getting ‘the look’ from passers by. He kept thrashing. I attempted to keep my cool. I am not usually too bothered by this sort of thing and I wasn’t pressed for time so I stood and waited for him to finish.

Then the other IT happened. Someone got involved. A stranger. He was a broad, tall man in his older years with a shock of silvery hair and a beard to match. An imposing figure even to me and he came striding straight for us at speed before stopping abruptly as though he was about to walk over Moose. I had no idea what to say. He addressed me and said “hello, I hope this is ok” before crouching down to my 2 year old rageball and he said in a booming voice “Young man. I think we have had quite enough of this. Lets walk together with Mummy” and he took his hand. Moose looked at me. I looked at Moose. We were both caught completely off guard.

It was working so I went with it. I took Moose’s other hand and we walked. The man spoke with fondness about his own Grandchildren and made jokes with us before wishing us well and going on his way as quickly as he had arrived with a thank you from a now composed Mummy. The entire encounter lasted 5 minutes at most and I was left wondering what the correct response should have been. I have certainly never allowed a stranger to take my child’s hand before but there really was no time to think so I went with my instinct!

On reflection I wish I had asked his name. I would have liked to have had the opportunity to thank him properly. I have had strangers get involved in tantrums before but never in a positive way. Plenty of tuts, or stern instruction to “sort my kid out”. Nobody helped though. It lasted 5 minutes and it was sort of nothing but I will think about that stranger for a long time I am sure. Having someone lend a hand just because he could in a world where we hear a lot in the media about why we should fear strangers, it was lovely. Thank you. Whoever you are.

Love

Mummy & Moose