Category Archives: Sophie is parenting

Word of the week: autumn

There’s no escaping it: after an unseasonably warm September, and some tantalisingly sunny days at the beginning of this month, autumn has finally arrived.

I’ve never been that great at dealing with this time of year. I thrive on light and sunshine, and as the nights begin to close in I can’t help but feel a lingering sense of dread. Things are a lot better than they used to be, now that I’m out of the city and not doing a job that means never seeing daylight in the winter months. And this year Arthur and I have actually been enjoying the coming of autumn rather a lot. 

We’ve made the most of it being a bit colder, wrapping up warm and snuggling up whenever we get the chance.

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There’s generally been lots of time for snuggling: we’ve had some pretty spectacular rain this week, and there’s been nothing for it but to stay inside. Arthur’s really embraced this. He’s been having tea parties with his animal friends, and devouring books like they’re going out of fashion.

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We’ve been getting out of the house whenever we can too, breathing in the changing landscape of the sea and sky. The air is deliciously refreshing, and there’s a whole hat collection for us to revisit.

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To fuel our way through this seasonal shift, we’ve been doing our best to eat healthily. We had our first roast last Sunday – I’m looking forward to many more of those – and I’ve been drinking even more water than usual.

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One of the problems with this time of year in the past has been that I’m not terribly good at making the right choices – I know what will get me motivated, make me feel better, but actually doing it is another matter. Having an awesome toddler to hang out with is obviously one way to make making the right choices easier. And I’ve also been getting a helping hand from Tea with Miss Beatrix’s #BashSAD challenge.

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I don’t feel sad this year – and that’s despite an October which so far has held more than a usual amount of sorrow (more on that another time). In fact I’m looking forward to embracing autumn – and even winter. There is so much in this life to enjoy, and I intend to make the most of it.

 

The Reading Residence

 

 

Things not to say to a babywearing mama

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I’ve been wearing Arthur since he was five weeks old. It was a bit of a revelation to me, and in many ways has shaped my whole approach to parenting. In the beginning the world seemed pretty supportive of my choice: there were still those who had something to say about it, but most mums I know wore their babies at least part of the time when they were tiny.

However as Arthur’s got older – and bigger – an increasing number of people have felt the need to voice their opinion on me wearing him, from well-meaning friends and family to total strangers in the street or on the bus. Most people are of course still lovely and supportive, but there are others whose comments range from the slightly irritating to the downright disturbing – and having spoken to other babywearing friends I am by no means the only one on the receiving end of them.

So here, in no particular order, is my list of things you might want to think twice about before saying to a babywearing mama.

“You’re going to spoil him, you know.”

Now I get this quite a lot. I suppose it’s my own fault really, for leaning towards the attachment parenting side of things. But as I’ve said before and I’ll doubtless say many times again I don’t believe that keeping my baby close and secure is going to spoil him. Yes, he’s very happy being worn. But does that mean I should be choosing to follow an approach that makes him less happy, just in case? I think not.

“Gosh – is that safe?” (For one friend I spoke to this question was combined with vigorous tugging on the straps of her baby carrier)

Um, yes, thank you for your concern, but this is perfectly safe. (At least it was until you started to undo the buckles!) There are of course precautions to be followed when wearing a baby, just as there are with any means of transporting a child. People have been wearing their babies for hundreds of years, and if I didn’t think it was safe then I wouldn’t be doing it.

“Oh your poor back. He must be so heavy!”

Now I feel a bit bad about including this one, because I know that most people who say it do so with my best interests at heart. But still, when you hear it several times a day it can get a bit annoying! There are of course carriers on the market (naming no names of the carrier that inexplicably seems to be the most popular despite managing to make newborns feel heavy) that are not as comfortable, for mums or babies. However having fallen in love with babywearing I’ve done my research and found one that is supportive and spreads the (quite considerable) weight of my baby evenly. There are lots to choose from, but the carrier we use now is a Toddler Connecta, designed for babies from 18 months. It’s fab, and I find it decidedly easier to wear my son than I do to carry him in my arms.

“Heh heh, I wish that was me nuzzled up in there.”

This one freaks me out a bit to be honest, and depressingly it’s the one I’ve heard most. It’s most commonly uttered by old men, and why they think they can get away with expressing to a mother walking with her child their desire to have their face in her breasts is beyond me. Seriously gross.

“Can’t he walk?”

Do mums with pushchairs get this one? I’ve been hearing it since not long after Arthur turned one, and I’m not entirely sure what the implication is. Yes, he can walk. But like most not-even-two-year-olds his little legs get quite tired when I’m rushing around trying to get things done. And if he couldn’t walk..? Well that would just be entirely inappropriate.

“You don’t want to still be doing that when he’s a teenager!”

And we’re back to that other attachment parenting chestnut. My son is one. Much like co-sleeping and breastfeeding, I very much doubt I’ll still be wearing Arthur when he’s a teenager. I might be wearing him for a while longer yet mind – I’ve been quite inspired by mamas wearing their pre-schoolers, and he still feels light as a feather when I put him on my back.

So there we have it: the things I most definitely don’t want to hear whilst I’m wearing my baby. I’d love to hear about your experiences so please share them in the comments below!

 

 

Mums' Days

Trains, goats and autumn leaves

This weekend, we managed to tick something else off our South Devon bucket list. We’ve been past the Rare Breeds Farm in Totnes countless times on the train to London, the vintage-style platform of the South Devon Railway looking like a gateway to another world. Having finally made it there on foot I can confirm that those first impressions really are quite accurate.

From the first steps beyond the station car park into the woodland path you feel like you’re onto something special, a sensation made even stronger once the bridge across the river comes into view.

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I think Arthur could happily have stayed right there, watching the mainline trains speed past mere metres away, but little did he know the other treats in store.

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To get to the farm you have to walk along the steam railway platform. Everything is beautifully maintained, and we were lucky enough to arrive just as a special service was pulling in. Arthur was captivated by the comings and goings, eagerly ‘choo choo’ing as Leigh explained the mechanics of the steam engine to him. Once again we could have ended our trip right there and they both would have been very happy.

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We managed to tear ourselves away, and headed over the tracks to the little farm itself. After picking up some feed in the cafe we went through the gates – and immediately came face to face with a row of owls.

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I’m not sure Arthur believed they were real at first, but then we found a very little owl called Flitwick just waiting to be stroked.

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After a gentle stroke of Flitwick’s feathers we continued further on, coming across some very lively red squirrels. I’m not sure Arthur knew quite what to make of them!

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And then we found the goats. I don’t think Arthur’s met goats before, and these ones were very friendly. One of my favourite moments of the afternoon was him giggling ‘Fingers! Fingers!’ as they greeted him enthusiastically through the fence. He even had a go at feeding them, and when we ventured inside was quick to make himself at home.

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There were some beautiful sheep too, though Arthur was happy to let Daddy take the lead on feeding those.

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After meeting all the larger animals we came across the guinea pigs, and Arthur sat himself down for a little cuddle. He thought it was a ‘baby dog’ at first, and got very confused when we said it was a sort of pig…

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All in all it is a very special place, and we will most definitely be back. It’s just a shame we discovered it so late in the season! Though that did give us the excuse for a bit of frolicking in the autumn leaves – the perfect end to a perfect afternoon.

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Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall

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Word of the Week: Chatterbox

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Of all the things that continue to amaze me every day about my gorgeous son, his developing language skills are possibly the most exciting. This week in particular he has been chatting away to anyone who will listen – very cute, and fascinating to be getting more of an insight into what’s going on inside that head of his!

I’ve lost count of the number of words he now knows – from octopus to helicopter, from banana to hedgehog. He’s a fantastic mimic, and seems to only need to hear the name for something once before he’ll remember it for next time. What’s particularly interesting at the moment though is how he uses those words, combining them with others to express his wants and needs or explain things to us. He’ll happily engage in conversation about what he’s been up to during the day, making our family dinners when Leigh gets home after a long day’s work increasingly entertaining.

He was being particularly chatty with his London grandparents on Skype the other evening, and it’s lovely to see him beginning to want to share his experiences with them – and to be able to put them into words.

In fact the sociability of his speech is something I’ve noticed increasing day by day. For a while he’d happily chat away to me when it was just us at home during the day, but other people – especially strangers – would comment on how quiet he was. But now he’ll chat to anyone who’ll listen – the man who came to fix our oven on Monday had trouble actually settling down to work as every time my back was turned Arthur had toddled over to tell him about something else he felt he had to share.

It’s not just people Arthur’s chatting to either. I absolutely love catching him having conversations with his toys – whether it’s his dump truck or his penguins. Even better than that are the conversations he’s started enacting between them, another important step in his discovery of imaginative play.

He’s begun to really pick up the less essential nuances of conversation too, which is where things get super cute. He’ll ‘ummm’ and ‘ahhh’ as he’s trying to think of the right thing to say, has started adding on ‘see you in a bit’ to his goodbyes and is even beginning to maybe see the point of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ – though I won’t hold my breath on that one.

It is incredible to watch, but I’m under no illusion that Arthur’s special in all this. I know that what I’m witnessing is just the normal development of language that is going on as I type in homes up and down the country, throughout the world. And yet actually that is even more humbling. All these little powerhouses of potential beginning to venture out of themselves into the big wide world of verbal communication, absorbing all the words around them and digesting them and manipulating them to fit the messages they want to put across. Amazing really – I can’t wait to hear what he comes out with next!

 

The Reading Residence

Benefits of extended breastfeeding

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When I wrote last week about breastfeeding a toddler, I was very conscious that I was merely looking to capture my experience. There are many reasons why a mother might choose to breastfeed her child or not, and many more that will influence how long that aspect of their relationship continues. It is not my place to judge them for the decision they have made, or question their reasons for making it.

But then I read a comment that, just for a moment, made me question mine. One of my readers wrote that, on reading my article, he was left feeling that the extended breastfeeding relationship did much to benefit me but he couldn’t see how it benefited my child. That whilst I said that my son was not ready to stop, in fact it was me who wanted to continue.

Now part of me felt that I should just dismiss this entirely. Even if my reasons for continuing to breastfeed were mainly driven by my needs it’s not like it is harming my child – the World Health Organisation recommends breastfeeding for two years or beyond after all. There are so many choices to be made as a parent, and it is always a process of weighing up the needs of everyone involved before coming to a decision.

But another part of me wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That not only do I know that my child is not ready to wean but also that there are numerous benefits he enjoys by continuing to nurse.

Having looked deeper into the WHO recommendations as well as other research I was actually a bit surprised at just how many possible benefits have been found by the numerous studies that have been carried out.

Benefits of extended breastfeeding for the child

  • Improved nutrition: in the second year breastfeeding can provide around a third of a child’s energy requirements as well as significant amounts of protein, calcium, folate and other vitamins. Not bad for a fussy toddler!
  • A continuing boost to the immune system: some of the immune factors in breast milk actually increase during the second year.
  • A wide range of other health benefits, including reduced incidence of asthma, lower blood pressure in later life, improved dental development, protection against Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes, reduced risk of epilepsy. Extended breastfeeding has also been liked to lower rates of childhood cancer and obesity.
  • Improved cognitive skills, with the greatest gains for those breastfed the longest.
  • An important source of comfort, soothing tantrums and over-tiredness as effectively as a sore knee.
  • Increased confidence and independence. This one might come as a surprise, but as with many aspects of attachment parenting the secure bond created in the early years allows the growing child to branch out more, not less.

There are also, of course, a number of benefits for the mother who chooses to breastfeed her child past one year – benefits that are often overlooked in the argument that extended breastfeeding is merely pandering to the demands of the child.

Benefits of extended breastfeeding for the mother

  • A range of health benefits, including reduced incidence of Type 2 diabetes, lower incidence of hypertension, protection against breast cancer and ovarian cancer.
  • It can help to control your weight – whether helping shed the extra pounds or protecting against too much weight loss during the nursing period.
  • It reduces stress – the very act of nursing is relaxing, partly down to the calming effects of prolactin but also the physical closeness with your child that it necessitates in the middle of a hectic schedule. Added to this there is the peace of mind that comes from the health and nutrition benefits for your child described above.

Of course not all of these benefits will apply to everyone, and there are doubtless things that other mothers can add to this list. I think it provides a pretty solid retort, though, to those who believe that only one party can benefit from extended breastfeeding – or in fact that it is a fruitless enterprise altogether.

I feel immensely privileged that I have been able to breastfeed my child, and that circumstances have allowed us to continue this relationship for as long as we have. Now that I’ve reminded myself of just how many things we both stand to gain from it I’m most definitely not in a hurry to stop any time soon.

I have endeavoured to reference my sources for some of the more tangible claims above, but if you would like to find out more there are numerous resources available on the UNICEF and La Leche League websites. If you’d like to ask a question, or if I’ve missed anything you’d like to add, then please do so in the comments below. 

 

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Mums' Days

A boy, a ball and a hula hoop

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It was the end of a long day working on the novel, and it was most definitely time to get outside. Arthur grabbed his ball, I grabbed my hula hoop, and we headed for the patch of grass which overlooks the bay. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows and bathing everything in its gentle orange light.

Arthur was off as soon as we passed the cars and I could let go of his hand. I watched him running and giggling whilst looping the hoop around my hips, breathing in the sea air and the view.

There were dogs out too for their evening stroll, some coming over to sniff around and say hello. Arthur loved that. He loved throwing his ball too, and trying his very best to catch it.

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It wasn’t long before he’d commandeered the hula hoop, defying physics in his attempts to spin it round himself but ultimately content just to take it for a walk.

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It was a beautiful evening, and there were moments when I caught him just sitting and looking up at the sky, marvelling at the bigness of it all.

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I love those moments: so simple and yet so precious. Just me, my boy, a ball and a hula hoop. Bliss.

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Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall


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Word of the Week: Yoga

For months now I’ve been wanting to work out how to incorporate yoga into our daily routine. Inspired by this post from  Vicki over at Honest Mum I sought out the 10 Minute Solutions Yoga DVD, but it has spent the summer mainly gathering dust as I’ve despaired at ever finding one minute for myself, let alone ten.

This week though I decided enough was enough: I mostly found peace with my post pregnancy body a while ago but the time has finally come when the mummy tummy has got to go. And my first step was to force myself to find the time for that daily yoga!

I’m pretty rubbish in the mornings, but having run our average day through my head a multitude of times before breakfast was the only fail-safe slot. The advantage of Arthur still being breastfed is that he’s never crazy hungry first thing, and I figured it might actually be quite a nice way for us both to start the day.

And it has! It’s been brilliant in fact, and once I’d put my mind to it really not too hard at all to slot in – we’re even up to twenty minutes a day now. Arthur’s been loving it, and will excitedly call out ‘Yoga! Yoga!’ whenever I start to get our mats out (Actually the way he says it sounds more like ‘Yoda’, which can’t help but make my inner Star Wars geek giggle).

That’s not been the only thing about our joint yoga practice that’s been amusing me either. Yesterday, having left early for music in the morning, we found some time in the afternoon – and I just had to get Leigh to document it.

Things generally start out simply enough, with us both on our own mats listening quietly to the instructor.

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But then as the session goes on Arthur’s approach tends to get increasingly interactive. He’s never been able to resist a back to climb on, and has decided that the downward dog provides the perfect ‘baby house’.

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It was my fear of these interruptions from the ever present toddler that had been one of my major excuses for not finding the time for yoga earlier. And frankly it is a far cry from the tranquil loft spaces I used to love to frequent for classes in London. But it’s most definitely not a good enough reason not to do yoga at all.

I think as he gets more used to it Arthur will become more keen to try to copy the poses himself – in a modified way of course, and especially if I dust off the yoga for toddlers book I bought and fit in some dedicated sessions for him too. It’s a great addition to our day together, and good to do something physical to counterbalance all the writing time.

I’ve found that it is really beginning to transform my days – I have more energy, less aches and pains, and am in a much more positive and proactive frame of mind. And whilst all that is reason enough to keep it going, I’m sure it won’t be long before I see it starting to transform my body too.

 

The Reading Residence

 

Breastfeeding a toddler

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If you had asked me at the beginning of my breastfeeding journey if I’d still be nursing my son at nearly 21 months I would have said no. No way. I mean, I had nothing against the idea of breastfeeding an older child theoretically – I wasn’t freaked out by it like so many readers of this article seem to be (I know, I know – never read the comments on the Daily Mail). I was just pretty certain that by the time my tiny baby had grown into a toddler our breastfeeding days would be long gone.

But like so many things about this parenting lark, I was wrong.

It’s not like I’ve made a conscious decision to keep feeding him, but rather that there just doesn’t seem to be any reason to stop. We’ve got our technique down pat now and there’s not much I can’t do whilst he’s feeding in the sling. He’s feeding right now – dozing in and out of consciousness as I tap away at the keyboard. I’ll certainly miss the time it gives me when he can be close and nurtured and safe whilst I can still get on and write. If all goes to plan our breastfeeding relationship will have seen me through at least two novels by the time he stops which can’t be bad!

There are of course many benefits for him as well. I mean, he loves his booba. He asks for ‘booba feed’ when he just wants a quick snack, or ‘booba bed’ when he’s ready to sleep, and when I say yes he bubbles over with glee. He’s even starting to express an opinion about which one he’d prefer, though I’m not sure I’m going to encourage that…

I do think it’s still an important part of his diet too. He eats well, don’t get me wrong – he’s had porridge and banana for breakfast today, followed by mackerel and poached egg and kale for lunch. But he’s growing so fast – both in body and mind – that I’m not surprised he needs the extra calories.

But there’s more to it than that. It comforts him, in this world which is more full of wonder every day. It gives him pause, time to reflect and recharge. It reminds him that I am here, and I am his, and gives him the confidence he needs to embrace all the new experiences that are presented to him. If he is sick, or falls and scrapes his knee or bumps his head, then a bit of booba is better than any medicine.

My milk helps to warm him up when he comes smiling out of the Devon sea, and when we were in Barcelona this summer, traipsing round the city in the scorching August sun, my milk stopped him from becoming dehydrated. Of course he drank water too, but the nutrients in the breastmilk did a far better job of reviving him. He’s not interested in drinking anything else – we’ve tried watered down juice and other kinds of milk but he won’t touch them – which is one of the many reasons I know he’s not ready to stop quite yet.

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It’s not all plain sailing. There are moments when he calls out for booba or puts his hand down my top in public when I feel like I need to make excuses for the fact I’m still feeding him, though if anyone else were to actually challenge me on it they would most certainly feel my wrath. It can get exhausting, and I do sometimes wish he fed a little less frequently. We’re essentially working on the principle of ‘don’t offer, don’t refuse’, but he still rarely goes for more than four hours without asking. It’s not that I can’t say no – and sometimes I do – but that doesn’t sit very comfortably with me. There’s plenty else I put my foot down on, but not this.

Though I may need to break through that soon for the sake of both our sleep. Nights are hard at the moment: he’d dropped down to waking me for one or two short feeds which was totally manageable with the co-sleeping. But in the last few weeks it’s been almost like having a newborn again – last night he woke up almost every hour, scrabbling for me and crying bitterly if I tried to soothe him in any other way. I thought for a while it was maybe just backlash over the lack of routine we fell into over the summer, but having done some research it seems this is a fairly common ‘thing’ for the breastfeeding toddler. So we’re looking into gentle methods of night weaning him. There are lots of techniques out there which I think we could handle, but it’s one thing rationalising them in the light of day and quite another negotiating with an angry toddler at three in the morning. I’ll let you know how it goes.

And as for weaning entirely? Well I think now that’s up to Arthur. I’m certainly not about to deprive him of something he loves so much, especially as both of us will be losing out when our breastfeeding relationship is finally over. And really, for all of his confidence and agility and words, he’s still my baby. He’ll stop when he’s ready, and only when he’s ready will it be time to stop.

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Brilliant blog posts on HonestMum.com
 

An afternoon in the 1940s

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Since we first moved to Brixham three years ago I’ve been wanting to make it over to the 1940s weekend at Lupton House. It’s a gorgeous building anyway – we go there every week for toddler music, but any excuse for an extra visit is a good thing! As well as that, this annual event promised to be a celebration of all things vintage, with something to keep all of us entertained.

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We finally managed to go this weekend, and it definitely didn’t disappoint. It was awesome to see the space transformed, bedecked with bunting and vintage vehicles from cars to tractors to tanks. Lots of people had made a real effort with their outfits which added to the general sense of stepping back in time. I was quite pleased with what we managed to dig out from our wardrobes too!

Arthur was fascinated by the old fairground stalls, especially the beautiful organ. He even managed to hook a duck – with a little help from daddy.

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The house itself was looking suitably majestic, and Arthur had great fun exploring. It’s exciting to see Lupton being slowly restored to its former glory, though it’s definitely quite a project to take on!

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Inside the house was a brilliantly eclectic selection of stalls with wartime music drifting out over the lawn – which was itself crowded with relics of the past, including some very convincing military personnel discussing their strategy for the upcoming display.

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All in all it was a fantastic afternoon, and we’ll be back next year for sure. We might even try to get a babysitter so we can make it to the victory dance on Saturday evening – and I’m definitely keen to take advantage of the 1940s beauty parlour for a more authentic look!

As Arthur gets older it’s events like this that we can use to bring history to life for him – and for us it is an important (and enjoyable) reminder of the fabric of the past that underpins the world around us.

 

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Why it’s time for all of us to insist on gender equality

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The notion of women or men being inherently better at some things rather than others purely because of their gender is not something that’s ever sat comfortably with me. The idea that men are more powerful, or women more nurturing; that men are better leaders whilst women are more compliant; that a man should be out earning money whilst a woman should focus on bringing up the babies.

When I was growing up, I was surrounded by boys most of the time. I have three (very different) brothers who were my constant childhood playmates, and during my teenage years I often found myself feeling intimidated by female company – the vast majority of my friends were male.

As I got older I became increasingly aware of the stereotypes concerning gender, both latent and overt, but I could never take them seriously because I knew too many people who didn’t fit them. I didn’t feel that there was anything I could not do just because I was a girl, and whilst I was aware of the history of the fight for women’s rights for me it had already achieved what it needed to. I heard the voices of feminists, but I did not understand why they were still complaining: surely women had the choice, now, of what they wanted to do with their lives? And besides, in every feminist argument I heard a message that I just could not tally with the reality of my life and the people in it: that it was men that were in fact inferior, and that it was only by hating them that women could promote their cause.

Fast-forward more than a decade later and I know I was wrong. Not just about the message underpinning feminism, but about how far from gender equality we as a society are.

The stereotypes I rejected in my youth are more pervasive than ever, with campaigns like Let Toys Be Toys highlighting the part the toy industry is playing in limiting children’s aspirations with products and marketing now that is more gender specific than it was in the 1970s.  I’ve watched as this gender bias has invaded my classroom: teenage girls playing down their intellect to fit the ideal of being beautiful and submissive or attacking each other in fits of bitchiness as they struggled to reconcile the roles they felt they were destined for with their ambitions; teenage boys playing the joker to avoid being seen to show an interest in studying or exploding in aggression because they couldn’t see any other avenue open to them to express their feelings. And these anecdotes of course barely scratch the surface of the injustices faced by women in our world today – and the damage that outdated and inaccurate notions of masculinity do to men.

Now that I have a child the challenges facing us in our quest for gender equality have become even more clear. I have watched friends, old and new, battling with the expectations society puts on them as parents – and the gulf that still exists in the expectations we have of women and men. Of course on one level the reason for this gulf is obvious: the physical impact that motherhood has on women, from pregnancy to childbirth to breastfeeding cannot be underestimated. But women do not become weaker when they bring a new life into the world: if anything they become more powerful, more capable. So why is it that their value diminishes? Is it because we put so little importance on growing our future generations that we still champion a model of work and careers that refuses to make significant concessions to the vital role parents play?

I have, on the surface at least, fallen into this trap myself. Unable to see a way of being the mother I want to be whilst remaining in teaching, I have left the career I dedicated myself to for over ten years to bring up my child. With every spare second that I have, I am attempting to forge a new career, something that will allow me to work more flexibly, to acknowledge my role as a parent rather than handing it over to someone else. I know that I’m in the minority in that I have a myriad of options: an education and career path to fall back on, the financial security to be able to take time out to try something new, a husband who wants to take an active role in parenting our son whenever he can.

But like many, many other women in the world – and men too, though they are less visible and less vocal – I can’t imagine a much more important job than raising a human being, than helping to build the next generation. One of the most vital aspects of this for me is to nurture a child who believes in equality, who does not feel constrained by his gender – nor expect undue privilege merely for the fact that he is a boy.

I only hope that he can grow up in a world where this might begin to be true. And this is why I believe the HeForShe movement is so important: why feminism needs to be embraced by everybody, not just the women who have historically fought its corner, and why we need to accept that men are held back by the myths and stereotypes that will continue to be perpetuated if we do not all insist on gender equality.

Emma Watson put this far better than me in her speech to the United Nations this weekend. She has inspired me to finally shake off any residual antagonism I might have felt towards the feminist movement, and to encourage the men I am lucky to count amongst my family and friends to stand up and do the same.

 

Linking up with Sara at Mum Turned Mom for The Prompt: Are women better parents than men? 

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