A little camping trip

This weekend we headed to Salisbury for a night of camping with a group of friends and their children.

I haven't camped in years - just one short holiday under canvas in Devon since my days of Girl Guide camps and family Eurocamping in the south of France.

But I really loved the idea of rediscovering camping myself and introducing Cherry and Violet to the concept. They were super-excited when I put up our new tent a few days before to test it out (and check I actually remembered how to put a tent up!)

I did remember, thankfully. Not that it's rocket science really but still. As a very right-brained type who struggles to assemble the cardboard boxes you buy at post offices, I count it as an achievement.

We headed off to Salisbury at around 10am giving our two overexcited monkeys, one of whom had been awake since 4am in anticipation, plenty of time to nap and recharge their batteries on the journey.

Some of our friends had brought their daughter's dressing-up box, and Cherry and Violet instantly swooped in on some of the outfits. Cherry in particular really embraced the concept of 'layering'. For the rest of the trip we had Nurse Fairy Princess Butterfly here….

….and Little Miss Madam I'm A Fairy Princess Too!

As afternoon turned into evening a campfire was lit and layers were added on top of fancy-dress layers.  Cherry basically ate nothing but cake for tea and Violet attempted a picnic only to discard it in favour of being dragged about on a 'beep-beep-beep'.

Our tent is on the small side and barely accommodated the double and single inflatable air beds pushed together that formed our shared sleeping quarters. We didn't get the children down to sleep until gone 10pm.

Knowing they would be wide awake with the dawn, Noel and I followed shortly after. Sure enough Cherry and Violet were awake and raring to go at 5.20am so we reeled out the big guns - Peppa Pig on the tablet - to buy ourselves an hour's snooze.

We had fried egg and sausage sandwiches for breakfast and another good play before packing up and heading off.

We all loved everything about camping. Noel's probably the least keen of all of us, but he loved the atmosphere, the children running wild and free, the campfire and the camaraderie.

I have to say though this was more glamping than camping as we had access to a static unit with a fitted kitchen and toilet, running water, a fridge and freezer - pretty much all mod cons.

We massively overpacked and somehow I am still wading through laundry five days later. All learnings for the future.

I am still glowing from it though. That irresistible sense of connection as a family is really heightened by shared adventures, and whether you're just about to turn two or in your mid-30's, camping is always an adventure.

Creativity and motherhood

Since having children I can honestly say I have never felt more creative, and more frustrated.

I found the process of pregnancy and birth stirred up my desire to write fiction in particular, but also my general interest in making, doing and creating.

Creativity as I experience it, as a process of flow from mind to hands to page, is a deeply alone experience. I shut out the entire world and that includes voices. I can get so absorbed in what I am doing that I don't even hear my own husband (or boss, as it used to be, or teacher, before that) calling for my attention.

And of course now I am a mother, I am never alone. I don't just mean physically, although yes I do spend large portions of the day (and night!) with a child on or about my person. I mean emotionally and mentally. The best analogy I ever read on this subject was that leaving your child physically 'isn't like parking a car'. Even when I'm not with them, they're always on my mind.

I think there's a deep biological fear around stepping back into that creative space, whereby my mind is fully focused on something outside of and unrelated to my children. Evolutionarily speaking mothers needed to have their children first and foremost in their minds and hearts, all the time - the survival of the species depended upon it.

But even more than that, it's the everyday reality of life with children that is often the most frustrating of all.

I have so many ideas - SO MANY - and like the fluffy airborne seed heads of dandelions or the witches on broomsticks about whom I read to my children, they float tantalisingly past me. I make a mental note to myself that is almost immediately forgotten in the everyday demands of life with young children. Somebody's bum always needs wiping or hands washing or stomach filling or shoes taking off or other urgent, pressing task.

By the time the need has been fulfilled, it's too late. The witch taps the broomstick and whoosh! They are gone.

I do find the frustration is eased by creating with my children, and our life together involves a great deal of time in nature, making, doing, planting, growing, painting, drawing, sticking, stirring and general making of enormous messes. Both Cherry and Violet love to create - I think all children do. They certainly love to make a mess too and I have always been happy to let them, even if as a result my home does terrify the more houseproud out there.

Of course all of these activities also stimulate the creative flow. I have noticed some really pleasing side-effects of life as a stay-at-home mother that I wouldn't have anticipated. My photography has improved no end, while I'm still very much point-and-shoot I can see a massive difference in composition and use of light and colour (although not in the photos of my children making a mess!). My home has the odd (very odd) little creative touch here and there, as does the garden. I can turn literally any combination of vegetables into a soup - that my children will eat.

And the biggest evolution of all is I no longer view creativity as self-indulgent, unnecessary, a waste of time or pointless. I can see that the process is valuable in itself, the outcome is not so relevant, and that doing what you love does lay the foundations for more and more of the same.

Motherhood has taught me the vital importance of remaining true to myself and what I love to do. It has showed me that I cannot enmesh my identity with that of my children and live vicariously through them, stand at the sidelines and coach, criticise and push. I cannot put the burden of my own frustrated creativity on them. I can't allow them to live my dreams for me. That responsibility is mine alone.

I can see ahead to a time when I have the self-belief to finish a novel and present it to my agent. I can see, no doubt many years down the line, a garden shed turned into a writing studio. But I don't just see my creativity limited to writing. All these things I make and do with the children - or just for myself - count. It's all creating. It's all connected.

It is frustrating still, on a daily basis. I have been reading The Rainbow Way by Lucy Pearce, a truly epic book on this very subject, and it has come as some kind of epiphany to realise that the way I feel about creating and motherhood is entirely normal.

There is ambivalence there. I have chosen motherhood first and foremost, decided that 'serious' creativity and career can wait - I do not regret that choice and I wouldn't change it. (I have considered childcare and at times attempted small amounts with Cherry that were successful to a degree, but by and large it's not for me or us as a family and that is a choice I am happy with).

But I think I can feel a little softer now on the sides of me that are frustrated, champing at the bit, counting down the months and weeks and days until Cherry starts school, Violet starts pre-school and I can take a huge, deep breath and be alone. I can see that this doesn't make me a bad mother. It just makes me human.

I can also see that if I adjust my expectations and perceptions of what I 'need' in order to create, and instead just look at what very small pockets of time are still available to me, I don't have to hang up my creative boots completely. I can still do. Just smaller things, smaller amounts, and expect it to take a lot longer. I can see that it's important I carve out some space at weekends, even just an hour or two, for that complete aloneness I crave.

And in the mean time, we continue to co-create. Because our house just isn't messy enough already.

I have a second child

An awareness has been creeping up on me lately. I feel it every time I look at my journal and re-read entries and see Cherry's name on practically every page.

I sense it every time I am thinking about what to do this week, this afternoon, this evening, what to cook for tea or what stories to read at bedtime. I feel it every time I think about the future, our plans, our hopes and dreams.

Time and again when decisions are made based upon what's best for 'us', somebody isn't really being taken into account.

Violet.

Second children get many benefits out of their birth order, not least calmer, confident and more relaxed parents in most cases and the built-in companionship and entertainment of an older sibling.

But being a second child does come at a price. You are never, ever, ever the first. And often, this means you are never really the focus as your older sibling is always a step (or twenty) ahead, blazing the trail.

For the first year of Violet's life she was 'the baby' and clearly as long as her needs were met, her wants were also fulfilled. Her needs were relatively simple, as most babies are, and much of the time spent with Violet was physical time, cuddling and feeding and wiping and changing.

Now she is a toddler her physical needs are diminishing (although she still feeds like a newborn) and her emotional and social needs are coming to the forefront.

The age gap between our children is so close that there are few, if any, things Cherry can do that Violet can't. For that reason they pretty much always do the same things, and therefore the spectrum of 'things' Violet has been exposed to has naturally been limited by Cherry's tastes and preferences.

She also has a naturally sunny, open and contented personality. Simply put, Violet seems to like EVERYTHING. Cherry loves swimming but Violet is if anything even more of a water baby than her older sister. When Cherry, inspired by her older cousin, decided she wanted to start going to gymnastics, I found a class both could participate in. Although Cherry does love it, it's Violet who bounces in her seat shouting 'Yay! Dismatics!' when we are on our way to class.

In the last few weeks I have realised I must make a conscious effort to get to know my second child a bit better. I could tell you chapter and verse about her older sister - naturally I have had 20 months longer to get to know Cherry and at three and a half she is capable of grasping concepts and expressing herself in a way Violet is not. But I am falling a little into the trap of making assumptions about Violet as opposed to stepping back, observing and really getting to know her.

I don't think I am alone in finding that often I think or talk about my second child in relation to my first. Cherry is X, Violet is Y. Violet is this, but Cherry was that.

But such talk can become dangerous and drive children to occupy the only space they can find - the space that hasn't already been taken up by their older sibling or siblings.

Cherry is this and therefore Violet is that.

Siblings do, of course, heavily influence how we define ourselves and are defined as people. I myself am a second child, to a popular, intelligent, charming and well-liked brother just 15 months my senior and had I not been, I would not be the person I am now.

But I have always been emphatic in my need to be seen and heard separately to, not in relation to, my sibling.

It is imperative I offer my own second child the same courtesy - the same right.

I respect my older daughter's complex personality and I do recognise that her need for attention and affirmation is often greater than her younger sibling's. But our lives cannot simply be The Cherry Show. There is enough space to go around, Violet does not need to grow up in her sister's shadow.

What brought it home to me was the realisation that I have since last September had three mornings a week at home with my younger daughter, while Cherry is at pre-school, yet this week was the first time I have taken Violet to the playground across the road.

Sometimes we see friends, she will usually nap, then she is so happy to potter about that I can easily - as I have - spend these mornings catching up with housework, cooking, doing the odd bit of work and generally not paying her a great deal of attention.

Then before I know it our time is up and it's time to go and get Cherry. I have been with Violet the entire time yet she's had no one-on-one attention other than the time she spends breastfeeding.

As school for Cherry and preschool for Violet looms on the very distant horizon, it suddenly occurred to me I have only one more year at home full-time with my baby.

My baby, who will be two in August. My baby, who really should have been called 'Joy' as she is the living embodiment of it. My baby, who charms and wins over everybody she meets. My baby, whose speech, comprehension and physical mastery absolutely astounds me time and again. My baby, the reason I have not once at any point over the last 22 months NOT thought 'I could lie down and sleep RIGHT NOW'.

My baby. My second child. My last child. How glad I am to have this time to get to know her.

What does self care actually involve?

Over the last couple of years I have been on something of an ongoing quest to work out what self-care actually involves.

I am completely on board with the concept and entirely convinced of the case to take better care of myself - firstly for my children and family, but more recently just for me. I am entirely sure that the better I look after myself, the better a mother, wife and person in general I become.

What's been more difficult about this is understanding what self-care actually is. Magazines, newspapers, websites and blogs are full of articles exhorting the benefits of taking care of oneself but I always find them quite light on the detail.

Generally, suggestions are limited to things like bubble baths, massages, spa breaks and solo visits to the cinema. In fact since the language and concept of self-care was embraced by the marketing and advertising industry you could be forgiven for thinking that purchasing toilet paper or bikini wax fell under the umbrella of taking care of oneself or 'pampering', an entirely hideous word with connotations of indulgence and superficiality.

I think that's what's bothered me about the textbook definitions of self-care, the connotations. There is nothing indulgent about taking care of oneself but it becomes portrayed as such when we're led to believe giving large corporations money we don't really have for over packaged products we absolutely don't need is a luxurious, empowering treat.

On a very personal level I found when I felt myself starting to get very tired and irritable and fed-up I would go for a massage or have a bath or take myself off for an afternoon with the full intention of recharging my batteries and emerging refreshed, energised and ready to embrace everyday life with open arms and marginally less heavy eyes.

How I actually felt afterwards was basically exactly the same but having had a nice half-hour, hour or even afternoon. Nothing seemed to move below the surface. I still felt just as tired, just as irritable and anxious at times, just as weary and fed-up. In fact I often felt a bit more irritable as I'd had my allotted 'treat' and I still felt just as drained and in desperate need of filling up my cup.

In the last six months or so I have begun to hone in much more on what self-care looks and feels like for me personally.

For me, self care is

First and foremost, taking the time to truly get to know myself.
This has mainly involved keeping a journal daily, beginning with morning pages and finishing in the evening with observations and notes about my actions, feelings and reactions throughout the day. Over time I have begun to notice patterns that I can then pick up as they happen, such as negative thoughts creeping in or times when I feel particularly tired or get snappy with the children - all warning signs that I am running dangerously low on inner resources and energy.

Listening to my body
It amuses me that people still think self-care is indulgent when in fact it involves a great deal of discipline and often putting aside what your head wants in favour of what your body needs.
Such as going to bed early when you're tired and have a busy week ahead even if you'd prefer to stay up blogging or watching TV or go on that night out you've been really looking forward to. Or getting up and going for a run or bike ride at 6.30am when you have the time, because you always feel so much stronger and more positive if you exercise but if you leave it until the kids are in bed you know you won't be able to face it. Or cutting right back on added sugar because you're feeling uncomfortable in your own skin and know you're eating too many treats instead of addressing the issues that you'd rather reach for a third cupcake than look into.

Allowing myself space
Harder than it sounds with two very young children! I have very little time 'to myself' and the temptation is to cram a billion and one things into the time I do have, make plans on top of plans, and use my downtime 'productively' at all times. Reminding myself that I will have time in future helps me narrow the seemingly exhaustive list right down. I might want to start on that book idea I've had in my head for the last two years, but it's probably more important that I write in my journal or just clear my mind and sit by myself for a while. I am becoming more and more convinced I am an introvert, which is at odds with my perceptions of myself over the last 34 years. One of the telltale signs is that when Noel gets home I am in no rush to pounce on him and offload about my day and get some 'adult' conversation. I'm more than happy to sit in silence with myself while he works out, and we can catch up later over dinner.

Making tough decisions
Such as deciding to stop working and completely put my career on hold. This is a decision I took more than a year ago and I have wound down and wound down and finally only just finished work 'for good'. But already I find little thoughts popping into my head like bubbles. Why don't I pitch an article on this or a book on that? Again, I have to keep reminding myself I have time. In a few short years, I will have more than enough time to write whatever I want. In the mean time, I have consciously chosen to focus 100% on my family, I have become acutely aware that for me personally to try and work around my young children is to split myself in half. Neither work or my children really get what they deserve from me. Please don't misunderstand, I know there are many MANY women out there who successfully balance work and family with all manner of different arrangements and circumstances. I am just not one of those women and the balance I have found is to choose to prioritise my children and family now, and my career later.

Reading, learning, thinking, growing….
I have a veritable library of books and resources I have devoured over the last year or so and from which I draw enormous amounts of inspiration and food for thought. I have also found some excellent blogs and websites that help further crystallise my thinking, or point me in the direction of more materials that I find useful. Not all of these resources are specifically about self-care, but the overall themes can always be drawn into that space. Everything is connected, after all.

And on a purely practical level, self care for me is
Exercising daily, getting outside at least daily, giving up alcohol, green smoothies in the morning, cutting out added sugar, writing in my journal at least daily, group therapy once a week, a massage as often as is feasible (once every few months or so), getting in the bath with my daughters as often as possible, eating actual and nourishing food for dinner and never ever going to bed on just snacks or toast, cutting right back on time spent on social media, embracing the written or spoken word instead of Facebook, reading as many books in the field of self-discovery, growth, parenting and child development, mindfulness and meditation as I can get my hands on, going to bed at 9pm most days, getting up at 6am most days, saying YES whenever I can but saying NO whenever I need to, using my phone primarily as a camera and almost never as a communication device during the day, pushing myself out of my comfort zone and going to events, groups and gatherings I wouldn't normally think of as being 'for me', picnics with my daughters, remaining present with my children wherever humanly possible, actively practicing positive thinking and keeping negative thoughts in check, endless reading around the psychology of happiness and motivation, switching off and watching a film with Noel every now and again, and immediately cancelling any plans and getting an early night the minute I notice myself becoming irritable, anxious or snappy or negative thoughts beginning to crowd in.

And on that note, I'm off to bed!

Breastfeeding at 19 months

This was supposed to be an update on breastfeeding an 18-month-old but I am so late with it it's turned into breastfeeding a 19-month-old!

When I had Violet I had no real timescale in my head for how long I would breastfeed. I weaned Cherry at nine months to kick-start my cycle again so I could have Violet, but knowing she was to be our last child there wasn't the same pressure.

And so I find myself breastfeeding a nearly 19-month-old with no surprise. There has never been any real reason why I would wean Violet, and so I haven't.

Well actually that's not true. There's one very big reason why I might consider weaning and that's that Violet wakes frequently to feed at night. Still! So from time to time the subject of night weaning has been broached. Once or twice I've tried settling her without feeding, and sometimes this works for the first, second and even third wake ups. But eventually there will come a point where Violet will make it abundantly clear she's not settling without feeding, and I will of course feed her.

I know night weaning has worked for many a knackered breastfeeding parent, but it doesn't seem likely it would work for us. In all honesty I think I would just spend hours comforting a crying confused toddler. I fancy that at 11pm, midnight, 1am, 2am, 3am, 4am and 5am like a hole in the head.

Plus I can't shake the feeling that she will get there when she's ready. Of course I'm tired and so is Noel but we get on with it, we don't moan and complain (well, not much) and it doesn't have a dramatic impact on our quality of life. We remind ourselves and each other constantly that it will end, it won't be forever, this will pass. Perhaps we're just used to it. I have faith in Violet and faith in my instincts.

Breastfeeding her at 19 months is never dull. She calls it 'EAT!' and she's quite insistent when she wants to feed. She will march her little self over to the nearest chair or bench or sofa, clamber up, announce 'At-dee' (her word for 'up' or 'getting up', I think she's trying to say 'upski!' which I often say when I pick her up) and demand 'Eat.' If no 'eat' is forthcoming she will absolutely insist. Violet is fierce, I rarely argue with her.

She's entertained by the way I spray during a milk letdown. I am fascinated that I still do this after 19 months, and can only assume I have gold-top fuelled torpedoes for breasts. I can also safely assume that, given that she feeds hourly at night (more eat! MORE EAT!) which is when milk production is governed, I have the supply of a dairy cow. Certainly Violet is bursting with health and vitality.

She's quite physical and feeding, especially at bedtime, can often involve a good deal of wriggling and hands flailing around and even a bit of pinching, which I don't like and tell her so. I also don't like it when she pulls madly at my clothes, but other than this I do very little in the way of 'discipline' around breastfeeding. She asks, I provide.

I have never left Violet at night (I've only left Cherry twice at night and once was to have Violet!) so I have no insight to offer on how she would cope away from me for a night. I have spent the odd full day away from her and she's been absolutely fine. She does want to feed when I get back, and I am always so bursting that I would keep trying even if she didn't want to!

I think the difference between breastfeeding Cherry and breastfeeding Violet is how I feel about it. As much as I loved breastfeeding Cherry I thought of it as simply being about food, a way of dispensing nutrition. With Violet I view it as a relationship, even a mothering 'technique' if you want to call it that.

In a way it's a metaphor for the difference between the way I have approached the early days with both of them. With Cherry I was far too anxious to trust my own instincts and to trust her, and so I complicated matters with routines and methods and techniques and not 'letting her get into bad habits!'. With Violet I listened only to her and myself everything has just flowed beautifully. It's been a far easier, more natural and more rewarding way of parenting. Although I concede I've had far, far less sleep.

And it means that (hopefully) I don't have ahead of me the difficult second year I had with Cherry, in which I realised things had to change but had no real blueprint for what attachment parenting a toddler would look like, so we had to kind of feel our way and make yet more mistakes on top of mistakes until we found a balance that suits all four of us.

Today I sat watching Cherry and Violet while I ate breakfast. Violet was pottering about in her new Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas in a particular shade of blue that suits her so beautifully. I caught her eye and we just had a little moment in time, the two of us together.  She stopped her pottering, came over to me, held out her arms and said 'cuddle Mummy!' I picked her up and she cuddled into my lap, put her little arms around me, and leaned against me.

It felt like a real concrete example of the connection between mother and child that breastfeeding is so helpful in building. I'm not for a minute suggesting you can't build that connection formula-feeding, before anybody jumps to that conclusion. It's a connection I have built with my older child only after weaning! But this is a post about breastfeeding and those are my honest feelings on that moment. Breastfeeding Violet is one of many very easy ways in which we maintain that connection. It requires no thought whatsoever, it's completely instinctive for both of us and for that reason I can't see either of us wanting to stop any time soon. (Although because I have been asked this more than once, no I don't imagine I'll still be breastfeeding her when she's 21, much as I don't imagine I'll still be changing her nappies, reading her stories and helping her wash her face, brush her teeth and get dressed when she's 21 either)

Letting go as they grow

I had a nightmare the other night (well technically in the early hours of the morning as I'd been up most of the night with Violet.) So as I was saying, I had a morning-mare the other morning.

I dreamed we were in Singapore with my family and my brother took Cherry to a fair. When he came home he told me he'd lost her.

In that illogical dream-like way, a translucent Cherry was by my side as I searched frantically for her, high and low. We revisited the merry-go-round she'd been riding when she disappeared. It was smoky and still. There was no sign of my baby girl and nowhere she could have possibly gone. I turned to my brother. The ghostly Cherry at my side had gone.

When I woke up Cherry - actual Cherry - was bouncing by the side of my bed. I have never been so relieved to see her.

I thought about the dream on the way to pre-school this morning as Cherry barrelled along ahead of me on her little balance bike. In a typically dramatic way, letting go and the associated risks are clearly on my mind.

The invisible rope between my older daughter and I has turned into elastic. It's stretching.

For the last three years and six weeks I've been entirely content that my role in life is to, slowly, become surplus to my children's requirements. It's to hold them close until they are ready to go, and then it's to let them. It's to help them learn to live in the world, and then watch them as they go off and do just that.

I am already not without regrets. I wish I'd held Cherry closer, for longer, when she was a baby. Back then I felt the best way was to urge her towards independence and I hurried her out of my arms, off my breast and gave her a wooden truck to 'learn to walk' with, a dummy to replace the comfort of my breast.

Then in her second year I felt I needed to reattach and re-establish the bond we shared. I held her closer than ever. I never urged, never pushed, never suggested she climb the bigger climbing frame as she stayed, content, with the smaller one. I never told her she was a 'big girl now' when she asked to fall asleep in my arms, never chastised that 'that's just for babies' when she expressed a desire to latch on whilst her sister was breastfeeding.

I know that my role is to nurture the connection and closeness I have with my children and trust them to move towards independence when they feel they are ready. I no longer 'help' them physically or academically, they learn things in their own time. If they're stuck or feel unsafe, I will try and help them verbally rather than physically (safety permitting, of course).

If they can climb up somewhere, my theory is they are probably entirely capable of getting down.

I have put huge amounts of thought, time, research and effort into coming to the conclusion that the less I interfere with my children, the better. They learn by watching me, so I watch my own behaviour and actions carefully instead of hovering over theirs.

I trust my children.

And yet. And now.

Cherry is running ahead of me, laughing as she plays games of her own, as I walk along at Violet's excruciating pace. She's hurtling around on her bike. She's sat proudly atop a fat black Shetland pony.

She's a whirling ball of energy and excitement and new skills and physicality and she swings between cautious and fearless.

All of a sudden I am heart-in-mouth. I am the cautious Mummy I never thought I'd be. I am fighting the urge to bubble-wrap her. To unzip my skin and put her back inside my body, keep her safe always, where no harm can come to her.

Having always believed so strongly in letting my children GO as they grow, now I have to put my theories into practice. I have to watch Cherry fall, and hurt herself, and cuddle and comfort her without trying to take her pain away for her.

I have to hold back my urge to scream CAREFUL! 100 times a day.

It's harder than I thought it would be. Knowing that I completely believe in what I am doing is one thing, but having to watch it and feel it is entirely another. I've always said I am far from risk-averse, but few things actually test your theories about yourself like your children.

I have no issue in trusting her to carry a china plate across the room, a glass of water, or any other breakable/spillable items or objects. She's been chopping vegetables with me with my sharp knife for a fair while now. I barely blink when she pick up a pair of scissors.

But watching her run so far from my side feels like another step entirely.

I have to trust her, and trust myself that I have empowered and armed her with the confidence and capabilities she needs for me to to let her go.

I wonder if it's this last part I find hardest of all. Her growing up feels so sudden and so fast.

Have I done enough, or by my own definition not done enough?

At least I still get hold her close when she does come back, because she is after all, just three.

(Good reading on this subject is Letting Go as Children Grow by Deborah Jackson and this post by Lucy, which apparently caused huge controversy but to be honest it just read like common sense to me)

My name is Cathy and my children cry

The first time anybody commented upon one of my children's crying, I had been a mother for exactly four weeks.

The feeling of shame, mortification and outright failure has stayed with me ever since.

Cherry's crying as a baby was, I'm told, not normal.

I only have Violet to compare her to and certainly Violet didn't cry anything like as much as Cherry did. But then Violet also didn't, and still doesn't, sleep anything like as much and as well as Cherry did and still does! Swings and roundabouts.

Nonetheless parents and grandparents of other children chose to inform me that their children or grandchildren didn't cry like Cherry. For this reason, and many others, listening to either of my children cry sparks a powerful emotional reaction with me.

It's not always a desire to stop the crying, I have to admit. Sometimes I am the cause of the crying, after all. When I say no to Cherry, as I do, because I must, she is 99% likely to cry. This crying I can cope with. I offer love and support, cuddles and empathy, I'm sorry you're upset darling but the answer is still no, would you like a cuddle?

When I say no to Violet, as I increasingly must, I take the same approach.

Sometimes I find crying annoying. Cherry does go on, bless her, and then some, even if she's just crying because I haven't bought her a cake or she wanted the entire snack bar and I only offered her half. She's loud. Violet is LOUDER. She knows the exact pitch and decibel level to best drill through my skull. Her longevity isn't on the same scale as Cherry's but her pitch - oh her pitch, it just crucifies me.

Often I feel sympathy. They both cry when they've hurt themselves, when they're upset or fearful or shocked or experiencing some other powerful emotion. Cherry fell off her bike last week, a proper head-over-heels somersault, crashing to the ground with the bike tangled up on top of her. She cried for about 15 minutes and I sat on the cold ground with my arms around her, wishing I could carry her pain and disappointment and shock for her.

Violet bit her finger today whilst eating dinner and she cried loudly and indignantly, her little face crumpled and bewildered, holding out her poor indented finger for me to kiss and inspect, begging 'duddle! Duddle!' and straining to get out of her chair and into my arms.

Sometimes I feel frustrated. If one starts sobbing at the exact moment the other needs me the most. While I sat and cuddled a screaming Cherry after the fall from her bike Violet began to wail in the buggy. When Violet was a young baby if she cried Cherry would almost inevitably join in.

Nothing chills my heart like the, mercifully fairly rare, sound of both of my children crying. Sometimes there's not enough of me to go round. They both want both my arms around them, not an arm each.

But sometimes when my children cry I feel a deep sense of inadequacy, failure, hopelessness and despair. I would do anything - ANYTHING - to make it stop, but nothing I do has the slightest impact.

At three, Cherry is finally and thankfully past the stage of producing this kind of crying. I can nearly always comfort her and even if I can't, I know her well enough to know she is drawing something from my presence. Once or twice after epic emotional meltdowns she's cried herself to sleep in my arms, and when she wakes up she seems deeply at peace.

My reactions to her crying have changed too. I can remind myself that the world is a strange and often unfair place to her, and that contrary to popular internet photography memes she's not crying 'because the sky is blue', she's crying because of experiences and feelings and emotions and hormones she doesn't understand and can't control and couldn't name or tell me about even if she wanted to.

At 17 months Violet has just taken up the mantle Cherry has finally discarded. At the moment bedtimes and nap times are an excruciating affair involving feeding and settling and soothing and her chatting and shouting and yelling and singing and squirming and rolling about and crying and more settling and soothing and comforting and crying and feeding again and cuddling and crying and her asking for a cuddle, then crying and asking to be in her bed, then crying and asking for another cuddle, then crying and asking for bed, then just crying….

It breaks my heart. It tears me to pieces. It kills me. But not just because I feel so desperately for her.

I feel shame. I torture myself because I can't stop her crying no matter what I do. I wonder if it's what I do that makes her cry more. Scenarios and possibilities flit through my head. Perhaps I should wean her. Perhaps I should move her into Cherry's room. Perhaps I should night-wean. Perhaps I should stop getting into her cot with her if she seems to need it. Perhaps I should stop bringing her into bed with us.

I needle away at myself, convinced this doesn't happen to 'other' parents, convinced that attachment and gentle parents who follow the philosophies and practices to which I ascribe just don't have this problem, that their babies and toddlers are constantly smiling cooing happy contented chilled out peaceful bundles of joy.

I tell myself it's my fault and that I'm not a good enough mother. That truly good mothers have children who never, ever cry.

One of the many parenting books I read before I even had Cherry had written in bold, capital letters A CRYING BABY DOES NOT EQUAL A BAD MOTHER.

I believed this for just four weeks. Then the doubt kicked in, then I started to hear other mums talking about how they 'never let' their children cry 'even for a second' and all I could think was HOW? And what am I doing wrong?

When Violet cries and I can't comfort her I feel like the worst mother, the worst person, in the world. I used to feel exactly the same way with Cherry.

And I always worried about the impact of the crying. The effect on them, physically and psychologically, of prolonged exposure to cortisol and other stress hormones. If I believe, as I firmly do, that it's wrong to leave a child to cry alone, then how is being with them, cuddling and comforting and soothing and settling but being unable to stop them from crying, any different?

How can I truly say I believe it's wrong to leave a child to cry when I can't and have never been able to always stop my children from crying?

I don't necessarily have any answers but I found this piece by Sarah Ockwell-Smith, author of one my favourite books ever, Toddlercalm, very reassuring.

In particular I was strongly moved by what she says about being able to remain present with our children through unstoppable tears. That this takes strength and patience. I used to become highly stressed, frustrated and anxious with Cherry when I couldn't stop her crying, I wondered aloud what was wrong with me and what was wrong with her, and it's entirely likely my reaction fuelled her rather than comforted her. But as I said above, my reaction to her crying has, eventually, changed.

This gives me hope for Violet's crying too. I have more strength and patience, I feel less judged and scrutinised than I did as a new mother with That Baby Who Cries All The Time. I know I have it in me to stay present with V.

I don't always manage it, I do become despairing and anxious and stressed sometimes, but increasingly I don't. I think having read this piece I will be able to stay calmly present with her more often, accept that I am being good enough rather than anxiously fretting about not being good enough, and whether it helps in the moment or not, in the long run I know it will make a difference. Until it passes, which it will. It always does.

Where do you go for inspiration? My online village.

If the plethora of motivational quotes over sunsets and willow trees that pervades Facebook and Twitter tells us anything, it's that we are all looking to be inspired.

I've got a bit of a love-hate relationship with motivational quotes. Some of them are patently absurd, and make no sense. Many are over-used - I swear to god if I see that bloody 'a woman is like a tea bag' quote wrongly attributed to Nancy Regan ONE MORE TIME…

But others do make an impact. 'It takes a village to raise a child', whilst not strictly motivational, has been a huge inspiration for me in recent years. 'Happiness is not a destination, it's a way of life' feels very applicable in my case. 'It is far, far harder to be yourself than it is to pretend to be somebody else' IS JUST STUPID AND MAKES NO SENSE. OK?

Just kidding. I get it. A bit.

I like to draw inspiration from real people. Not celebrities - I'm SO over celebrities. Even Beyonce. Over the last few years all my inspiration has been drawn from real people, most of whom I have met or become aware of online.

And that's the wonderful thing about the internet. You can find inspiration in whatever field you so desire, and in whatever form you desire.

At the moment I am interested in reading, thinking and learning about parenting, health and fitness, mindfulness and holistic therapy, and crafts I can do with a two year old and a one year old whose favourite hobby is finding something messy, toxic, liquid and preferably smelly and highly staining and PUTTING IT IN HER MOUTH then running away giggling.

Here are some of my favourite sources of inspiration in those fields.

Parenting

Aha Parenting - It's no secret that I'm passionately drawn to attachment and gentle parenting, after initially rather scornfully rejecting it as 'hippy nonsense'. Dr Laura Markham's site was one of the first that helped me 'see the light' and it's a regular and hugely useful resource as Cherry in particular moves through ages and stages. The UK-based equivalent, Gentle Parenting, set up by Sarah Ockwell-Smith is just as useful and I find myself nodding frantically along with so many of Sarah's blogs my neck hurts. Her book Toddlercalm was one of the first books I read that helped me understand I didn't have to change my beliefs to be, or feel like, a good parent, and that you could parent with trust rather than control.

Lulastic - Lucy's blog used to annoy the tits off me. I enjoyed reading her extremely eloquent and radical views, but I often did so just to irritate myself. I just didn't 'get' the hippy, attachment parenting vibe and it irritated me particularly that attachment parenting was SUPPOSED to be about sacrifice and making yourself a slave to your children and indulging their every whim and yet she always looked SO BLOODY HAPPY. I kept coming back because I wanted to 'get it' but I was too afraid of moving away from many of the rather traditional, fear-based values I was carrying around. Then not long after Violet was born I just got it. I understood that attachment parenting is based upon connection and respect, NOT sacrifice and martyrdom, and that as a practice attachment parenting is about your attitude, not about slings and boobs and bedsharing per se. Once I'd made that distinction I understood what I loved so much about Lucy's blog. And I understood that the parts of me I'd been almost ashamed of when Cherry was little - the parts of me that refused to allow her to 'cry it out' and so on, weren't weaknesses, they were my greatest strengths. I also found Adele's lovely blog Circus Queen really thought-provoking and useful in helping me understand and separate my true beliefs from social conditioning. Now I find myself the radical, hippy one in many circles of mothers.

Mothering - A really lovely US-based site dedicated to attachment parenting and the practice - the ART - of mothering.

Health and fitness

Bangs and a Bun - Muireann's was one of the first blogs I read properly and I still love it. I have followed this amazing woman online for many years and I never fail to be motivated and inspired by her.

Challenge Sophie - a newer discovery. Sophie, like me, works with adidas UK. But unlike me Sophie lives in Chamonix and spends her days cycling up mountains and becoming an Ironman.

Mindfulness and holistic living

Headspace - yep, I'm a Headspacer and I cannot say this enough, it has changed my life. I meditate every day for 20 minutes come hell or high water, or sleep (often I only have 20 undisturbed minutes last thing at night!) When I began I took the approach that I'd do it 'if I had time' and I wouldn't force or pressure myself. But to see the benefits of meditation you need to take it seriously. Now it's a commitment to myself that I refuse to break. It, and green smoothies, are two habits that have stuck. On the busiest , most hectic and most overwhelming day, when I don't have the time or the energy to shower let alone work out, do yoga or any of the other lovely things I promise myself, I still meditate.

Mama - and more! This is a blog covering all sorts, but it's the way Zaz writes about yoga and the impact it has had on her life that interests me. I check in every now and again to look for new posts on yoga, there's usually something there.

Crafts

Mum in the Madhouse - I follow Jen on Instagram and I absolutely love her! Bursting with creative and crafty ideas, her blog is a true slice of creative family life. Quite often crafting, baking and the like is thought of as something mothers and daughters do together, but Jen shows what a load of old crap that tired stereotype is with pictures of her two boys baking, cutting ribbon, painting and creating.

Capture by Lucy - again I follow Lucy on Instagram and I absolutely adore her sense of style, her positive attitude and - well I just love her. Apparently I really like Lucys in general!

I think what all of the above have in common is that they show me what is possible if you follow your heart. They also show that what we tend to consider barriers to personal freedom and fulfilment - families, jobs, careers, children - are all part of the journey. So I suppose we're back to motivational quotes again, because these individuals all help me truly understand that happiness isn't a destination. It absolutely is a way of life.

Instagram is my current favourite network, such a supportive and caring group of mainly women, beautiful images and constant inspiration.

So there you have it. My little online village.

10 things that surprised me about breastfeeding *this* one-year-old

1. That it's an entirely different experience to breastfeeding my older daughter, who I weaned at nine months. Hence this is ten things that have surprised me about breastfeeding *this* one-year-old not *a* one-year-old. Because every child is different.

2. There are no thought processes involved at all. I don't think about how much she feeds, when she feeds or why she feeds.

3. I have no idea how often she feeds. Somebody asked me this a couple of weeks ago and I was genuinely completely stumped. This is because, as per point number two, I give it no thought whatsoever. She asks, I feed. She doesn't ask, I might offer. I have no idea when, or how often, or for how long, or how much she takes.

4. It's not about 'giving her milk'. Breastfeeding Violet isn't an act. It's a relationship. It's a two-way thing. At her one-year review the HV asked 'does Violet drink milk at all?' and I immediately said 'no', because she drinks water or occasionally juice. Then I understood what I was actually being asked!

5. It doesn't 'interfere' with my life in any way, shape or form. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say I have readjusted my life, and myself, so as not to interfere with breastfeeding a one-year-old. I don't drink alcohol any more so that's not an issue. We co-sleep most nights so night feeds aren't an issue. I can be away from her for hours on end and my breasts will feel full, but I think this has happened twice in the last year. It's just not an issue because I have chosen not to separate myself from my children for any length of time other than on very rare occasions. This comes back to breastfeeding being a relationship not an isolated act. It's part of the whole.

6. She has eight teeth and has bitten me frequently, usually when another tooth is coming. And yes, it hurts! Cherry had no teeth when I weaned her so the experience is completely new, that said, V cut her first tooth at four months so I've had plenty of time to get used to it.

7. Having done it before with another child doesn't necessarily make it 'easier' second time around. I've had more issues to overcome feeding Violet (blistered, cracked nipples at the start due to incorrect latch, nursing strike due to thrush, those teeth!) than I had with Cherry.

8. I have no idea for how long I will continue to breastfeed. As long as we both want to, is my stock answer.

9. I loved breastfeeding Cherry and expected to love breastfeeding Violet too. But when I think about it 'love' isn't really the right way of putting it, because that implies breastfeeding is something of a 'bonus' or a 'treat'. I think lovely Adele at Circus Queen really sums it up in her post here when she says that breastfeeding is 'our joint right'. It's our right too. Do you love your rights? They're more fundamental than that.

10. Nobody else seems to think it's 'weird' that I'm breastfeeding a one-year-old. Even if they did, I probably wouldn't notice. You don't tend to pay much attention to what others think of your rights.