Why I will no longer apologise for being proud of my children

Photo credit - msegura

Last week was Parents Evening, and I'm pleased to report it was all good for both children. Very good, in fact. I mentioned it on Twitter but I held back from blogging about it, until now.

I put it on my Facebook status and then I saw someone tweeting about how they hate all the smug updates about how everyone's little darlings are doing so well at such times, and that not all the children can't ALL be nice and polite. It niggled. First, because it intimated that teachers issue platitudes they don't really believe, and secondly, it suggested that it was wrong to be proud of our children.

The main reason I put it on Facebook is that it is the main way we keep up to date with family. We have family spread from Cumbria to Devon, plus another that spends half his time abroad. We have friends around the world who know my kids and like to hear how they are getting on. I'm sorry if that's wrong but if I didn't put it on my status, I'd have to type it out several times over.

I know the teachers were genuine in their praise when we went. It rather astonishes me that Monkey's teacher cannot say a bad word about him. She gave him As for effort rather than A*s because she wants him to keep trying and told us "Really, he's excellent (but don't tell him I said that!)". I knew he had done well in his reading test because she told me a month ago that he had come top of the class in a very hard reading test, having only got one question wrong. Missy Woo's teacher was honest with us too - and said her only fault was she could get a little too chatty if she sat next to the wrong person, but that she was always mortified if teacher had to have a word with her.The children they spoke of were recognisable as my children, albeit the immaculately behaved version they reserve for school hours.

These teachers weren't lying. I would know if they were and I'm certainly not lying either.Yes, they are good kids but they are not angels; they are just normal kids who have their moments, and thankfully, the good outweighs the bad. Both children are already at, or beyond, where they are expected to be by the end of the school year. Their teachers expect they will move up further during the next term - Monkey's teacher expects his reading to be that expected of a child finishing Year 4. He's in Year 2. Missy Woo is expected to be at the standard of a child in Year 2, a full year ahead of herself. Those facts blew me away. In fact, it still does.

But why is it wrong to be proud of this? They have both worked hard and tried their best in class and know we expect that of them. We do not push them, we encourage them - we read with them and do spellings as requested by school but the rest of the time anything we do with them is spontaneous. Why can't I be proud that they both try their best and are progressing so well? That they both love to read, to write and to add up? That they both love learning?

I accept there is a fine line between pride and boastfulness. When the children were babies, I avoided the Baby Olympics. I was open-mouthed when some parents were displeased that a friend's baby was ahead of theirs. One even told me she was worried her daughter wasn't walking - she wasn't even a year old. And yes, I talk about my kids, but never in a my-child-is-better-than-yours kind of way - they're just different, with their own personalities, strengths and weaknesses.

My children are my life. Their care and upbringing takes up the most time in my daily routine and it's been that way for the last 7 years. I think we've done a good job so far. If I can't be proud of that, what can I be proud of? I've had enough -  I am reserving the right to speak up when there is good news to report. From now on, I'm going to be a proud mummy and be unapologetic about tt. I won't bang on about my children endlessly but I will celebrate their achievements. I want my children to know that I am proud of them (which they do, I hope) but I want them to know it's OK to be proud in a gracious way, especially when it is something they have worked hard for.

I want other parents to join me, to demonstrate that pride in your children is a good thing. I've even made a badge to display on your blog, to show that you are proud and don't feel the need to apologise for that. Feel free to grab the code to do so, to put on a post or a sidebar. I'd love to know what you think about it, either in the comments or in your own post - what makes you proud about your kids? How have they made you proud recently? Is parental pride a good thing and when is it ever bad? If enough people write in response to this, I'll open a linky but I won't if there isn't a demand for it.

<a href="http://thefivefsblog.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKN_fUBGGa9OBhFhgky24uevpylg2gjtuiXI8vfdZM0oDYGk8CMsry_lBjjQKnGZ5lD4-QoCBBi3n5Za9ZkdRKqCjOnrhz6DI1QNX23-CYNV3Vd_H6bltbvrhiZ8aJjp9_CC9a-5IPxma4/s1600/ppcblogbadge2.jpg" border="0" alt="The Five Fs" /></a>

Let's show everyone we are proud of our kids - we've spent ages growing and nurturing them, we have every right to be. In doing this, I'm hoping our kids learn pride in themselves - how to experience it and handle it, without losing friends over it. Mostly, I just want them to know people ARE proud of them because, God knows, children and young people take enough stick these days, and not a lot of it is justified.

You know you're a Mum when....

I've picked up this great meme from Christine at Thinly Spread. She decided to write about the things that mark her out as a mother of children. I thought I'd add mine. (Assuming I can find 10 new ones of course!)

1. You're not grossed out by anything anymore. By the time you become a mother, your dignity has gone anyway, considering the number of people that have surveyed your private parts during pregnancy and birth. And then, unless you are very lucky, within days, you will have been peed, puked and pooed on, sometimes all three at the same time. Actually, newborn nappies are a doddle compared to the ones you get after weaning..... anyhow, you've seen it and done it all by then. Nothing is too gross, nothing can faze you.

2. You find yourself singing a tune, which at first you don't recognise, and then realise that it's the theme tune from a children's TV programme. And it will not go from your head, however hard you try.

3. You notice ambulances/police cars/fire engines/diggers/tractors whilst out driving, point them out excitedly and then realise you are alone in your car. Good job no-one else is there to see your embarrassment.

4. Your fridge looks like this. Party invites, reminders, school dinner menus, certificates, notes from school and nursery, reminders for all sorts of things placed somewhere where you can grab hold of them quickly. Oh, and your little darlings' artwork. Before children arrived in this house, it would have been a surprise if more than 4 things were stuck on it. (Some of those fridge magnets weren't my choice either!)

5. Tidying your house is akin to painting the Forth Bridge. As soon as you finish at one end, it's time to start again at the other and it's never all tidy and clean at the same time.  Ditto laundry. Ditto ironing, if I did any.

6. You have random conversations on topics you never thought possible. Recently, I got asked if the baby Jesus only had one hand (too long to explain that one) which was interesting for July. When I explained to the children that my Mum's cat had passed away, they thought she'd gone to Devon, which is where their aunt (my sister) lives, so confusion abounded for about 10 minutes at the end of which, I was crying with laughter.

7. You have finely honed negotiation skills on a par with the United Nations. Seriously, a group of mothers could deliver world peace. You take no nonsense from your children after the 147th fight over who is going to sit on "your side" of the car. There is no storming off, sulking, ceding to unreasonable demands or walking unwittingly into flashpoints. World statesmen would not stand a chance. You are a formidable, and irresistible, force.

8. You see a spot/red mark on your child that wasn't there a few hours ago. Immediately, your brain races off on a kind of instant and internal Google search. First, you search "meningitis symptoms" and grab a glass to press on it. It blanches and you exhale, not having realised you've been holding your breath since noticing aforementioned mark. Next, it's "chickenpox" (even if your child has already had it) and your inbuilt family diary flicks back over the last few days to see if you think your child has been near anyone who is or who could be pregnant. You check for other, similar spots. You take their temperature. You dispense Calpol, just in case, even if won't cure spots. You cross your fingers that they will be OK tomorrow and they don't miss school/nursery/their best friend's party they have been looking forward to for yonks.

9. You well up, or cry at everything. News stories are never the same once you are a mother. You hear of a death or deaths and you can't help thinking "that was someone's son or daughter". You know that someone somewhere is grieving the loss of a child, however old that child was, and you can only imagine the pain that they must be feeling. And that sets you off. On a lighter note, so does the end of most children's films.

10. Your heart melts when your nearly 4 year old daughter stops what she is doing at music group, comes up to you, wraps her arms around you and says "Mummy, are you very proud of me?" Right at that moment, whatever else she's done that day, she's forgiven and you love her without question. Which you always do anyway; it's just that sometimes, other stuff gets in the way. Your kids can pull up really fast with a few words or a single action, and you are reminded that you ARE a mother, and that you are their world to them. Deep stuff.

So, there you go, there are my 10. Do you like them? I'm not going to tag anyone in particular to pass on this great meme, but feel free to tag yourself and have a go. Place a link in the comments if you want my other readers to find it, and whilst you are at it, why not visit Christine's fantastic original post and leave a comment with your link there too? Get yourself a badge too (see below). Dads, please note - there is a badge for you too on Thinly Spread, so don't consider yourself excluded.