As I open this blog this several English cities are surveying the aftermath of a fourth night of widespread violent disorder, looting and arson. What started as a protest in Tottenham about the fatal police shooting of alleged drug-dealer Mark Duggan, has turned into a free-for-all with gangs of young people trashing anything in reach apparently simply for the craic and the consumables.
Looking down over my 9 month old daughter and my growing bump (now just 2 and a bit months to go), like many I am trying to untangle in my mind how this happened. How did we get from the fairly civilised Britain I think I grew up in, where riots were fairly localised affairs staged about something easily summed up in one sentence, to the out and out mayhem I'm watching on the BBC right now?
I think I'm seeing on my screen (but thankfully not on my high street- yet) the subject of many, many warnings in books I've been reading. Books like Toxic Childhood by Sue Palmer, A Spoonful of Sugar by Liz Fraser and even arguably Ask Supernanny by good old Jo Frost. I think we've been doing it wrong by accident. I think in wanting the best for our kids, we have without realising it let the marketing men skew our perception of what "the best" actually means. I think we've been led away from teaching values and skills and towards providing ever more stuff. I think it's time for a different approach.
I'm just starting to have a go at bringing my babies up as far removed as possible from what I'm now seeing as the mistakes of modern parenting, but without that having to mean life without a laptop or keeping chickens (perish the thought). If I sound preachy please don't get me wrong, I criticise modern parenting not solely from an ideological perspective but from an experiential one. I also have an 11 year old, an 11 year old for whom I have made probably every mistake in the list and a whole load more besides. She's really not doing so well. I'd go so far as to say she's deeply unhappy. She doesn't live with me (which is one of the things she's most unhappy about) and she's not the topic of the blog, so we'll keep the reference to her short. Without ever meaning to I made a total hash of her life and one day when she's ready I need to do whatever is in my power to help her put that right. This blog though, is about the babies.
For a few more short weeks, it's more baby - singular, than babies - plural. If the little one currently keeping warm inside this bump arrives on date there's set to be 53 weeks age difference between my current littlest and my future littlest. The scan turned up no conclusive word on the gender, so I'm expecting a surprise. That at least cuts the usual pre-baby shopping frenzy opportunities right down. Good.
