Wave magazine

Lewes-based mother-of-three, Tallulah Ellender needs some help to deal with tantrums

Like snotty kisses and sleepless nights, tantrums are an inevitable part of parental life. Some people are blessed with (or, perhaps, have miraculously reared) kids whose protests are short-lived and even rather cute. I am not. At least, on a tantrum scale of one-to-ten (one being a mild snort of disagreement, and ten being a case of the total screaming abdabs in public which lasts for at least fifteen minutes and leaves the parent a quivering, speechless wreck) my two older sons have each scored high nines on several occasions. The youngest is just brewing his rage, like a tiny, toddling volcano, but I’m sure it will come.

“What I’d really like is a Spooks-style earpiece wired up to some genius parenting guru who would talk me through managing a tantrum”

A serene friend once pointed out that it was healthy for children to express their anger – a bit like puke, it’s better out than in. Of course, I agree, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with an upset child’s whirling fury. (more…)

Lewes-based mother-of-three, Tallulah Ellender finds a new family pet more hassle than she was expecting

Last year we decided that we should have a family pet. We plumped for a cat, as they seemed the least demanding. Our middle son was practically exploding with excitement when we went to choose her. He marched straight into the enclosure and picked up the tiny, stripy ball of fluff as if he had been raised in the wild by feral cats. “Ah, he’s got a natural affinity with animals,” I thought.

But once home my son embarked on a programme of systematic stalking of the kitten. When she was asleep he would pick her up, sling her over his shoulder and move her somewhere else. When she was awake he would poke at her with the broom, or carry her about as if she was a Fendi handbag.

“When she was awake my son would poke at her with the broom, or carry her about as if she was a Fendi handbag. After weeks of endless nagging I had had enough”

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Lewes-based mother-of-three, Tallulah Ellender, on her search for Easter treats with less of a sugar rush

It seems strange that at a time of year when nature is unfolding in glorious freshness, we choose to stuff our faces with chocolate and loll around like faintly nauseous Weebles. Many parents are deeply concerned about childhood obesity and the amount of packaging used in all those mammoth chocolate eggs. For those needing some inspiration on how to give your children a happy Easter without the sugar frenzy, here are some ideas:

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Lewes-based mother-of-three, Tallulah Ellender, calls a truce with other wannabe supermums

Over the past few days I have been called ‘supermum’ and have been told that I always look calm and in control. In reality I have shouted, cajoled, burst into tears and even considered flagging down a passing policeman to retrieve my errant son who was storming off in a rage.

In order to survive, we parents often create a super alter ego who copes with everything. This uberparent is unflappable, serene and can always find the lids for the tupperware pots. They are also a fabrication. The gaping chasm between my own and others’ perceptions of me comes partly from my own need to be seen to be OK but also from the strange phenomenon of ‘competitive parenting’.

“At my son’s fifth birthday party I forgot I had put the paper party bags on top of the stove, and in a moment of distraction, I managed to set the whole lot on fire”

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Lewes-based mother-of-three, Tallulah Ellender, has a go at creating magical memories

My track record when it comes to innovation is somewhat patchy. When I was 12 I designed a knitted nose-warmer, and I once tried to get a new ‘street’-style greeting off the ground (this involved saying the words “Way Way!” and casually raising your hand). Both dismal and embarrassing failures. So it is with trepidation that I approach the Christmas season, hoping to create some wondrous new family traditions that my children will remember with fondness, and may even pass on to own their offspring.

“I remember lugging lumpy stockings onto Mum’s bed; a gargantuan tree dripping with hideous bushy tinsel and old pastry stars”

Anyone who celebrates Christmas can usually reel off several customs that took place each year in their household over the festive period. There are the obvious ones like Dad falling asleep wearing a wonky paper hat and a bellyful of turkey, or the drunken game of Trivial Pursuit which rekindles smouldering sibling rivalries. But there are also touching, magical traditions which light up eyes and nourish the soul. In my extended and rather complicated family the things I remember are: posting letters to Father Christmas up the chimney; lugging lumpy stockings onto Mum’s bed and reaching in with lucky-dip arms; a gargantuan tree dripping with hideous bushy tinsel and two familiesworthof old pastry stars; looking for the sixpences in my Christmas pudding and hoping I didn’t get my stepdad’s false teeth (the booby prize he always put in some unfortunate person’s bowl). Then there was the drive to my dad’s to do the whole thing all over again.

After having children I became very nostalgic for these rituals and customs (apart from the false teeth bit). They seem to affirm my place in the world and to connect my children with my own childhood. But it also feels important to create new customs, often inspired by others. My attempt at emulating Nigella Lawson’s tradition of baking gingerbread decorations proved popular, but I drew the line at basting the turkey dressed in a silk negligé.

We have instigated a Christmas walk, but this seems to coincide with the aforementioned Dad-asleep-in-wonky-hat custom, so is only partially successful. I want to make a Steiner-inspired ‘Star Path’ instead of the usual Advent calendars, to figure out how to make paper snowflakes, to fill the house with the smell of clementine cake. And only time will tell if these are the things my children remember fondly. It is hard to design memories.