The One Where I'm a Mum

I think we can all agree that being a parent can be very rewarding. I think we can also agree that parenting is sometimes very difficult. All with me so far? Fantastic. And I think that a lot of people will say that the first couple of years are incredibly taxing, if this is your first baby, you alternate between terrified and horrified and if it's your second or more, you probably alternate between being tired and more tired. I can't comment on that, the whole prospect was scary beyond belief.

Now I'm a mum of a 12 year old, so I can tell you how much easier it is now, how we've got through the worst, and it's all plain sailing from here on in.

I can tell you that, but I think mummy bloggers are supposed to do it with integrity, and there's as much integrity in those statements as there is in the X-Factor.

In the last week before half term, son had a bit of a disagreement with his best friend at senior school. They've been stuck together like glue for the entire first year, although they're both part of a larger group of friends. They socialised out of school, evenings and weekends, phoning each other about homework and suddenly it's all stopped. As the mum of a 12 year old boy, I can tell you it's pretty difficult to get to the bottom of a story, I'll be entirely honest, it's sometimes difficult to get a "hello" if they're playing on a computer game.

This time though son was unusally forthcoming, which gives a little pause for thought. You wonder to yourself if they're telling you a very elaborate story to cover something else up, like detentions, or drug smuggling charges. And of course I only have one half of the story, which I won't bore you with or risk libel charges, save to say it had something to do with a lunchtime football game and goalkeeper gloves.

And my first instinct was to think how could the other boy possibly fall out with my son? He's lovely! People would beg to be his friend! My second instinct was to charge round to the boy's house and demand to know what was going on, and not leave until they'd made friends again. Maybe talk to his parents, get them to make him make friends. Perhaps get something in writing.

Of course, I didn't do that. Not just because it was a fairly cold night and the dinner was in the oven.

Because you have to let them make their own way, more and more, every single day. You have to watch them grow up and grow away, hoping they'll always stay close. And that's the hardest thing of all.

I'd love to tell you the whole parenting malarkey gets easier, but there's only one part of it that does, especially if you've got a boy. They've always, always got their eyes glued to a PS3 game or a film or the laptop.

And it makes it easier to hide your heart when it breaks, just a little.