Things I wish I knew when I was 18

We made it. Our beautiful baby girl grew up despite us, and turned 18 this week. We decided to write her a list of all the things we wish we knew when we were her age, and I thought I'd share it with you.

 1. You can only take one step at a time.

 2. Bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people, for no reason at all.

 3. Don't wait to follow your dreams.

 4. Be brave enough to be giving and forgiving.

 5. Use white vinegar to get the smell out of anything (even under your arms!)

 6. Appreciate your beautiful body, don't wish and waste it away.

 7. Always wash and pee after sex.

 8. Strive to be conscious of your decisions and choices – never do anything because 'everybody else' does it or it's what you were told.

 9. There is always a choice. Always. Sometimes it's a very hard choice, but it's always there.

 10. If you leave your socks in the boot of your car for long enough, they get clean again.

 11. Money is important, even when you don't want it to be.

 12. Resist oppression from the start. Don't wait and see.

 13. Pain is nothing to be frightened of.

 14. Buy your own condoms. Use them. Wrap them and throw them away, don't flush them.

 15. You don't have to be anything, or do anything, just try – and keep trying until you find out what you love.

 16. In a relationship, sex is like talking. Keep talking.

 17. Like your job, love who you are with.

 18. Cooking is both science and art. Apply your knowledge of both.

 19. Don't let being afraid stop you from doing what you want.

 20. Drink plenty of fluids every day. I know you hear this all the time, but listen this time. ;)

 21. Never go to sleep or leave each other angry.

 22. Remember how fiercely you are loved and keep that with you always.

 23. You brought light and infinite love into our lives. We are better people because of you. Just by living, breathing, smiling, laughing, you changed the world to make it better. So whatever you do, wherever you go, whatever you become as an adult, know that you have already achieved as much as you have to. Anything wonderful that you do from now on counts as bonus points to the universe. Bearing that in mind, you are free to strive to do a tiny, wonderful thing every day. Maybe it'll be a phone call or a social media message to someone lonely; or a smile for someone who looks sad. Perhaps you'll make someone laugh, or create something beautiful, or make someone look pretty; maybe you'll introduce two soul mates, or future change agents, or the leaders of a movement that will affect the future of everything. Maybe you'll make history by refusing to give in to a tiny piece of oppression, like not moving on the bus; or perhaps you'll make history by beginning a revolution. You might invent something incredible, or give someone who needs it a hug. You could ask a question that begins an avalanche of social change; or one that helps one person understand their world a little better. Any one of these things has equal value in the grand scheme of things, because you can never, ever know how a tiny, wonderful thing will turn out. What is important is to do the tiny things, and try to recognise the tiny things that are done for you; and be thankful for both. Be thankful for what you can give; and be thankful for what you receive. This is the secret to happiness.

 I'd love to hear whether you have anything to add (or take away?).

Motherhood Rocks (and Hard Places)

There's nothing like your daughter having to keep a food diary to make a mother conscious of her parenting skills (or deficiency thereof).

This is the situation in our household. The twelve year old is baffling the experts with her inability to recover from CFS/ME. They make us record her every activity, from the time she goes to bed to the amount of outdoor time she gets a day. We have to balance rest time with activity time, create opportunities for her to socialise without wearing her out and keep her from being overrun by small, boisterous and adoring cousins. We keep records of how much she sleeps, how much time she spends on the computer and how much time she spends wearing herself to near collapse just by breathing in and out at school.

This time the OT came to visit, she couldn't fault our regime; and yet the small one was across the table from her, propping her slumped form up by sheer politeness, mumbling her replies because opening her mouth too wide was exhausting. We must be doing something wrong, but what?

Then the idea struck - perhaps she isn't getting the nutrition she needs? She is a twelve year old vegetarian who won't eat vegetables, after all. So to find out, guess what? Write down every thing she eats in a day. For three weeks. Sure. Why not?

I happened to be working from home today, so I could keep a close eye on what she ate. But that also meant I was responsible for proving that I do feed her a balanced diet, and while I know I offer her a range of foodstuffs, as I may have mentioned before, she will only eat three.

Breakfast was easy, because the only thing I had to feed her was eggs and bread. So eggy bread, and because They were watching, half a banana. She loved this combination, so that was a good start. I didn't mention the icing sugar she smothered her eggy feast with - was that wrong? Oh well, there's only so much humiliation I'm prepared to take.

Lunch was a bit of a challenge, as there really wasn't much left to feed her. I settled on Quorn for protein, noodles with soy sauce and sea weed for carbs and minerals and half a frozen corn on the cob for vitamins (well, they contain some) and fibre. She ate the Quorn. And the seaweed. And one third of half a corn on the cob. Do the maths.

So by the middle of the afternoon, she's starving, and manages to persuade me that because her throat hurts so much she must have ice cream. Look, I was trying to get some work done, OK? And then she had 3 pieces of chocolate. Down it went on the list, in her own handwriting - proof of my incompetence in black and white in a Hello Kitty notebook. Sigh.

So, supper time. Determined to get something right, I turn Mother Earth and raid the kitchen cupboards for the ingredients for lentil soup. I was really proud of my creation, I thought it was delicious:

Take an onion and a bunch of left over broccoli (stems and all) and soften them in some olive oil. Add some garlic crushed in sea salt, then throw in a can of tomatoes and a cup of red lentils. Splash in a good dollop of red wine - for the antioxidants, of course - some tomato puree, your favourite stock and a pinch of Italian herbs. A little brown sugar will round out and soften the flavours. Simmer until the lentils are done, and whizz in a blender. Yum.

'What's that Mum? It looks like puree.' Not good - even the 15 year old thinks I'm trying too hard. I enthuse about how absolutely delicious my soup is (it really is). I serve it to the young one with sliced white, which is the only way she will eat soup, somehow spoons and hot wet stuff do not equate in her mind. And to entice her to bulk up her diet, a breaded Camembert, as cheese is one of the 3 things she'll eat. Sometimes.

This is what I've written in her food diary:

• Homemade lentil soup - 4 mouthfuls (and this took all my powers of persuasion, which obviously are not strong)
• two thirds of half a slice of bread (they can do the maths)
• the breadcrumbs and one fifth of a breaded Camembert
• two chewy multi-vitamins

Maybe it is her diet. It sounds bad, doesn't it? And this is only day one. By the time I get to week three, and I'm back to feeding her egg fried rice every day of the week, I'm going to die of shame and embarrassment. But somehow she keeps growing, and I've had to buy her a new wardrobe twice in the last year. She is slim, but perfectly proportioned, and her hair and nails grow so quickly and ferociously they could have a wardrobe of their own. And if I make her anxious about what she eats, her CFS/ME will get worse.

Rock over here, hard place over there.

That's motherhood for you.