Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 36 Comments

Earplugs

Keep getting asked about the edible ear plugs that appeared in the last post. The Earplug incident happened last year and was mentioned in the Vampires post.

Basically on the way back from a concert I got the munchies in the car. Tried to feel around for a sweet and came across something promising. Unfortunately that promising sweet was our son’s freshly used ear plug. Very chewy…

Laughing about this with our son this morning. Then we decided upon an invention to prevent this unfortunate incident happening to someone else. Why not have ear plugs that automatically self destruct when you take them out. Mission Impossible have been using that tech for years. What could possibly go wrong…..

Then son pointed out the obvious. Why stop people eating earplugs … just make them edible.

So off we went. What food could we use as temporary ear protectors.

  • Carrots – maybe the miniature ones could work. They might even do a bit of ear wax removal at the same time
  • Blueberries – right size but a bit squishy
  • Bake Beans – good size but maybe a full tin might be a bit of overkill
  • Smarties – would melt surely
  • Jelly Babies – maybe one or two ethical issues
  • Bread pieces – wouldn’t last two seconds with the local Seagulls. Plus I’ve seen Hitchcock little family movie – Birds….

Then son killed off the debate. Why don’t we just use miniature marshmallows. Same shape, same size and so much cheaper than ear plugs. When we see Kiss let’s see if we try them out.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 79 Comments

Moody

Moody skies. In the distance a Buzzard is being chased off by two Crows. That sort of distance shot is way beyond my old mobile.

I keep saying it but grief is really pesky. It likes to sneak up on you. Even after more than two years it still does. Of all the sneak attacks one always hits the hardest. It’s when you momentarily forget what has happened. You only need to forget for a few moments and then wham – grief slaps you in the face.

The same thing has happened time and time again to me. I’m driving towards our house. I look up and see no car sitting on the drive. I immediately think that I’ve beaten my partner home today. That means I can ….. Then it hits you. She’s gone. It’s the most soul destroying feeling. Absolute desolation. The shock literally takes your breath away. You then have to enter a house which is so full of memories. It really does take quite a while to get yourself back on an even keel.

It happened again today. No car on the drive. Beaten her home. I can get the housework done before she’s back. Maybe even get a mushroom stroganoff on the go. Her favourite. Then it hit me. Bugger… Even with a mad dog the house seemed really cold and colourless. So empty. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But it is. Got to make the best of things. Just have to accept that grief is the new reality. But I can keep going. I try to see grief as sitting by the seashore. Sometimes the tide comes in. Often the waves are tiny and you hardly notice them. But every so often the tide comes in with force and the waves crash over you. It’s a full on storm. But I tell myself to breath and eventually the tide has to retreat. It really has to. And I do realise that I am so fortunate. I have a purpose to drive me on. Give our son the best childhood possible.

But still I could try and hire those two birds in the photograph. Maybe they can keep watch for grief and then chase it off when it comes hunting. That really would be something to crow about.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 98 Comments

Oh come on…

Stood watching the sunset. Two thoughts crossed my mind.

One… what a stunning sunset. Developed without warning and only lasted a few minutes. It’s the sort of sunset that would have made my partner so happy.

Two… bloody hell my fingers hurt.

You get towards the end of the school year with the once extensive school uniform reserves drained to drought levels. Down to one of each item and they have seen much better days. Sizing is probably about two sizes to small and really they are just a collections of holes held together by a few resilient fibres. Just got to make them last two more weeks. That reminds me – I had better start saving for next terms uniform replenishment. Bet that’s cheap!!!

It maybe only two weeks but you can almost see what’s left of the clothes disintegrating in the air. It’s time for drastic action. It’s time for emergency patching. Unfortunately sewing comes as naturally to me as veganism comes to Donald Trump. I am useless. Always have been, always will be. Up to two years ago that wasn’t a problem. My partner loved darning and out would come the sewing box with such glee. My mum was also an expert in the dark sewing arts. Those days have gone now.

So now it’s down to me. Houston we have a problem. So out came my partners sewing box. A result a couple of useable patches ready to go. How hard can this really be. So a fine looking needle was selected. Several different types of thread to go for. Helpfully each has a number 60, 70, 75, 80 – what the hell does that mean – is it size, age, weight, tensile strength. Let’s go for 60 as it’s black. We then start to put the thread through the needle eye. T***, f***, s***, b******, buggerations. I might as well of been trying to give a cheesed off Honey Badger a haircut. One hour it took me, one hour of my life wasted on that instrument of torture.

Then I started to attach the patch to the trouser knee hole. The sodding thread falls out of the needle. So we start again. Two coffees later we have a needle and thread ready to go again. Now the needle won’t go through the patch. What is it made of – bullet proof armour. Eventually I punch through but with so much force that the needle eye has embedded into my finger. Blood everywhere. After a plaster has been applied I continue. Not once, not twice maybe six times the needle struggles to get through the patch but once through it passes through my finger skin with such ease. In the end my fingers resembles Spongebob Squarepants’s backside. Holes everywhere.

But finally the job is done. The patch is secured and doesn’t look too bad. Quite pleased with that. THEN. Oh for f*** sake, oh come on!!!!

In hindsight it might not have been a great idea to push the needle not only through the front of the trousers but then through the back of the trousers as well. Great work. Now the left trouser leg is completely sewn tight at the knee. What’s the kid supposed to do – hop to school, pirate style.

Don’t think badly of me. After I unpicked the stitching I decided to stick the patch on with superglue. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain.

So yes it’s a wonderful sunset but my fingers are so much more redder…

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 56 Comments

Breathe

It’s Sunday so it’s time for a bit of Switzerland.

The Alps are one of the worlds greatest mountain ranges. Certainly not the tallest but they are big enough. Especially when you get close up to them.

But what they do have is a magic. A special atmosphere.

A place where it’s still possible to feel small. Humble in the face of nature.

A place where you feel a million miles from our vast urban sprawls.

Somewhere you can reconnect and just breathe.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 69 Comments

Roses

The rose I bought for my partner just before she left us has sprung into life. Wish she was here to see it.

I finally shamed myself into sorting out the garden jungle. Maybe not immaculate but certainly almost passable. Suddenly we have flowers and roses. I had forgotten how many roses we bought before the world changed.

I remember the day we finally got our son’s medical diagnosis signed off. It was a bit of a journey to the Hospital so we stopped off at a garden centre for something to eat. They had an offer on roses and I bought one – think it was the deep red one.

We didn’t know for sure that we would get things signed off. Had so many false dawns. The diagnosis journey had been a nightmare and beyond frustrating. Finally we were lucky and came across a really good Consultant.

He added to our son’s medical record official confirmation of Aspergers, ADHD and DCD. When I asked what the hell DCD was the Consultant smiled and said something like this

“Its the new fad abbreviation and current hip term for Dyspraxia. If it’s OK I’ve used Aspergers rather than Autistic Spectrum. We are supposed to stop using the term Aspergers but not on my watch. I suspect it will always stay as Aspergers on his medical record. If it does change it really won’t have any impact. It’s just Semantics. He is also Dyslexic. In the old days I would have added that to his medical record today but I am not allowed to now. The diagnosis has to come from Education now. Unfortunately that is like getting blood from a stone. It’s a disgrace”

He explained that you can get Dyspraxia on its own but normally it normally coexists with other conditions. Frequently with Aspergers and Dyslexia.

Today he is sometimes listed as having Aspergers and sometimes Autism. Sometimes he has DCD sometimes he has Dyspraxia. At least we have agreement on the wording for ADHD. Whatever the terminology the various strands interlink and makeup who our son is.

Six years later and we are still fighting Education on the Dyslexia diagnosis. That is the one strand which we see as a limiting factor. It holds him back. The good Consultant has retired and our fight goes on.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 101 Comments

Yoga is not good for you

I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing. My new Yoga dvd arrived yesterday . So I eagerly tried to open it so I could see my stress levels tumble off me. Unfortunately it had been cellophane wrapped by Superman. Eventually I managed to slice open the wrapping and my thumb with the kitchen knife. Good start to my yoga career.

After applying plaster to cut thumb put yoga dvd into player and get an error message. Invalid dvd region – note to self seemingly very heavily discounted US disks are discounted for a reason here …. So onto the internet to find the code to unlock all regions on the player. Sods Law dictates that of the 100 models listed for our well known brand of Japanese Player ours is the one that is not listed. After randomly trying codes for many minutes I stumble across one that works.

The first solid piece of advice provided was to select a cd of some of your favourite music which you can play while following the routine. Do you think Motörhead would work….

So I started… 10 seconds later the phone rings. My sister.

10 minutes later we un pause the dvd and off we go again…. 1 minute later the doorbell rings. Do I want to buy some freshly caught Whitby Cod. Every few months the same bloke comes round trying to sell his so called fresh fish. Given we are 40 miles from Whitby I suspect the fish was more likely caught from the local Quick-E-Mart.

Few minutes later settled on my back in the bridge pose. Maybe pulse starting to fall…. unprovoked dog licking attack to the face …. dog banished to another room, face feeling distinctly tainted.

2 minutes later we again un pause the dvd…. and 2 minutes later the phone rings and keeps ringing. Another sister.

15 minutes later we try again…. we just settle into the cat pose when the doorbell rings again. I try to ignore it but then there is a knock at the window. Look up to see the Postman waving. After accepting a parcel for next door I officially give up more stressed than I started.

That is not what the DVD promised.

That is not what Yoga promised.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 54 Comments

Says it all really

Had to complete another report today about our son. It’s amazing given the number of reports we have had to do that they don’t ever seem to get any easier to write. Maybe it’s just me. Anyway today’s report featured some interesting questions

When did you first realise your son or daughter may have autism?

That’s an interesting question as I don’t think we ever had that one eureka moment when we suddenly realised he was on the spectrum. It was more of a drip feed type of realisation. If we are looking for one point then maybe when he was 5 and the first medical professional said that we should start the process of getting an official Aspergers diagnosis. One confusion – when we started the process Aspergers and Autism were listed as separate life long conditions. Now most agencies have dropped the term Aspergers. Son quite likes the idea of having a condition which doesn’t officially exist anymore.

What initial behavioural signs led to your belief that your son or daughter had autism?

Strangely we didn’t have a checklist of symptoms to work from back then. We didn’t have a clue on what we were supposed to look out for. It’s only when you look back that you see the clues. In our case we had several apparently independent clue strands that we should have brought together and bagged under a heading ‘potential Aspergers’.

  • Repeatedly lining toys like cars and animals up in perfectly straight lines
  • Initial slow development of speech
  • But when speech started a sudden extensive vocabulary developed but with underlying problems with pronunciation
  • Flapping hands when excited or laughing
  • Not able to sit still
  • Fixation on specific objects or toys
  • Delayed walking and crawling
  • Excessive clumsiness – that might be my genes….
  • Refusal to wear socks and shorts

But what confused things was that up to the age of 4 he had no problems with making eye contact. Plus he had many many friends. He loved playing in groups. He did have sensory issues relating to his hearing but they were being examined as a specific ear issue. He has never shown any sign of a lack of empathy.

It was only from the age of 5 that his symptoms seemed to heighten and suddenly combined with becoming completely withdrawn from the rest of the class. Rather than being in the thick of play he would stand completely by himself. Additionally his specific ear issues were ruled out and the focus moved to looking at sensory overload. Yes he started to fall behind at school but that was probably the initial impact of dyslexia.

How well do you feel the education service has supported your son or daughter?

They only left 3 lines to answer this question. I asked our son and he said that 3 lines is more than enough to write ‘PANTS‘. So that is exactly what I wrote. I suspect I might go back to this and elaborate a little more but part of me hopes that I stick with the original response. Says it all really.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 50 Comments

Sherlock’s Yorkshire Canon

Last night we sat down to watch a couple of episodes from the wonderful Sherlock TV series. One of which was the Hound of The Baskervilles. Or as my helpful word checker wants to autocorrect to – the Hound of the Basketballs – that would be a slam dunker of a book. It is the episode where Holmes and Aspergers are specifically referenced. When Lestrade talks about the great detectives awful people skills Watson specifically mentions Aspergers. I could see no apparent reaction from our son.

However later the following was said

“I know it helps explain Sherlock’s character and his abruptness with others. And it’s kinda nice that the we get a hero with autism. But people will start to think that we are all brilliant, unfeeling and very very odd. Definitely psychotic. One day we will get a character who is just in the middle.”

He is so right. It’s called a spectrum for a reason. Labels just don’t fit. The media focus on the extreme ends but hardly ever look at the middle. But that’s the media and entertainment for you. It’s like when we crashed into the world of single parenting, single father parenting. I remember having a similar conversation

Why do so many movies and TV shows depict the single dad as a suicidal drinker obsessed with dating sites and clearly unable to cope with at least one wild child who has gone bad and needs saving.

Currently sat here with a herbal tea and listening to classical music. That’s not going to make for an interesting movie. Anyway back to Sherlock. We sat enjoying the episode when two thoughts struck me.

ONE: Sherlock was one of my partners favourite TV shows. We are watching her DVDs. She should be sat next to our son enjoying the experience. Life is not fair.

TWO: Looking round at the room. It’s a mess. She would kill me.

So this morning before the dog walk into the strangely blue skied Yorkshire countryside I had a major cleanup. Even put the Sherlock DVDs neatly back in the box. Then on the walk I almost could here her voice saying ‘stop taking so many photos’ so I only took the one this morning. Rather than snap away I looked at the view, imagined a demon hound stalking Dartmoor and I wondered what a Yorkshire themed Sherlock would sound like.

Ferret of the Baskervilles

A study in rhubarb

A scandal in Barnsley

The adventure of the missing Yorkshire Pudding

The adventures of the crooked Lancashire man

The adventures of the Yorkshire Terriers Main.

As much as I love Yorkshire thank god Sherlock was based in London.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 91 Comments

Grounded

Getting older is great for your body. I wish I could have my body from when I was 30. Hang on it was buggered then, just dislocated my shoulder playing football. I wish I had my body from when I was 25. Hang on I had just dented my rib cage playing cricket. I wish I had my body from when I was 20. Hang on I had just cracked my skull open playing rugby. I wish I had Thor’s body from before the Endgame.

Playing contact sport is basically bad for you.

Since the world changed I have focused on our son. But that is not completely sustainable. You do need to find time for yourself. If only to help manage stress levels. My anchor has been fitness and home workouts. Thirty minutes a day as a minimum. It worked until I realised I needed to stop myself becoming completely housebound. Couldn’t afford a gym so it was running. Again it worked well. But then the buggered body caught up with me again. So until a physiotherapist can have a look at me I am banned from running and weightlifting.

So the two things which have kept me sane over the last couple of years have suddenly become unavailable. Hopefully temporarily but you never know.

So I need to find something – a new anchor. But what? Climbing but that is far too risky and we are short of mountains round here. Cycling and walking would be good options but time constraints limit their appeal. Maybe not a sport then. Shockingly it might have to be a hobby.

  • Yoga – good for stress but I have the balance of a drunk three legged mountain goat
  • Dedicate time for reading – that could work, keep moaning about not reading enough
  • Write a book – possibly a cook or baking book….
  • Astronomy – time at night is a premium plus this is Yorkshire otherwise known as Cloudsville.
  • Birdwatching – another possible option and might meet others (even if they have feathers and a beak)
  • Learn another language – the nearest classes are many miles away and learning languages other than English will probably be outlawed after Brexit
  • Photography – only available camera is on my battered many years old iPhone
  • Gardening – who am I kidding, I am a plant mass murderer
  • Gaming – certainly not stress relieving
  • Painting – even messed up a paint by numbers Mona Lisa
  • Learn to play an instrument – would find a use for that keyboard I bought our son as a present, the one he asked for which apparently was supposed to be a gaming keyboard
  • Knitting – my knitting skills are only matched by my baking skills
  • Tree Shaping – we only have two small trees
  • Extreme Ironing – far too dangerous for me

So many options to ponder over. I will find a hobby. I have to if I’m going to pull this single parenting gig off. Asked our son and he helpfully suggested

“Does sleeping count as a hobby”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 64 Comments

Not what I was expecting.

Walking down the same muddy path through the wet forest. Thinking my feet are going to get seriously wet going through the trail undergrowth. Note to self – must replace my 4 year old trail running shoes now the waterproofing acts more like a sponge.

Then a vision. I have finally gone mad. Am I seeing a little car parked on the path. A once clean white car now caked in mud. No apparently not as a couple are stood next to the car with a map.

“Excuse me can you tell us the way to Pickering”

By car of by foot?

“By road we got a little lost”

You do know this is a footpath and not a road.

“See I told you Phil but you wouldn’t listen”

“But the Sat Nav told me to come down here Judith”

Well for a start you are going to have to reverse back to the road.

“Are you sure but the Seat Nav is telling me to continue”

Well you could for another 4 ft then your going to hit a wall. After the wall it’s thick woods then farmers fields.

“But the Sat Nav is saying this is a B road”

To set the scene we have middle aged man pointing in the direction of that photo. Clearly that is where his Mythical road is heading. But he won’t accept that what faces him is a wall and oblivion. The woman is clearly about to murder said middle aged man.

Trust me you need to reverse the mile down the path. When you get to the road. And you can tell it’s a road as it has road markings on it. Then turn left. Head another mile and you will some to a junction with a sign pointing to Pickering.

“But the Sat…”

“Phil just shut the f**k up and listen to the young man. Get in that car and f****g reverse or so help me I am going to kill you.”

I like Judith increasingly – young man…. and with they got back in the car and started to reverse. When I say reverse they got stuck in the mud. So followed 30 minutes of following the car and with repeated pushes finally Phil and Judith made it back to the road network. I have had my workout for the day and I now resemble Rambo. Unfortunately I suspect Phil is so dead…