Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 54 Comments

Rain

And still it rains.

Oh no, another bath coming his way….

Oh no, I’m cleaning the bath and floors, again. I suspect I won’t be getting any help from him….

As that bath was being administered to Captain Chaos I again pondered life. How on earth has he got mud on the ceiling. As no one will be visiting anytime soon, does it really matter if I don’t immediately clean it off. No bathroom visitors this year, no bathroom visitors the year before. I’m not sure Santa ever uses the bathroom on his big day. That must be some bladder he’s got. I think I would be paying a visit several times in each country visited. Would take me months to deliver the presents. Anyway, will there be any visitors next year. But as my parents would probably say – if you don’t clean it then there will visitors.

So do I want visitors or don’t I….

Depends who the visitors are…. Santa won’t be here for another year.

Best take no chances, so the ceiling was cleaned. But while I was up there I noticed more bathroom cleaning duties. I really hope Santa didn’t pay a visit here. If he did then I’m clearly heading for the naughty list. So I ended up deep cleaning the bathroom. All because the mad, 63 month old pup got muddy. It’s his fault. It’s his fault I have a spotless bathroom. Spotless and still no visitors.

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Worries

There is something truly magical about a Walk in the Woods when the weather has closed in. It can be the start of so many stories and adventures.

A planned meet-up with my sister failed today. Hawklad agreed to go for it and then my sisters car went on strike. These things happen. A distraction would have been good. Just one of those days in which Hawklad’s anxieties spiked. When they hit, they hit in waves. Not just one thing, a range of things. When he gets kind of on top of one thing, two more jump in to replace them. Doesn’t matter that it’s Christmas Eve, these anxiety waves can hit at any time. They confuse his thought process. They cause him sensory overload. They stop him in his tracks.

I know what it’s feels like. I’ve been there as well.

Distraction sometimes works. Pacing about. Scooby Doo. Lego. Walks. But at some stage we have to work through the anxieties. Try to unpick them. Put them into context. Do what we can.

Slowly this time, the waves begin to subside. You can tell when he is getting there. The first signs

“Dad where is The Big Red Fella on Track Santa”

On his way to Madagascar apparently. He arrives in 7 minutes.

“I wonder just how many in England have been put on the naughty list this year”

It’s probably more a massive database than a list. You won’t be on it.

“Dad you are officially on the naughty list with that jumper of yours. Even Elton John wouldn’t wear that.”

I will have you know it’s a handmade Italian climbing sweater.

“Which they export for muppets like you to buy because no self respecting Italian will ever wear that.”

Harsh but fair….

“Why in earth is it about three sizes to big for you…”

I bought it when I was climbing in Wales years ago. My size was standard price but the garden shed size was 80% off. That’s a bargain I couldn’t turn down.

“But it’s far too big for you…”

It’s not that big….

“Dad there’s more room in that jumper than in our loft, a family of 4 could live in there”

That’s mostly down to all the weight I’ve lost on my diets…

“If only Dad….”

Ok. It is a tad big. I can change my T-shirt without taking it off. But I could give it to you. Think of it as a precious hand me down from father to son.

“Just NO. That would really give me something to worry about…..”

####he chuckled at that one, that’s a good sign###

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 38 Comments

Recharge

Another day, another one of those days……

Absolutely no sign of the sun. Unremittingly damp, cold and bleak. Our poor outdoor solar festive lights have now officially gone on strike. Switch them on and there is just about enough power generated to muster a dim flicker and then nothing.

I can’t begin to tell you just how wet and muddy I got on today’s walk. but it was still good to be outside. There is always things to see.

That is a seriously impressive Hay Snake.

Yesterday I talked about the fantastic reading progress Hawklad has made. Reading history textbooks is a real statement. But things are never straightforward. He still really struggles with writing. Getting his ideas out on paper. Here his dyslexia still dominates. His handwriting just won’t develop. His typing is laboured and inaccurate. His ideas don’t reach the paper.

He feels so much frustration when he can’t make much progress in this area. And he does feel real frustration. He can now read. He has an amazing mind and can visualise things that are way beyond me. Ask him something like to list all the British Monarchs in order, and it’s a breeze for him. Ask him who where the defendants at Nuremberg and he can name them, including the verdicts. Ask him to work out a complex sum in his head and he can do it effortlessly. Yet ask him to add to simple decimals together and he is lost. Ask him to tell the time and as hard as he tries, he just can’t. Ask him to list the alphabet and he just can’t get the order right after D.

It’s tough seeing your son get so down on himself. I feel his frustration intensely. As a parent you feel like you have run out of ideas. It’s impossible to not get down on yourself as well. But that’s not helping anyone. When tomorrow comes and Hawklad is again trying his heart out, and he will. He hasn’t given up. He won’t give up. I’m the one who needs to get going again. So that’s why those walks in nature are so important. Even in bad weather and unlike those solar lights, I do recharge. So we can try again tomorrow.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 42 Comments

Unique

Even on a grey, bleak day, there is always something to see. Always something to admire.

So many leaves on one small bush and every one is unique. How cool is that. Nature gives uniqueness a chance to shine.

Some things are hard to fathom out. Hawklad has made astonishing progress over the last couple of years. Two years ago he was struggling to read, falling further behind the class. Getting no help from the system. The attitude was that if he couldn’t read by that age then real progress was unlikely. Any help should focus on getting him used to using technology to help assist with his permanent dyslexia.

Fast forward today and he’s been happily reading a history textbook. No help required. He might need to guess the occasional word. He might read the occasional word incorrectly. But he’s reading. He’s aiming to finish the Lord of the Rings trilogy next year.

It just shows what can be achieved.

Why does the system give up so quickly on so many of our children. So much untapped potential.

I remember being told by a Psychologist of an autistic teenager who was profoundly dyslexic. She was wrote off by the school system yet she was clearly incredibly gifted in so many areas. She had a dream of learning to fly a plane. So many obstacles were placed before her. She was told her dreams were unrealistic, beyond her. Yet years later she became a qualified helicopter pilot.

Hawklad has kept believing. That helicopter pilot never stop believing. Isn’t it about time our society KEPT BELIEVING in every child.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 43 Comments

Winter Solstice

I’m sat finalising this weeks food order. Another Christmas, another one where its just the two of us. With the pandemic Hawklad has forgotten what it feels like to meet up with extended the extended family. To meet up with friends. I really have to try and make memories for him. He only gets one childhood. Fun is required. Fine food is required (that might be a problem). Christmas movies on tap. Currently he’s enjoying Die Hard. Ok it’s no Wonderful Life but it is fun.

The winter solstice. Almost sunbathing weather.

At least the horse has a coat, a much needed coat. It’s days like this that I wish we have a roaring log fire. I don’t care how warm radiators are, they just aren’t the same. Maybe it’s time for my sisters strategy. Put an old TV in the front of the blocked fireplace and play roaring fire videos on repeat all day. It does make a difference.

This weather is playing havoc with our outside solar powered Christmas lights. The daily sun count is currently enough for about 3 minutes running time. Basically blink and you miss them.

What was I thinking, solar power and Yorkshire.

I think my solar power banks must running a tad low as well.

Any sun would be nice and I mean any sun. Looking at the forecast there is zero predicted over the next 7 days. It’s not looking good for those lights, hopefully Santa doesn’t need them as landing lights. He might need to call for John McClane.

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Letters

The sun sets on another glorious Yorkshire day. The burning sun cracking the marble walkways to our glorious palm tree avenues. Sunflowers swaying gentle in the warm, dry summer breeze.

Or

It’s all a tragic fib. Another grey, misty, damp, frigid Yorkshire winter’s day. Mud everywhere. Every dog walk, covering the floors and furniture with muddy paws. Bath, after bath, after bath.

Ok, of the 3 photos, 1 is most definitely not from today……

The perfect muddy day for writing Christmas Cards and finally picking up the courage for that job….. Reading that pile of photocopied Christmas letters that are increasingly coming with cards these days. Those ‘this is what happened since last Christmas’ review letters. Holidays, failed diets, a second cousin once removed getting married, new cars, changed jobs, kitchen refurbishment and countless family portraits. If only I had the faintest idea who some of these letter stars are. Someone gave a concise history of a virus which is apparently called Covid. Then there was that letter that was just odd. Literally no idea who that family was. As hard as I wracked my peanut brain, I just couldn’t work out who these people were. Then the penny dropped. The postman had dropped off a card destined for a neighbour. Oops.

That’s 10 minutes of my life I won’t get back.

No time left to write our own family review letter. Again…. What would I write. Maybe I could just copy the letter which talked about buying that time share in Marseille then still had money left over for a skiing trip to Austria. Yes that sounds like a year review I could get behind.

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Just my imagination

Is it just my imagination but has every recent Christmas movie featured at some stage a shot of a TV in the background showing It’s a Wonderful Life. Funnily it’s never Hulk Hogans Santa with Muscles epic opus in the background……

I use the term epic opus very very very loosely.

Is it my imagination but when I am down I reach for sad or melancholy music. Pink Floyd, Leonard Cohen, Johnnie Cash. Wouldn’t I be better off putting on the magical Wonderful Life. Even in the middle of summer, I could get so much from that movie. But I guess I take after my mum. She would reach for the sad music.

There’s been a lot of music played recently. 22 months of lockdown and isolation. Now everything is pointing towards another national lockdown imminently. How can I help Hawklad rebuild those bridges when the world is this messed up. I guess it’s just about trying to help him ride it out until things finally settle down. But when will it start to settle down. I remember the talk of 2021 being so much better than the year before. How could it be any worse. Well that went to plan.

So tonight there is NO melancholy music being played. Tonight it’s time to watch James Stewart. I think it’s my imagination, but I need that movie tonight. Really need it.

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Club

A misty scene from a couple of days back. No morning walk today, otherwise engaged. Stood in a queue patiently waiting my booster covid shot. After two doses of AstraZeneca it was time to join the Moderna club. So stood in the queue about 50 deep. Three queues for three different group of needle waving awesome nurses. Everyone with masks on, carefully keeping 2 metres apart. Hundreds of people stopping their daily routine to get vaccinated. All this happening before 9am.

In the queue I stood pondering life. Does the young woman in front of me realise that she is still apparently wearing her pyjamas. I wonder what the chap in front of her has is his folder marked IMPORTANT. how life has changed since the start of 2020. Does the chap opposite me know that as he plays his game on his mobile he keeps making Mick Jagger facial pouts.

I wonder what people are thinking of me.

I pondered other things. How many of those stood patiently are struggling. How many secretly would love someone to strike up a conversation. Be social. This is a very changed world. A very more isolated and fractured society. As I watched those around me carefully maintain a sufficient personal gap, my mind wandered back just a couple of years. Remember birthday parties. Everyone tightly huddled round a cake with candles. A child or adult, probably with a streaming cold, desperately trying to blow out the candles. After failed 3 or 4 attempts, more people joining in, probably with a myriad of ailments, blowing until the candles were out. Then the much breathed on cake is quickly handed round, people sharing not enough cutlery, from person to person the cake is passed for immediate consumption. How alien does that concept sound now. Will we ever truly get back to those days. How long will we all be stuck in this endless cycle of variants and vaccinations.

Then remarkably quickly I’m back home. Back to the quiet, back to the isolation. Back to single parenting, cut off from much of this bonkers new world. It felt odd being amongst so many other people. Almost uncomfortable. Definitely not feeling like a normal experience. The world has changed. Have I changed?

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Too bright

Unbelievably it was bright sun for the dog walk today. Too bright. YES that’s a phrase you don’t here in connection with Yorkshire too many times. TOO BRIGHT. Not in terms of the usual weather and also not in terms of the competitors at the local Shin Kicking tournament. That’s going to get my Yorkshire Passport taken off me……

The light was too bright for my mobile. It produced some weird lighting effects. Normally I would just delete them but this time, no. The results are kind of rainbow cool

See it’s one of those Yorkshire Super Highways with rainbow special effects. Maybe we should keep them.

School sent an email out to parents this afternoon. In line with Government instructions, masks will still not be enforced in school as nationally schools are deemed safe. In line with national instructions , pupils will be issued with covid test kits to use over Christmas to ensure that schools are adequately protected when they reopen. Unfortunately the test kits are not available as supplies have run out. School understands that kits won’t be sent to them in the foreseeable future, potentially well after the next school terms begins. Any test supplies available will be prioritised to other areas.

Feels like the school holidays can’t come quick enough.

Well at least the sun is shining. Hopefully shinning for most of the holidays. Pupils in school and those at home deserve a great break. It’s been a grim and anxious time for all of them.

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Trails

Paths in the sky. Never thought vapour trails could be a thing a beauty.

A pandemic forced a change of education path for us. Classroom schooling became school at home. The living room became the classroom. Not true homeschooling as school still provided the lessons. Sometimes the whole class was off, often it was just Hawklad. That’s gone on for 21 months now. 21 months and counting.

Over that period the idea was ultimately a return to the classroom. That’s what Hawklad wanted. Repeatedly Hawklad decided he wasn’t ready to return.

He’s still not ready to return.

Deep down I don’t think he’s going to feel able to return anytime soon. That’s not just my view. The medical opinion is a return to school is now unlikely before his final exams in 2023. Hawklad is starting thinking of a return to the classroom but that might not be until he potentially starts college in 2 years time. If he returns before his exams then that’s a bonus. It’s when Hawklad feels it’s the right time.

The question now is what do we do up to his exams. It’s looking like the school at home project is a path with many miles still to walk.

So