I was asked about if our son was any closer returning to school. This is his fourth week at home since the school returned full time. Well two things from today really paint the picture.
First an email from school advising that the school had now had its second confirmed case. This time a member of staff. Apparently the confirmed cases so far are not considered to be linked. A small number of individuals have been asked to isolate for 14 days and the school remains fully open.
The second was a conversation with our son. His words need no more elaboration.
“Dad Igo into meltdown if the bedroom window is open. In fact I can’t even touch the window handle to close it. I just can’t go back. Can’t go back for some time to come.”
And there is our answer in a nutshell. At present government ministers are telling parents to ensure there kids go to school as it’s perfectly safe and is in fact our civic duty. To not do now apparently makes you a bad parent, someone who is not acting responsibly. Must get those words on a T-shirt.
I will continue to act irresponsibly and avoid doing my civic duty. Our son will return to school when he is ready to do so, when it is safe and when he is comfortable doing that. Until then – Viva La Revolution…..
At Ellen’s suggestion, theThemeisthe wittiest message inside your next anniversary card. (And, coincidentally, happy anniversary to her and her husband!)
The Lengthneeds to be short and sweet and easy on the ink. Let’s keep it under 122.5 words.
Rhymesare a popular and catchy way to sell greeting cards, but it’s not a requirement for this contest.
The Ratingcan be PG-13or cleaner (please avoid cussing).
The years have been kind to your sweetheart …or, maybe not. Either way,make him/her laugh. They’ve put up with you this long, after all…
You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (October 9) to submit a poem.
As I am old fashioned and as it’s a great excuse for hiding my complete lack of poetry talent – I will stick to terrible poetry. See Terrible Poetry still lives….
If I get an anniversary card from my partner these days then it is the stuff of Ghost or the Twilight Zone. And a few years back if I received a 122 word message in my card it would either be a shopping list or divorce papers. Only joking. My partner would always write the sweetest messages. My messages would normally start with either ‘sorry it’s late’ or ‘I thought we had an anniversary last year…’.
So sorry this card is late
So sorry I’m a bit overweight
I thought we had an anniversary last year
Do we really get them every year, my dear
Just 122 words is perfect for a food shopping list
Or divorce papers which I have chosen to miss
I’ve really got no idea why you put up with me
Especially as I’ve just spilled coffee over your settee
Captain Chaos is carefully guarding his new great tasting toys.
That Apple Tree needs a serious trim. I had a go today. Managed to fall out of the tree. Bruised shoulder but the fall ended with a fabulous forward role which was perfectly landed. The boy has still got the moves…..
School definitely still has some moves. Sadly not always great ones.
We are in the early stages of a long road trying to manage and help with our son’s serious anxieties. Anxieties about illness, unclean things, viruses and diseases. It’s so easy to tip him further into the realms of excessive hand washing and isolation. Yesterday started off heading a little too close to the rocks. News broke that the small local cafe had to close as two members of staff had tested positive for the pesky pandemic. I’ve managed to keep that from him so far. I can imagine his reaction to the thought that the pandemic was only a couple of miles away.
So while I was managing the news – SCHOOL got to work. Firstly an email was sent to him letting him know that the virus had arrived at the school. Then we got to the Food Technology lesson. All about poisoning, bacteria and viruses associated with food. James was asked to research the main offenders, the symptoms and the associated health risks. So now food has been added to his worry list.
A rather cheesed off email was sent to school…..
And today in Science it was all about diseases. The class being asked to research childhood diseases and viruses. Further they were asked to look at the risk of inherited medical problems.
Why do I always hear Spock’s words to Captain Kirk whenever I try to do yoga.
“It’s life Jim but not as we know it!”
It’s yoga just not as we know it. That sums up my yoga talents perfectly. I do try. I guess it’s like my parenting as well – it’s parenting but not as we know it. Anyway back to that instrument of torture which is yoga. I’m part of the Yoga with Adriene App community. She’s really really good but even she can’t sort some people out. This person out. But at least I can laugh at the many times I lose balance and then hit the ground.
Like most things in life, we have to find our own way.
The last ME/MUPPET guide to yoga went down so well and it guided so many lost souls to yoga perfection – well then clearly you need another one. Again I will be assisted by some brave and fearless (mostly) mini lego figures. I will be played this time by Shaggy. Bizarrely the rest of the yoga group are Star Wars characters.
First point is that it’s so important that you get yoga mats, leggings and blocks that are the right size for you. Anything other than a perfect fit could lead to injury or worse, embarrassment.
A perfect fit for a yoga block
Remember to place your mat next to people who have similar abilities to yourself. In my case I tend to look at for certain key signs in the other yoga attendees. Badly fitting gym clothes, a few spare tyres round the middle, scrapes and bruises to the knees, bandages on the elbows, squashed nose and a slightly bemused look.
Perfect person to be next to ?
Be careful if you get your selection wrong then it will only ever end in disaster. Some people are better equipped to do certain yoga positions than others…..
Motorised hips, no arms and no knees make the crow pose so much easier.
Remember it’s a badge of honour to be the only person in the session standing on the wrong leg repeatedly.
I’m on the correct leg everybody else is wrong…
There will come a time when you will be asked to do a one legged dancer’s pose. Don’t be fearful, embrace it. Especially when you find out your the only person in the room who can’t do it.
Can you explain that move just one more time….
Breathe deeply. Struggle onto one leg. I find swearing really helps. Then as gracefully as possible try to headbutt the floor. You may get a sensation something equivalent to five neutron stars exploding in your hips. That will be the correct Dancer’s pose. A certain feeling of lower half detachment may follow.
That hurt…..
The other important tip is to embrace the journey you go on with the instructor. At the start of the session he or she may seem the nicest and most kind person you could ever hope to meet. In my case Adriene’s words are like a warming blanket, settling deep inside my soul. Then the true journey of discovery begins. After about 10 minutes your instructor will start to talk about ‘nice detoxifying hip openers’. At this stage you will now start to view the instructor as more akin to a prison guard, barking out instructions with the threat of a gun.
Do as you are told…
Your yoga journey will be complete when your instructor tells you to adopt the crow position so you can be ‘truly grounded and at one with the earth’. At that stage you will see the instructor as a predator, a carnivore about to feed on your lifeless and broken carcass . Don’t worry this is completely normal and just means that you still have 5 minutes to go before the session has ended.
Only 5 minutes to go before you have been properly tenderised.
I hope this has been of some use to you. Remember your body is a temple. Probably in urgent need of a preservation and restoration order. You can do this. NAMASTE….
Time passes. It keeps on passing. A wander round this small graveyard provides proof of this. Many of the once proud gravestones are now weathered beyond recognition. Time passes.
Five years ago I had just driven to the crematorium to pick up my partners ashes. They joined my mothers ashes on the sideboard. At that stage a real urge to get on with laying my those two precious spirits to the earth. Definite external pressure for this. I remember listening to one so called expert talk about it being unhealthy for society for people to linger on those who had left us. Maybe that’s the hidden message there – it might be ok for the person grieving but it’s uncomfortable for everyone else. Anyway it seemed like the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
Within weeks I had scattered mum on her family grave. I remember it so well and I have already wrote about a bizarre memory from that experience. I was alone in the graveyard. As I started to clear some earth away, to my side I noticed a little squirrel. A squirrel apparently doing the same thing on a neighbouring grave. Was it a case of burying nuts or was it a burial. It made me smile, two souls getting on with important stuff, maybe the same stuff, almost happy to have company there. Mum would have loved that sight.
Now time to get a move on laying my partner to the ground. Partly in England and partly in Switzerland. A bit of a logistical nightmare. I secured the paperwork to allow for the transport of ashes overseas. Ready to begin.
Five years later…..still waiting to begin.
Now I worry. Have I left it too late. Have I missed the window of opportunity to follow my partners wishes. Being a single parent and with son’s Aspergers, European travel is a nightmare – feeling like it gets more problematic every year. No similar excuse for the English sites. But it just didn’t feel right. Should I really put our son through more grief when he was still so young. No right or wrong answer here. We all need to do what’s best for our close ones and ourselves here. Unfortunately just like most things, just like European travel for us, it seems to get more daunting the longer it goes on.
Have I missed the best time to do it?
That feeling is making feel very anxious at present. Will we ever get round to doing what we have to do? Was life really supposed to be this vexing…..
After 36 hours the rain finally stopped. How long before the broadband dries out enough to start working again? My poor mobile and it’s dodgy 4G signal are having to try and take up the strain. It’s struggling.
Strain is a quite a good word for the day.
I was trying to do my Sunday morning yoga. My online yoga expert Adriene is always very calm but even she sounds strained when she keeps freezing due to signal problems. Yoga is definitely not without stress when I keep having to try and reload the app as it’s crashed. It’s also a strain when you try to keep balanced when a dog is trying to lick my face and the big boy cat is trying to use the yoga mat as a scratching toy. Yoga is supposed to be a good fit with life. It does feel that way. Today trying to hold a position which is supposed to be good for me. Actually the longer it goes on it feels less good and more a strain.
Strain….. Trying to be ahead of the curve and get Hawklads Christmas presents sorted early. This year will not allow me the fun of Christmas shopping in the local city so its online only. I worked hard to come up with 6 ideas. Unfortunately 5 of those are already out of stock. Maybe others are further ahead of the curve than I am … Shopping strain.
Strain…..Not being able to find my bank card to pay for the one Christmas item… Bank card strain.
Strain….. Finally finding the bank card but then nit being able to find my glasses to read card numbers… Eye Strain.
Strain….. That’s now three weeks without any feedback on work Hawklad has submitted. Is it even been looked at?
“Dad what we should do is for one subject not submit any work, rather we should send them a few screenshots of FIFA20. See what happens!!!!”
I’m so tempted to let him go ahead with his experiment. Maybe this week. It’s frustrating as it does look like it’s school at home for at least the next 3 months. Clearly unless the school is forced to shut and go full online tuition then things aren’t going to improve. This is it. It’s something but far from perfect. Will keep pushing school but I have a sinking feeling…. School strain.
Strain….. Trying to clean the kitchen and bathroom floors……. Knee strain.
Strain….. Trying to wash the house windows…….. Elbow strain.
Finally the thought of trying to get these words uploaded via the mobile. Not being able to easily read the posts I want to read. WP strain.
Sometimes you need help. Help with routine stuff. Something like Broadband. So Saturday brought a broken service. Our broadband doesn’t like rain. Certainly doesn’t like 14 hours of solid rain.
No service, no internet on an afternoon is not going to cut the mustard with a teenager. So it’s time to make the dreaded call to the BT helpline. One hour later I finally speak to a human who then decides to play me some more annoying music. Another hour later I’m handed to a service engineer. Having explained the situation in some detail to the expert he agreed to look at his system. After 20 minutes of much tutting the expert told me that the service was ‘not optimal‘. When I told him it was in fact ‘not working’ I never did get to hear his response. Rather an automated voice kicked in to inform me that the department was now closed and would reopen again at 8am on Monday. Don‘t you just love service…..
So we have resorted to my very patchy mobile signal as our broadband option. It kinda reminds me of what it was like a few years back with dialup internet. How did we survive.
This is a little tree which is close to our house. It sits at the side of the farmers field which backs onto our garden. It’s close by as a couple of my garden football shots have nearly hit it….. In the years that we have lived here it has never grown. It just seems to lean over a little further each year. I know how it feels…..
So many questions today. So many school work queries.
“Dad what are your thoughts on Gladstone‘s and Disraeli‘s political reforming achievements. They didn’t go far enough and do you think their colonial record negated what good they did do?”
“Dad what do you know about DNA structure and it’s impact on identical and fraternal twins?”
“Dad how would you write the mass of the earth in standard notation?”
“Dad in Animal Farmwhat does the character Moses represent and his relationship toSoviet history?”
“Dad have you ever studied John Agard’s poem FLAGS. Is it about the dangers of patriotism?”
“Dad I can’t get my head round French Verb Conjugation. Can you explain it to me?
As any self respecting parent would do I looked suitably vacant and thought wishfully back to the questions about which was my favourite Tellytubby. I was good at those questions.
Chestnuts are ready. Shame about the angry armour they leave behind.
Maybe I could do with some angry armour. It’s actually very possible given the advertising I’ve been receiving recently on my iPad. If I say angry armour enough then surely the Skynet computer system will flag up angry armour and then it’s adverts about sale offers on the latest Hulk Busting Ironman suit.
In this modern every situation is a selling opportunity world I understand the need for targeted advertising. But really can it be a little more, what’s the words I’m looking for – pigging accurate.
If I was targeting me then I would send adverts about decaf coffee, sleep inducers, heavy metal cds, gym kit, parenting guides, Pet Hair removers, Newcastle United footy shirts and muppet memorabilia. Guess what!!! Over the last month not one single advert received on any of these things. So exactly what have I been targeted with….
Adverts for international holidays to every country except the only one I write about every Sunday.
Stairlifts – we live in a bungalow.
Hunting clothing – I’m a veggie.
Swimming costumes – I can’t swim.
Gas Fires – the nearest gas main is 15 miles away, we can only use electricity and home heating oil.
Ornamental elephants – why?
Online casinos – never once done any like that but I have watched Casino Royal.
Prefabricated office space – why?
A home delivery service which is not available in our area, in fact the nearest location the service covers is 150 miles south of here.
Garlic oil – garlic sets my IBS off.
Sports Bras – we are a male only household, what is the point – just a minute, actually…….
Snooker tables – not played in 30 years.
Wine offers – I’ve been tea total in over 6 years.
Farm machinery – bit overkill for our little garden lawn.
Ornamental Storks – why?
Prams and baby walkers – no chance of babies here.
Makeup – Looking at me in the mirror I need cement.
And wait for it – a weeks advanced cooking course………
Is it me or am I just missing the point. They must have a very odd view ot me. Maybe tomorrow I get the chance of my angry armour.
Ever got the urge to keep opening those gates. To just keep walking in one direction. To see what you find. No boundaries. No limits. To be free.
One day I will walk to the next stop.
Now if I packed enough egg sandwiches and tins of Pepsi!! then I will eventually arrive at the city of a Hull on the North East Coast. If I have been very organised and packed my floatation rings then it’s next stop Amsterdam.
What’s the next stop on the school at home journey?
I think Hawklad is now starting to realise that a return to school this month is out of the question. His fears and anxieties are not going to be overcome within weeks. So now he is starting to look at January as the next window of opportunity. So it’s looking like another 3 months of school at home (at least). We will continue to try to stick with the school teaching schedule. Cover the subjects they teach. Use whatever teaching materials they make available. If they don’t then we won’t lose any sleep over it. That’s more time for him to try and relax. To try and enjoy life. It’s often easily forgotten that too many are losing out on huge parts of their precious childhood. It’s not all about formal schooling and meeting government targets.
So be it. We have got this.
It’s completely his call. He decides what the next stop is.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 