Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 62 Comments

Kielder Forest

Finally we got a break in the weather. Yes it is feeling very autumnal but it is so much better than the rubbish we have had over the last few weeks. So we seized the opportunity for a trip. Son is trying to visit 12 new places this year. That is such a big commitment for him. Especially as these are completely unplanned and unscripted visits. To avoid undue anxiety or even a meltdown we usually micro manage and completely script every trip.

So we sat in the car at 6.30am with a healthy packup. Crisps, Coke, Cakes, Waffles, Chocolate, Coffee, IronBrew Lollies.

Ok Dad where are we going

Absolutely no idea son. Looking at the road outside our house. Left or Right?

West

Ok clever clogs, left it is then. We did this for 2 hours until we found ourselves North of Newcastle. Beautiful and very remote Northumberland.

Looking at a Road Sign. It’s decision time. Is it Scotland. Is it a bit of Potter at Alnwick Castle or is it Kielder.

The Potter Castle will just be too busy. Scotland needs to be a longer trip. I’ve always fancied a bit of Kielder. Have we got time to do the Forest and the Lake.

We have as long as the Troll doesn’t eat us on the bridge.

An hour later we were walking through Kielder Forest. It is the largest man made woodland in England with 75% of its 250 square miles covered by Forest. It’s a wonderful place. It is definitely Conifer, Spruce and Pine heaven. It’s also one of those places where the car parks are full yet you never see another human. Feels like you have the place to yourself. Which is brilliant for our son.

Son also had time to launch into a tirade at our so called government. He was not happy that they had turned down an application to reintroduce Lynx into this area. Let’s hope the second application is successful. Not had these creatures in the UK for over 1300 years.

The small minded, money driven losers. They sit in their mansions, driving the earth killing sports cars. Behaving like modern day Feudal Lords. I bet if they do reintroduce them they would find a way of hunting them for sport. Well I think we should let the animals hunt Boris and his Sheriffs of Nottingham’s. That would help the planet. Dad last year they told kids to stop protesting and get back to learning. Well why doesn’t the Government get back to running the country.

I would have said the same but with many more bad words included. Good job one of us has good manners.

Going to split this post up into three parts. It’s a proper lads road trip. The second will feature Kielder Water and a bit of aviation. The third part will go very Roman with a bit of Game of Thrones feel.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 96 Comments

That’s how it is

Just seems such a waste. Such a beautiful flower and yet it’s in our garden so it only has an audience of two. But that’s how it is.

He is so caring. When his class had the last day in the old school one of the girls cried her eyes out. The only one to go across to her and ask if she was alright was our son. Yet because he is on the spectrum he must be unfeeling and cold…..

He brain is far more powerful than his Old Pops yet somehow I went university and he is seen as being low attainment.

He has a love for scientific enquiry yet that counts for nothing as he can’t accurately hand draw a plant cell structure or spell correctly common science words.

He can create awesome self contained worlds with detailed mythologies, politics and cultures. Yet because he can’t construct a grammatically correct postcard he is written off.

He can forensically debate historical details yet because people assume that he will never read a textbook he is not encouraged to foster that subject love.

The education system has written off his reading as something which won’t develop yet he can read and send texts without help. He is told to just get used to using a reading pen yet today while watching the Justice League he read the sub titles almost perfectly.

He is not part of the in-group of kids who live and breathe football. Yet he can talk for hours about football stats. Relive the sports greatest moments. Can talk for hours about the minutiae of Team setups and tactics.

He can be so relaxed, so astute and so naturally funny. Yet only I see this. It does seem such a waste. But that’s how it is.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 85 Comments

Lonely

Two days ago it was 34C and cloudless. Today we are back to jumpers, rain and mist. Again the weather matches my mood.

Today I am missing my partner more than usual. Maybe it’s because we are starting to approach the fateful anniversary. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s 2 hours sleep last night. One thing it is most definitely not to do with is our son. As ever he is the shining light. The only thing that keeps me going.

So as he is watching ScoobyDoo and the Witch’s Ghost my mind is wandering. Not only am I missing her so much there is something else. I am still enjoying parenting today but I’m not enjoying being a single parent today. Does that make sense?

  • Nobody is there to tell you that are doing some parenting thing right or wrong.
  • Nobody is there to give you a hug.
  • Nobody is there to give you that knowing smile.
  • After son goes to bed nobody to snuggle up with to watch a movie.
  • Nobody is there to share a quiet moment with.
  • Nobody is there is ever to make you a cup of coffee.
  • Nobody to cover while you pop out for that bottle of milk or a bag of flour which you have just run out of.
  • Nobody to calm me down when I am about to throttle the hoover as the belt snaps again.
  • No more holding hands.
  • Nobody to share that special moment together when our son does something magical.

Don’t get me wrong parenting is still the most rewarding thing I will ever do. Maybe I need to write a post about the upside. It is the best gig in the world. Just somedays it’s a bit tougher than usual and certainly more lonely than I envisioned all those years ago.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 90 Comments

Patience needed

Again a bit of a shout out to the Yorkshire Wildlife. News of my oh so slow mobile phone camera focusing system has got out. Another kindly soul hung upside down long enough for a focus of sorts. Thank you.

As son was happily perched in front of the TV watching a Pokemon movie I took the opportunity to take the pup for a walk. Hence the photo above. It was a short walk, no more than 15 minutes. When I got back home son was not there. Clearly he had gone looking for me. Before I could get out of the door he returned. He has gone looking for me in his bare feet. That indicates the level of the panic attack.

That’s why the school holidays will be based around me and my shadow – or better the other way round. He lets me into his world and that is the coolest thing ever. Now brief solitary dog walks are out then its unlikely we will be separated over the next 6 weeks. I suspect many parents will experience a similar feeling.

Opinions differ on the future. One of his Paediatricians said

“He will eventually grow out of this clinginess. In a few years you will have to face getting your life back on track”

However one of the best clinician I have come across (unusually a caring expert in autism) argued

“He may learn to have a level of independence. However I think the balance of probability is not heading in that direction currently. You should prepare for a life long parenting commitment.” – that was when we had two Parents and two Grannies (now it’s just me)

For me this raises 3 fundamental issues

  • What’s the Plan B if something or when something does happen to me. It’s not a straight forward problem as my brother and sisters are at least 10 years older than me. Practical options are a tad limited.
  • As he gets older the minimal support he gets from the state will disappear. Sadly that’s just how it is. It is not viewed as a priority. Let’s face it – clearly it’s not as important as something like funding tax breaks for the rich. REALLY. As a society we should be better than this.
  • Everyone is different and I have come across examples of wonderful individuals on the spectrum who are successfully keeping down full time jobs. But the evidence suggests that a fundamental problem all too frequently exists. Many on the spectrum struggle to keep down full time jobs. I have seen stats which indicate the Autism unemployment rate can be as high as 85%. Some will be fully dependent on full time help for life. Those parents are unbelievable heroes. I am in complete awe of you and the daily sacrifices you make. I have read a number of Aspergers stories recently of people who have developed levels of independence and who have tried to work. The message was hauntingly similar. Countless jobs started well but they started to struggle with time keeping, office politics, social interactions and multitasking. Office small talk was alien to them and they became isolated. Eventually they became ostracised or the butt of colleague jokes. Employers seemed oblivious to the issues surrounding autism in the workplace. Anxiety and Depression kicked in, sick days started then the job was gone. Cast adrift again in the alien world without any support.

Every person is different. Things can work out well but they can clearly also go badly. I need to get my head around this and start preparations now. This could be a lifetime project. Which brings me to one last thought. Last week someone said to me

“Your still relatively young. It’s such a waste. You just need to get through the next few years then he will have his own life and you can start living yours again.”

Currently that outcome is not part of my plans. Years ago I had personal dreams but now they are gone. They went with my partner. I’m here now to do a wonderful rewarding job and I will give that my best shot. In the end that’s what any decent parent would do.

  • Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 75 Comments

    Ricky

    Meet Ricky the newest member of the gang. He’s made an appearance before when he started burying his nuts in the lawn over winter. But now he has started coming for his lunch. Happily feasting next to the birds. He (or she) will be a welcome friendly face going forward.

    We are just over a week from the start of the summer holidays. Six weeks of immersing myself in our son’s world. It truly is a privilege. A wonderful mind trip. Happy parent.

    I bumped into a parent from his current school. They have the holiday mapped out. Immediately they break up they are going to a music festival for the first weekend. Then the kid is going on a football course for the first week. Then they fly out for a two week beach holiday in a popular Spanish resort. They come back and then the kid is off camping with the scouts. A couple of trips to fun parks and family barbecues are then followed by a family week in Paris Disney.

    Asperger/Autism summer holidays can be very different to this. Ours is. For a start we are limited by finances. Our summer holidays are long periods of house lockdowns briefly punctuated with carefully selected trips to places without crowds. This means early day trips to places like Zoos – trying to cram as much in as soon the venue opens and leaving as soon as the crowds start to build. For his favourite zoo that means arriving at 9am and probably leaving around 10.30am. Trips to the cinema will be to the 8.30am screenings. Locations will be carefully planned so that he feels comfortable there. Walks will be in very remote and largely unvisited areas.

    A trip to Switzerland would have been an option (he is comfortable there and the journey is familiar having done it a few times) but we just can’t afford it. Plus he is more comfortable going during quieter periods – April/October. And we haven’t tried it since his mum left us – will it ever feel the same.

    So our summer holidays will be quiet and largely cut off from the outside world. That would worry me in the past. The real danger of becoming increasingly introverted over those weeks and losing any social confidence which I had struggled to build up. This year it doesn’t really bother me. Yes I might become more introverted but its not as if I have a full social diary. Introversion and isolation is the new me. I can focus on our son and see what adventures we can weave – I’m sure Ricky will play some part as well.

    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 · 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 · 87 Comments

    Soulless

    That pesky grief monster sneaking up on innocent folks again. Should be a law about that. On sorry I forgot our Government ceased being a viable legislative body two years ago. Still we can look forward to Johnson or Hunt now. OMG. One is a self serving buffoon who dresses up outrageous racist comments as free direct speech. A man whose middle name should be dishonesty. The other is a man who forgot which country his wife was born in (supposed to be our Foreign Secretary) and who wilfully wrecked our NHS.

    So no help coming from the Government any time soon then.

    I was having a 50 minute walk – can’t believe how much I miss my runs. Tired but been worse. Then out from a side path a couple emerged. Holding hands and clearly so in love. Suddenly waves of grief and remorse smash me into the ground.

    That was us a few years ago…

    We should be still holding hands today…

    Those days have gone…

    Suddenly I feel very tired, very old and very broken.

    It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

    An hour later I’m back at work but basically I’m going through the motions. My heart is trapped in a different year. It’s unlikely that it will be released. I feel soulless, yes that’s the word, SOULLESS. Just an empty shell. Just focus on that one job – give our son the best childhood possible. That gives me a purpose. Something to keep me going.

    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”