Paige's Ten Year Update.

On the 26th of April, Paige turned 10!

Paige is: Energetic, kind, intelligent, funny, sarcastic, artistic, hyperactive, sensitive, outgoing

Paige likes: Adventure Time, Shopkins, collecting rubbers, drawing, making PowerPoint presentations, Disney Infinity, being grown up, cycling, playing outside, watching YouTube, doing make-up/nails, Harry Potter

Paige dislikes: Tidying up, Turkish Delight, spoiled or mean people, being bored

When she was nine, Paige: Discovered a love of reading, performed Thriller at her sharing assembly, moved to higher groups in maths and literacy, gained new friends, learned about sex (!!!), had her hair cut to shoulder length after years of growing it, gained her Bikeability Level 2 certificate, became a young woman before our very eyes

Michael's Three Year Update.

On the 5th of April, Michael turned three!

Apologies for the quality of this video. It was done on a really rubbish programme that made me make everything tiny. His fourth birthday video will be awesome, I swear!

Michael is: Loud, passionate, strong, stubborn, hilarious, witty, intelligent, kind, empathetic, happy

Michael likes: Elsa, Paw Patrol, choosing his own name each day (usually either Mikey, Mooster or Smellsa), pretending to do magic, Peppa Pig, singing, dancing, making people laugh, playing dress-up, complimenting people, saying 'I love you', family, sausages.

Michael dislikes: Anger, bedtime, broccoli, saying goodbye

When he was two, Michael: made us laugh again and again. Began potty training [and seems to have basically finished now he's been three for a few weeks]. Stopped being anxious in the mornings. Speaks like a big boy. Knows his own mind. Enjoys art. Made best friends with Tilly the puppy. Learned to sing.

A Letter to my Children, from your Introverted Mother.

Dear, My  Children.

An introvert is a person who feels more comfortable when they are on their own. They charge their batteries by spending time alone and they feel happier in quiet places, living life at their own pace.

A child is a person who tends to surround themselves with chaos. They charge their batteries when sleeping and then wake up full of extreme energy. They feel happier hanging off Mummy's leg, making as much noise as possible and living life at a fast pace.

Mummy is an introvert. You see my problem.

It didn't start when I had you. It actually started before you were even a thought in my mind - it has been part of who I am since the day I was born. I was the child who would ask if I could go to my friend's house while shaking my head frantically at Granny (my Mum, of course), whispering 'say no!' while covering the mouthpiece of the phone. I was the child who could spend an entire afternoon riding her bike around in a car park, content with pretend conversations in her head rather than the hassle of having to pretend I knew the right way to have conversations with other people. It was never personal, and it isn't personal with you: I'm just not good at being around people.

When I am around people, I feel like a superhero who is getting weaker and weaker. My energy drains and I need to shut myself in a quiet room and recharge before I am able to have the full extent of my powers. As my powers get lower, my mood does too: I have a short temper, I snap over little things and I end up curled into a ball sobbing. I know that must sound familiar to you, and that breaks my heart.

I spent a lot of time thinking that it meant I wasn't a good Mummy. I could handle you when you wanted to curl up beside me and watch a film. I could handle you when you wanted me to plait your hair or paint your nails. I could handle you when the two of you got along. But then you were loud or you bickered. Layer upon layer of noise sapped me of my energy. You clambered over me when I wanted not to be touched, and then the dog jumped on me, and then the cat, and then you got right up in my face and made a loud noise because you thought it'd be funny - it was too much.  I told myself that my inability to handle you when you were loud and obnoxious meant that I was a bad mother. I joked with your childminder that I was a bad mother because I was happy for you to be with her while I spent a day at home enjoying the silence, because it wasn't just overactivity that I found myself unable to cope with, but sometimes even being around you and your energetic vibe.

Sometimes Mummy needs to sit alone in the bedroom because the air is colder in there, and the room is darker, and when I am in that environment I physically feel my tension fizzling away. That doesn't mean I don't love you. Sometimes Mummy takes five minutes to lock herself in the bathroom, squatting in the corner of the room and holding the lock so you can't turn it from the outside. That doesn't mean I don't love you. Sometimes Mummy needs to take a deep breath before opening a door to prepare herself for you because you're a bundle of energy and noise and I'm not very good at processing those things at the rate that you produce them. That doesn't mean I don't love you. Sometimes Mummy wants to rush you off to school, snaps at you to just give me five seconds of silence, runs from you when you touch her: none of those things mean I don't love you. They are just part of who I am and, unfortunately for you, have become part of how I mother.

I have gone to counselling to try and control these aspects of myself but ultimately, being an introvert is not a mental health problem. I'm not a bad Mum, I'm just a different Mum. I'm the only Mum I can be. 

A Mummy is a person who loves her child unconditionally. She wants her children to feel happy and loved. She wants to teach them to be good grown-ups. She wants to spend every second of every day soaking up the love of her child.

Mummy is an introvert. You see my problem.

Let's make a deal. I will manoeuvre myself around your lives, ensuring I get that precious silence that is vital to me in order to be a good Mum. I will arrange our lives so that there is minimal stress, as little interaction with third parties at one time as possible, and I will recognise my triggers and take breaks when I need to. And you just be you. Because you're awesome at it.

All my love, Mummy

Birthday Wishlist - Age 10.

Paigeypops is turning 10 at the end of next month - that's right, double digits! She's obsessed with Adventure Time these days, and is having an Adventure Time disco with 20 of her friends. Other than that, she has spent this year sewing bits and bobs where she can on her sewing machine or immersing herself in the world of Harry Potter - a world I have long hoped she would begin to enjoy. To reflect these loves (and her first love, Jack Skellington) her birthday wishlist this year is full of bright colours and her love of crafting. Enjoy!

1. Adventure Time encyclopedia // 2. TNBC dress // 3. Oliver + S sewing book
4. Harry Potter stationery kit // 5. Finn hoodie // 6. Oookelele // 7. Adventure Time Monopoly

Birthday Wishlist - Age 3.

Michael's birthday is in two weeks, and my special little man is about to turn three. THREE!! He is completely and utterly a person in his own right now, with his own likes and dislikes, a sense of humour and the ability to hold a conversation about his life outside of our home. In a way it sucks; once upon a time I was this boy's world, and now his horizons are broadening. But the blow is softened by what a cool and kind little person he is becoming. I genuinely enjoy spending time with him, just chatting and making jokes. That's a pretty cool thing to be able to say about the kid that you essentially taught to be a human.

Mooster isn't actually getting presents from us this year; instead we've decided to surprise him with a two-day trip to Peppa Pig World. He is going to be psyched. But he's got a sibling, lots of aunties, uncles and grandparents he needs to inspire on the present front this year, so I've put together a list of things that are made of awesome when you are 3.

1. 'The Hive' playhouse // 2. Tri-Skates // 3. 'Peppa Pig' fairground game
4. 'Be Kind' book // 5. 'Dinosaur Train' books // 6. 'Charlie Brown' bus and figures

Mother's Day 2016.

This morning my special little guy and I took a little walk to the park to get some photos together. They're not the most polished or professional, but it was me, a toddler and a timer function in a park with no tripod. We did okay and the pictures are super special to me anyway.

Sharing Assembly.

Well, since I blogged about Paige's sharing assembly last year, I figured I'd go for it again!

Guys, I was so impressed with how well she did. She had a couple of speaking parts and she was clearer than so many other children - and opted not to look at her notes for one of them. They performed a dance routine to Thriller, which I did capture on video but I won't share on here because it features other peoples' children. Honestly, I don't think I'm biased here - girl got skillz. She's got amazing rhythm and it was so awesome seeing her commit to a role. I bring up the notion of dance or drama classes/clubs every so often but she just isn't interested unfortunately. Perhaps as she gets older she'll be more interested in the idea.

It lasted probably an hour before we had to rush off, but we did manage to get a picture! We were pleasantly surprised to see her Mum's boyfriend there with her, and we took a picture of the three of them together, then they returned the favour. It's really nice to see him beginning to make an effort and I hope it continues because Paige really deserves the best of the best.

She read a sample of some homework they'd done, and we heard about all of the things they've learned; letter-writing, science [learning about whether or not something is soluble], and a whole host of other things. As always, the best part is never what she learned: it's seeing on her face how proud she is of herself.

Well done, Paigeypops! We love you!

Stuff and things.

I've been feeling totally lousy for near on a month now, catching one infection after another since having my tooth removed, and being totally run down - hence the blogio silence. All the spare energy I've been able to muster has gone on the children, work and university work; James and I have been passing these illnesses back and forth so we're just trying to prop eachother up enough to carry on, picking up eachothers slack when it's needed.

The super annoying thing is that I've been desperate to get out and get some pretty outfit pics taken, I've got a bunch of ideas for the blog and I haven't had the energy to do anything about it. I have the odd day of feeling good. I've been trying to go to uni as much as physically possible (four hours of travel time a day is literally painful when you feel like this, so some days I have put my health over my studies I must admit) and in one brief illness interlude I was even able to meet up with Daisy, Tanya, Sharon and Kerry for a pancake breakfast of a Sunday morning. I was too ill to play with Mikey in his first experience of snow, and it looks set to snow again this weekend when I am yet again too poorly to run around and play in it. But hey, I'm alive!

I've got a handful of assignments coming up and its been SO hard to focus on any reading when your head is throbbing and there's a toddler whining in your ear. The work/life balance is so hard when you're a student with children, especially as I am doing a placement, working from home and also taking part in the URB@N project this year, and its only going to get harder. I've been trying to say 'yes' to the kids more, instead of blowing them off because I've got much more boring things to concentrate on. Just this afternoon Michael asked me if we could do some yoga together, so I decided to just go for it and actually it was quite fun (and I was impressed with his skillz!). My chest didn't thank me, but Michael did. I need to keep reminding myself that that's what matters.

Dealing with Anxiety in Children.

I have noticed a recent increase of traffic on my posts regarding Paige's anxiety problems - a background check here and here - and, remembering how difficult it was to find any resources when we were in the pit of this problem ourselves, I thought it'd be helpful to put together some of the old tips and tricks we tried.

I'd like to point out a couple of things first. Obviously, if your child is suffering badly then please consider professional psychological help. Paige was at the stage where she was having panic attacks and not eating, and changing schools was just the first option - if the problems continued, we would then move on to a child psychologist because we knew that the problem was her, not the school. On to my second point though - it turns out it WAS the school. She is still a child who worries and over analyses things, and we will always keep an eye out for triggering situations and signs that she is beginning to obsess just that bit too much, but since moving schools we do not face the same problems we did previously. We have been very lucky. So these techniques are not things that we use today, but they are things we have tried in the past and had relative (but not complete) success with. Remember, these are coping techniques and not solutions. Also I am not a professional. These things worked for my family, they might not work for yours.

The worry story.

We used to have Paige tell us two stories. First, she would tell us the worry story. An example of hers would be: "I will get to school. I will find out there was homework I didn't know I had. I will have to tell the teacher I didn't do it. I will be in trouble and be humiliated." ... We would then say "Okay, that was the worry story. Now let's decide what the true story will be". In that situation the true story would be "I will get to school. The teacher won't have set secret homework and not told me about it, so there will be nothing to get in trouble for. I will have a good day filled with playing with my friends and no reason to be humiliated".

Educate your child on anxiety.

We felt like it was really important that Paige understood what anxiety was (in terms she could understand - she was 7 back then), because we didn't want her to feel afraid of her body. We explained that all humans have a fight or flight instinct, and that when we have anxiety our bodies are trying to run away to safety. We explained that it wasn't a negative: it was about her body looking after itself. We explained that it happens to grown ups too, including me, and that her worries all came from 'what if' thoughts, not physical things which could hurt her. It was so important that she knew that we understood and that we didn't think there was anything wrong with her. Her body was already out of her control, and she didn't need to be worrying about what we thought of her too.

Personify their anxiety.

This was a technique we read about, which Paige didn't actually find useful - I thought I'd share it here for parents of children who it may help. The theory was to make their anxiety a character. Give it a name, draw a picture etc. It would make it less 'unknown' and scary, and also they could say "Clive is talking to me again" (if they decide their anxiety is called Clive. Not that I'm sure why they would). Paige didn't really 'get' this one, because I think it was too hard for her to believe that it was a person, but I can totally see why this technique could help a lot of children.

Write it down.

Honestly I'm not sure if this is a good one or not. Our problem was this: Paige would get home from school crying. She wouldn't eat. She would be screaming on her bedroom floor until 10/11pm when she finally passed out. She wouldn't eat breakfast. She would cry on the drive to school and then physically be pushed through the door while the teacher pulled. So, for us, just getting her to do normal things like eat, sleep and go to school were our priority. For this reason, we had her write things down. I understand that this can be another obsessive trait so it's obviously one to be careful with, but we had her write pros and cons for her day, as well as list the things she needed for school the next day and the things she was worried about vs the things that would actually happen (using the Worry Story listed above).

Face your fears.

This was the hardest one, but the one we had to keep doing and doing no matter how much she told us it hurt her. There were mornings Paige would make herself vomit so she could ask to stay home, and she would say hurtful things when we forced her to go in. We had to remember that avoiding her problems would be more damaging, and we had to remind her repeatedly that we were sending her to school because we loved her, not because we hated her.

Have your child involved in change.

We realised that things wouldn't change without a huge lifestyle change in our case. Paige was being bullied, the teachers were very unsympathetic and kept telling her to just get on with it; this was clearly not the place for her. So we talked about how to change it, decided to find a new school for her and had her involved every step of the way. We de-registered her from her old school and had her home educate for a month while we visited local schools, bringing her with us each time. As luck would have it she fell in love with the first school she saw, which was walking distance from our house, but we made her view others just in case. This way, although she was very nervous on her first day and went back to crying and worrying, she knew in the build-up it was a school she loved and by her third day there were no tears whatsoever. We found a school with emotional mentors for the children which has been fantastic. Your child is feeling out of control and it's so important to give them as much power in managing their own anxiety as you can.

To finish, I'd just like to say that although I have titled this post 'Dealing with Anxiety in Children', there's no reason that you can't try these techniques on yourself. Best of luck!

11 Ways I Am A Terrible Mother.

I'm not what many would call a 'natural' mother. Sure, I love my kids, but parenting didn't come easy to me. I didn't breastfeed. I used the 'cry it out' method. Exclusively those two things don't make you lazy but heck, if I see my kid choking I give it a second to see if he can figure out how to fix it himself before I jump in and fish it out. My parenting style has generally been to love them, to feed them, to hug them and anything else is on an "only if I REALLY have to" basis. I have now decided that I refuse to believe I'm the only one. Lazy Mums (lums?!) of the world unite! Here are 11 ways I suck at being Mum. No judgies.

I am a huge fan of the idle threat. When I say I'm counting to five, you'd better believe I'll be counting slowly. If I actually have to get up and do some parenting when I get to five, I WILL be mad. And I am currently going between phoning daddy and phoning Santa at least daily. They are much more scary than mummy.

I have never cut my son's nails. I don't know, I guess they're so flimsy they just fall off when they're ready. But Jay told me a story about cutting Jelly's nails when she was a baby and nicking the skin and it bleeding and bleeding. And because of that story, Moo's nails have never been cut. Hopefully he just magically learns to cut them himself and I never need to do it!

Sometimes I put Moo down for a nap just because I have shit to get done. I can't be the only mum, right? "I KNOW you're not tired, darling, but mummy scheduled two hours of revision* for today so just go to bed and watch a film". Yup. I also use Netflix as a babysitter sometimes. *Gilmore Girls

I totally have a favourite child. The favourite child is whichever one is pissing me off less that day.

I have lied about the time to make bedtime earlier. The worst part is Jelly is 9 and doesn't even check the clock, she just goes with it. Whoops!

I laugh when my kids fall over. I'm not talking "I check if they're okay and then I chuckle", I'm talking I straight-up piss my pants and IF I notice any blood or tears I half laugh, half mop them up. Sorry, kids. Mummy thrives on the comedy of your failures.

On that note, I've actually filmed my children throwing tantrums sometimes. I'm not really sure why...

I'm a moody Mummy. If I want to read "7 reasons you should be more patient with your kids", I think they should shut the fuck up and let me do it. Come ON, kids! Mummy's trying to ignore you!

I am fully aware that raising a child is not a competition, except that it is and my kids are winning it for me. Did I mention my two year old is fluent in German, Portuguese, Russian and Bulgarian*? *all a total lie. But didn't I win at parenting for just a *fraction* of a moment?

I'm one of those parents who SHAMES their children out of bad habits. IS THAT YOUR FINGER UP YOUR NOSE? I will bellow in Tesco. Yeah, my kids hate me. Grotty little buggers.

So let's have it, fellow lums. Do you suck too? A terrible admission shared is a terrible admission... Well, that I can laugh at. Do you feel like challenging me for my throne?

Pre-Teen Chores

One of our biggest difficulties raising Jelly has definitely been teaching her to take responsibility for her chores, and I wholly blame it on clashing parenting techniques between her two houses. While at her Mum's house Jelly may be asked to do some chores, but her Mum doesn't feel it is fair to put that kind of pressure on a nine-year-old. We whole-heartedly disagree. In this home, we all pitch in to our family home, allowing us to carry on with a good work-ethic and a sense of pride in ones own possessions. 

We attempted to set up matching chores at each house a year or two ago, and it was just a disaster. If she didn't complete jobs at her Mum's house, she was given the money anyway as "its not her fault I didn't remind her", so she became quite happy to skip the money we were offering in order to receive money from her Mum and not lift a finger all week. We tried taking money away completely, we tried taking away her technology, she just didn't seem to care. She's only here half the week, and half a week is easy to wait out if you get to do what you want for the rest of it. It's so hard to instil values which are contradicted completely at the person's other home.

So here we are, in a situation where Jelly has been doing two jobs a week (folding socks every Saturday and making tea/coffee whenever we ask), and has not received any money from us since some time last year. Her birthday and Christmas gave her a bump in cash, so she hasn't felt the sting of going without, and unfortunately the complaints about just how much she is made to do at our house for zero reward are getting more and more frequent. It pains me to say it, but her work ethic sucks right now. But by the end of this summer, it won't.

Yesterday we had a conversation, where she told me she would like to try to earn some money. So we struck up a deal and I explained that it's very similar to what I do as a freelance worker, in the hopes of having her connect it with feeling grown-up and like she has a real sense of the value of her work. Here's the thing: I'm a workaholic, but that doesn't mean I love to work. It means I love to earn. Nothing feels greater. So I have drawn her up a price list. She knows how much each job is worth and the frequency of work is (aside from a few once-a-week jobs) entirely up to her. She is literally choosing how much money she will earn every week. The rules are: we don't remind her to do the jobs, we initial each job to agree it has been done properly, she works out the total and presents it to us (kind of like an invoice) for immediate payment at 6pm every Saturday. Suddenly she is given the chance to take responsibility, basically to own her own finances - I'm really hopeful that she's going to take this opportunity and run with it. Time will tell!

Our suggested chores for a 9 year old: fold socks [once a week], 50p. Tidy bedroom [once a week], £1.00. Tidy craft cupboard [once a week], 70p. Tidy drawer [once a week], 70p. Feed and give cats water, 10p a day. Put own laundry away, 60p. Make bed, 10p a day. Dust shelving, 30p,

In the Revision Pit

Oh man, I am the worst blogger. Mostly because I am never here, but also because whenever I am here I 'accidentally' migrate across to eBay and buy whatever pretty wedding things I set my eyes upon. It's a sickness, I swear to God.

But now I'm here and it's just to talk about being buried alive by revision, really. I've got a work deadline that came and went so I intend to make use of the bank holiday tomorrow to finish that off, and then my first exam is on Thursday which is a little bit scary. I have revised enough to feel like I know what I'm talking about for three subjects, I haven't yet started on the two subjects I have exams for the week after that. I'm worried if I start looking at other subjects I'm going to forget the things I 'know' for my first three exams. In fact, in an anxiety dream I had last night I ended up sitting in an exam room for one module and writing an extensive essay that I was really proud of... For the wrong module. 

I was intending to work on a revision techniques post for my fellow reviskateers (that was shit) but technique number one should almost always be 'don't stop revising to write a blog post nobody's ever actually going to read' so I've had to talk myself out of that one. I might write it in the summer and schedule it for next exam season.

So it was just a quick one today to say yes, I'm here, no, I don't ONLY talk about weddings. Jay is busy finishing up his computer game as his big end of year assignment and it's looking AWESOME so I'm really excited to see the finished product. The kids are good, Mooster had his 2 year check up and we were told he's a little on the chunky side (more to love!) but that there are no concerns, he's either on track or ahead of it. Jellybean is having her BFF over for a sleepover tonight so I'm just hoping it stops raining by tomorrow so they can get outside on bikes or something and not drive all of us crazy! I don't remember being that loud when I was 9. My mother would DEFINITELY agree... ;)

To Jelly, On Your Birthday.

Jelly,

You were my first. You were the one to teach me that the love between a parent and a child is unconditional. You taught me to be a Mum in my heart before I became one naturally, and I'll always owe mine and your brother's relationship to you. We have our challenges like every mother and daughter do, but at the beginning and end of each day you kiss me and tell me you love me and that is what matters.

As our relationship has progressed you have stopped referring to me as your Step-Mum and gleamed with pride when people describe me as your Mum. You'd fight my battles if I'd let you; your empathy knows no bounds and you'd do anything to ensure other people are happy before yourself. As you grow you are learning sarcasm and wit, and you are cutting and brilliant with it. You're reaching an age where you are curious, we can have candid talks, and you're not old enough yet to resent time with your family which I consider a blessing as the clock ticks you over into your final single digit. I love your humour and your vigour. The world amazes and excites you and I hope you never lose that spark. Don't become jaded by time and heartbreak because, my dear little Jellybean, it is unavoidable but if you have been raised right you are equipped to deal with anything.

Jelly, today you are 9. You love: Monster High, Adventure Time, being outside, riding bikes, doing your make-up, playing on your phone, your best friend T, playparks, getting muddy, your family. You hate: spiders, arguments, stew, rainy days, having your hair brushed.

Before you turn 10: you will be my bridesmaid! I will legally become one of your parents, although we both know I've been one for a long time. While you were 9 you gained confidence at maths and moved up two groups this year so academically, you've already done more than enough! I want you to enjoy reading like I did at your age - because sometimes imaginary worlds are the best places to stay safe. We will be outside every day of the summer, getting our knees muddy, eating picnics and exploring to your heart's content.

Happy birthday, Twinkle

Your Dad, your brother and I love you with all our hearts xxx

To Moo, On Your Birthday.

Good morning Little Moo, and Happy Birthday!

Today you are two, and there could not be a Mum who is prouder than I am. You were born at 9.15pm on the 5th of April 2013 in Bedford Hospital and I didn't see you until the middle of the night some time, when they popped down to let me have a look at you before ANTS arrived to take you off to Addenbrookes. I don't remember your face (Mummy was on a lot of drugs...) and I'm sure you didn't see mine, but you held my finger and I fell deeply in love.

The next morning, they told me you'd arrived safely and that I would be transferred to Addenbrookes once I had recovered enough from my c-section to go to the toilet (sorry for TMI. You're so embarrassing, Mum!) and to walk around. So that was that. I spent the day gearing up for it, then some time in the afternoon I decided I needed to see you as soon as I could and up I got. I don't remember a lot about that day, either, but I do remember walking in to a room of baby incubators, I will always remember the dull beeps of the machines, and somebody in blue scrubs pointing to the top left corner of the room. I didn't need to be told which one you were. The moment I saw you I recognised your face as if it was one I had seen every day of my life. I wasn't allowed to touch you because it stimulated your brain too much and made your EEG go funny, but I couldn't take my eyes off you. I was finally allowed to hold you when you were four days old, so the 9th of April will always be a secret, special little celebration for you and I, one that you'll never appreciate the way that I do, but one that I will always hold dear.

Of course, now I get to hold you every single day. You are a confident young boy, full of excitement. Sometimes you need a little nudge, but once you get started there is no stopping you. I have never known anybody to smile the way that you do. You are full of empathy. If you see me cry, you say 'Mummy sad' and cuddle and kiss me, asking 'Mummy happy now?' until I really am. You say sorry without being asked (usually...), you are using full sentences to talk to me about what makes you happy and what makes you sad. You are fussy with your food which drives me insane but is probably just karma from the years of trouble I gave my own Mum. You are fantastic at making friends and having everybody feel included. You ask me to hold your hand when you're feeling insecure. Sometimes you grab your blanket so you can climb onto my lap and just have me hold you for a while, and I will miss those moments sorely when you're too old and don't want them anymore. I'm excited about what the next year has in store for you. The only way is up, my special boy. Your sister loves you, your Mummy and Dad (and grandparents!) are so proud of you and everybody who meets you sees straight away that you are unique; different; somebody to keep an eye on because, some day, you are going to grow up into a wonderful adult to know.

Mooster, today you turn two. You love: Buzzbee, Frozen, The Simpsons (you call them Simbits), Thomas, owls (you say 'ta-whit-ta-whoooo!), snakes, dinosaurs (you call them dondas), your friends, your family, dragons ('ROOOOOAR!'), counting to ten, Room on the Broom and most of all The Gruffalo (lu-ha-lo). You hate: saying goodbye/being dropped off, tidying up, going to bed without pudding (holy tantrum), when your sister isn't home, wind/rain. ('hood mummy! QUICK! EMERGENCY!'), having your nappy changed.
Before you turn three: You will be in a bunk bed with your sister, which you're going to love. Hopefully you'll be potty-trained, or at least on your way. We'll have your colours nailed, be practising our alphabet and hopefully move from counting to 10 to counting to 20. And I can't wait to hear what words you'll come out with next - you're a snowball of expressions right now.

Happy Birthday, darling Moo.

We all love you more than you will ever know. xxx

Home Education.

Jay and I read an article a couple of years ago, right when we were in the depths of Jelly's school anxiety, about the Danish education system. I'm sure you're all well aware (as it featured heavily in the media at the time), but if not, here's an overview: in Denmark, children do not begin mainstream education until the age of 7, before then focussing on learning through play. The academic results of Danish 11 year-olds are consistently higher than that of British 11 year-olds, and the children are generally more well-adjusted and emotionally mature. In short - to me, it seems like those precious few years of structure are, well, pointless really. We wished in that moment that we'd had the information before sending Jelly in to mainstream education. Would her anxiety issues have remained the same? Would she feel 'scarred' by school like she did in that moment? Would learning have been a different experience for her, a whole new childhood, if we had stopped her entering school until the age of seven?

Enter Moo. We didn't have Moo when we read that article, and we didn't know we'd ever have him. But now his second birthday is looming and the thought of registering him with nurseries (I should have done it by now) and schools is popping into my head. I just don't feel comfortable. Jay and I will graduate university when Moo is four years old, which means that we could potentially be in the ideal situation by the time he is five for me to spend that time with him and educate him at home. It will probably be for two years (Jelly's school is a junior school, which begins at year 3, and I love it's nurturing and encouraging atmosphere - I'd be really happy for him to go there when he turns 7) but who knows? Maybe it will be for us. Maybe we'll "homeschool all the way". Maybe we won't. Maybe he'll end up going to school from foundation year and love every day of it. These are all ideas.

There are the pros. The cons: I am not patient, so how will I cope? I need to learn to drive so we have freedom and don't go stir crazy, and so that I can take him to places and groups where he can socialise. Will Jelly see it as unfair that she had to go through that traumatic school experience and he gets to stay at home with his Mum, the one thing she always asked for and was always told was impossible? Is it unfair? Am I equipped? Will Moo and I spend too much time together and find it difficult to get along? 

Like I said, these are all ideas. I'd love some recommendations of blogs and books which talk about homeschooling. I've already joined my local home education Facebook group and they all seem lovely and welcoming, so I already have a good feeling about this. I'm more than on board, Jay is on board, now I just need to get the background info and check I'm really doing what's best for my son.

My first vlog!

The idea of vlogging always made me a bit nervous, but I thought I'd give it a bash with my trusty helper. It'd be amazing if you could have a peek and maybe even comment to tell her how well she did, she's "soooo embarrassed!" 

On Adding Slashes To Your Name

It might have been Beyonce I saw in the early noughties (it also might not have been), who I saw on a budget documentary, making her way into another facet of her career, talking excitedly about how she was now able to add 'slashes' to her name. She wasn't just a singer, she was singer SLASH actress SLASH producer. I might not be Beyonce (I actually don't get the love. Sorry blogosphere, I just don't) but I do have slashes to my name.

I am Fee. Mother slash student slash fiancée slash local editor.

It's fucking hard.

Any one of these things is inherently difficult, but the more you team them together the more you have to sacrifice bits of each. I have had to create a little hierarchy of roles in my head. Some of the placements are time dependent and might change because of deadlines, but that doesn't stop the guilt. I mean, how do I justify moving 'mother' down a peg because I've got something to sort out at work? Or some reading to do for University? And in all honesty, I have to move that role down a couple of times a day. Here, kids. Take these crayons. Let me go through my work emails.

The toughest combination is that of mother and student. Other students can finish class at 2pm, get home and crack the books open. I have to leave university, I have just over an hour journey home, pick up at least one child, do the dishes from breakfast time, put a load of washing on, play with at least one child (depending on who has control of Netflix at the time), make dinner, eat dinner, bath at least one child, do homework with one, read stories to the other, get one off to bed, clean the kitchen, make tomorrow's breakfast and lunch, do the third set of dishes, put away the dry clothes from the last lot of washing, hang up the new lot, get the other child off to bed, tidy away the toys from the day, tell big child it's time to turn her tab off, get bag ready for the next day - and that makes it 9pm. I leave at 6am 3 days a week so I try to be in bed as close to 9 as possible to avoid getting ill. Very often I find myself sacrificing personal hygiene in order to actually get my required reading done, let alone anything extra. Other students also have weekends: at the moment we take one day each (Jay is a first year student too) to lock ourselves in the bedroom and have the other watch the kids, unless there's an assignment coming up. Of course, being a student means the 'fiancée' slash suffers greatly too. Oh and add 'home-maker'(if that's still a thing) in there because what do I sacrifice to make time to clean the bathroom, change the cat litter, change the bedding, polish the shelving, etc etc etc? 

A massive problem of mine has been guilt. I felt guilty when I snapped at my children because I was trying to power through my work and they were getting too excitable with eachother. I felt guilty when I realised every grade so far has been a B: all this sacrifice and I'm not *quite* good enough for an A each time. I felt guilty when I looked at the spreadsheet at work and saw that 90% of people had finished something before me. I felt guilty when I looked back over the previous week and didn't remember any moments of quality time with my fiancé. But having slashes (not peeing) means learning to accept guilt and appreciate transience. These opportunities won't be there forever, and you have to think about which moments you'll be saddest to have missed. 

Okay, so I didn't get an A. I took my kids to the park instead. 

So the dishes wait until the morning. I'm going to have a cup of tea and a chat with my fiancé instead. 

Do you have slashes in your name? How do you cope?!

Jelly's Sharing Assembly

Yesterday I spoke about Jelly's past with childhood anxiety, and I just wanted to follow up on that a little bit.

After writing yesterday's post, I went to Jelly's school, and watched her take part in a sharing assembly, which was all about Egyptians. Not only take part, but confidently sing, dance and deliver lines with ease. After the assembly, we had the opportunity to chat to her, tell her how well she'd done and have a look at the Egyptian costume she'd made. She was grinning, mocking her friend (who was acting shy!), jumping up and down and then cuddled us all and said she'd better get back to class. And then she was gone.

Now, this sounds like nothing. But looking back a year, this is a huge deal. In her Christmas play at her old school, she requested a non-speaking part as the idea of speaking in front of anybody caused her to panic. Yesterday, she spoke loudly and clearly and lead others to their lines. Last year, she wasn't sure if she could handle us being there as the idea of saying goodbye to us all over again caused her extreme anxiety. Yesterday, she gave us a quick hug and off she went. These things are huge and should be celebrated. She should feel so proud of herself. I can't believe the difference one year and a good school makes.

Well done, little Egyptian! 

Childhood Anxiety: Our Experience.

As I look over my laptop I see a happy child. She is smiling and giggling. She's being loud and obnoxious and in your face. She is just like every other eight year old girl, and that is all we ever wanted.

Looking at the title, I'm sure you can guess that things haven't always been this way. I entered Jelly's life at the age of 3, and I already commented then that things were a little bit off; I'd be on the phone to Jay and he'd say "sorry I took so long, I was trying to put [Jelly] to bed and she was in hysterics because [whatever item] wasn't in the right place". I've had experience with OCD and this was my first worry, and I remember telling him straight away to just be careful 'justifying' the anxiety she was feeling by having things exactly where she wants them.

Her life at nursery had been fine up until then, but not long after this she began being upset at having to go in. To this day she can't hear the Postman Pat theme tune because it fills her with dread; when she was that age, the beginning of Postman Pat meant it was time to go to nursery. She would repeatedly ask her parents where they'd be while she was in there. Would they promise not to leave? Would they wait outside for her until she was finished? Where exactly would they be, who would they talk to, what would they buy? Question, question, question. To lose control of the situation was to feel that her parents didn't care about her anymore. She couldn't bear to be forgotten.

She moved on through the year and ended it on a high: she loved school, had a blast going in. We all had high hopes. She enjoyed most of her year in Foundation with a few minor normal separation anxiety episodes, and was looking forward to Year 1. And then right at the end of the summer holidays, her Nan died. This was the first person to have died in Jelly's life and of course she took it incredibly hard. Jay and I had taken her to the park for the day while her Nan was in hospital, actually, and Jelly had asked us if her Nan was going to die: we said of course not, because we didn't think she would. And that meant she learned the secret no child should ever learn: parents do not know everything. You can't always rely on them to be right.

A month or so after her Nan's death, she had been back in school for a few weeks, and she began to cry. "What's wrong?" Miss Sick-of-it-all (as we called her at the time - a fun play on her name, but I won't name and shame the witch on here. I'll call her Miss Sick for now.) asked her. "I'm upset because I miss Nanny", she said. "Hasn't that been about a month now? It's time to start getting over it." replied Miss Sick. Jelly was distraught: she hadn't realised there was a time limit on her grief (which there isn't), she didn't trust us when we told her it was okay if she felt sad at school, and she began to obsess over not being able to control her emotions while she was there, and if she would get into trouble if she accidentally cried.

The school itself is an establishment which had excellent results with Ofsted (at the time, it lowered last year) and was very focussed on good grades. However, this comes at a price. The school is regimented, detached and unemotional. Some children excel at sports or academics: these children do well at regimented schools. Jelly excels at art. She does not excel in a regimented school. This sort of regimentation made her vomit some mornings or nights, checking her bag again and again, working herself into a panic, shouting at us from bed that she was sure she MUST have forgotten something that would get her a telling off the next day.

Once, she put her hand up and asked for help. She was told they were disappointed in her for not grasping what they'd said. She was then terrified to put her hand up again, so fell behind when she didn't understand. Once, she couldn't finish her lunch. She was forced to eat. This made her terrified of lunchtimes, because she felt humiliated and sick. She was scared of the time in class and scared of the breaks. She told us that all she wanted was for a teacher to cuddle her if she was upset - we knew this didn't need to be literal (although that would help), it's that she wanted to feel that the school had compassion and could tell her that it was okay to be upset. But it wasn't, in their eyes. They repeatedly told her to grow up, get a grip. Every time we complained the school apologised, told us this wasn't quite what was happening and that they'd make an effort to 'accommodate for [Jelly]'s oversensitivity'. Which they'd do for a week before telling her to grow up and get over it all over again, because they couldn't give her special treatment.

Year Three was the worst. On top of the strict teachers, a new girl moved to the school, who was a bully. In previous years she would leave school smiling, happy to have completed another day. In Y3 she would leave school crying because she knew she had to be back tomorrow. Towards the end she would even cry on Fridays because she was so scared about Mondays. Sunday nights were full of the worst fits of anxiety. I'm not ashamed to say that every Sunday night left the parents in tears too; towards the end she was having anxiety attacks and began to verbally lash out at us, which is so out of her character. She's the sweetest and most polite girl I know usually. We literally pushed her into school in the morning, as she screamed and grabbed at us, while the teacher grabbed her arm and pulled her inside the doors. She obsessed over 'wave at the window' - she'd run to the nearest window and watch us leave. God forbid we ever forgot (which we sometimes did if we were in a rush) to wave. She started to do this at home when she was dropped off at each parent's houses too, letting her school anxiety leak in to home life. She stopped eating evening meals; her anxiety made her lose her appetite. She would be up until around 11pm in hysterics. Eventually we just couldn't help her anymore: it didn't matter if we told her it'd be okay or not, she didn't believe us. We'd close the door and let her scream and throw herself around. We had to have Moo sleeping in a travel cot with us because her crying at night disturbed him and if he cried in the night and woke her it'd make her worse in the mornings. It was particularly whenever there was a special event, like a school play or an assembly: instead of being happy to spend extra time with us, she spent the time leading up to the event obsessing over the moment we'd leave and she'd have to say goodbye twice in a day. In her last week at the school, she took part in a Sport Relief event. She left school crying a week before it because she already couldn't take her mind off the moment we'd be leaving. We told her we wouldn't go and it made it all the worse for her. She was torn between saying goodbye twice and being the only child not to have her parents there. We knew that something was wrong, but didn't know if it was because of the school or because of who she was. Obviously she was overly sensitive but we didn't know how much of it was down to a terrible experience at a school that wasn't right for her. What we did know was that the school refused to address the bullying (we were repeatedly told Jelly was mistaken and that no bullying went on at their establishment and that the bully in question is actually a very shy and polite girl who everybody gets along with - perhaps she just FEELS bullied because of how incredibly sensitive she is. 'We know how she makes mountains out of molehills'.) and they were fed up of having to deal with the way she was. They also pulled her into the office and asked her why she THINKS she's being bullied, then interrogated her about her home life. "Do your parents fight a lot?" "Does your Dad get very angry?" "Is your Step Mum not very nice to you?" etc - anything to pin the blame. At parents evening her teacher suggested she was probably acting up for attention because we were paying more attention to Moo. We shot down that theory pretty quickly. We spent months talking to her doctor about it and we all agreed our action plan: we would look for a new school for her. It didn't work for our family schedule to homeschool as a long-term solution and we felt that the structure and sociability was impotrant for improving her anxiety, so we needed to find a school that would suit her needs. If the problems continued once we found the ideal school, the issue was with her and we would deal with that.

We met a bit of resistance when removing her from school, purely because the head teacher had to sign a form agreeing that it'd be in the best interests of the child to leave. We had cited our reasons as harsh teaching methods, inability to cope with emotional demands and refusal to resolve issues of bullying, as well as stating that she had anxiety issues, we felt there was damage that couldn't be undone and that she would always associate this school with anxiety. To sign the form, the head teacher had to agree to these things - which she obviously didn't want to do. But she did sign it. In her comments she basically said that our reasons were wrong but if we felt Jelly would do better somewhere else, that was our choice to make. I honestly think she was happy to be rid of the child who took a lot of work and the parents who were always complaining about the school! We took her out of school a month before the Easter holidays and home educated her for a while. She got more done in that month than she had in the last year, working one-on-one with us through textbooks we'd bought and we encouraged her to be independent in her research; for example we took her to a wooded area, had her list all the species she saw, then had her choose three, research them online and create a wildlife poster. She gained confidence when she realised she COULD do things, she'd just never had the chance. We took her to view schools with us because, ultimately, the choice of new school had to be with her. She chose the first school we saw. We made her see a second just to be sure but the second school only reinforced her decision.

Her new school is a local combined school, a 30 minute walk from her home with us, dedicated to supporting communities as well as positive learning. They have 'mentors' in place for children with emotional difficulties, which is what really lead her to choosing this school. Her last school had 800 pupils, this one has just over 200. The children are able to have the attention they need, and her learning and confidence have come in leaps and bounds. The teachers are wonderful, they all know all of the children's names (impossible in her huge old school) and make them feel special. Occasionally she will have a bout of anxiety - the first day of term, or if a teacher has scheduled absence and a substitute that she doesn't know comes in. But generally she is happy, is excited to get back to school, has a solid group of friends... Generally she is thriving.

The point in blogging this is two-fold. First, I am so so proud of her (and the three of us who, it has now become apparent, made the right parenting choices to get her out of this trap) for how she has come along and I want to brag about it on her behalf! She will always be a sensitive and anxious child, but we now know how to identify when something is becoming too much for her and she has learned techniques to deal with her anxiety. I'm willing to share these on the blog for anybody who needs them. And secondly, if you have read any of this and nodded along, this blog is for you. When she was going through this tough time, I scoured the blogosphere for inspiration and found nothing. I tweeted, I posted on forums - there is so much support out there for children with learning difficulties or gender confusion but almost nothing for children with mental health issues (and the help that IS there is only because it overlaps with the former). It was like a black hole in the internet, yet I know that so many parents are watching their children go through similar things.

My advice to you, if you are reading this and finally feeling like somebody knows what you're talking about, is to have open communication between parents, and then also with your child. Stability and dependability are what your child needs. If something is all consuming and CAN be changed, change it. I do not support running away from your problems, but moving Jelly to a different school has given her the chance to learn that school can be fun and that she deserves the chance to thrive. We realised that Jelly only had one childhood, and we had to decide between letting her torment herself for the sake of teaching her to face problems head on, or move her once, give her a chance at a 'normal' childhood and if that doesn't work we take her to therapy. And maybe one day we will still get her therapy: she still has control issues and she still lapses sometimes, but now it feels like she's on a level playing 
field and we can guide her like every other child.

We're proud of how far you've come, Jellybean xx