I love the internet and how it assists in parenting.

Recently I posted on the topic of parental frustration and how to wake a very tall and grouchy child without being injured.  It was a request for suggestions as I'd tried everything I knew on how to manage the situation with grace and panache.


And it worked, so far so good.


The very tall and grumpy child was sat down at Family Home Evening.  That night, instead of games and cookies, it was a frank and forthright chat, kind of like Family Inventory. 


It went something along the lines of
"The waking up is going to happen, it's a requirement and a repeat of this morning can never happen again.  However, you do get a say in how you are woken because what we are doing right now is not working for either of us.  What would work for you? What suggestions do you have?  Would you prefer to be called and left for a couple of minutes to gather yourself?  Would you prefer to have the light switched on?  Would you want cheerful music switched on to start you waking up?  You get to think about this for a while and if you have any other suggestions feel free to add them."


Tuesday was fine because the class they attend (Seminary) is held in the evenings on that night to fit in with their youth club afterward.  But then along came the evening and I had to gulp, bite the bullet and approach the subject again.  I was internally pensive.  The child accepted the chat gracefully and just said they'd take themselves to bed a little earlier to try and get a couple of hours in (insomnia is a right kick in the pants), and then did just that.  I was shocked.


Wednesday morning came and all went smoothly, my oh-no-not-again sinking feeling started when the child complained for a moment, but then they stopped themselves. They rested for a couple of minutes and then got up when asked the second time. It was such a relief and I am grateful and happy that for the time being they appear to have taken the counsel on board and tried it out. 


I don't like contention because I am so good at it!  Best avoided at all costs if I'm going to lead the way to a harmonious home.  I am trying my best to be an available and approachable parent, who sets boundaries, is consistent and provides a safe and loving home.  Some days I'm just winging it and occasionally I put the problem out their for those who have been down this road before to offer their advice and counsel - I never ask if I am not ready to listen.  I am glad I took the bite of humble pie to admit there was a problem, and I am grateful to the beautiful women who offered some "you're doing great, hang in there" and "here's what worked for us" input. 


Thank you, Seesters!*




(Seesters is a heartfelt term of endearment I picked up at the Missionary Training Centre in Provo, Utah, from the most inspirational woman in the building, Sister Mary Ellen Edmunds, who is an author too, her books are available on Amazon http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mary-Ellen-Edmunds/e/B001JP4EKC/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1458745521&sr=8-1)

The Downside of Parenting

Kids.
Really, kids will be the end of me.
Perhaps if life were set up so that there were two loving parents in a 1950's experience, that'd be fine.
But kids.
The cooking, cleaning, ferrying around, providing, nurturing and coaching is fine.
It's the blatant defiance that gets on my last nerve.


I was raised to not defy an adult who was in charge of me, with a caveat that they were not exercising unrighteous dominion.  It would never have occurred to me to say no I won't.  I would never have tried to shove a parent off of a bed when they were sat, dressed, waking you for classes and trying to do it nicely.  I would never have yelled at a righteous parent to get out.  This child in question has been raised in love, the child has had anything which needed explaining, explained, they are bright, and they have to this point been compliant and done as they are asked but things are deteriorating.  As well as hurting my kidneys, it hurts my feelings, which I think may even be worse (and I am a tough broad).  I am busting a gut here to give a positive childhood and adolescent experience to my kiddo and they are, on occasion, nasty and I do not like that one little bit.


Now - up wafts the brass band to evoke days of yore - but when I was a kid, I would have got a clip round the ear for that kind of behaviour but those responses are frowned upon nowadays.  I don't have time to worry about somebody's feelings at 0600hrs when we need to leave at 0615hrs for an almost daily commitment, but I make the time.  I don't want to know what their motivation is, how prepared are they for the day, have I loved them enough this week (YES, I have), do they have a consistent bedtime (YES, they do), and I have places to be too so taking two hours nearly out of my morning shows you just how important I think this daily commitment is.


If a 5' 10" adolescent is bordering on violence toward you, how would you manage that situation and still get everyone where they need to be, on time?  Because I am out of ideas which work well first time, and there isn't time for things to work well second or third time because my kidneys cannot take another pummelling. And quite frankly, neither can my feelings.

Tutors: Cheating or Augmented Homework Droids

It's been 30 years since I was in Secondary School, or High School for our friends overseas.  During that time the syllabus changed, and the exam criteria changed and all this bountiful head full of knowledge accrued through study and application is of almost no use whatsoever to my teenager. 


So at the teenagers request and suggestion, we scouted for a good tutor, we have visited him, the teen has taken a class with him and learned more in an hour about interpretation of exam questions - if it's phrased this way, the examiner wants to know what you know about blah blah - than I have been able to do in a couple of years.


Interpretation of questions is something particularly tricky for teens with dyslexia and Asperger's Syndrome and Mears Irlen (where the words wobble on the page).  They have this wealth of knowledge in their mind but knowing how to respond to what is in front of them is difficult.  Their mind goes off in a spiral of what-does-that-say's and what-if's and does-it-mean's and all their study is almost for naught. 


In steps the new tutor, a fully qualified teacher, and I'm excited to see if it is helpful in the long run.  The teen has 1.25 years before the big, scary exams are due so a little diligence now will hopefully help kiddo translate all of that good stuff into written stuff on the page.  I'd rather invest in education than something which would not last as long.

The Queen and the Nursing Home

Someone not too distantly related to me has the urge to do the following one day:


Kidnap the Queen of England, very nicely using biscuits and Corgi Puppies and a white panel van.
Put in her stead a Queen of England impersonator.
For 6 months, the real Queen would be placed in an average nursing home.
The staff would be told that this was their mum, Masie, and she used to be a look-alike and that Masie now thinks she is the Queen but pay no heed, just treat her normally.
For 6 months she would be found sitting in a sun bleached chair, opposite a backgammon board, and occasionally prodded by an assistant in a sky blue tabard asking if she wants a cup of tea or a biscuit.
At the end of the 6 months, the real Queen would be restored to the throne.
We would then see how the elderly are treated from that point forth.


The mirth in the voice of this plan maker is palpable as they squeal
"And she'd be yelling, 'I'm the Queen, don't put my slippers on, get me Phillip on the phone!!!'"


I was amused.

Told you it was temporary

Yesterday I wrote about how having just over £2.00 is ok if everything is covered and if you don't measure your worth against a temporary number in the banking system.


I am pleased to say that yesterday was the final day of a two week skint period, and we are back in the black as of this morning.


Hunkering down to ride out the difficulty, covering the basics, still seeing friends, not hermiting or withdrawing, making the best of what you have, cooking from storage items, eating simply, choosing to face it all, switching off lights not in use, knowing that you are a very talented individual who has chosen this path for a better future, keeping a realistic but positive perspective, driving slower and smoother to conserve fuel all help.


If I had been ignorant or dismissive and refused to face the inevitable and went ahead anyway, well, good luck to me. 
BUT, If I do everything I can but still fall short, so be it, it's not permanent, it is temporary and it is not to be feared. 
Things turn around with a dash of luck, a lot of work and a heap of determination. 


There's a saying among our southern hemisphere cousins,
"If you don't like the weather in New Zealand, come back in 10 minutes!". 
Its the same around here in a fiscal sense, if you don't like the bank balance on your account right now, come back tomorrow.

Net Worth and Perspective

Have you ever been down to your last £2.76 in the bank?

Yeah, no, me neither.

If it were me, I’d be grateful that

• we have enough simple food storage to see us to payday.
• the bills are covered completely.
• it is +£2.76 and not -£2.76.
• there’s a couple of quid in the purse.
• the car has a full tank of petrol.
• the laundry is done because we’ve just run out of laundry detergent.
• the knowledge that this is temporary.
• the belief that net worth does not define my value as a person.
• the belief this is all for the greater good while we fight the good fight.
• the knowledge that things are this way because of what we are building.
• that in years to come we’d have some great stories and perspective.
• that our head is above water because you swim so damn good.
• that hopefully things will never be this lean again.
• that we still have a "laugh at the Universe" attitude. So what you're skint, so what!

You know, if it were me, which it isn’t.

 

Bucket full of frogs day

In order to apply for an exemption to something big and icky and related to "the incident" and to move swiftly on to the next step, I have to prove that I am or have been at risk, and provide the paperwork accordingly.


Most peril or risk conversations with authorities happen face to face or over the phone.  They don't follow up with a nice letter detailing the conversation because people at risk don't need the "risk-er" going through their post and messages and finding that stuff, and the "risk-ee" opts out of things dropping on their doormat.


BUT, they didn't figure on the new filing system in the new filing cabinet!  HA HAAA!


I have to hand papers and a certificate from The Freedom Programme (http://www.freedomprogramme.co.uk/online.php) and a MARAC report.


There's an old saying that if you have to kiss a bucket full of frogs, start with the biggest and ugliest one first and get it over with.


So today, I snogged a toad, full on the lips, great big snoggy smooch as I walked to the cabinet, removed the binder with these pieces of information, scanned copies and sent them to the person that needs them.


No mess, no fuss, just juice.


I want get angry at the Yang part of the universe as I scream "take that, you snog frog demanding pig head" but no need.


It's done, we'll find out if it's enough in due course. 


The amazing lack of angst over finding the pieces of paper I needed is astonishing and after I close this message today I will just be able to get on with the task at hand.  So There!  Take that, bad side of the Universe, you didn't get me today.  Ya Snooze Ya Loose, Sukerz!  (Yes, I know, a very grown up response, aren't you proud of the progress I'm making?)

Bought a car in Spanish, and my Spanish isn't that great...

An adventure ensued.
Remember those feathers to line the nest we spoke about recently?
Well, I found a home for them.
My faithful little car started making horrid noises so off to the mechanic it went.


I always buy disposable cars expecting them to last a few months but they end up lasting a couple of years and I grow a little emotionally attached to their wellbeing.


The mechanic said:
“I’m so sorry, Luv, but your car’s gonna cost about a grand (£1000) to start fixing it, are you emotionally attached to it?  Do you need some time to consider the options? We could send it to the specialist if you reeeaaaalllllllly want us to”.


I turned to the internet to seek out a new vehicle, on the hoof, for less than the feathers I had in the bank.
Et Voila!


Thus I found myself, in the next town over, amidst the flooding of many local roads, in the rain, in the twilight, speaking Spanish to a Romanian bloke (he spent 20 years in Spain, it wasn't a random language choice) about the little car we saw in front of us, as you do.


MOT'd the day previously.  67,000 on the clock with previous MOTs to verify, same age as my car (roughly), less finesse than my current car, but it goes, there are no warning lights, it handles ok, there are no squeaks and noises, it has 5 doors (the seat flippers on my 3 door car broke so guests have to be nimble and clamber through, 5 little doors is an improvement). 


Documents were verified, drives were tested and money changed hands.
What could possibly go wrong?

On the 8th Day: Caramel vs Creme Eggs

On the 8th day, did God create CARAMEL EGGS or those filthy cream eggs?


Keep in mind that at this point, the Garden of Eden was still pristine and unsullied, accepting only soft toffee centres.


If creme eggs were on the menu on day 8, was that when the Bossman himself threw up his arms and declared
"That's It!  It's all RUINED, why did I bother?"


Just pondering, for a friend.