Racism, Patience and Education - A first hand story.

GASP!  Nobody Told Me!  Why did nobody mention it?!  I cannot believe I didn’t know!

Someone just told me my daughter is not white!

Oh.  My.  Gosh.   Really?  (Heavy Sarcasm).

 

I look very much like a potato farmer in honour of my Irish and English heritage, and the person who I look most like is my Irish Grandad.

 

My daughter is half from me, and half from an English chap whose parents were Jamaican. 

So, he is dark skinned, born here in England, is English, but his ancestry is Jamaican. 

He is not Jamaican per se, can you see the difference? 

His heritage, of which we are all proud, is Jamaican.

 

So Missy, she was born with a very tanned complexion, beautiful straight nose and straight black hair.

Over the years her hair curled, but it is European hair in spiral curls, not so much afro as Irish-fro, which is a real thing, ask any Irish woman with crinkly hair on a blustery morning.

 

When my daughter straightens her hair, she looks Indian (dots, not feathers – to quote the beloved Robin Williams).

Indian parents of her school friends speak to her in Urdu and for a while got miffed with her when she would not realise she was being spoken to.

In the end, when it all came to light what was happening, they all laughed and are now on speaking terms again J

She’s a firm favourite with other children’s parents which pleases me no end.

 

When my daughter leaves her hair natural, she looks like a Diva.

Total Gone Crazy Big Old Spiral Curl Adornment.

She looks like she should be in a Beyoncé video or an 80’s Brat Pack film.

It is awesome!

 

So back to the shock revelation.

Several times people have told her “Why don’t you go back to where you came from”.

She’s had most of her classmates in junior school try to persuade her she was adopted, because the kids hadn’t seen her dad, only me!

She’s been mistaken for an asylum seeker but I assured people it was only Grunge Rock Fashion, not hobo-refugee chic.

She’s been mistaken for an immigrant and accosted by knuckle heads.

She’s been spoken to in Greek when we go to Greece.

She’s been spoken to in Spanish when we went to the Spanish Islands.

She’s been spoken to in Jamaican English when we go to Jamaica.

She’s been followed by security staff in the shopping centres.

She’s been yelled at for “being racist” by overly concerned, politically correct, liberal leftie white people when joking with friends whether she should sit at the front or the back of the bus after a history lesson on the American Civil Rights movement.  (This was a bumpy one... in a back and forth, supported by a friend who confirmed she was part Jamaican... Missy advised Leftie-Lady "You clearly thought I was Indian, which is presumptuous on your part.  I am black and I can joke about 'those darned civil rights activists always getting on the bus' if I want to").

And was yelled at to stop lying!

She’s been refused service in a Bible Bookstore because, even though she was holding the money in her hand, she was told “these books are not for your kind”.

 

And the kid laughs it off!

 

Now I have a lovely little generation of children in my class, when I tell them that the teenagers will be teaching Sunday school this week, confused and unable to hide it, that I introduce Missy as my daughter.  Their little children brains are perplexed that this curly haired, very tall, all makeup’d up and glamorous girl could possibly be related to me.

 

Then the next week we chat about the people who shared their feelings from the pulpit, my daughter being one of them, and the kids get confused again, still unable to make the leap of how potato farmer me could have a daughter like Missy.

 

One of the children leans in to me and whispers, as though it is a secret, “She wears a lot of make up”, and I reply, “Yes, isn’t she beautiful” and they nod.

Then the next week that the child is in class again, I see the whisperer wearing bright red lipstick in honour of Missy, and I smile at her, and she smiles back, thrilled I’ve noticed.

Fighting Psychopaths

I have been fighting people who fit the profile of psychopaths and surviving the destruction they spread all the days of my life. 

It has been close contact conflict.

It was all done in the “First person”, one to one.

Not “those people over there” but rather “these people, here, in this room”.

At first it was one generation to the next, me being the child (with help from adults, this is not a solo venture).

Then it was a peer to peer relationship lasting 24 years.

I’m am tired, deep down to my bones weary tired.

However, I’ll keep going because self determination is the prize which I have won.
I am made for this and can go again right now, right from the beginning if I have to.  It holds no fear.
For the rest of my days I’ll keep plugging through because this is who I am.

Let’s take a moment to try and paint a picture:

Do you know how tiring it is when, for example, you watch over a bunch of hyperactive and disobedient children?

When you first take responsibility for the kids you try to be strict, No, Don’t do that, but all you get back is a heightening of the mania and they end up a spitting, thrashing and whirling dervish.

So then you develop coping strategies and mould their behaviour where possible and ignore the bits that are destructive but aren’t actually hurting someone.

That is the tiniest taste of what it is like to try to survive in a situation with a psychopath.

If a psychopath walked up to you for the first time and handed you a business card which said “Joe Bloggs, Psychopath at Large” you would say “Oh, that’s nice, Joe is it, let me show you the buffet table” and then you would dump them there and walk away with barely a glance backwards.

But they don’t hand out business cards.

Quite the opposite.

The clever ones are particularly deceptive.

Phase 1. 
The fun for a psychopath is in being charming, frequently they’re well-presented and handsome, they are attentive and they say they would move mountains. They often present themselves as a rescuer and when they are around, you feel like a million dollars. This phase can last for weeks or years.

Phase 2.

In subsequent encounters, probably over a time frame of years, they cannot hide their attempt to dominate the other person and erode their sense of self (schools for the kids, where to eat, placement of cushions, who can come in the house, when you can go out so it is convenient for them), bringing out the indignant rage, the sulking, their sense of entitlement, their contempt at any comparison to people who do not behave like that.

Phase 3.
Later, if the other party refuses to capitulate, things become physically dangerous rather than “just” emotionally dangerous.

Have you heard about how “their eyes changed” or “they’re a nut job when they get going”?  Yep, alarm bells and warning signs.

The daft thing, for all their charm, is that they don’t know that they are not particularly bright and that people, “normal” people do give and take in relationships so their attempt at dominance is ridiculous because love is there for the sharing, not the taking.  They don’t feel love like civilians do, they feel dominant, superior, all powerful.  Love is not in the equation.  Sure, they’ll say the words to woo someone back, but the feeling is not there.  And no, their emotional bullying is not passion, it is emotional bullying.

The fastest way to make a psychopath leave you alone is to walk away.  Out of sight, pretty much out of mind after a while. 

Don’t get in to the mind games, don’t think this is some Teen-Lit and angst filled novel, don’t try to fix them because even their parents didn’t succeed, don’t buy in to their “my girlfriend left me, woe is me” schpeil because the girlfriend left for a reason.

Repeat to yourself

“I am a drama free zone, I am worthy of genuine love, I have myself and my friends, I don’t need validation, I validate myself, it is never too early and almost never too late to walk away” and then do just that.

Making plans for when it's over *Cough-Divorce-Cough*

Within the next few weeks, my email inbox will revert to receiving only notes from friends, bills, reminders to buy TV licences, and money off vouchers.

I’ll cease having to host and give space to the vast amounts of divorce paperwork.

I can hardly believe that the end is kind of in sight, especially if I stand on a step ladder and use binoculars.

It’s still going to take some time, I’m patient, but we cannot but help have answers very soon.

 

I’m not sure what I’ll do with all the spare email capacity and in my mind’s eye I perceive it like the electricity surge after the Super Bowl games (you know about that, right, where the utility companies have to be on alert during the adverts and at the conclusion because demand on the grid spikes)

I’m not sure what I’ll do with all the freed up time and all the intellectual capacity made available.

However, I’m sure looking forward to finding out.

Acts of Random Kindness

Last night I came home after a long and hard day at work.


On the table, collected from the doorstep by the child, was a lovely gift bag containing a pot plant of daisy type flowers.


Through the letterbox was an envelope with my name on it.


In the envelope was no card or identifier, but a cash gift in £'s (I'm English, we use real pounds).


So, if you are reading this, that was very sweet and lovely, thank you.  You are far too kind.


The plant is now pride of place in our living room, it is the only living non-human thing in our home so makes a bright difference.


Whoever you are, consider this a thank you hug. x




Picture is Morgan Freeman with a quote from the movie Evan Almighty.

Justify yourself.

This blog post is a hard one to share, and at time of composing I haven't yet decided if I will hit the button to put these thoughts out to the wider world.


I am struggling with the constant requirement to justify myself, to prove myself, to defend myself.  There are few areas of life where I am free from the request to justify myself. 


For clarity, I'm up for the task and am very clear on who I am and what I stand for.  I am talented and have grit to spare.


It just annoys the sunshine out of me and detracts from the things we have going on right now.  It costs me emotional and physical energy which could happily have been put to better use elsewhere.


When somebody says "justify yourself" with a negative connotation, I get to look back and remember all the hard work that got us to this point but in doing so I recall disappointments or disappointing people, and explain how I turned that situation around for the greater good and how through tenacity and determination I decided to shape a great life from a difficult one.


For the mean time, I'll set my stance and greet the day with a smile... it's only for a short while that I have to endure these requests.


What makes it easier is being a truth-holder.  I don't have to remember what I said about something, I just have to remember the something.


I am learning to wait well. 
Impatience has no positive place in this endeavour and I could go again, starting from the beginning, up the same hill, under the same conditions as many times as is necessary in order to succeed in continuing to design and create a pretty great life. 


In justifying myself, justice will prevail.

Being in the Photograph.

A tremendously good friend forwarded me some photos she snapped of a group of us girlfriends at the beach a couple of years ago. We live in different cities far from the coast and had all travelled in for the weekend.  The photos were a lovely surprise and a welcome gift.  I think it was a late September day in the UK which should have been wet and dreary but we caught a heatwave bubble and basked in glorious weather.  We almost had the beach to ourselves, our favourite seals popped their head up out of the water to say hi again, we had beach chairs and beach blankets, full tummies from breakfast and it was our final day at the coast.


Now, on first glance I look like a person who perhaps would or should have body issues.  I'm a little more round than tall although great boobies help me carry off an hourglass-ish look!  I have a little more latitude than longitude.  My face is quite round.  Without makeup - which I hardly ever wear - I look a little lived in... happy but lived in.  I am not particularly photogenic at all.


BUT... here's the important bit... I LOVE THE PHOTO'S.


They capture a group of friends all relaxed in each others company, laid out on the sand, laughing, making sand castles, spending time, reading books, resting before returning home later that same day to demanding families and demanding jobs in demanding cities.  There had been a couple of differences of opinion that weekend, that's what you get when you have 7 independent and strong willed women together.  The photos captured how much it was important to us all that we were still all together the morning after the disagreement.  It was perfect in it's imperfection, to me, at least.


What was photogenic is the love we have for each other.
Even when the object of the image is blinking in the photo (me) or is in repose in a chair in a not very flattering fashion, or when we've got our hair in an informal bun with no loose bits for framing the face, and no make up and so forth, the love we have for each other is clearly present.


I used to shy away from photos but nowadays for the most part I welcome them and it is all because I read a story of a lady reminiscing about her life.


The lady had said that she wished she'd been in the pictures, that she'd captured the moments of her husband and children but that she wished she had something to look back on in photographic form to capture the moments that she was in the image with them, that they'd shared it all together.


So, when someone points a camera in my direction nowadays I think to myself


"This is who I am, this body is kind to me, it nurtures and sustains me with good health, stamina and ability, and in 20 years time I'll wish I had this picture, scraggly hair day and all, and in 20 years time I'll wish I looked as good then as I do now, so take the picture and make sure I get a copy!"


Dear friends, please be in the picture. 


Let people capture the wonderful moments and the moments which turned out to be wonderful after all.  The ordinary times together are valuable.  Be glad you have a body, be glad of it's strength, be happy in the opportunities to share memories with great companions.  Don't pose, live a life of poise.  There's a lot of happy to be had. 

Phone-less in a phone soaked world

Phone-less.
A brick of glass and plastic.
A low-resolution camera and phone book.
That's all this bit o'kit had been reduced to.


I'm in between contracts and a keep-my-number transfer which should have taken a couple of hours is currently running at 5 days.


I could get shirty with the folks on the helpline, but they were nice and that's not how I roll.


I could troll their Facebook pages stating how awful they were, but on the scale of awful, this doesn't even begin to measure.


Folks on the telephone were horrified that this thing had gone wrong but it wasn't their fault, it's just a thing gone wrong and which is rectifiable. 


I must admit to being a little "pully face-y" in a grimace because


a) the school always phone, all the time
b) the kid memorised the number
c) I drive a beautiful clunker of a car and have breakdown cover
d) safety and quick dials to the authorities
e) I like phones


so it's all a bit rubbish, but it is only a bit rubbish, it'll pass, it'll work itself out, it'll be fine.


So, I'll see you when we've no longer gone dark. 


If you need me, I'll be the one talking to people and reading a paper book and drawing with pencils and learning the guitar and cooking new recipes and so forth because there's nothing better to do.  Hard life, eh?

Friends, Buddies, the Squad, The Tribe.

The past 4 years have been a colossal change for me and my little family.
Some things are great,
Some things are still challenging and an ongoing project.
Some things are just life, like bills and taxes.


What has made the difference between existing vs. living is pretty simple.
a) steely determination
b) my people.


Now when everything surprisingly and in catastrophic fashion hit the fan one Sunday evening, within 2 hours when the environment was made safer I texted my girls, my squad, just saying something like:
"I really need some love and support, I think my marriage just ended".


Not prone to any form of melodrama, they knew immediately that it was serious and they were as shocked as I, and were as supportive as any person in the history of humanity. 
I've never known better people. 
My heart sings at the thought of them, they're magnificent.


We were offered safe places to sleep (which I should have taken but was in too much shock), we were told we were believed, and we were told we were loved, and we were trusted to take the next steps - whatever they ended up being - they trusted in my ability when I didn't know if I did anymore.


I think in pictures then translate to words in order to communicate.
When I think of my people, my tribe, I get a picture of a cute little house and a white picket fence with a sturdy gate.  Then there is a second perimeter picket fence and a third.  My buddies are in the picture as walking straight through the outer, middle and inner gates.  They have permission to come and go, my house is their house, their hopes and dreams are my hopes and dreams for them.  Strangers and baddies are outside the outer perimeter, various levels of acquaintances are within the other gates.


Over the last 4 years it has gotten to the point where we need a bigger mental first garden, there are so many great and wonderful people in our lives.  The image that comes forth is of a garden party with pitchers of cool drinks and pretty chairs and blankets on the lush green grass.


But the image of the cute home is the grounding force, that is permanent, the fences move to accommodate new people but the house doesn't move, it represents known values, permanence, steely determination and grit.


You find your tribe through shared values, living up to the declaration of who you say you are, and by being kind even when there are other options available, by being willing to learn and grow, by listening to your elders in experience and years, by acting on what needs to be done, and sometimes people join you in those possibilities.


There is no space for wishy washy engagement here, time is short, life is urgent, it can be taken away and with that knowledge in the first person all the other priorities fall into place. 


If you are contented, be contented.  If you are upset, tell a friend, they can listen.  If you are pensive, excited, overjoyed... be those things, sometimes two or three of those things at once!  It gives other people permission to experience their life too.  It's awesome and contagious.


Some days have been ugly, authentic, raw and unfiltered.  A couple of people have sometimes been around when those days occurred but mostly it is a retreat to the house and wait for it to pass experience for me.  So, sorry to those people who were around when I couldn't filter the feelings for polite company anymore... I'll try and learn from those times. Or maybe, next time I won't try to spare you from it.  Let me know your preference on a self addressed envelope and I'll get to it.


Be willing to go it alone and be willing to accept company if others are headed in the same direction.


In advance of 2nd International Platitude Day, we only get 72 goes around the sun if we are lucky... if you are going to waste a day, realllly waste it.  Do it justice.  If you are facing something unpalatable, face it, get it done, endure it, grow and develop.  This too shall pass.  And look sideways sometimes to see and recognise who is at your shoulder, sustaining and supporting you.  It may be surprising who you find there. If they look sideways, do they see you?  Are you sustaining and supporting them too?  I think you are. 

How to weather a storm (cough-divorce-cough).

We have to know our own worth.

We have to know the law or know someone who knows the law.

We have to be dealers in the truth.

We have to be resilient.

We have to be consistent.

We have to be patient.

We have to breathe.

We have to be still.

We have to be grateful for the journey.

We have to continue to learn and grow.

We have to recognise our blessings.

We have to hold on to the good.

We have to plan for happiness.

We have to embrace happiness at every opportunity.

We have to minimise negative influences.

We have to smile because we are content where we are.

We have to care for ourselves.

We have to put ourselves as a priority, at least once in a while.

We have to visualise the bamboo in a hurricane as it sways and lets the breeze through and causes no damage.

We have to trust there will be an end.

We have to believe there will be a new beginning.

We have to honour life as a joyous experience.

 

Too much stuff and the camels back

Recently I managed to get my kiddo in to a routine.


That's no mean feat, I hear you say, most children transition to a routine in the early years.
Ah HA! I say, she is a mid-teen and this is the first time she was receptive enough to adapt.


The daily routine was simple enough:
Get Up, tidy your room, have a whip round the bathroom (move your laundry, towels and products), pick up after yourself through the house, and do the dishes.
Then you can go back to doing what you were doing for the remaining 23hours and 21 minutes in the day.


It's the school holidays, I'm working full time and I'm tired of picking up her debris as I walk in the house after a long day.


It was working well-ish, I'd come home and be able to walk in the living areas without clambering over stuff, I'd be able to start dinner without having to do the days dishes first (rental house, no dishwasher).  It was going pretty ok-ish.


Then she went to camp.
And she left her room in a colossal mess.
Then I got all "Woe is me" and flopped down on to any available nearby chaise lounge.


We live a simple and stripped back life, no room for clutterbugging and yet she still seems to find a way.


I swear teens don't see the mess.
If I see one more "floor-drobe" in my life I cannot guarantee being responsible for my actions.

Kids, Pre-loaded Humans

You get the kid you are given.

People arrive already pre-loaded with a personality and a neurology.

You can encourage happiness and health, vigour and vitality, but essentially you are working with the piece of marble in front of you.

Some people are lucky and are gifted with compliant kids who throw up few challenges or spanners in the works.

Other people are lucky and are gifted with non-compliant kids who occasionally throw in a happy and problem free day but challenge the adult to learn, grow and develop.

If you are kind, and if you are actively a decent person doing the best they can with parenting, nothing you did or didn’t do made your kid the way they are.

It is not unheard of for families to raise a happy and compliant first child, then do the same thing with the latter children only for the child to respond differently.

It’s like gardening.

Nobody I know can make a chili plant seed.

They can take a seed that’s been identified as a chili plant and provide the right environment for it to grow and develop.

But they cannot take the atoms at the present time and create a chili plant seed.

Sometimes people identify the chili plant seed but it turns out to be tomatoes.

The gardener didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just slightly different than anticipated.

You cannot pat yourself on the back for having good and compliant kids.

You cannot berate yourself for having challenging and non-compliant kids.

They came to you as a human, with their own wants and wishes.

It’s your job to make the best of the situation.

Make hay while the sun shines.

Dig in, stand firm and love harder when the difficult times come.

But don’t be patting yourself on the back, you’re reaping a harvest that was not of your making.

And who knows, next time you may get a tomato seed.

The trick is, how do you make the best of everything placed before you?

Politeness, watching slugs play rugby.

When people have a pop at your kids, and when there is an unequal balance of power in the pop-er's favour, it is prone to bring out the momma bear.


I have a friend, lets call her "Beryl", who feels conflicted because back in the day she was raised in an eggs-is-eggs environment, where you said it like you see it, where the strongly worded and vocal disagreement was had, everyone knew where they stood, there was a victor and the vanquished, and then you all shook hands and got on with life.


Nowadays Beryl feels it is death by a thousand cuts.


There's lots of being required to be polite, to word emails carefully, to not be seen to be too authoritative, to be seen to be collaborative, to be reasonable.


In the immortal words of my mum, "I'll Give You Reasonable!!!" while rolling up her sleeves and taking out her hoop earrings!


Someone forgot we live politely nowadays, they got above themselves and verbally abusive, and forgot that She Is Defended.
So, off went emails for traceability, politely worded requests, a declaration of my position in this matter, polite polite polite.


This would be Gibbs from NCIS's nightmare in boatbuilding terms because it is going against the grain.  There's a reason you should go with the grain, it smooths the edges, you get better results, but I guess in Lumberjack terms it is necessary to go horizontal in the cut rather that vertically as per the growth if you want to fell the beast ahead of you.


Now, Beryl's tummy is tied in knots because historically this situation could have been resolved by now but it is so very, excruciatingly slow, like watching slugs play rugby, and this is not a situation with which we have an ample quantity of time. 


So, move it people!  Get a wiggle on, light a fire under your feet, get cracking, get it sorted because your way is not necessarily correct.

Helping kids cope with GCSE's and other exams.

I have a "so far so good" strategy for helping the teen cope with impending (tomorrow and through the next week, eeeek) exams being sat a year early.


Good school supplies.
Quiet for revision.
Internet availability.
Good dinners.
Fresh fruit.
Chocolate.
Occasional nice distractions.
Clean uniform.
Kindness.


That's it. 

Stress and a Parent's Evening.

I’ve been feeling a little stressed on and off recently, nothing too bad, just enough to remind me that I’m alive and I have to work hard at simplifying life and not sweating the small stuff.

But then I went to Missy’s parents evening at school.

She’s in a good school, great school actually, phenomenal even.

They teach to a high standard, they expect a great deal from all their students, and they provide a safe environment for the children to become adults.

The children still have challenges and have to negotiate the social structure, but it is not brutal like many other establishments and the spats are quickly over.

They nurture when necessary, and get super strict when that’s required too.

They took her in when she’d had challenges elsewhere, and they didn’t give up on her when she demonstrated her “less than mainstream” view of the world.

When you are a mum to a headstrong teen and you ask them about their day, you get to hear about how much fun they had at lunch and how they’re “failing every class, ugh, I don’t even know why I bother”.

And you worry.

You prod them to get them to school on time, with the right kit and the right attitude, and the right homework, but you worry a little.

Then they have a temper a few times to get you to try and give up on them, which for 10 minutes after the fact you want to capitulate but then you dust yourself off and go at this parenting lark again.

Missy’s tempers are a sight to behold. 

In a temper she’s fierce, intense, articulate and she’s tall, and she is immovable and imposing, and bristly, and it can – for a lesser mortal than I – be a scary sight to behold.

What people see is frightening, but the reality of the situation is that she is in a heated moment, trying to communicate a distress at an injustice.

She’s just so tall and imposing that even though she is still, she’s often considered to be a worry.

So, parents evening.

You sit in front of 9 of their teachers for the exam courses they’re studying.

And the teachers ask the child to tell them how she thinks she’s doing.

And they listen and then tell her the good things.

They remind her and tell me about the good grades.

The tell me about the great behaviour and attitude she’s exhibiting (whooohooooo!  She’s a hard kid to raise).

And they set goals and tell get her to buy in to the strategy that will take her where she is from to where she could be.

 

To hear that her teachers are very fond of her, that they appreciate what a great kid she is, that they’re pushing her as they should, and that they are affirming she should enter law school or med school or enter the International Economics arena when she graduates is music to my ears, and to her ears too.

“You are a strong woman, Missy, and you are going to go far, you just need to get organised and here is how you do that….”

“You have a vast body of knowledge and you apply it well which is a delight in the class and increases your grades”.

“You managed yourself very well when you were feeling stressed today in class, next time could you…..”

“You have to hand in your homework even if you feel it could have been better, to give you a mark, we have to see it…”

One teacher caught me by the arm after Missy walked out to the corridor between appointments and asked

“Is she as intense at home? Wow, my hat goes off to you, you manage so well and you are doing phenomenally.  We really appreciate everything you have done to bring her to this point, she’s amazing and we can see her growth.  You are a powerful parent to her and she is blessed because of it”.

 

And all of a sudden, I was a little less stressed, and I could concentrate on the things which needed my attention.

 

Even the good ones leave something to be desired...

If you're thinking of having a kid, a cute, snuggly, smells like talc kid, I would add a word of caution.
Go to the back garden, taking your purse filled with your money and bank cards, wallet, favourite things, your nice clothes, your ordinary clothes, and a box of matches.
Now set it all on fire.
Poke the fire for a while, really get it burning.
Burning good? 
Great.
Now take a demanding older person on holiday, never letting her out of your sight. 
Accommodate all of her wants and needs at all times, day or night.
If you plan on having more than one kiddo, take an extra adult for every extra kid, same rules apply, never let them out of your sight.
Now slap yourself in the face to simulate emotionally hurtful words the teens will throw at you.
Switch on all the lights in the house, leave them that way for 18 years. 
Start the taps running now.
Develop your career based on hoping your boss doesn't notice holiday days are being taken to coincide with teacher training days, all the time.  Fake a cold when overseas travel is mentioned.  A sneezy, "don't travel with me, look at this sneezy cold" cold.  Add a cough for authenticity.
Wet some bath towels and leave them as a trip hazard.
Have someone on standby to roll their eyes at you without notice.
Cook a dinner, have someone come and scrape that dinner in to the bin and get a chocolate croissant from the cupboard instead.
Leave everything, everywhere, and clamber over, then yell a while and get it all picked up and start over again.
Now stay awake for 15 years.
Managed to get a new purse?
Great, go back to the garden and burn that too.  No!  Don't take out your bank cards.
Now, if you still want babies, go for it.
Still fun?
Don't say you were not warned.

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.

To those who hear what you cannot say.

Today I would like to express gratitude to the people who hear what you are saying even when you cannot get the words out. 
Sometimes they even help you identify the emotion that is proving elusive and just out of grasp.
I get crazy until I can name and label the feeling or the reason for the feeling.  Nothing else matters until that is achieved.
I would like to take a moment to be grateful for the people who recognise the urgency of a situation when I am pathetically unable to articulate the matter.
Have you ever had that experience where heart speaks to heart, where someone just "gets it" and steps up?

Simultaneously while I was having a hard time of it recently, there was also someone near and dear to me who is experiencing a period of struggle.  They needed help, I didn't know how, if I knew what to do to fix the situation I would do that first but found myself in a thousand possible outcomes scenario and it was frightening.  It remains frightening.  There is so much love that the fear of making things more of a struggle was enormous and paralysing.

So I asked good people who I thought might have experience in this particular matter, and they got it and they replied.
Then I asked the service provider to help me identify the root concern and advise how I proceed for maximum effectiveness. When they said "what is it that's happening?" I had no answer, I couldn't find the words to convey the seriousness of the situation.
I have heard folks say in Diary of a Mom blog "if you don't know where to start, start right where you are, in the middle, just start" so I did.
Now, because they listened, there's a plan of action and there is hope for a successful outcome, because they listened and heard what I couldn't say and didn't know how to say.

I love them.
They may never know that they eternally have a place in my heart brimming with love and gratitude and every good wish for their happiness as they traverse through life.
It is a little intense to walk up to them and say "you saved someone's happy outcome and you will never know the magnitude of my thankfulness" so I'll keep that one in my back pocket for a while until I manage to calm down a little.
I am grateful for them taking the time to really hear what needed to be heard when there were no words.
I am grateful for their amazingly insightful and simple ideas which we tried and are proving to be positive.  There are no guarantees and we are at the start of this endeavour so I'll have to get back to you in a few years time to let you know how things pan out but right now it's looking better than before.
I love them.
Thank you just isn't enough.

The Ying and Yang of Family

I am English. I am pleased to be so.
The English stereotype is historically of the old stiff upper lip, don't make a scene, don't make a fuss, dignity above all else. However that is nothing like my experience of being English.

Since the late 1950's, the English started expressing publicly that they needed more freedom of expression, they needed the opportunity to carve out their own path in life. As the rights of the individual were championed in the courts, there were some casualties along the way. No longer could a man expect his wife to do and be a substitute mother to him and for a few years the divorce courts had a booming trade while those who could not adapt to a more equal life were set aside in favour of those that could. It was a bumpy few decades but the divorce courts trade is now waning by comparison, the majority of children in this country are being raised in stable two parent families. Perhaps not the original two parents, but stability and love abound.

Families can provide a nurturing environment to raise up the next generation, or to support friendships, or teach a person how to cut a path in the commercial world.  What starts in the family ought to be love, boundaries, affection, belonging, aspiration. These help a person learn to deal with lifes knocks along the way. They teach emotional self regulation and how to overcome hurdles and obstacles.

When a healthy environment is less available, the effect may not be experienced for decades.

When life hits us with unexpected outcomes it can be a shock but we bounce back.

Resilience is defined as a material being able to receive an impact, disperse and expel the force with no visible or lasting damage being incurred.

People who were not able to learn early in life how to be resilient must needs learn the lesson later, and it is a painful one.

When the need to be resilient in every single aspect of a persons life happens all at once, it is not a pretty sight.  They are whelmed, threatening to be overwhelmed. They do not know how to express resilience in all of these areas or how to genuinely feel resilient or how to impartially review the multitude of situations they are simultaneously experiencing.

When there is no way through, there are hopefully some strong friendships.
When the whelmed individual asks the honest question, and the caring and honest answers come in, it gives the asker a stick in the sand to start measuring the direction of the sun, thus the person finds out where they are and can start to decide where they want to be, and plot a course.

People raise people.

All that good folks want is for a better shake than their predecessors and for their offspring to have a better shake than themselves.

We each have a personal responsibility to learn, grow, and develop the skills that were either never taught or were taught but we were not listening that day.

Hurt people hurt people.

Rising above the disappointments or unfulfilled expedtations prevents one from becoming the instigator in the future.  While it is natural for someone to want others to feel some of that which they dish out, it would only continue the cycle for future decades, perhaps future generations.

Cultivate friendships in the good times.
These friendships will enrich your life.
These friendships will point the way to emotional resilience when you are surprised at the immediacy of the emergency.

Resilience and happiness are the long term goals.
Aside from a few wrinkles and a few extra silver hairs, we might be doing alright.

Nearly 3 Years After The World Changed Forever

Nearly 3 years ago, "the incident" occurred which changed the trajectory of mine and my child's life forever. 
Fortunately we are over the initial impact, have landed on our feet after bouncing a few times on our tushie, we are within acceptable parameters for emotional strength and wellbeing.

• We have a roof.
• We have food and a table to eat it at, for many months there it was pasta every night and I was grateful through the grimace.
• We have clothes on our back and shoes on our feet, the child decided to have a growth surge two days after we left and has grown about a foot and gone through 4 sizes of shoe since that time. She was humble enough to wear some of my clothes until we could replenish her wardrobe, it broke my heart to have to do that but she rocked the look and it made me love her a little more.  Now we are fighting because she procrastinates putting away her copious amounts of laundry.  I see the blessing and recognise how daft the disagreement may be in the eternal scheme of things.
• We have beds, working White Goods in the kitchen, and petrol in the car. Each of these things were in limited supply.
• Our house is warm and cosy.

To go from paying half for everything to paying everything for everything was a leap, an enormous leap, and if I thought I lived frugally before it was nothing compared to now. The crushing responsibility of keeping another human being alive, on your own, kept me awake more nights than I care to recall in detail.


I took lots of my possessions and sold them. One particular time I took items for sale and received the cash, the child came out of school with a letter for a school trip for £7 less than I had secured that very day. She obviously went on the trip.


You'd be surprised what you can do without.
You'd be surprised at which items you are happy to sell to make ends meet.
You'd be surprised at how much stuff which had seemed so important now looks like one more thing you have to carry next time you move.
Simplifying is the easiest way through.


When I eventually get a forever home, I am going to buy an ornament, a small and ugly thing.  It will stand as a reminder that apart from dusting, I'll never have to pick that thing up again and move it all the days of my life unless I want to. 


I am looking forward to going out ornament shopping.
That will be a happy day.
But you know what, I'll just add that particular happy day to all the others we have accrued and banked in the past 3 years, of which there are many to choose from.
Ladies and Gentlemen, it gets better, hang on in there.