Do Excuse Me

I have been looking through the “dashboard” of this very blog and have found all sorts of things that I don’t know how to use or what to do with. Not that this worries me in the least. I can leave them alone – the things I do understand seem quite adequate for now – or I can give them a go and probably delete the changes that occur if it turns out to be a cock-up.

I have discovered, though, a fair number of unfinished and unpublished posts lurking around the back of my office. These are things that have been interrupted by small children and forgotten about. Some of them look as if they might have been quite interesting. Well, if you like that sort of thing, anyway. But by now I have completely lost the thread of what I was saying in most, if not all, cases.

It would be nice to think that I might be able to finish and post these thoughts one day. But, talking of interruptions by small children, I am having one right now, so I’d better wind up and publish before there is blood-shed (we’ve already got the sweat and tears – toddlers and their tantrums, eh).

TTFN 

School Joys and Woes

Well, that’s that. #3 has started at a new school and we are leaving the state system behind, as far as she is concerned, anyway. #4 can go to this gem of an independent school when the time comes, too, so that’s 10 years of baking cakes for the Teddy Bears’ Picnic! Ah, well, I do make a great carrot cake even if I do say so myself.

Telling the old school was, well, rather scary. Having heard from my friend that she was physically dragged into the head’s office and shouted at, I have obviously been a bit concerned about this aspect of the move. Sadly, I have taken the coward’s way out, as I am a coward. I wrote a letter (copy of which is on “The Fall of State Education” page), and this morning I posted it through the letterbox, despite knowing full well that all the staff were there, as it was an INSET day. Then I ran away and spent the rest of the day at my mother’s house, safe in the knowledge that my mobile phone battery had died and there was no way for the school to contact me should they wish to do so.

Of course, they might not call until tomorrow, or even the day after. I probably won’t feel really safe from repercussions until a full week has passed. But at the end of the day it is my decision, and I believe I am following the legal requirement to “provide a suitable education”, whereas state schools no longer fulfil this. In fact if the state system is an example of what fulfils the legal need for a suitable education for each child according to their abilities etc, then no parent need fear the prospect of home education – in so many cases there is no way any reasonably literate and numerate parent could fail to provide at least as good, and probably infinitely more suitable an education than their local state school.

So #1 is doing well at college, and should end the year with a distinction in Animal Care. #3 is so far very pleased with her new learning environment, and #4 can go there too, all being equal, because I honestly can’t see things improving elsewhere in the next 3 years or so. Just got #2 to sort out now. He is “on the autistic spectrum” (still being assessed as to whereon this spectrum, possibly Asperger’s), and currently desperately unhappy in school. It has been a bad year for him, on the whole, starting with his broken arm 2 days before they went back in September. Lots of illnesses have followed, and his anxiety levels have gone through the roof, although it seems to have settled a little bit in that he isn’t washing his hands every half an hour at the minute, and I haven’t seen him bang his head against anything for a few weeks. He still feels very unhappy, but it’s not so bad as to cause these distressing behaviours any more.

#2 has 2 more years at his present school, then it will be on to secondary. I am terrified at the thought of him in “big” school. I really can’t see him coping emotionally, although academically he is rather brilliant – or would be if they were able to cater for slightly odd, very bright children. He did an IQ test on line the other day and scored 150. This was probably a bit generous, my own score came out at 154 on this particular test and I am generally around the 134 mark. Having said that it was an adult test, so that puts it up again. Maybe I should get him properly tested.

Anyway, at least #3 is happy. She is sitting here reading to me, probably because she doesn’t have to, whereas at the old place reading was compulsory every night and so we hardly ever did it. Isn’t psychology an amazing thing. She is obviously rather contrary, just like her mother.

Vague

New entry on the education page – scroll down to “Burning Bridges” if you are at all interested. If you aren’t, don’t go. That’s fine too, lol.

Vague

Going Slowly Mad

My son was up bright and early yesterday. “I need to pack, Mummy.” I was going out to take #1 for her second ultrasound scan. “Later,” I said. Rushed out the door. Picked up #1 and boyfriend, went to hospital, had scan, found out it’s a boy (#1 very happy, she wants a boy), took b/f back, went home with daughter. Walked in the door.

“I need to pack, Mummy.”

Went to find clothes for son, not that he needed much as he had actually found most of it himself in the intervening time. So that worked quite well, although there were some problems with the toothpaste: “I don’t like that one, where’s my toothpaste?” etc. So I’m putting on a load of washing, doing the washing up while #4 is asleep, having breakfast (it was still morning, just), digging a flowerbed….all those normal motherly activities.

“When can we go? Is it time to go? Can I go now? Can you take me to Zizzy’s?…..”

So I phone Zizzy (the children’s name for their grandmother – long story). She ums and ahs. Well, she has to do this, that and the other. Buddy (granddad) needs a rest. 4 o’clock? Is that okay? Well, maybe 3.30. Yes, 3.30. Okay. Sorted.

Only 4 hours to kill. “Oh Muuuuuum.” Correction. Only 4 hours to NOT kill the children.

Mend swing. Finish digging flowerbed. Finish the washing up. Put the washing on to spin again because it’s still soaking wet. Send #3 for an ice cream. (“Don’t get all the sauces, they make you crazy.” So she didn’t get all of them, only the blue one, the green one and the pink one. So there is a hugely annoying daughter to look forward to later. Great). Move plants from old flowerbed to new one.

“Is it time to go yet?”

No!

Hop on internet for a bit. Waiting for an email. It hasn’t come yet. Could be a few more days. Then, finally, it’s 3 o’clock and we can start to make tracks to Zizzy’s. Gather all 4 children together. Insert into car. Strap in. Go.

We got there at exactly 3.30. Son really pleased. He’s staying the night and going to the science museum next day. I’m really pleased. I’m getting rid of one of my brood for more than 24 hours!! I love them dearly, but sometimes you just need a break. But……

Well, they all want to see cousin M, who is also staying. But her father is mending his car. It will take as long as it takes. They will be there when they are. Son wants to get out various games with small pieces, in spite of having no-one to play them with at that moment in time. #3 is starting to feel the effects of all those artificial colours she had on her ice cream. #4 is just doing what toddlers do, you know, roaming around wrecking things. #1 is busy complaining that cousin M isn’t there yet and she really wants to go home but she really wants to see cousin M. I just want to get out of this madness, because I need to do some shopping on the way home and then cook the dinner before I go out that evening.

Finally cousin M is there. Let them play for a bit while I have another cup of tea, then we really have to go. Stop at petrol station for food and fuel. Go home. Cook dinner. Message from hubby that friend has phoned asking for a favour. Deal with phone call from said friend; agree to favour. Get #3 into bed (still buzzing mildly but better than she was earlier). Leave house. #1 comes rushing down the road. I’ve picked up her tobacco by mistake. Go back in, find my own tobacco. Leave again, now that #4 is completely hysterical. Joined by husband who has collected silly game from friend.

Have quite a good evening catching up with friend and brother. Drinking tea as it’s my turn to drive. Get back into car with mildly pissed husband. See the time is 00:15. Where the hell did that go? I have probably turned into a pumpkin.

Get home, go to “bed” which is the sofa tonight as I have a bit of a cough which means I have to sit up or I won’t get any sleep. All that tea sloshing around keeping me awake for another hour. Finally drop off. Get up 6 hours later and start again……

Yep, going slowly mad…..

I’m Dreaming of a White Birthday….

Well, to be honest I wasn’t, but that’s what I got anyway. It is very pretty around here at the minute. It has actually snowed on my birthday a few times, snow in early April being a lot more common than most people think. It won’t last but the lovely scenery out there right now is worth it even for a short time, and at least it isn’t causing too much disruption what with it being a Sunday.

You might have noticed I’ve changed my title a bit. I have realised that a) just talking about children is a bit boring and b) I keep thinking of things I could have a rant about if only I hadn’t limited myself at the outset. So I changed it. Since no-one much has really looked at this blog so far anyway, it hardly matters, and these category thingies can be used to bunch all the child-related posts together anyway.

I did already have a bit of a rant about school selection today – this is under “The Fall of the Education System” in the menu over there –> I’m personally not going to have to choose schools for my children because I am on the verge of burying them under the patio as it is and it is only the second day of the school holidays.  The little dears are winding each other up, especially #3 who is a specialist at pushing the buttons of whoever is in the vicinity. She really is very annoying at times. Incapable of ever sitting still or shutting up, it really takes a lot to stop her. In fact, most of this week I have sent her into school with a spoonful of calpol despite the fact she was running a temperature of nearly a hundred, because she was absolutely her normal self. I can’t cope with that all day every day. Weekends are not my most looked-forward to these days. The holidays are a form of extended torture.

I cannot move freely around the house, as every time I turn around she is there, grabbing me around the legs or just generally being in the way. The baby still needs a fair bit of attention, but every time I manage to put her down I am suddenly leapt on by #3. In between times #2 wants a hug as well, and #1 has recently jumped on the bandwagon, realising that she too would like regular contact with Mum despite the fact that she was never a cuddly child when she was younger. My poor dear husband can’t get a look in, much as he would like to, and this is something that I do feel desperately guilty about at times but I really do feel as if everyone wants a piece of me, and when, exactly, do I get to decide what I can do with my own body? When do I get some space, peace and quiet without being grabbed, hugged, held or fondled by some other member of the family, lovely though it is?

Sadly, I am increasingly finding that all this physical contact grates on me. I was not a particularly cuddly child myself. I am not naturally a physically demonstrative person. Yet I am surrounded by people who are and finding it rather difficult. I mean, when did we become so European? I am really, really British. Stiff upper lip, shake hands, in fact, why not bring back bows and curtsies? Perhaps I am just a little claustrophobic right now, maybe it’s the PND making itself felt, or just the fact that #4 was not only unplanned but made our rather small 3 bed place rather overcrowded. Maybe I just need some space.

Well, actually that is the problem. I do need some space. I also feel guilty about money an awful lot of the time. We haven’t got a lot. I can’t make any difference to that, really. Well, I could. What I really want to do is breed dogs. I love puppies. Then I get fed up of them. Breeding seems ideal, I can have an ever-changing kaleidascope of puppy invaders in the house and just as I am getting bored with them I can sell them for quite reasonable sums of money, giving me an enjoyable hobby that contributes well to household finances. I do have a collie bitch with whom to make a start, but in order to make a real noticeable difference, just one more small bitch would help a lot.

Only problem is hubby. Where would we put it? Can we really cope with more hair in the house? What if…this that and the other….? The difference between him and me is that he worries and I trust. I simply trust that things will work out okay, whereas he frets about what might happen if it doesn’t. Alright, I probably don’t worry enough, but the way I see it life’s too short. But I do feel guilty about us being poor, and I can see a way to help that would actually work quite well, but I can’t make my good man see it because of his very different view of things. Although one reasonable point is that getting another dog is not going to alleviate the space problems – quite the opposite in fact.

But #1 is moving out in the summer, the rats are starting to die now, the cat is in constant danger of being run over, trampled or poisoned, and I only want a very little doggie. So balance will be acheived. Sort of. Eventually. Maybe.

I don’t like to push my point to forcefully, especially when I am so grumpy, and I could get my own way by other means but then I would feel guilty about it. So I will have to just keep working on it and see if I can get my point across and simply get hubby to agree because he does, not because I have made him. If you see the difference. It would be nice to win on merit for a change.

Until next time.