Sorry for going MIA

As you can imagine, moving a family of size is quite a challenge and very often the physical act of "moving" is only the tip of the iceberg. R likes to quote his favourite "80:20" rule, where 80% of the work takes 20% of the time and the remaining 20% the remaining 80% of the time! I have come to realise (yet again!) how apt this is.

We were all unpacked and ostensibly settled within a week, but the slow process of establishing local health, education and social links is taking a while. Having all four children under various consultants is a nightmare to say the least and unfortunately the most conveniently located GP practice has proved to be possibly the least sympathetic and helpful in the town! They have lost clinic letters, made errors on repeat prescription and "accidentally" sent referral letters to the wrong places.... I knew it wasn't going to be easy but establishing adequate local healthcare has been as arduous as wading through waist-high treacle in a snowsuit. I think.

I've always tried to write about topical subjects, or at least topics in which I am interested in or can relate to, and this is partially the reason for a lack of posts in recent months. Having neither the time to "think" outside the family box has prohibited any ponderings beyond the essential and urgent! I've also felt rather lost and uneasy because although we have struggled with the twins' medical issues since birth, the reflux everyone has in the family and H's issues I did at least think I understood them. Maybe not where we were going but at least where we came from and where we are now! However, we now have a diagnosis for all the gut issues, which makes an earth shattering amount of sense and would seem to be the missing and most elusive piece of the complex jigsaw which is our family. I should be jumping for joy you may think, and indeed I would like to shout from the rooftops that I am NOT a neurotic mother and there is a very real disease affecting our family with which we have to cope day in, day out. However there is no cure, it isn't going to go away and there is no no hope of a magic wand.

The twins have been diagnosed with EGID - Eosinophilic Gastro-Intestinal Disease. It is an autoimmune allergic response which leaves the gut damaged by white blood cells called eosinophils which attack it. The only ways of treating it are by strict dietary restrictions (so now we are off dairy soya AND wheat again...) and anti allergy meds, and maybe steroids. (No we are NOT going there...) We have such a strong family history of allergies, gastrointestinal problems and autoimmune disease it shouldn't be a surprise. I have suffered mildly all my life with gastro problems and more so with allergies, reflux as an adult and have autoimmune thyroid disease so I should be well informed, strong and understanding enough to deal with this. But I take a little white pill to artificially do what my self-destroyed thyroid cannot, there is no such "fix" for EGID.  In older children it presents as further gastro issues but also with joint pain and problems, and hypermobility and hypermobile joints too - all four children are now under Podiatry and we are hoping it will help J's back pain too.

We are lucky, it's rare and many with it are totally enterally (tube) fed since they are allergic to all foods and my kids are essentially fit and well. However, the reflux goes from bad to worse, the bloating, the constipation - it doesn't go away. Imagine it being the highlight of the WEEK if your child successfully empties his bowels? Or you sleep right through because no one wakes choking on reflux, or sweats so much they need their sheets changing?

Right now I'm feeling a little adrift... relieved, yet bereaved that virtually all hope of the elusive magic wand has now gone. If I'm honest I'm angry too, I didn't "sign up" for this and neither did the children. I'm in denial at times too, it comes in waves! I'm turning the anger, frustration, sadness and denial into some positive energy and am now helping found a Parent Network for families with gastrointestinal disease with GOSH. Extremely worthwhile and a good distraction too.

FABED - Families affected by Eosinophilic Disorders a fantastic site with a discussion forum. useful inof if anyone is interested in finding out more!

The genetics of ADHD - my views on the study debated today

 I have listened to this debate all day and quite frankly am totally mystified as to how two so called "experts" feel mudslinging is going to assist in the worthwhile investigation into the causes of ADHD. Jeremy Vine on BBC2 was in his element egging on the Ritalin-bashing extremists, allowing clinical psychologist Oliver James free rein to get on his soap box - which he leapt on and duly blamed all parents of children with ADHD as being dysfunctional with poor parenting skills.

Frankly I take offence at that and invite Oliver James to come and visit our family and a few others I know who are equally furious at his assertions. 

So what is all the fuss about? Well, apparently the "first direct evidence of a genetic link to attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder has been found, a study says." Scientists from Cardiff University, writing in The Lancet, said the disorder was a brain problem like autism - not due to bad parenting. They analysed stretches of DNA from 366 children who had been diagnosed with the disorder.But other experts argued ADHD was caused by a mixture of genetic and environmental factors. (Oliver James the most vehement critic.)

Unfortunately, the PR team given the task of publicising said study took a leaf out of Alistair Campbell's book and produced a report the King of Spin himself would have been proud of, neglecting to focus on the key point the research did demonstrate. Whilst there are bound to be crossovers with so many other co-morbid conditions the fact remains that a genetic link appears to be there, at least in some children with ADHD. Given that there are also several types of ADHD (ask my son, he'll list them for you) I do think this is significant, and it's a start. Not an end point and yes there are flaws but a valuable contribution to ADHD research. I don't think anyone is saying ADHD is only ever genetically caused but let's give the study credit where due and give parents a break.

Any parent with a child with an ADHD diagnosis, particularly if they have other non-ADHD children, is likely to tell you it is a combination of nurture and nature. To my mind there is absolutely no doubting the genetic link, ADHD runs in multi-class, fully functional families I know and pursuing accusations of bad parenting do an incredible disservice to the hard work of bringing up a child with ADHD. Imagine a child waking screaming and shouting every morning at 6am, threatening siblings, running away, self-harming, and frequently excluded from school - the parent of that child has to work 24/7 parenting and protecting the rest of the family in extreme circumstances. Apportioning blame is disrespectful and insulting. If you haven't been there you have NO idea.

Oh, and my other three exhibit no such behaviours, all parented the same way, and actually the child with ADHD had the calmest pregnancy of the lot. Without Ritalin he would have been permanently excluded by the age of 6 and would be uncontrollable. More importantly he LIKES taking it as he can concentrate, learn at school and feels better about himself as a result. He is happy, manageable and has friends. No parent likes giving their child medication and in all cases you have to weigh up the pros and cons but persisting in stigmatising children with ADHD and their families helps no-one. Time to stop Ritalin-bashing, support parents and fund decent research.

Indigo Children - a reality or ASD/ADHD or just bad parenting?!

This post is on a subject I have recently given considerable thought to.

I've struggled with son number 2 for most of his 8 years. He does have a variety of diagnoses to his name including Autism and ADHD and I invariably notice similar traits all too easily in others, and in my other children also. That is not to say any of the other three would deserve similar diagnoses but since the Autism Spectrum is just that - a spectrum -  many of us share some of the aspects which combine to warrant a full blown diagnosis in those more profoundly affected.

What I also notice in my younger two in particular is how sensitive, aware and opinionated they are. They are old for their years in so many ways, bright and able yet certainly less socially adept than my eldest was at 4. They are intuitive and impatient with those less so, have their own agenda and can be alarmingly vocal about it. This is not an immaturity  typical of a child two years younger, exhibiting tantrums borne of communication difficulties. And unlike the child on the Autism Spectrum, who shares many characteristics with the so called "Indigo Children" my twins can tell you exactly what they need and want, communicate their feelings in great detail and are acutely aware of others' feelings also. They are far more self assured than I was at their age for sure, yet I have parented them in the same way as their older siblings!

I read The Indigo Children recently having been kindly sent a copy. To be perfectly honest, I'm more a science-based kind of girl, preferring Dawkins and Schrodinger to crystals and New Age theories. I prefer to view the world in all its complexity through the concepts of science rather and have absolutely no time for auras, the paranormal or synesthesia  which is how Wikipedia prefers to classify the Indigo concept. But the books I have read on Indigo Children are slightly unsettling - because the certainly do describe familiar traits which I see in my children. 

Many children labelled indigo by their parents are diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and Tober and Carroll's book The Indigo Children linked the concept with diagnosis of ADHD. Their book makes the case that the children are a new stage of evolution rather than children with a medical diagnosis, and that they require special treatment rather than medications. This I can understand, some prefer to consider a "problem" as a desirable variant of "normal" . Certainly the number of children receiving a diagnosis of ADHD and/or Autism is on the increase and discussion of this generally accepted fact is frequently in the news and professionals are keen to determine whether this is better recognition of both conditions or an increase in their manifestation/occurrence which would be somewhat disturbing. Advocates of the concept of the "Indigo" child would respond that this is due to a surge of "old souls" (old before their time - self assured, confident, opinionated, not reincarnated) born since the 1970s who are misunderstood and misdiagnosed.

But I don't see ADHD in my younger two, some ASD traits yes but none more than your average 4 year old with a brother on the spectrum and I really don't feel comfortable with the "Indigo" label. Which leaves little else other than parenting style. As an historian with a keen interest in social history and in particular the social history of children I know the place of children in society has been revolutionised. From the early modern idea of children as essential, unavoidable and lower status providers to the family economy to the Victorian opinion that well-off children should be "seen and not heard" and poorer children were an economic resource or an inconvenience the lot of the child in history has - on the whole - been secondary to that of their parents and other adults. Many children never saw their first birthday, let alone their fifth and whilst loved and cherished by their mothers rarely attracted the fawning over we see today.

I see it everywhere, through the advertising of children's toys and luxuries, the play schemes and activities and in the attitude of many parents who live their lives through and for their children. I'm as guilty as the next in becoming caught up in the desire to give my children a good start, hoping for if not the best certainly a desirable close second in the many choices we make for them. I've resisted the rooms full of toys though, the luxury parties and excessive wardrobes of clothes but my four don't do badly! But I do expect respect and good behaviour from them and will not tolerate demands and tantrums. Yet despite our attitude at home the rapid elevation in society of children to a status far above that of their parents (at times) is infectious and has to have contributed in some way to the behaviour issues so many of us see so often today. The way we are encouraged to leap on every little issue, meet every single need at every level and don't even get me started on the concept of "safeguarding" which has legitimised society-wide interference which further devalues parents. 

The pendulum seems to have swung too far the other way, precipitating a child-dominant culture which has nurtured and encouraged the Indigo type. I actually think the Indigo personality is a reality (I suspect I have two borderline Indigos here!) but I honestly believe this is a product of the social changes we have seen since our economic circumstances have enabled a radical remodelling of our children's role in society. Parents have been under fire for too long, for ignoring their child's needs at their own expense when a little balance would satisfy everyone's basic needs. Indigos are only here to stay if we perpetuate the necessary environment for them to flourish in. There is a HUGE difference between a smart, opinionated kid with an advanced awareness of their place in society and a child with ADHD and/or ASD and confusing the two does a huge disservice to the latter group. Indigos are a product of the social changes in recent decades in my opinion and different (rather than bad (or good)) parenting and a clear reminder of the direction we find the world heading in.

Facebook v Twitter?

My eldest son recently joined the ranks of Facebook users and has alarmed us with the speed in which he became addicted to it. This was in fact a completely harmless addiction to the application "Farmville" (rather than the immediate embracing of virtual human interaction to our great relief) but nonetheless got me thinking.

I have used Facebook for years- before that I frequented a couple of parenting forums which I still occasionally use now. Before our second child was born I had barely discovered the internet but post-natal depression, a complicated baby and a move to a new area left me isolated and lonely. I craved interaction of any kind but had little confidence to break in to the local parenting circuits.

Even once better integrated I felt drawn to online communication, a "fast-food" and "safe" alternative to making the effort to go out and socialize. Somehow with less on offer ( no visibility for a start, make-up, clothes etc don't matter online!) there was less to lose but surprisingly a lot to gain. Over the past 8 years I have made many online friends, several of whom I have gone on to meet up with, some on a regular basis. I found the opportunity to gradually get to know others in this way helped me meet people I have a lot in common with but whom I might never have met in real life.

Of course online forums facilitate the meeting of like minds- and in my case provided me with much-needed support when dealing with severe reflux with our twins. So valuable have I found such sites that I went on to support others myself. One site in particular has achieved what a non-virtual organization could not- worldwide membership, sponsorship and funding through rapid promotion and campaigning. The power of social networking online is phenomenal. My friend and her s Facebook campaign at Christmas got "Rage at the Machine" to No.1 and raised £100 000 for Shelter.

But back to the question posed in the title. Facebook or Twitter? For me, the former held great appeal as a "one stop shop" online. Keep up with everyone in one place. Quickly. An even quicker fix for socializing..... and yet that is precisely the problem. We don't all live in one big community where everyone knows one another. Our daily lives involve many groups of people, some overlap, but even when they do it is likely to be in the manner of a Venn Diagram rather an a complete overlay. We rarely say te same things, share the same information, same mannerisms etc with everyone we know. A status update on Facebook though, unless you take time and effort to change preferences, each time will go to everyone on your friend list every time. And that's not all. The popularity and ubiquitous nature of Facebook in youth culture is redefining not only the WAY our children interact but WHOM they interact with. Children as young as 8 are using Facebook and I wonder how many parents realize that through "friends of friends" their children have a window into the world of much, much older children- and adults. We try and protect out children from so much and yet it is all so "innocently" available online. 

For me, Facebook has become too intrusive, too open, too all-encompassing. It's a fantastic platform through which to keep in touch with friends from all walks of life- but that's how I think I want my life to stay - partitioned, at least to an extent. One of my friends today pointed out it was scary having her dad on Facebook - how many want their parents of any age having that level of knowledge of our personal lives? Actually though, i think having your children on there focusses the mind far far more!!

There is a lot to be said for a little anonymity, and less can definitely be more. I for one forget too easily the wide audience a simple status update has which can precipitate confusion and upset all too easily! I like the brief, simple concept of Twitter, and find myself drawn to it more and more. Maybe it is a comment on my life now more than anything, the fact that there is less need for in-depth online interaction than in the past but I firmly believe that our social lives whether based on age, life stage or location are there for a reason and the potential consequences of forgetting, or ignoring that alarm me.

"Blundell-gate". My views on THAT editorial.

There has been much furore this week over the Guardian article Breastfeeding is creepy, says parenting magazine in it's discussion of Kathryn Blundell's editorial in (of all places) Mother and Baby Magazine entitled I Formula Fed - So What? Not least because in an age where health professionals and hospitals are striving to win "Breastfeeding Friendly" accreditation this personal rant comes in a respected magazine aimed at the mass mothering market, and in Breastfeeding Awareness Week for maximum impact.

As discussed eloquently here my gripe is that once again the myths surrounding breastfeeding are clouding the real issue here and precipitating the age old breast v bottle debate. Breastfeeding does NOT make your breasts sag, pregnancy does and even if it did surely that is the reason women have them in the first place? Whilst we persist to deliberate over the either/or decision we lose sight of the salient fact, that breastfeeding is what nature intended, what is without any doubt is best for all babies unless there are other issues present which alter this.

Now before everyone jumps down my throat, I'm not a "breastfeeding nazi", and I recognise the role formula feeding has in modern society. I only breastfed my eldest for six weeks due to poor advice and his severe reflux and the prospect of returning to full-time work after a mere twelve weeks post delivery. (The latter was a statutory requirement then.) It was the right decision for us then, I challenge anyone to say otherwise. I did have several friends in the NCT then who would indeed qualify for the above status. I actually wrote an article "When Breast Isn't Best" for their magazine - which to their credit they published.

But (and this is the key point in my eyes) I assumed breastfeeding was the norm, what I intended to do and gave it my best shot. With better advice and in different circumstances I might have succeeded too. Never did I assume I would bottle feed my baby and no threats of sagging breasts of lack of alcohol would have persuaded me otherwise.

Over the years I have known many mothers who needed to bottle feed - due to maternal medication, ill health both physical and mental, ridiculous working hours, and infant health issues like the dreaded Reflux which all my children have suffered with. Formula feeding when appropriate should then be embraced as a modern miracle, a way of safely feeding a precious baby who centuries ago in some of these circumstances would have perished.

But as a first choice with no major influencing factors?

The myths are bad enough - when our twins were tiny and failing to thrive the number of doctors who genuinely believed that formula feeding was the way to go concerned me, not least because they were ignorant of the possible benefits and were therefore unable to make a balanced decision. (They were more concerned with measuring formula and weighing babies like those who recommended a family friend express then bottle feed her premature baby to ensure she received enough milk. I mean, seriously, can you not tell when a baby is or is not thriving? The sad fact with our twins and many others with reflux is that it is all too often exacerbated or even caused by food allergies and intolerances, and a diet of only breastmilk until six months of age as recommended by the World Health Organisation is one of the very best ways to try and reduce the chances of a baby developing such issues. My youngest son was fed a top-up of formula in hospital and that single exposure precipitated a severe dairy allergy which might have been avoided. Yet despite being armed with as much factual information as possible I was still viewed as extremist and eccentric by the health professionals caring for my babies!

What I am trying to get across here is that viewing what nature intended, what is best in every way for a baby in normal circumstances and is supported by the international health community as eccentric really should shock! We as a nation would never accept removing all newborn puppies from their mother and choosing to bottle feed them cat milk as an equal option to their mother's milk and neither should we have this view for humans!

Until we in the UK start embracing breastfeeding as the norm rather than one of two equal choices, with totally acceptable alternatives when the need really does arise which are respected and supported then we are still going to have some of the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world. The language of breastfeeding of breastfeeding needs to change.

Kathryn Blundell's rant in Mother and Baby magazine endorses myth and misunderstanding, playing into the hands of the "have it all" brigade. It marginalises the campaign to promote breastfeeding as a ram-it-down-your-throat propaganda attempt (no pun intended!) rather than a drive to inform and promote understanding.

The most Amazing Feeling.

Today my son became an asset. Not a problem to be fixed, overcome or ignored but a positive and beneficial contributor. How good does that feel? Even better to him than it does to me, and that's saying something!

H's new school would so far appear to be one of the very best things to happen to him in his life so far. (I only hope this continues!) It started with the Holiday Club and Wraparound Care (Breakfast Club) telling me additional support really wasn't required and Harry was welcome to attend as many sessions as we (or he) wanted. Not only were they completely "unfazed" by meltdowns and tantrums, insecurities and possible running away attempts, they actually think Harry is good fun, has a wicked sense of humour and barely noteworthy in the challenge stakes!

Now we *know* this is not always the case, given a different environment, different staff with less experience etc it would likely be a very different scenario. As a family with two adults we struggle on outings at the best of times and until recently rarely attempted them. Snide remarks from ignorant members of the public do eventually grind you down! But how completely liberating to be told your child is "one of many" and "not a problem", I just cannot describe how good that makes me feel.

Today H had the first of four short visits to his new school. They met him at the Office, welcomed him, had a visual welcome book ready and an allocated SEN supporter for him. He clung to Richard, overwhelmed despite a previous visit until he spotted a friend from their Holiday Club we had sent him to in Half Term for this very reason. And the school KNEW this and put him in the SAME CLASS as this friend to help him settle in! After one short hour, Richard collected him, a happy grinning child who LOVES the new school and cannot wait for September. Even better, the school are so impressed with HIM and he's going in with a "gifted" label rather than a "problem" one.

I'm grinning all over my face as I type. His current school have been really supportive, this is not written in condemnation because they have faced a steep learning curve over the past 4 years - and so have we. That mountainous curve has been a hard climb but we must be somewhere near the summit if only in terms of understanding his current needs having picked and fought for his new school.

My son. Wanted, welcomed and viewed for his positive attributes whilst supported in his additional needs. Love it.

The "Science" of Childcare - the scourge of modern society.

As the coalition attempts to get to grips with tackling this country's enormous deficit, inevitably Welfare and Education are among the front runners for intense scrutiny.

I doubt many of us would question a general spending overhaul in all government departments, the growth of management level employees over the past 10 or more years has been exponential and excessive. But what I as a parent, former teacher and Registered Childminder would most like to see is an admission that the patchwork that is the Children's Plan has stupendously failed to improve opportunities for children from less well-off families (Jill Kirby Telegraph 11th June), and that "learning outcomes" for children are no better with the blinkered focus on quantifying and measuring learning and achievement using the six learning areas and 69 goals every child should achieve by the age of five.

For me, it has always been obvious that children learn best when they are valued, loved, happy, interested and encouraged. Giving them opportunities and supporting their curiosity is of paramount importance, not photographing and recording their every action as evidence of progress and attainment. I’ve seen teachers carrying around digital cameras and post-it notes constantly so as not to miss anything they need to record rather than focussing on their vocational task in hand and found it quite distasteful. It is degrading for teacher’s to justify their professional recordings in this way, akin to a GP having to photograph each patient and add a note of conversations and discussions to support each prescription. Or the surgeon having to stop mid- operation to photograph each step and justify his action and the patient's progress! Totally absurd but a product of the gradual attrition of the professional qualifications of all who teach and care for children. Is it any wonder there is a national shortage of suitably qualified teachers and the job has become so much more about recording and pen pushing than actual teaching that those with the best teaching qualities are no longer attracted to the profession? And childminders are apparently quitting at the rate of 12 per day, small wonder perhaps when a trip to the park becomes another day of box- ticking and self-justification?

What is it with our obsession with making all that should be intuitive and spontaneous into a science? 

A friend with a premature baby was recently told she should keep expressing all her daughter's feeds so she could record exactly how much milk the child drank. What on earth FOR? If the child is thriving and producing plenty of wet nappies then intake is irrelevant and expressing potentially damaging since it fails to stimulate milk supply like a baby feeding. A different issue but another good example with our obsession with quantifying, measuring and recording!

What we are losing at an alarming rate in this country is the ability to trust our human instinct and intuition, as mothers, carers and professionals. 

The money wasted on this is shocking. There is no evidence that Every Child Matters has done more than generate a phenomenal amount of training, paperwork and stress for professionals whilst they are distracted from interacting , caring and nurturing those in their care. Records matter, but professionals should be able to write them without focussing on collecting evidence every second of the day.

In our drive for efficiency and frugality in the cuts ahead let's take this golden opportunity to reassess and reevaluate what really matters to our children. This requires far less financial input and reinstates the professionalism of those working with children. It would recognise the all-important ingredients for happy, thriving individuals in all arenas and form the building blocks of happy successful adults.

As human beings we need to be loved, nurtured and respected. Children should have opportunities to succeed and progress but no amount of tick boxes and performance indicators can guarantee this. Unless there is good reason for greater scrutiny on an individual basis attempting to mechanise a child's development is costly and superficial at best, at worst it undermines professionals and prevents them from doing what they do best- caring for our children.

RIP Zippy Mouse

It's been an odd week. After calm acceptance (below) came the storm. First the rental was offered to someone else, having been supposedly taken off the market, then problem after problem arose with the new build. It would seem I am all out of adrenalin because even I was surprised how serenely I digested each piece of news and with visions of our family sleeping in cardboard boxes somewhere on the road to Ipswich I dedicated the week to serious house hunting. It paid off, and many miles, viewings and tired stroppy children later we had two beautiful (and very different) homes to choose from.

So do I play Lady of the Manor in a superb Georgian house or Footballer's Wife in an equally appealing town house? In the end we plumped for the latter, if only because it is far closer to the Station and it would seem that two house moves are no longer on the cards - all being well in the summer we will make one move to our new home and be settled in time for the new term.

This week had more surprises up its' sleeve than Paul Daniels however and midweek I realised with horror that my smallest boy was infested with head-lice. Ugh. Something every parent dreads but thankfully he was easy to clear. I made sure I took a large paper bag to school today when the head-lice notification letters were sent home (I now keep a stock of useful identity shields, highly recommended for days like today) and fondly remembered bringing similar slips home to my parents when at school. We used to sit on the school bus home and draw little diagrams of lice all over the letter too! Lovely...

The on Friday, after a blisteringly hot first Sport's Day at Josh's school we came home to discover his beloved hamster, Zippy, had died in his sleep. He was pretty old for a hamster and had enjoyed a full life but we are extremely sad to see him go. We held a funeral and wished him plenty of banana chips in his little niche in heaven, thinking of the prehistoric squirrel in Ice Age and his acorn! Zippy was our first hamster and a real character, he will be much missed.

So, on with a new week, forget the battered Volvo and Hunter Wellies, this summer I need blonde highlights, hair straighteners and a visit to the nail parlour. Wind Chimes de rigeur and a good dose of Mediterranean Sun would be nice. I think the Multipla might have to go though..... it never was going to fit either option!

Experiments in Minimalism

So here I am, sitting in my sunny spot outside my kitchen. Which, in point of fact, will no longer be "mine" in 7 weeks of so, and if we're being picky the chair might be my favourite spot to sit when the sun is out, but I rarely sit down at all! 

Still, when the sun is shining, and I find a rare quiet moment it is most definitely my most favourite seat. Shutting my eyes, listening to a bumble bee drone past I could be a child again, in a different garden at a very different time. I'm quite an aesthetic person, finding sounds, smells and sights incredibly evocative and  sustaining. Just thirty seconds of imagining a time of incredible simplicity and serenity is sufficient to revitalise me again. 

We are busy packing all the items we will not need until we finally move into our new build early next year and I have to remind myself in my haste that material items carry all-too-important sensory meaning too. I can do simplicity, live very well without the trappings of materialistic accumulation but I would not stay happy for long without the little touchstones of my life. This seat has seen me watch my children grow and play, nurse babies and cuddle baby rabbits. Plan menus, muddle through family logistics and campaign strategies (for anyone who tells you running a large family is not akin to a major military campaign is being economical with the truth) and escape the noise within.

Not bad going considering how infrequently it is used - but then that is exactly the point I am making. Filtering everything out except our wind chime tinkling in the breeze for the briefest of spells is quite sufficient to calm the soul. Which is why I will be packing the most obvious of creature comforts during sixth months of minimalist experimentation, but the chair, the wind chime and hopefully some sun this summer will be coming with me.

The Country Show

Well today, at last, the sun seemed to break through what has been a truly wintery week.  What a difference a little bit of sunshine makes. Today was the Hadleigh Show, an event I look forward to every year. In a moment of ambitious optimism we decided to all go, hoping for few tantrums and meltdowns and  as little rain as possible!

It started well, until H spied the Australian leather hats and decided that he couldn't live without one - and any suggestion otherwise met with screaming and sobbing. We doggedly persevered with promises of hats for good behaviour and enjoyed the sunshine, ponies (my daughter informed me"girls don't ride horses Mummy")  and laughed at the Dog Agility Team whilst keeping an eye open for the most promising coffee stand for essential caffeine top-ups to steady the nerves. 

Queueing for lunch required more paper bags than we could muster, so lacking invisibility or at least limited visibility we gritted our teeth and stoically reminded H of the promised hat if he managed to wait with at least attempted patience. Someone please remind me next time to obtain a menu from the burger van in advance to allow him to make his choice from a clearly set out list of choices though, since interpreting a chalkboard list whilst waiting in line was never going to work.

The twins enjoyed sitting in the fire engine, always a highlight of the day for them. This year though A had more in mind than pretending to drive and managed to start the computer up! A few clicks on the mouse and he'd reconfigured the nav-com, and the engine was destined for Pontefract. Swift intervention from Richard prevented trouble but A was really very disappointed! ( I think he had designs on following in Fireman Sam's footsteps, he's always had a penchant for fire engines. ) K's wish for the day was to see some baby piglets though and in this we failed to deliver but she did concede the cows were "quite nice". Fortunately Richard stopped short of pointing out the nearest we got to baby pigs were the bacon rolls at the burger van since we had only just managed to stop H getting progressively more frustrated as he struggled with the concept of eating meat whilst admiring the cute animals on display! The highlight of my day was getting caught in the Joules tent when the Heaven's opened, and I was forced to spend fifteen minutes browsing.... and spending more than I ought to. Well, it was obviously Fate intervening and it would have been rude not to!

Eventually, we congratulated ourselves on achieving a family outing relatively unscathed and bought the coveted hat. I must admit it really suits him - and he is now wearing it asleep in bed!!

Protection or Prejudice?

There is much written at the moment in Blogland about the Children, Schools and Families Bill, Child Protection and parenting choices. What most of you reading this or any other Blog today might be unaware of is the potential impact across all society that this Bill might have had if passed (and still might have if Labour are re-elected and have a second attempt) which extends beyond how you choose to educate your children. It challenges something totally fundamental in our society. Not only does it challenge the right parents currently have to choose how their child is educated but introduces an unpalatable advance into the erosion of individual choice and independence to be and live as we choose.

The CSF Bill which has largely been dropped due to pressure from Home Educators who not only objected to State interference in their right to educate their children as they see fit but also pointed out the obvious - that a HE child is no more or less "at risk" than any other school educated child, all of whom have long periods of time at home. The unfortunate Khyra Ishak was indeed deregistered from mainstream schooling but was not, by any stretch of the imagination Home Educated. But suspicion is the child of ignorance and choosing a path for your family which is in any way different from the vast majority should not leave you open to prejudice. Yet Ed Balls has stated he fully intends to "provide proper protection to home educated children" if Labour are re-elected.

There is a veritable industry that exists to "safeguard children" now which must therefore justify its existence on a daily basis. So deep is the desire to prove themselves at every level this "protection" system is trapped looking for cases and fitting individuals into their preconceived moulds. There is no room for uniqueness, for unorthodoxy, God forbid you do not choose to or are unable to tend towards the mean. This offers up a perfect opportunity to convert misunderstanding into accusation.  

This is a constant battle fought by parents of disabled children, particularly those with invisible disabilities. So vast and complicated is the framework in which support is or is not available that if there is not an immediately visible, convenient niche in which to slot your family (either inside or outside that framework) then you invite suspicion and intervention. Instead of training health professionals, social workers and other front line workers to respond to individuals on a case-by-case basis we are trapped in a system where government frameworks and policies constrain free, rational thinking and financial accountability has been stretched to require self justification at every level. In our case we have a very able, but clearly autistic child who does not fit the mould of expected outcomes for education and behaviour management. Consternation and lack of alternatives precipitated enquiry and accusation because there wasn't a tick box for our family.

The modern world needs to learn  to celebrate individuality, in a current time frame rather than persecuting those with something unique to offer society. We are taught to recognise and remember those who were "different" in history and we are learning, slowly, to recognise apparent "deviations" from the norm when faced with large groups. Religious toleration, racial and social acceptance are goals many aspire to if not reach but still, in the twenty first century it is still socially and politically acceptable to seek and root out, to stigmatise, persecute and victimise that which is unfamiliar and alien. It seems we have learned little and increasingly offer ourselves up to be judged by supporting continued and increasing State intervention in our lives. Without individuals and individual ways of living we might just as well enter a Brave New World and admit defeat of the very essence of being human.

My brain hurts...

Just for a short time it would be nice to stop thinking - or at least to only consider banal stuff like how much chocolate to eat and whether I really need a second glass of wine. (I do, actually) We have been stuck in analysis paralysis for a week or more, the final and most traumatic of the decision making process which has been gathering pace since last summer.

Last summer, we decided we really would benefit from more space, and despite loving our current home we decided to put it on the market and at the same time consider the alternative - extending. The latter initially appeared ideal but we hadn't bargained for our new neighbours (retired couple with little else to do it seems) putting up the mother of all fights to ensure our plans were blocked, befriending the local council and making THE most ridiculous song and dance about the mere duplication of what everyone else in our situation has been doing on this estate for years. I guess it served to focus the mind, and although we revised, resubmitted and had plans of a sort passed we became committed to moving.

Then R changed jobs, and the nice little plan or dropping J at his early morning school bus each day started to look less than realistic. Throw the proposed dissolution of our Middle School System into the equation, with the peak disruption poised to coincide perfectly with H's transfer and moving started to look extremely attractive. Time to simplify, consolidate and upgrade. Cool.

Pity the Recession didn't share our new found enthusiasm. The ridiculous HIP requirement has resulted in a housing market less fluid than treacle and now completely lacking in the "just testing the water" percentage which previously gave a more dynamic feel. We've had plenty of viewers. We *apparently* have at least two buyers - but they can't sell either and thus the whole thing grinds to a halt something like Essex roads after the Winter of Discontent which created more pot-holes than the lava roads of Lanzarote. I know - I've been there.

So, in a potentially futile attempt to swim against the tide of apathy endemic in the housing market we are going to brave, possibly foolish and most definitely proactive. We're buying, never mind the selling.... but which one? A choice of two...... and that choice is, quite literally, doing my head in. We've done the floor plan comparison, walked countless times from each to the school three of the children will attend, considered the immediate locality for both and compiled copious "for/against" lists. None of it helps but seems to merely add to the general confusion however, so I seriously think we have only one option left, that of tossing a coin! 

So major changes are imminent in the lives of all family members which we (all, actually) find quite exciting, and hopefully we will surge past the current Stalemate and emerge with a new home and proposed lifestyle in the next week or so! I'll keep you updated - and if you know anyone who wants to buy a lovely 4 bed, please send them our way!!

What are you giving up for Lent?

So next week sees the start of Lent. Not a part of the Church Calendar I have ever strictly observed, but this year I'm giving it my best shot. Some carefully considered acts of penitence and sacrifice might well improve my chances of a less stressful rest of the year! 

So here is my list of good intentions:-

1. Give up reheating cold cups of tea. I know it doesn't work, nothing is worse than reheated cold tea and the chances of remembering to remove it from the microwave let alone drink it are slim.

2. Stop worrying about going to bed early - the sense of failure when it doesn't happen is far worse than the lack of sleep.

3. Accept the kitten will always reach the defrosting bread/cakes on the kitchen worktop (or any other food item left out in the kitchen) before I do and give up expecting otherwise. Miracles do take a little longer, even in Lent.

4. Give up worrying what other people think because the chances are they live on another planet/parallel universe/have no children/haven't heard of ADHD let alone Autism

5. J is going to attempt to give up video games... although he doesn't know this yet. Fortunately Jesus never had to suffer such temptation since the Devil was lacking video games in his arsenal, this will be a tough one I assure you.



6. Feeling guilty. Any parents reading this will know only too well that with the arrival of a little bundle of joy also comes a sack labelled "guilt". The more the child grows, so does the guilt. The failures of parents are extolled in parenting books, newspaper columns, magazines and even now in schools as they strive to "teach" parents as well as the children to tick the necessary boxes for next years OFSTED inspection. In actual fact, the vast majority of parents do a damn good job with scarce resources (sleep) and limited sympathy (the world at large in today's social climate) and jettisoning the guilt is a major step forward. With four sacks of guilt to carry my back is seriously suffering, and the osteopathy bills are no joke.

7. Sweets. I don't really even LIKE them. It's just a sugar fix, something to grab on-the-run and everyone knows sugar is nature's analgesic. Little more than a sticky plaster on a stressful day this one should be easy.... or easier than...

8. Caffeine. Don't even go there. Life without Caffeine is beyond the pale and the subject is totally off limits.

9. And as for my biggest weakness, the internet, I would be in such a state without it that everyone would give up on ME so I think that one will have to stay!

Hmmm the year wasn't supposed to start like this!

My request for a peaceful, uneventful start to the new decade was declined owing to
a) Too many similar requests received from struggling others
b) If you're not living life on the edge you are taking up too much space
c) The Saga which is my life is obviously too amusing or interesting to the Powers that Be who would prefer not to miss an exciting episode of "Woman on the Edge" Series 4 or whatever

Or simply because that version of reality is not available in this parallel universe.....

Anyway, I am delighted to report that January is coming to a close and that I am viewing the start of February as a "Let's try that one again, shall we?" opportunity.

J is STILL on crutches, unable to walk after a hockey injury on December 14th. The wonder that is our National Health Service managed to (yet again) completely fail in Basic Communication, Level 1, and it has taken two Consultants, many phone calls and an irate mother to coordinate an MRI and follow-up appointment after the REAL injury was missed on the second A and E visit. What astounded even me with my (far too extensive) experience of the NHS was the creative way they had duplicated J's identity, fabricating (oooh, are we allowed to use that word??!) another boy a year older, same birthday, same address, name etc and then SPLIT the appointment notes between the two clones. Clever. That took a while to sort out, so the hairline fracture for #2 got fixed but the rather more serious cartilage injury sustained by the REAL #1 got forgotten and they were completely unconcerned that a 12 year old was on crutches with no explanation for six weeks. In the style of my good friend Jen, I told them they could think again on that one....

The "Trials of a Boy and his Tube" continues, although thankfully A's surgeon is of the same opinion as any sane person who knows this child, which is (unfortunately for her) in direct contrast to his paediatrician here. Several appointments later the damage of attempting switching medications is nearly repaired, he's eating most of the time, weight loss has been minimised with the help of frequent slices of Postman Pat "Special Delivery Service" toast parcels (don't ask, but it involves lots of dairy free chocolate spread!) and he's "going" again. Princess K is on form, loving school and trying to learn to read before her twin and score a few points in the process. He's retaliating by teaching himself to tell the time - whoever said children weren't naturally competitive??!!

This week was my turn for a (brief) hospital stay, fixing what having four children damaged lol. All went well but I have been surprised how much a General Anaesthetic can take it out of you. Perfect timing then for my dear husband, supposedly on Gardening Leave and here to care for me (as much as I ever let anyone look after me lol), to get head-hunted yet again and disappear off to London for further discussion.

So January surpassed expectations for being the most hectic month on record. I am under no illusions that the rest of the year will be much calmer, but a few less battles to fight would be appreciated!

Competition - "Clone-a-Mum" contest

Anyone with more than one child knows the daily dilemma of being constantly pulled in more than one direction, trying to meet the needs of various offspring and domesticated/undomesticated Dad, any pets and (possibly) even your own. Possible - yes in the main; achievable - again, yes but usually with some personal although highly commendable sacrifice of your own. Parenting inevitably involves the extremely rewarding and worthwhile prioritising of the needs of others but seeing your own family status disappear down the priority list to somewhere below the hamster or the cat litter box can be a little frustrating.

Photo courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons Kristina Alexanderson

Take making a cup of tea. In my twelve years as a Mum I can honestly count the number of cups of tea I've made myself and drunk whilst still hot (and no I don't count those reheated in the microwave until they resemble something that should belong in a drain) on one hand. With good intentions and a psychological craving for a "nice hot cuppa" I boil the kettle optimistically each morning at 7am or thereabouts. By that time everyone is dressed, beds made, breakfast served and I can see a little window of opportunity for myself. It never goes as planned and the cold mug of brown water is still sitting on the worktop when I return from the school run at 9am. 

Recently, the need to find a way to clone myself or at least master rudimentary time travel has never been more urgent. My eldest son suffered a fractured ankle playing hockey before Christmas (his ankle guards were "too tickly" but we won't even go there...)and due to a monumental lack of competent communication between the various doctors treating him since, a potentially serious cartilage injury was missed and he is still on crutches 6 weeks on with no plan of action whatsoever. This "minor" injury has generated many hospital appointments (because we all know I don't visit our local one often enough), phone call and WORRY. He is unable to physically reach all his classrooms, sport is off the agenda for the foreseeable (walking would be a start) and getting to and from school on the bus is risky NOW never mind during the snow and ice recently.

Number 2 son has (thankfully) been relatively calm and undemanding (relatively speaking, but I'll take any improvement as a huge positive!) but we do need to start school-hunting for him and he has his usual appointments to monitor his medication/behaviour etc too. School hunting is fraught with problems at the best of times, but given the current school organisational review in Suffolk as the Middle Schools are closed, a child with considerable Special Needs and a Statement of 25 hours 1:1 help and the fact that there is NO money to meet his needs whether we stay in Suffolk or take the chance that Essex might be better it certainly won't be easy.

Number 3 son has provided plenty of entertainment, concern and hospital appointments which I won't go into but suffice to say things have not been easy and DD (Apparently that's internet abbreviation for "Darling Daughter", which she is, but I think "Determined Daughter" works better for us) has been rather neglected as a result. Her beloved teacher is on long term sick leave with breast cancer and although K is a cheerful type I'm painfully aware I am currently "Jack of all trades and master of none" in the parenting department when it comes to being there for everyone.

Makes you wonder why on earth we have the house on the market hoping to move, doesn't it? At least the kitten is independent and has a commendable innate survival instinct. Deciding we were doing the local cat population a favour, we decided to remove her from the gene pool and neuter her. (Psycho cat is not a phenotype I would wish to be held responsible for encouraging.) So yesterday morning she was due at the vets and managed to explode out of the cat carrier tornado style. Most impressive, but nothing compared to the way she was leaping about once home. Sore? Hardly. Quiet? You must be joking! Off her food? Ha bloody ha, there's a reason why the vet charged me a premium for spaying her - too much "abdominal fat" to cut through. She's not that daft really, she knows all too well where she comes on the priority list and she's not waiting for anyone's cold cup of tea!!!

Well it certainly isn't the weather for Gardening! (Leave)

Twas the last night of work, before having a rest,

Though 'twas not summer weather - and wearing a vest-

I considered the prospect of four long weeks off

and startled myself til I started to cough.

For I suddenly realised the stark implication

Of suddenly gaining an extra vacation

The chance to take stock, have a rest, get a break

Was not going to be easy, and no "piece of cake".

Never mind the requirements already in place

To service car and my teeth - put a smile on my face.

With new glasses on order, a place at the gym

When I start my new job they'd say "Just look at him!"

For all the right reasons, I'd be feeling so good

From getting some respite and rest, that I would!

One problem was looming, an issue so big

it threatened to stop me from starting to dig!

For isn't that just what this leave is about?

Gardening, tidying, and sorting stuff out

I have so many plans, have been making a list

I could go on more but you must get the gist.

The kids have appointments and visits and trips

School runs and homework and somewhere to nip

There's always a problem or dilemma to fix

How to find time for me in a family of six!

It seemed so impossible I just couldn't think

so the only option right now is to sit with a drink

to consider the issue of where, how and whom

and try not give in to panic too soon.

When all of a sudden it dawns on me now

There must be a solution, a way through this somehow.

I know just the person to help me this time

The one who can work things through everytime.

She cooks and she cleans, washes and cares

Tends to the kids, the cats and the hamsters

She washes the clothes, then irons them quick

And STILL finds the time for an internet fix.

She's mastered the art of juggling life

Or at least does it well enough to cope without strife

She's always on time, the kids never late

For ballet or piano, karate or a date.

I'm wondering whether I've had it too easy

Time on the train, coffee and snoozing

The time to think straight, with no one else screaming

Is something I'm beginning to find very appealing.

For now I've an answer, a wee cunning plan

To ensure I start work a smart, fit new man

We'll work it together, this month will be great-

Sharing the fun back at home with my four kids and KATE!