The One With The Little Victories

In that way people do when they talk about Christmas, when it comes to the first year of school, 'This time next week it'll all be over'. 

There's just the school disco, concert, class party, sports gala and bring your own toys in day left. We've had parents evening and school reports have been issued. There might be a week left to go, but I think we can say we've, almost, made it to the end of term relatively unscathed. Well I say unscathed, the boy is currently sporting a terrific shiner from a wayward ball smacking him in the face at playtime. 

In the last week or so my Facebook timeline has been awash with proud parents saying what clever little darlings they have.

Do I begrudge them their joy? Of course not. 

Do I feel happy for them? Of course I do

Does it get on my tits? Of course it does. (alright, alright.....joke)

But that's the nature of Facebook if you don't want to see it, don't log in. I know the rules. 

It didn't stop me one night, fuelled by red wine and frustration wanting to post,

"Ok, so my boy may not be able to read or write yet but he can play Beethoven's 5th on the ukulele with his bum. " 

He can't. I was taking the piss. So luckily hubby persuaded me not to. 

We don't have these huge achievements to celebrate you see. With an SEN child it's all about the 'little victories', as Fletch in 'Porridge'  would say. 

Thankfully those 'little victories' have been emerging, to use school report speak, this week.

We had a reasonably successful school trip to a local farm park, with no major incidents to report. In fact it was lovely to see him playing with his class mates. Social skills are coming on, he's playing with other children now not just alongside them. 

His school report was warm, genuine and full of love. No he's not top of the class but he's gaining confidence everyday. It was a joy to read a report on the boy from people who actually know him and haven't just come to observe him, then think they can tell me all about him after half an hour. 

I have a box of those reports and quite frankly some days I want to take the damn thing outside and burn it.

Then parents evening rolled round.

I have to admit hubby and I were nervous. The previous terms parents evening hadn't gone well. There were behaviour issues and disruption in class. We were devastated.

Since then we've all worked really hard to iron these problems out with stickers, rewards and a daily deal.

Every morning the boy and I shake hands and he repeats, 

'No wee wee or poo poo accidents. I will sit nicely at carpet time. I will listen to my teacher. I will line up when they blow the whistle. Then I will get a rocket ice lolly and some buttons. Deal?'

Deal.

Well it all seems to be working. This parents evening was a very different experience. The boy has progressed in every area of his IEP (Independent Education Plan) and everything is moving forward. Slowly, but it's going in the right direction. 

I'm now looking forward to 6 weeks of not worrying about it. The pressure will be off and we can just muck about and play, before the leap into Year 1 in September and all the challenges that's going to bring.

The current theory by health professionals is we could be looking at autism. His teacher, hubby and I remain sceptical, but we do realise autism comes in many forms. 

Of course I've still got ADHD in my mind, although the hyperactivity has calmed right down recently. That could be due to the conscience decision to cut back on sugar or it could be he's just knackered at the end of term.

Lemon Cake Lady's theory is that he has inherited my 'buggering about gene' handed down to me by my Dad.

Whatever it turns out to be Lemon Cake Lady has a point. The 'buggering about' is strong in this one and thank god it is. 

It's what makes him the funny, cheeky, imaginative, creative, special little boy he is. 

Not special educational needs.

Just special. 

The One With The First Week Back

I think half term discombobulated the boy.

Don't get me wrong, he loved being at home, seeing both sets of grandparents, trips to the zoo and the park, going bowling with some of his NCT mates, having play dates with Lemon Cake Boy and Vintage Songstress and her lad and finishing the week with a Halloween tea party and trick or treating.

We packed a lot in.

I just think, especially when he started playing up and being on the want all the time, that this holiday lark was slightly overwhelming. 

The boy needs structure. That has become abundantly clear this week on our return to school. On Sunday we talked about going back and getting everything ready again after half term. Luckily he didn't seem phased. I thought he might because when he was at nursery and pre-school he still went even during the holidays, albeit on shorter hours. The only time we ever had a holiday was when we actually went away somewhere. So the whole concept of half term and then going back was pretty alien to him.

I needn't have worried. When it came to pick up time from school on Monday he was like a different boy. 

Sat in the back of the car with his snack and drink he suddenly enquired,

'Did you have a lovely day Mummy?'

He then proceeded to tell me what he'd had for lunch and something about what he'd done that day. Unheard of. He's since been a darling all week. No bother at all. 

All a far cry from the screaming, sobbing child having a tantrum on the floor of the local museum gift shop because we wouldn't buy him an £18 dinosaur, which led hubby to unceremoniously pick him up and bundle him out of the door after our trip had lasted... oh.. all of 2 minutes. 

It was probably our fault for trying to do too much. School takes up such a huge chunk of the week that when you do get some time together there's this need to make it special. In reality the boy would've probably been just as happy watching Scooby Doo and Frozen over and over again whilst drinking strawberry milk and eating digestives. It's us parents who feel that we have to provide endless activities.

And for this I blame Facebook.

Confronted with constant statuses of ever more elaborate fun filled days out by parents and their kids over half term 'keeping up with the Jones' is now on a global scale.

And it's not just fancy holidays and self congratulatory selfies on family days out with everyone looking happy and no one crying or screaming or throwing their water bottle at a llama. My timeline is full of proud boasts of how little Johnny, who is probably only 3 and a half, can play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata or is fluent in Arabic or can read the complete works of pissing Shakespeare already! 

I'm pleased for them, no I really am (she says through gritted teeth) but in this house it's all about little victories. If the boy picks up a crayon and does a scribble we feel like we're won the FA Cup. 

Maybe I'm just jealous because with a child with SEN, I don't feel like we have much to boast about.

So I gave it some thought and realised, yes we do..... yes we bloody well do.

So here goes. Excuse me while I have a damn good boast

The boy is:

Funny - he has a wicked sense of humour and can time a joke to perfection. He's a natural at it.

Creative - his imagination is amazing. He can also weave his current favourite book, TV show and film along with everything and everyone around him into a story.

Musical - he will sing, dance, drum and strum in time and learn the words to songs really quickly. He'll even start riffing new lyrics to tunes once he knows them well.

Kind and Caring - he doesn't have a spiteful bone in his body. He may be hyper and over exuberant at times but he never means any harm. He genuinely loves people and is just so happy to see you. He hates to see his friends cry and feels upset for them. 

Polite - he's got lovely manners even down to saying good morning to the cats when we all wake up. 

Playful - he immerses himself in his games but he doesn't always need toys to have a good time. Give that boy a pile of cushions, a blanket and some cardboard tubes and he'll build dens, forts and castles for hours. 

Good looking - I know I'm bias but the boy is proper handsome. If he does end up being 6ft 6in he could be a top model and keep his mum in style in her old age.

Loving - he tells us he loves us everyday and we tell him too. Then at night just before he goes to sleep he lists all the people in his life he loves. 

Helpful - he tidies his toys away at the end of the day without complaint and helps me cook and bake. He will lay the table and take his cup and plate out to the kitchen. 

He may not be showing many academic traits, yet, but he's the most gorgeous, gentle, loving, kind and wonderful little boy I've ever met and I'm honoured to be his Mummy.

I'll take that over being able to speak 10 languages and having grade 8 clarinet any day. 

The One With Half Term

So we've made it to half term! 

We've had no tears or major tantrums and the boy seems to be enjoying himself. He is however getting tired and I fear the novelty may be wearing off. He keeps asking,

"Where am I going today?"

When I answer  "School darling", he looks forlorn and exclaims "What again? I have been to school a lot you know."

I think he's ready for the break and I have to admit so am I. 

The school run isn't too bad, (7 minutes door to door if the traffic is ok), but I am still negotiating the politics of the playground, and I pride myself that I have managed to get to half term without having actually spoken to any of the other mums.

I know, I know I'm a miserable bugger, but to be brutally honest with you I can't be doing with getting into all that playground mum, coffee morning stuff.

To quote Lemon Cake Husband, when he went to their first NCT meeting, "I've got enough friends thank you."

The mornings are ok because there's no hanging about. It's pick up time that's the problem. That awkward 5 minutes between 3.15 and 3.20 when we stand shivering in the playground waiting for them to come out. I'm not blatantly rude and there are a couple I nod and say hello to, but I really don't want to start being chummy chummy, certainly not at this stage. 

My view is we're in this for the long haul and I want to let the boy form some friendships before I start getting chummy with the mummies.

Also I don't want to get coerced into 'helping out' with school trips, swimming lessons, PTA meetings or running the tombola at the school fete. 

I know I'm mean and horrible but I just don't want to be deal with other people's kids. I love my boy and my friends kids but quite frankly I can't be doing with the rest.

And I bet there's loads of mums who feel the same but aren't brave enough to say it. 

Just because I'm a mum it doesn't mean I suddenly became an earth mother. I'm much better with children than I used to be - I mean loads better - because I used to bloody hate kids. Even as a child I used to hate kids. I wanted to be with the adults and listen to their mystical adult conversation. I couldn't wait to grow up and be like them.

Be careful what you wish for hey!

You know how some girls from about aged 10 onwards are really good with young kids and display that 'motherly' instinct when they play with them? You'd have thought someone had poisoned me if you stuck me near a small child. Cuddling babies! No chance. 

I ditched the toy pram and dollies very quickly in preference of fluffy animals, who I used to marry off to each other most Saturday afternoons. I'd hold a mock service for the happy cuddly couple, followed by a bears wedding reception with tiny little sandwiches, bits of 'Mr Kipling' Victoria sponge and a free bar consisting of a selection of unopened miniature bottles of booze my Nanny had brought back for us off the Felixstowe to Hook of Holland ferry. 

I'd hold all this in the corner of our lounge, as close to the record player as possible, so I could be the DJ and spin those discs at the 'evening do', where yet more fluffs and stuffs would arrive. The light show for the disco would involve a torch and a variety of coloured wrappers from Quality Street chocolates, that were whipped in front of the light very, very quickly. 

You may think that this story shows a little girl who was desperate to get married, but no. I was a little girl desperate to be a DJ and party planner. As long as the guests were all made of nylon stuffing and fake fur and the buffet was in miniature then I was sorted. 

So I know the day will come when one of the mums approaches me to introduce herself, as 'our children seem to be such great friends' and 'maybe we should organise a playdate'? But until then I'm keeping my head down, nodding it occasionally and getting the hell out of that playground the moment the boy comes running towards me Because I'm dreading it. 

Unless of course their kid fancies playing 'bears wedding reception'? 

The One With The Jolly Phonics

You know in my last blog I said we've all started school? Well we really have!

It would appear that I have to totally re-learn how to read.

For those of you who don't have children, or children at school yet, let me introduce you to the wonderful world of phonics.

Or to be more precise, Jolly Phonics.

Oh and they'll jolly... they are really, really sodding jolly!

Children are now taught to read by sounding out the letters in words to essentially de-code them and that unlocks the mystery of reading. It's ages before they actually learn the name of the letters and do 'a,b,c' etc, they just concentrate on the sounds first. 

I have my reservations about this method, but every school does a form of it and it does seem to be working, so I've had to lay those to one side. Luckily the boys' school does use phonics alongside other reading methods, such as looking at the picture to help you tell the story, and good old fashioned memory, so it's not as sterile and I first feared. 

In Jolly Phonics each letter sound has a song and an action to accompany it, and this helps the children remember what the sound should be. Of course this is perfect for the boy who responds well to learning through rhyme, music and games, rather than traditional methods of sitting up straight and looking at the blackboard. 

Vintage Songtress, (who's son has also just started school), made a good point on Facebook the other day that once you've heard a Jolly Phonics song you can't un-hear it. She is so right. 

I'm delighted the boy is obviously learning but two things are happening. 

One, I can't get the bloody songs out of my head. 

Two, the boy, being the boy, is starting to get bored of the songs in their correct form and is riffing new lyrics to them.

As you can imagine this totally defeats the object, but he thinks it's hilarious.

One of the first letters you learn is 'a', with it's action being ants crawling up your arm, whilst singing the following, to the tune of 'Skip To My Lou',

'a, a, ants on my arm'
'a, a, ants on my arm'
'a, a, ants on my arm'
'They're causing me alarm' 

Well I've had ants everywhere but my arm these last few days. The little buggers have been in every nook and cranny according to my son. I keep trying to tell him that ants on my feet, head, shoulders and boobies isn't going to help him practice his 'a' sound, but that wasn't cutting the mmmmmm for mustard with him. 

I tried doing 'ants on my ankles' but after that I ran out of body parts beginning with 'a'. For a split second I toyed with ' ants on my arse' but that was just asking for a trip to the headmasters office, so I didn't go there. 

Would make a catchy song though,

'a, a, ants in the grass'
'They're nipping at my arse'

My other problem is that I keep forgetting what the sounds should be. Every letter has it's own sound, and some like g have two, then there's double letter sounds like ch, oo and au. 

Now I don't know if you remember how you learnt to read but I certainly don't. From the point I have any proper memories I could read so I've never given it much thought. I just know they didn't do it like this, thank goodness, because I would have struggled. Just pronouncing a 'nnnnn' is a feat of linguistic gymnastics. 

So it's back to school for me and hubby learning the alphabet and how to read all over again.

I'm just pleased they haven't set him any maths homework yet. 

I assume 1+1 still makes 2 otherwise we'll be screwed with that as well!