Basically he's deficated all over Xmas

Our Christmas period has been held to ransom by our 8-year-old. There have been highs but there have been significant lows. He goes into a hole and he takes us all with him. I'm sick to death of it - it's just bullsh*t. A family of four has to lock into a child of eight's emotional yo yo'ing. It's total and utter kak! If he's getting his own way, then it's all A-okay, but if he's frustrated, upset, can't do what he wants to, then we all have to go into free-fall, shit hole, crap city. I don't think so. He has an appointment with a psychiatrist in the New Year. I will soon be making an appointment with a second psychiatrist to get a second opinion. The problem with psychiatry is that child development is still in its infancy, if not, its teens. "they" don't really know do "they"?!! It's a guessing game. When you look online and you talk to people, they are either in camp A = medicating their children with Ritalin and god-knows-what-else; or camp B = natural remedies and therapy (and that's IF their kids will talk).There's the myriad of approaches in between. We have to fall in there somewhere. What else is there to do ? Zack is angry. Zack is eight years old. Why is he angry ? We don't know. He can't tell us. Everyone has to guess. But in the interim, we all have to live in the tsunami that is his reality : up - down - up - down. Our wagon is hitched to his wagon and it's the wrong way round. He is a child. He needs to feel safe. But he tries EACH AND EVERY DAY to wrestle power from his parents. He wants to dictate how this goes, but I dig my heels in and Daddy is softer than me. So it ends up being inconsistent. It's infuriating.
My line now is to just remove myself whenever he exhibits behaviour that is undesireable : he shouts at me, I leave. You try and be physical with me (pushing or physically threatening), I leave - usually after trying to go the humorous route. You're rude to me, I leave. You are demanding AFTER bed time, I leave (he will try almost ANYTHING to get you to give him attention after bedtime). You attack your younger brother during the day, without provocation, we leave. You swear, we leave. You break the agreed parameters, we leave. Isolation seems to be the only way to deal with him.
Zack has very little understanding of "you did this, it's your doing. There are consequences for the things you've done." He often responds in a pickle with, "it's NOT MY FAULT!!!!" And I respond, "I'm afraid it is your fault Zack. You did this. And this is the consequence of your action." He hates that. His therapist says he doesn't want to face reality - oh. so. true.
I'm so so so tired of the approach that says we need to treat him like a 2 year old. When I do that, he just takes the piss. Yeah! Yeah! his therapist says that he is not responsible, he makes no connections. That he is a child, ENTIRELY driven by IMPULSES. He doesn't know what he's doing. He sees no connection between how he behaves (when he's "overwhelmed by his emotions") and the consequences (our frustration and exasperation; and worse - injuring other children, saying things that are completely inappropriate)
There are so many fears out there - what will he be ? what's the worst thing he'll do ? how "damaged" will he be at the end of all these years of childhood ? is he resilient ? why can't I fix it ? how can I protect him ? How do I prepare him for adulthood (surely that's my biggest responsibility?)... But fear is not a good motivator. Recognising that he and I are separate (yes, this is particularly hard for a mother to do. surprise, surprise!) and that I am NOT responsible for who he is, what he does, or the outcome of his actions.
Late at night, when he has mastered his emotions and has perspective on his day (useful, but also entirely useless), he can see how A led to B. But when he's in the midst of it, he is overwhelmed by how he "feels" and is unable to master these feelings, he is just the whirlwind into which we all get sucked. It's exhausting because just like he denies any culpability, he despises having to re-visit any of his transgressions. Nighttime is the only time we can, so it makes nighttime hard. We can't do it every night. Gotta time it right.
My New Year's resolution on the 28th of December is : we gotta fix this! I think that some drugs may be the answer. Time will tell.

my favourite cartoonist produces something likened to Zack on a happy day... Most people on a happy day to be fair... BUT: reality check!! : no-one really cares, unless you're 1 Direction or Kim K

how deep is the hole ?

It has been an shockingly difficult few weeks with Zack. His behaviour has completely nose-dived in the past 18 days. Is it the end of term ? What has precipitated this ? We've spent time thinking and talking about it. Keith was away in the States 6 weeks ago. I was away in Jordan 3 weeks ago. So yes, there's been some 'missing' bodies from home; but the rest of the activities and commitments have remained the same - unchanged, predictable. We've been in regular contact while away - both Keith and I. We constantly reassure that we'll be back, and do in fact return.
Things at school came to a head two weeks ago on Friday 5 December. Zack did something he shouldn't have. It was significant enough for us to write to the headteacher over the weekend about it. We were called in for a meeting. We have since had a second meeting with the teacher, senco and our therapist. Zack has continued to free-fall into one transgression after the next. I was very relieved that the end of term rolled around on Friday. I don't think anyone had any energy left.
It's not been great. Zack has feigned the suicidal thing again. He is very rough with Keith and I. There are times when I wonder "what next?". It's scary.
My dear friend X has said to me again and again, you need to move him to another school. We would if we had one. I think we need to renew our efforts and the search.

another gold nugget

So the Christmas season is fast approaching and Calvin has been giving it a lot of thought - as he is want to do. One night at bedtime he comes out with this absolute gem...

Calvin : I know what I want to be one day Mommy
Me : Oh really. That sounds good. tell me what it is ?
Calvin : I want to be a postman. In Lapland.
Me : Aaahhh. And why is that ?
Calvin : So that I can deliver the mail to Santa and see him.
Me : (raised eyebrows) Wow! I'd never thought of that. What a great job. You could !

The discussion went on some, but what a bright little imp he is. And cunning - he's been drafting a letter to Santa since September, and often dropped the question, "Is Father Christmas real?". My standard reply has been that if you believe in him, he is real. Some discussion about staying up late has elicited the standard-parental-line, "If you aren't asleep, he won't come".

The smart little mind has confounded all the theory and gone straight to the home address - Lapland. And who would have free access to that address ? the postman.

He did concede that it'll be pretty cold up there.

a little nugget

Tonight we got home to a delightful bit of news from the babysitter.... What Calvin said :

• when asked what he wanted to be when he grows up, he gave it some thought, and then said, "I want to be a daddy, and do the things that daddys do."
• he loves being tickled as he goes to sleep, and the babysitter commented on how soft his skin is. His response? "Ah, that's because there's no friction!" he said. (He's been studying friction at school).

always nice to have something to smile about

Bon vacances. Bonne chance

Or should I say "buona fortuna" and "buona vacanza" because we spent our holiday in Italy - 2 weeks of sunshine. And the final week of the school hols back home in London. The last 10 days were really very smooth and peaceful, all things considered. With no therapy to go to, and no school pressures, it does beg the question, "are we where we are because of the pressures of modern life?". The problem is, this life is not avoidable. Our livelihoods are tied up in the Big Smoke. We are neither farmers nor arborists. I have no desire to go and live in a small village where everyone knows your business. There is more than enough pressure on Zack right now, from his school mates, his peers, people in the wider social circle and our neighbours, to uproot us all and "opt out" of an urban existence. That would be traumatic for me, Keith and both children. We're staying in the city.

I spent a most worthwhile evening on the horn to a friend who's son has also struggled alot, around this age (8yrs+). It's so hard to know what to do, what to think, where to go from here. My friend has said not to dither, not to hesitate, but to act. I feel like I'm being too passive, sitting still. But at the same time, I see the value of just sitting with a problem and looking at it from different angles. An impulsive action is often driven by emotional overload, and the desire to survive overrules common-sense. I've submitted an application to a private school in Hampstead, in the hope that they'll grant us an interview if there's a place in the new year.

I've started making enquiries into a full-time nanny. The cost is crippling. I'm re-thinking it each week.

Zack is still going to therapy. We are still seeing a therapist too. There are times when I want to chuck in the towel, when it all seems pointless. But then we have a week where I see real value in Zack's therapy - when I can draw a straight line between his coping and incidents that have occurred. That's when it's also hard, because we've toyed with the idea of his going more frequently, but I don't think that he'd agree.

On a more positive note, he has had enormous success with rugby this term. We've had a few training sessions which have gone well - including incidents when he was high-tackled, kids jumped on his head when he was on the ground, getting kicked in the back and sworn at. All of which he's dealt with very well. He is much more resilient, much more.

it's been a whole week

So after much deliberation, angst and consideration we decided that Zack could go on a week's camp during the holidays. It's run by a group called CPAS. I spoke to every parent I know who's kids have been on one and the all spoke of it in glowing terms, talking about the great team who run it, the care, the experience they bring to the event, the other children, the friends they'll make, the activities they'll do. So last week we drove down to a spot in the sticks and left our 8 year old son in the care of people we've not met before (bar one - a friend from church who's a co-leader).

We wrote to him on Monday and he sent us a postcard which arrived on Friday. We worried and fretted about how it was going. We looked at the emergency number and wondered if it would ring. It didn't. We didn't hear a thing. In the meantime Calvin was clingy and demanding. I was at his beck and call the entire week with one thing and the next. He got to do lots of fun things that he enjoys like going horse riding, softplay, seeing friends, hamburgers with dad, and more. We were busy and our lives were so much quieter and calmer. It was palpable - like the volume had been turned down.
The only challenge of course was that my mum was staying with us, so I had another needy family member to "care for".
Saturday morning we got up at 5:45am and drove down and collected him. He was delighted to see us, we were so relieved to see him. He was fine! Full of news and songs and all the things he'd got up to in the week. It appears (and we haven't heard any differently) that the week passed without incident.
Coming home made me feel again that there is a terrible dynamic that has arisen between he and us. He rages with frustration and the yoke of oppression (it seems that's how he sells it to himself), he will not be told what to do - time for bed, time to bath, put your shoes on. It's ridiculous. He doesn't want to be told. Anything.
He came back smelling, with matted hair and filthy feet. I let it go last night but this morning I said to him, "you have to bath before we go out today". Of course that lead to an enormous tantrum, with screaming and shouting. He shrieks with anger and frustration but then when you offer to help, or the alternative of time alone he plays it both ways screaming "GO! A!WAY!" and then when you leave the room, screaming "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE!" so you come back in again. And 'round and 'round it goes.
Consequences? You throw things around in your room - you tidy it up again. You thrash around in the bath and splash water on the walls and floor - you clean it up.
He doesn't know what he wants. He screams how much he hates me and rails against having a mother, but then what's the alternative?
I've always been a parent who thinks that boundaries, routine, courtesy are important for a child. We've given Zack this. And here we are. There is a dynamic between us - one that leads to this crazy behaviour which is so tormenting. We spend so much time and energy talking it down, trying to be massively empathetic, reinforcing our commitment to him as parents.

Last week's review session:
Zack struggles massively with frustration. This is a very early developmental stage, he has not exited it. He doesn't know what to do, and his volatility and raging just points to this.
 - Surprise! surprise! Sometimes therapy tells you stuff you already know, sometimes it tells you something new. We know he is frustrated. He's been like that since he was little. He wants his own way. Every day. Strangely I have struggled with frustration too - but I think so much of it was about growing up in South Africa, parents, the State, feeling like you're not in control of your own life. Zack feels like that, but he's only 8.
He does not have ADHD.
- So what do we do?
He is intelligent, but hugely over sensitive.
He has excellent EQ but lacks self-control.
He is not resilient. Is this my fault ? I struggle with 'what people say', and often doubt myself. Have I unwittingly passed this insecurity on to my child. If I have, how did that happen ? Is it the outworking of "...don't do what I do, do what I say". But that he's done what I do, and not listened to anything I've said about "you are wonderful. you are smart. you are kind. you are funny. you are clever." Has he bought into, "Am I good enough? Have I failed? Am I a bad mother?" and turned that into, "I am rubbish. I am a failure. I am a bad son." ??

We've given him stability, lots of one-on-one time, he is so demanding and has the most god-awful stubborn streak. He has learnt that digging his heels in, is his way of taking control. We can't meet a deadline if he decides that he's not doing it. He has also taught his brother to do this, altho' in Calvin it can be circumvented because I can still pick him up and put him in the car/bath. It absolutely kills me - wrestling control from an 8 year old. The therapists all say, "there is no maliciousness, no desire to deliberately hurt us, it's ALL IMPULSES." But when he decides he doesn't want to do something, that is the end of that. He is 50kgs+ and as solid as a rock. The armchair critics - yes, I know you're out there (the web is populated with your type) - would say, why is your kid so fat? Why aren't you taking control? You're such a shite parent. What's the matter with you? Honestly...
Honestly?

Two things in response to
anonymous critics online :
1. If you're without fault, cast the first stone. (AND I'll listen to what you have to say.)
2. a version of the quote about walking a mile in a man's shoes...
"You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it"-- To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

I cannot bear my eight year old's behaviour

Taking stock
Our son has been seeing a child psycho-therapist for 10 months. We see our own therapist as a complimentary therapy to everything that our son is enduring. We hoped psycho-therapy would make a difference - life is excruciating at home. The idea with therapy is that it becomes a receptacle for the "difficult" emotions, eg. anger, rage, frustration; and thereby alleviates the pressure in school- and home-situations. Now that his teacher is 'playing ball', things at school seem to be infinitismally better, but life at home has got harder and harder. We are not finding our dealings with our son easier, instead we are finding them harder, more volatile, more extreme, more high and low. He is more horrific in his dealings with us. I am sick-to-death of the screaming and vitriol. I don't have any energy, any joy, any strength left. I am now seeing my own therapist twice a week to "get through" each week. It's impossible to not feel resentful, not to hate your child's behaviour. The destruction and pain it wreaks, ripples on for days.

Environment
We had a meeting with the school to discuss his behaviour. It is BLATANTLY obvious that they're only interested in 1) good behaviour and 2) academic results, so that they can get the OFSTED ratings that they so covet and want to retain. That means there is no room for caring or EQ. They cannot proffer any emotional support to children, that's the kid's f--king own problem. All I hear is how much the headteacher cares about the children and pours herself into providing for them, helping them, assisting them. But my experience of my son being verbally bullied by other children, being spat on, being very slowly and cunningly excluded and side-lined, means I have 0% faith in those statements.
There are courses of action that the school has embarked on, without our consent, that have compromised the psycho-therapy. This past meeting left me with the impression that the bi-weekly "huddle" groups devised by the SENCO are a mixed group of children, boys and girls. The truth is that problem/ disruptive/ challenging BOYS are being pulled out and thrown together for a period of time, so that they aren't a (visible) problem during assembly. The school is putting a positive spin on it, but I think they're deliberately trying to put on a "show" of perfectly behaved children. Particularly in Friday assemblies, when parents of one of the classes (each class gets a turn, week after week) are on site for the entire assembly. Any issues would then be "on show" for all the world to see, and discuss, and mull over and JUDGE... so it's much safer to pull out the non-co-operative kids and put them in a separate room. Yup! that's what they're doing.

The reality is that my son is f--king hard work. He's a pain in the a-s-. He isn't a perfect little, vanilla, sit-quietly, listen-attentively, don't-rock-the-boat, kind of boy. He has a big personality, he is demanding, he is creative, he wants to show you that he can, he wants to be the star of the class, he wants to shine, to be praised. But there is SO f--king LITTLE of that to go around, and the only ones who get any praise, don't have Y chromosomes.

Our part in all this
I want to help. I want psycho-therapy to make a difference. We have altered our approach to parenting, we have felt completely at sea, we have drifted with the tide of rage and tantrums and been ship-wrecked on the rocks of despair. I don't have any answers, but there isn't anyone who does. We just take things a day at a time. Most of the time the days are piled high with shit, but we have moments of victory. This week, so far, I have had a few trips into school without incident, but mostly the day is stacked high with challenging, angry, raging, behaviour.
We are putting our trust and our hope in psycho-therapy, but definitely feel that we need to do more. There is NO-ONE to turn to. We don't know anyone who's been through this. Our own parents are completely useless - the tools that they've bequeathed to us are shite, useless and damaging. They don't have answers. Our friends are helpless and useless. Our true friends are standing by us, but that's just a 'shoulder to cry on'. We have experienced a crisis of faith - loyalty to God, Jesus and the church. True, we have gone through so much more than just this parenting issue (repeated crimes, fabric of our home poisoned with dry-rot, deceitful home sellers, depression, and so forth), but the subject of this blog is parenting, and coping as a family. It's been a crisis, and I have felt like I'm flayed by life.

Ahead ?
Following a weekend of extreme behaviour, on the back of a very difficult Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, we find ourselves asking the very big question about Zack's ability to turn himself around. We are trying everything to repair and mend and change his environment. That will take time. He does believe that he is unloveable, which is soul-destroying to watch as a mother. You can say "I love you" a million times, and it amounts to nought. He doesn't believe it.
His motivation, every day, in almost every action, is to prove to himself, that he is a failure, that he is not worth anything, that he isn't love-able, that he is friendless for a reason. It is no longer a daily thing, but is happening hourly in our home. The destruction, chaos and pain that it causes is harrowing. Both watching it play out; living with the aftermath of emotions; seeing the damage it does to your marital relationship; trying to contain the crippling effect it has on other siblings. We are both at the end of our tether - husband says he could endure much more, but I'm on my knees, on my face, lying prostrate on the ground, sobbing... waving a white flag....

I. . . . . . . . give . . . . . . . . . .up

I just can't go on like this any more. Something has to change.
So many putrifactions of advice have been given, so much arm-chair diagnoses has been made, that I am cautious to commit to any course of action.
However, in the face of a groundswell of evidence I do think that we are going to have to consider that our son has ADHD.
In my books, that is a swear-word. ADHD is some shite made up by Novartis to sell it's product.
I've been pouring over all the online articles, all the opinions, all the stories.
I'm going for some medical advice tomorrow, from a local paediatric MD/doc. Watch this space....

Oh! to Conquer ourselves...

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell." - Buddha

the journey continues...
So we had our meeting with the head teacher, Senco, class teacher on Tuesday. Bits of it were positive. Too much of felt like what we were saying fell on deaf ears. We spoke about the spitting incident - raised, courageously, by the therapist - it feel on dumb, deaf, heartless, soulless ears. It's not helpful, it's not kind, it's not making me feel like they are 'on side'.
Honestly... it appeared that the school were defensive. There was a lot of gushy, "Oh! yes! we do this.. and we do that... and we're ALWAYS trying to build him up, be encouraging."
We questioned them on the dreaded "B" word.
Response : (deadpan) "No, there is no bullying in his class."
What am I supposed to infer from that ?
**f--kers**
My gut instinct is that these people are not to be trusted, but that at the moment, we have no choice. This is the institution that our son is enrolled in. In fact we have more than one child there, so there ARE consequences.
Good advice would say "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." but right now, I don't see any way of being a brown-noser to the headteacher and school secretary. The latter is an absolute f--king bitch, with a massive log in her cornea, the former is too powerful to tangle with. The ripples will affect the future of the innocents. It's a no-go-zone.
I do feel f--ked by the system. I did hate school. I was always delighted to be away from it all - part of me is a snob. Lowest common denominator: having to be mates with every single spiteful little bitch that's in your class, in your year, is soul-destroying. No-one listened and no-one cared.
I don't want the same for my sons.

taking it up a notch

it has been ANOTHER extremely difficult week. Last week Wednesday I got an email from the Headteacher to say that Zack had hurt another child in his class, Eden. When I questioned Zack about it he was very angry - he felt I was going to tell him off too, but I just wanted to understand what happened. He was probably also ashamed about the incident. It transpires that he and Danny (ongoing challenging peer) were playing "what's the time Mr Wolf" and he turned around too quickly, tripped and fell forward into Eden. They were in a line of children and so Zack fell into Eden's stomach. It wasn't intentional. However, this somehow happened again...
At this point you despair as a mother.
But Zack says it wasn't deliberate - it seems they were being silly boys, and Eden was still in front of him in the queue when he swung his arms out the second time.

And then on Thursday afternoon we were robbed - burgled in the middle of the day between 12:30 and 14:30. they took laptops, iPad, other bits and pieces but the big loss is the jewellery. I'm an idiot for keeping it all together so neatly. What an easy haul! It's been traumatic.

Zack wet his bed on Sunday night. Calvin has been having nightmares. Keith and I have been rowing.

On Monday Zack didn't want to participate in chess - he wanted to just watch and not take part. His coach was quite relaxed about it when he told me, and was sympathetic when I explained that we'd had a burglary and that it had affected Zack.

Last Friday, I'd taken Zack to the doctor to have a discussion about his hayfever which is awful at the moment. He can't breath in the mornings and evenings so we are now on a syrup, ventilator, eye drops and a nasal spray - the WHOLE caboodle. It seems to have had an impact ! Thank God for one sympathetic doctor.

However, when he took the medication into school on Monday, there was a unnecessary, very negative reaction from the school: I popped in to speak to each class teacher, to explain about the children being unsettled from the burglary. Ho hum - Zack's class teacher is OFF for two days AGAIN, so I couldn't talk to her. I then popped into the office to ask the secretary about their email, as I've been trying to arrange a meeting with the head, Zack's class teacher, the Senco, Zack's therapist, our therapist and ourselves. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. They don't seem to feel there's any hurry. It's infuriating. Apparently their email had been down for days, so I said I'd print out my email and bring it in. With all the emotion and questions about the burglary from teachers and other parents, it completely slipped my mind to sign Zack's medication form.

The school secretary rang me up and blasted me for not filling in a form for Zack's medication. It had slipped my mind what with trying to discuss the email and see BOTH class teachers before school started. She said the medication was going to poison children in the school, that it was strictly forbidden, and.. and.. and.. Like I'd deliberately sent the medication in to harm other children in the class, instead of helping my own. I was so shocked by her call and the antagonism in her voice that I had to ring her back and explain about the burglary and plead with her for some sympathy, while saying I would come into the office promptly and sign the forms.

On Tuesday after football Zack was in a particularly morose mood - again, because a child had been sticking it to him about his size. I want to lose the fucking plot sometimes when I hear this. I see the damage children's words have done to my son, and I feel helpless in so many ways. I can't control Zack's behaviour - the silly incident earlier last week when he hurt Eden is just an example. But there seems to be a vast ocean of shit that gets dumped on him every week, which he just has to suck up. And he's ONLY 8 !! For pity's sake.

You get to a tipping point. I'm tired of playing stupid games with the school where they let me know, either by email or letter about "incidents" involving Zack. I am now going into print every time Zack experiences something negative. No more mommy with a generous spirit = always patient, always kind, always polite, always giving "them" the benefit of the doubt.

If the head teacher believes that she can build up some sort of evidence bundle of why Zack is being stuck in the Senco's special group, then I am going to provide her with the counter-statements that show that he is being driven to this place DAILY by other children in her school, by a class teacher who does not let up on having a go at him, and general passivity on the part of authority figures who have failed him again, and again, and again. He is surrounded by unfair treatment and adults who seem to always be telling him what to do and shouting at him. It's all he hears, day in and day out.

Wednesday 18 June 2014

XXX

Headteacher

XXX

XXX

Dear XXX

Re : name calling incident at football yesterday afternoon

We are deeply concerned about something that happened yesterday – one of several similar incidents for Zack. On the way home from football Zack was tired and grumpy, and then became very self-critical, saying, “Why don't you just hit me on the head because I'm a chubby, fat loser”. Ruth was shocked and, as you can imagine, very saddened for him. He often feels down about himself, but hasn't said these words before.

She pressed him about where he'd heard that. After a while, he said that Jack, in year 4, had told him he is a “chubby, fat loser”.

Please will you have a word with this boy Jack?

Unfortunately there have been quite a few incidents where Zack has been teased about his weight and size (he is a head taller than most boys in his class). He is very sensitive about this and as you know his reaction in these situations can be physical, wanting to push children away. What really worries us is that this is becoming a repeated pattern of behaviour, where different children tease him in a similar manner, taunting him until he reacts physically. Zack is then punished for reacting to their unkindness.

We have always encouraged him to take this sort of thing to an adult, but we think he is struggling to see evidence that adults will really defend him or address the issue meaningfully. This is not acceptable banter and we think something needs to be raised more broadly at the school to address this directly.

We will make a point of raising the issue again if there are further incidents.

Yours faithfully,

No news... AIN'T good news

Wondering why I've been SSOOOOOoooooo quiet ? Don't wonder. Things have been pretty i.n.s.a.n.e. here. I feel massively insecure about "talking" about it... When you talk about it, it's like confessing. When you confess it implies that you've done something wrong - that you've failed. But really we're in a situation something of our own making, but also of our child's manufacture. Nature v Nurture. You've heard it before. There is a teetering see-saw that sometimes slams down onto the ground, but then other times you're cruising and you think it's going to be okay until the next slam. Basically we're just trying to tag one another and stay calm, deal with the tantrums, our own feelings of panic, the school's seeming acts of sabotage, people's impatience, other children's cruelty, the frustration, anger, highs and lows. He's only 8, he's only 8... we keep saying to ourselves, but yes... he's only eight years old. Anyone who meets him thinks he's 10 even 11. He's tall, he's big. He "seems" to be older than he really is. But he's only 8.
How do I tell people this ? I can't go to each person. Individually. and have the whole conversation with them. But how do I protect him ? He needs us to be his "shield", to care for him, to protect him from the world - people's unkindness, selfishness, insensitivity, judgemental-ness...

Yes, that's what it comes down to - being judged. Are you judging me because my kid is "different" ? Are you judging me because he's "difficult" ? People tell me he's bright. He's very intelligent.

I look at his peer group and they're all exhibiting this nasty attitude problem. Apparently 8 year olds have a 'testosterone blip' which makes them aggressive and full of anxiety. It's a time of sifting for them, but bloody hell, it's a time of sifting for THE entire FAMILY.

Tired. Alot of the time.

Oh daddy, Oh!

Would you like an hour or so to yourself after a Saturday-day of childcare (on top of a week of childcare)? If you pop out for coffee at 5:50pm and you come home at 7:10pm, you shouldn't worry about whether or not the kids are going to need dinner. You shouldn't have to pick up the phone and remind your husband, who is in charge, that the children need feeding. You don't need to remind him what the behavioural consequences are if you don't feed children timeously. You shouldn't feel guilty about wanting a bit of time to yourself; leaving him in charge when he's got things to do, you're going to go mental if you don't leave the house NOW.
You shouldn't but you DO.
You shouldn't but you SHOULD HAVE.
You SHOULDN'T HAVE TO.

f**kity > f**kity > f**kity

oh Zack. what next ?

Back at our therapy sessions after a 5-week break. Ruth (our therapist) walked through a few of the holiday incidents with us. Essentially we've come to the realisation that all the tools we have for parenting - inherited from our parents - are useless. They just don't work. Growing up in South Africa, respect was something garnered from fear. Fear of physical punishment - either a hiding with the wooden spoon, or the belt. That was how the game was played...
Parent : You respect me, or I'll beat the crap out of you.
We are in the enviable position of having a child who at the age of 7 was already too strong to manhandle. I cannot physically lead him to his bedroom if he doesn't want to go. He is too heavy to pick up (when he's having a tantrum) or even scoop up (in slumber). So any kind of physical direction, eg. "It's time to go to your bedroom" (try and lead him there), or "You need to leave your brother alone" (try and separate them) or "Give me the iPad, you can't have it any more because you won't listen/ have broken our agreement" (try and wrestle it out of his hands), is in vain. A complete waste of time.
The realisation that you have a starting point of less than zero, is a very sobering and depressing moment. I had a conversation with a friend about this during the holidays and he was horrified that I felt, I have no tools. We're the same age, and he insisted that I do have tools. So, let's see what tools I have :
1. my children are not rational
...A = I cannot use logic on them. My arguing about a point is wasted.
2. my children don't listen very well, particularly to my voice
...A = using alot of words is a waste of time.
3. authority. In this present age, who has authority ?
...A = I'm a provider of love, support, meals, roof, bed, clean clothing
4. discipline and control
...A = here is where the massive black hole exists. What do I do ?
4.1 I feel desperate when Zack is physically aggressive towards Keith. I tell him not to. But what am I appealing to? His sense of obligation ? He doesn't have one. His respect of his father ? I don't think he has much. Let's "do the right thing"? Ha! what's that ? Anyone ?
...A = Keith says not to worry. He's in control. But the physicality of the 'threat' (and believe me he knows, and is growing in knowledge, that he's strong) makes me fearful. I do feel like I need to "contain" that behaviour. *Therapist would say, "let go of the need to "contain" or "control". Just be". My response, "Oh. Okay!" but all the while I'm worried about the future and the consequences.... If I let Zack continue in this manner, he'll think it's okay to act in a menacing way when he's frustrated. Menacing towards his peers, menacing towards teachers, menacing towards other authority figures. What's the end point ?
4.2 Self-regulated behaviour in society
If 1, 2 and 3 are defunct, how on earth do I get my child to be a part of society? He has to learn to self-regulate. Books don't fix a damn thing but many of the lessons I've read recently have laid down the strong statistical case for children who learn to defer gratification. It's the one indicator for "success" in later life. If my son can't control himself, he can't defer anything. That means that the statistics are stacked against him - he isn't going to be able to sort out his shit in life. I can't fix that. How depressing!
4.3 We need to function in school. You can't run amok. You can't just opt out of the academic flow. Getting homework done is excrutiating. I fucking hate every moment of the cajoling, the bribing and the begging. But, again, it's all about finding a NEW way without any of 1, 2 or 3. I need to be the entertainer. I need to be the parent who makes learning fun.

The task is enormous and onerous.

I want to sit down and weep. Alot.

it's tooth time

Calvin lost his first tooth this week - bless him!

And Zack pulled out his 10th tooth (he counted them) this evening...

I'm running out of change.


Zack knows that "we" are the toothfairy. Calvin doesn't, so I'm having to remind Zack carefully, that he can't let the cat out of the bag. He asked me very earnestly the morning after the tooth fairy visited, "who" had put the money in the little, wooden tooth jar. I said, "Mommy & Daddy both did, AND THAT MEANS that the tooth fairy brought the money," OK?!
I think he got the message. Sheesh ! the loss of innocence, and the end of naivety. It all takes so much PR. I'm exhausted.
And now I've got to find another couple of pound coins to put under the eldest's pillow. Best I go and do that. Tooth fairy hat on

khuluma : family meeting

had a stroke of genius recently - with the help of the therapist - and have instated a "family round-table" on a monthly basis. All topics can be suggested by anyone, ie. Agenda is drawn up by all; You can only speak when you're holding the Lego, Abraham Lincoln (don't laugh); Keith keeps a note of all decisions made and agreed upon, ie. he is secretary and all items put forwarded are only tabled if there is 100% agreement.

Today we covered:
• being on time
• listening to instructions - once (penalties for repeating instructions)
• homework
• time on the computer/ iPad

Apparently there is more to discuss. Zack and Calvin wish to call another meeting a.s.a.p.

:-)

swing here. swing there

Yowzer, as the years pass, the blog postings have dribbled down to 1 per month on average. that is a sad and sorry state of affairs. I don't do New Year's Resolutions. I'm going to post. Some years there will be more, some less, that's life.
So! How're things ? Not bad actually. January is in-frickin-sane. I don't think I'm alone in saying that. There is just too much to do and catch up on, and administer... and sort out... and...
Eldest child is now stuck withh is class teacher from last year until the end of this academic year - the teacher who started with him in Year 3 turns out to be unable to complete his tenure. I real pity, but hey ho. It has its positives and negatives - continuity in having someone he knows, but hard as you're stuck with the problems from last year (personality-clash, teaching-style, or something). He is finding his groove slowly. He's growing up. I do love him so.
Youngest is more at ease, finding his way socially, is academically fine, musical and lucky him, naturally good looking. Blonde hair, blue eyes. I think he could grow an empathetic limb. He isn't naturally "feeling", so he'll need to work on that. He can be self-absorbed. Oh! he's a child, remember.
(aside: blogging about your children is slightly freaky. I wonder how much to put in, how much to leave out. can you be honest ? Will there be some paedo stalking me if I talk about my children? Will they hunt me down and find me, and steal my child, and sell him in the Middle or Far East ?....
doesn't bear thinking about.)
We've had the grandparents staying here (Come on! you've been reading the posts haven't you?). They have grandchildren on two continents. It's natural to compare. I think it's hard for them while it's easy for me - I just have to contend with what I face day to day. They have to make a life with one set of grand-children far away. Don't get me wrong - we miss them.
In Europe we don't have the glorious sunny weather (and skin cancer), but we didn't value it when we had it every day growing up. You only miss it when it's gone. At the same time, we (in Europe) do have oodles of culture, history, community, right on our doorstep. And despite the crummy weather I cycle, and Zack cycles with me. Granny is surprised (she's gob-smacked but was hiding it) that he is on the road, busy roads, with traffic lights, trucks, buses, going along here and there. He's cycled 11 miles and 14 miles, in varying lighting and weather conditions. Bless him! He's brilliant. He can moan like a drain when there's a long hill, but he sings little songs and chatters away to himself on the downhills. It makes you look at yourself and think, "Why am I so serious?".
Kids give you that.

... philosophical entry today