The warrior parent. A much used label for a parent with a special needs child who fights the system until they are bruised and bloodied and then still gets up, spits out a loose tooth and goes in for a second round. Some parents wear this label as a badge of pride, and I completely
At the risk of being pelted with chocolate Hobnobs, I’m going to break my own cardinal rule of militant Christmas denial until the calendar has been officially flipped over and I have to come face to face with the month of December. Normally, when out among the human race, intermittently freezing and sweltering as I
I’ve been away for a bit. Quite a bit actually. So excuse me if I tentatively dip my toe into chocolatey water for a while rather than just leaping in the air, grabbing my knees and crying “Geronimoooooo” as I dive back in. When you are out of the habit of nonchalantly displaying your life
Nothing marks the approach of the glorious school-run-free summer holidays than the school sports day. It’s something that has enormous significance for the children, largely due to the practices that start weeks ahead of the event which heightens the anticipation and gives them a taste for the greatness and glory that might just be theirs.
I must have walked past that answer phone machine countless times in the 4 or so hours it took me to pluck up the courage to return the school’s phone call. I never had to listen to the actual message as I was stood by the machine as it clicked into action and heard the patient voice at the end of the phone explain that they had received my email, thank you, and that they thought we should probably discuss it. Gulp. […]