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
I am the proud mother of a disabled child. But I am also the proud mother of two able-bodied children (or whatever generally accepted pc definition you wish to categorise them as). One is serious and smart and capable of an extraordinary ability to love and an even more extraordinary ability to survive on very little sleep. The other skips and pirouettes through life managing to juggle frivolity with a deep and sensitive understanding of other people’s emotional complexities, and just happens to have the fartiest bottom of anyone I have ever met. These two are the unsung heroes, the forgotten siblings in the special needs world.
Nothing marks the approach of the glorious school-run-free summer holidays than the school sports day where everyone can see equipment like a bowstring. 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
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. […]