My son is making a film for his A level coursework and he wanted to incorporate video clips of him as a child, so on Sunday evening I sorted out the old video camera and we took a trip down memory lane. It is a strange feeling, like looking through a window to the past, but I feel very lucky to have those memories. I watched my son aged about 5 or 6 wearing his Buzz Lightyear pyjamas, opening his birthday presents with his older sisters looking on. It was interesting to observe the dynamics when they were younger and to realise that they may have grown up, but the dynamics haven't changed very much. Next there were clips of all three children taking part in school and Music School concerts, it is confusing those images were so familiar, yet at the same time so remote, as if they happened in another lifetime.
All this looking back on the past led me to wonder if it had been possible to tell back then how the children would develop and what paths they would chose to follow. I think to some degree the answer is yes, it was clear early on that my older daughter loved learning for it's own sake and it came as no surprise that her early love of reading and writing developed into a passion for English. We knew early on that our second daughter would work hard to achieve her goals, she is ambitious and she has her father's love of life, she lives life to the full. Perhaps my son's future path was the most difficult to predict, he was always bright but his early ambition was to be a 'trolley pusher' at the supermarket and he resisted any attempt to change his mind. When my aunt suggested that perhaps he would like to be a vet he told her rather sternly that he liked animals from the outside but he didn't think he would like them from the inside! I guess there were indications early on that he would develop a passion for film, but it wasn't clear to me at the time. The thing that was obvious was that he needed to do things in his own unique way and to find his own direction. Perhaps that is the key to successful parenting, to give them as many opportunities and experiences as possible, to encourage and sometimes cajole, but to allow them the space to discover their own strengths. I don't think there are hard and fast rules when it comes to parenting, it is just a case of always doing your best even at those times when you don't think your best is good enough.
Saturday began bright and early (well actually it was not especially bright and far too early!) Robbie took 5 of our 6 children out for the day and I was required to deliver them to the station. I intended to make the most of the peace and quiet and make a big impact on the washing and ironing. I had a vague hope that I may even have time to rediscover the carpet in Sam's room but I think it is probably a job for Time Team as some extensive digging is required! I ran out of time, so in the absence of Time Team Sam has to do it himself on Sunday afternoon - I can't believe that I watched him hoover his carpet only a week ago, it is quite an achievement to create so much chaos in a week!
I put the first load of washing on and after all the usual running water noises I noticed that there was a vital ingredient missing - the drum was making all the usual noises but it was not going round. Great! I had the 'European Washing Mountain' sorted into loads in the kitchen floor and there was no way that the machine was going to oblige. It is a few years old and not worth repairing so it is just a case of seeing how soon my chosen company can deliver a replacement. I absolutely refuse to buy from Comet and the like, I don't want to be served by someone who is still at primary school and I certainly don't want any further encounter with what they dare to call 'customer services'. I am too old to waste my life battling to enforce my consumer rights - been there got the T shirt! Anyway my mum came to the rescue and I bagged up four loads of washing and carted them off to her house.
My mum and stepfather live in a village between Northampton and Bedford and it isn't possible to park in their lane so I had to park at the top and carry the washing down to the house. Mum was worrying about peacocks. They have had problems with peacocks in the village for a number of years, they may be pretty to look at, but the noise they make is very loud and unimaginably ugly, and when they walk around on the roof they sound like a troop of wandering clog dancers. David my stepfather said that there are about 7 peacocks living wild in the village now and they have had a leafletthrough the door asking how residents feel about culling the peacocks. They would be very glad to be free of the peacocks, but mum cant bring herself to agree to harming them.
As I was heading home I saw whole group of starlings in the lane - feathered pests on a smaller scale. What is the collective noun for a flock of starlings? I have just checked, apparently it is a murmuration of starlings, but I think a riot of starlings would be more appropriate. Anyway seeing them all in the lane behaving exuberantly reminded me of Emily. When she was learning to talk I was very firm with my mum about using the correct name for birds and animals, etc., I wasn't impressed when I caught mum pointing out the 'dicky-birds'. Ok, my only excuse is that first time mum's are noted for being a bit up tight about silly stuff, I was considerably more chilled by the time the other children came along! As a result of my obsessive parenting Emily made her own rules and for many years she called pigeons 'dickigeons' and starlings became 'darlings'. I must admit that once I got used to thinking of them as 'darlings' I didn't feel quite so hostile towards them.
I collected the gang from the station in the evening, all were tired and all had sore feet from doing lots of walking. Sam was walking like John Wayne because his feet hurt so much, I had predicted that his shoes (skater type slip on's) would hurt his feet and I insisted that he had to take his comfortable sandals too. I may as well have saved my breath, he had taken the sandals but he refused to wear them when his feet started hurting because they didn't match his shorts!!
After a long and frustrating day I needed a laugh and I got it. The children told me that on the way home the train crew were a bit short staffed and Robbie was asked to do a stint as a 'trolley dolly' giving out refreshments and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the experience. I innocently asked if he had managed to get the wiggle right - many of the regular 'galley slaves' seem to model themselves on Graham Norton! To my surprise (and stifled amusement) Robbie launched into a long and complicated description of the difference in height and design between the first class trolley and the standard class trolley. I will spare you the detail, but Robbie believes that the first class trolley is too low and causes staff to stoop, thus preventing the wiggle. He was completely unaware that he delivered the whole explanation with his hand on his hip in the most camp pose you could imagine!
Today was a disaster. It rained all day and mid afternoon we had a burst of torrential rain. Yet again it was unsuitable for us to go and do the outdoor activity that Laura and Sam had planned, so instead I offered to take them to the cinema. They refused and after intense negotiation I surrendered and agreed to take them to Toys R Us and then to an out of town shop that Laura wanted to visit.
The first 20 minutes at Toy R Us were tolerable and I managed to dissuade Sam from some of his more crackpot desires and I wandered to a different section to look at jigsaws. Sam came to find me clutching a very expensive baseball bat and ball and also a rugby ball. I pointed out that he had nowhere to play with such things safely and that with the weather as it is he would get more enjoyment from something that he could do in the house like a computer game or some sort of craft set. He was equally determined that his life would be blighted forever if he couldn't have a baseball bat. I reminded him of the events of last summer when he was playing in the garden with his old baseball bat, with his very first hit he managed to break Laura's bedroom window. Fair enough, accidents happen (especially to Sam) but several weeks later he broke the same window and when breaking the news to me he cheerfully pointed out that at least the man would know what size glass to bring! Needless to say I refused to replace his baseball bat - his old one mysteriously disappeared!
We left Toys R Us with Sam in a major strop and my hands itching. His fury continued all afternoon and well into the evening and my patients were tested to the limits of endurance. With the help of my very well practised deaf ear we both survived the experience and by bedtime Sam was almost back to normal. Asking his usual stream of questions. Among several other things he wanted to know how exactly it is possible to kill 2 birds with one stone. There is no way that we are shopping tomorrow - it's too dangerous!
I can't tell you how Robbie is getting on in Ireland as apparently they don't have telephones! Sam has been unwell all week with a very sore throat and a constant headache, he had a day off school on Tuesday and he was very reluctant to go back yesterday, even the snow this morning hasn't provoked any enthusiasm from him. I am sure he is ill, but the problem is that it is impossible to tell how ill. He is an expert at the 'dying fly' routine and we are treated to the same academy award winning performance for 'finger ache' as for something serious. So I have spent this week worried about making the wrong decision and being told that I am a terrible uncaring mum. Why is life never simple?
Well, Friday was another one of those days when I couldn't do right for doing wrong. Walking on eggshells is an essential parenting skill, but as the children become older it becomes increasingly challenging.
Poor old Emily is still crushed by grief following the death of her friend Charles. I don't think I have ever felt so useless, anything I say or do just makes it worse. He was such a lovely young man; life can be so cruel sometimes.
Samuel went to school in tears on Friday morning because I have apparently embarrassed him. Nothing unusual there, I am apparently a constant embarrassment to my children! My particular sin this morning was to send a note to his teacher, Sam hates anything that draws attention to him. He can be engaging, funny and thought provoking, but the reality of living with autistic spectrum disorder is often scary for him and very difficult for those around him.
We went to school with Laura to discuss her A Level options on Thursday evening. She was given a formal offer for the subjects she wanted, Maths, Chemistry, Physics and Geography and I thought it was a very successful meeting. I felt that Robbie and I had dressed appropriately, behaved properly and not said or done anything that could have embarrassed her in any way. Laura disagreed!
We saw her class tutor who I rather like. The poor chap has the misfortune of looking at least 15 years older than his true age - not good when you are in your mid 20's. To make matters worse he looks incredibly like a jelly baby which makes it very difficult to have a serious conversation with him. Apart from telling him that Laura's art teacher was useless, I behaved perfectly. I could have said that her behaviour suggested that she was an alcoholic, but 'useless' seemed to sum up the situation succinctly.
We then went to see a senior teacher about Laura's sixth form options. I didn't comment on the fact that he was more camp than Graham Norton or that he had a larger ego than Jeremy Paxman. When he said that General Studies was a very useful subject, I didn't tell him that he was talking out of his rear end. I smiled sweetly and pointed out that it cannot be counted for University entry and Laura's general knowledge is extremely good, in fact it is a little too good for my liking at times!
Robbie is also giving cause for concern. He will shoot me for putting this on the blog, but he is really struggling with his back and he is desperately trying to pretend everything is OK. If he tries hard enough he may even convince himself!! He is going back to the doctors, even if I drag him there kicking and screaming!
We were gutted last night when the news of the rail crash involving a virgin train came up on his pager - yes, he found the pager! Robbie couldn't settle and kept up with the news until late into the night. I feel very sad for the people involved and their families, especially for the family of the lady who died. It is hard to imagine the horror of the crash when as a family we are still coming to terms with the enormity of the death of Emily's friend Charles. The news reports made me so cross when they said that an elderly woman had 'lost her life', people lose keys or money, they don't lose their lives, they die. Death is not a deliberate or careless act, it is one of the few certainties of life but it is impossibly hard to bear when it happens a 17 year old or as a result of a horrific crash. Richard Branson seems to have reacted quickly and appropriately. I know he has his critics, but he sounded shocked and sincere unlike the head of Network Rail - weasel words from a chap who looks like a ferret.
I realised long ago that parenting is at best a rather hit and miss affair, and if you have teenage daughters you are doomed to feel totally inadequate. Laura's sixth form information evening on Wednesday was particularly frustrating. Laura is well motivated, determined and she always knows her own mind, so it is hardly surprising that she already knows the A Levels that she wants to do, Chemistry, Physics, Maths and Geography. All we had to do was turn up, listen to a presentation about Sixth Form and go to presentations about course content for her chosen subjects.
You wouldn't think that was too difficult, but you would be wrong. First you get the "What are you wearing mum?" and the disapproving looks that go with whatever choice you make. Then there are the instructions given in the car, "Don't ask any questions, don't talk to anyone, don't look at me and don't embarrass me". I wonder how I struggled through life before Laura was around to keep me in line!! During the evening whatever I did seemed to be wrong, any suggestion or comment was taken as criticism and provoked a very prickly reaction from Laura. I could more or less cope with all that, but what really bugs me is Robbie's part in all this. He is very good and always makes sure he gets home in time for parent's evenings. He never gets lectured about what to wear, not even when he has a distinctly dubious tie. He gets away with talking to people, asking questions and generally being 'visible', He never gets accused of being critical or of embarrassing Laura!! I think Laura likes to show him off to all her friends, they all think he is really cool. I am mystified! I suppose he is quite different compared to most of the dads, after all he is quite different compared to most people, but I am not sure the world could cope with too many Robbies! He did push things a little to far on Wednesday when he rather smugly tried to give me advice on parenting. He remained unharmed - but only because I was driving at the time!
