So! Here we are! A week to Christmas! Isn’t it grand!
I hope you’re as excited as my kids about that. I am … not as excited as my kids. Many things conspire to make me particularly peeved today, though I did almost find myself getting a tiny whiff of a hint of the seasonal spirit over the weekend. Almost.
So, this is what’s been going on, briefly. One of my children – I won’t say which, in a pathetic attempt at shielding their anonymity – has been experiencing school refusal. Which means we have all, as a family, been experiencing it, because it has what people might call trickle-down effects. And in spite of the way I feel on x out of y number of mornings, said child is not just doing this to be bad, or difficult, or to make my life miserable. School refusal is a Real Thing that children suffer from, for one reason or another.
I’m not going to go into the whats and whys of it all because that part is not my story to tell. But how frustrated and blocked I feel on days when the child who should be in school is not in school – I think I’m allowed talk about that here. If I’m spending all morning trying to talk someone into getting dressed and leaving the house and maybe even getting out of the car once we get to the parking lot, I’m not getting in my tiny, paltry amount of exercise, or writing anything or feeling in any way useful. Instead I’m feeling more and more ineffectual, which is not good for anyone’s mental health.
We are dealing with it. No advice required thank you. It’s just that, as the kids get older we stop talking about them so much, here in blogland – but this is when we need the support of our mom-friends just as much as ever, maybe more. We need to know that these challenges (let’s call them) don’t mean we’re bad parents, they don’t mean we’ve failed, or broken our children. The job changes when it’s no longer about poop and boobs and sleepless nights, but it doesn’t always get easier.
On the flip side, the days when school attendance is achieved, on time even, I am delighted. I do a happy dance, I feel light and free and like a leaf on the wind. I feel that this is the beginning of a beautiful new era, and that anything is possible. In short, I feel the way I used to feel when the baby (either baby, whichever) slept all night, or something like all night. It’s a glorious day.
Apart from that, a couple of nice/silly things.
Finally, this year, when the kids are 9 and 11, we are at a point where I feel safe leaving the presents under the tree, because they can both handle the suspense and enjoy the anticipation. And they’re loving it so much – announcing to each other after school how many new presents have appeared, cataloguing them, showing their father, sneaking in parcels for each other.
So if you are wondering when or if this moment will ever come in your house, I offer you hope.
(Of course this year we have two cats, so we have to defend all the presents from them now…)
And thing two:
Dash says that when he was very small he thought that people were born whatever age they were. Evidently the whole growing part hadn’t yet sunk in. So when I told him people grew in their mummies’ tummies he thought that was going to be very awkward if the person in question was, like 40 or something.
Which just goes to show that no matter how clearly you think you have explained something to a small child, they will manage to get it arseways and make for themselves some totally bonkers explanation about it.
How’s the season going for you, then?