All of a sudden my relatively calm and quiet house escalated into the sort of noisy chaos that has the neighbours ringing the police and hairdressers running for their lives!
On this day last year, whilst I was in Lapland, I decided to start writing a blog, and wrote my first post.
One hundred and ninety two posts, and a very fast passing year, later, here I am!
Happy Christmas to all my family, friends, fellow bloggers and blog followers! I hope you and your loved ones are all having a good one, no matter how you choose or need to spend it!
Call us crazy but we counted down the minutes and then did presents at midnight last night!
Father Christmas only brings a stocking each and he very helpfully puts the same things in them every year! There are always new fleecy pyjamas, soft slippers, something chocolate, a small sensory toy and a satsuma. The kids know what to expect and they also know roughly what they will get in their presents from me. I find this helps ease their anxiety.
I am so very happy that after everything my baby has been through, he is in a place that is good for him. A place where they recognise the lovely, good and caring person he is. A place that builds him up and helps him, and hopefully a place that will give him the skills he needs to work towards his own goals for when he is older.
My heart goes out to anyone going through this, or similar, because I know so many parents who have the same story. I know parents who have ended up homeschooling for years because they aren’t given schools that suit their children. I know children who are not educated at all because they were sent to schools which couldn’t actually meet their needs. I know children, like my son who have ended up suicidal due to being in the wrong school. The system is not setup to help children like mine. The process of getting diagnosed, applying for EHC Plans, and choosing the right school is too tainted by funding issues. Children are being placed in the wrong schools for the wrong reasons all the time!
I remember clearly the time his teacher marched him to me crying after school. She handed me a piece of paper and told me he was being a nightmare. He had refused to do his work, been isolated all day and was allowed no playtime. She gave me the work to take home and said he needed to do it before tomorrow. The work was simple, it was drawing pictures of a story in order. I took my very distressed child home and after a lot of cuddles asked him why he didn’t do the work. “I cant draw a chicken” he said. He was that worried about getting the chicken in the first picture wrong that he couldn’t bring himself to do the work. I just looked at him and said “would you like me to show you how to draw a chicken?” he nodded and smiled and did that piece of work in two minutes.
I double checked during this phone call that they had received my letter and evidence. They denied all knowledge of it. I told them that was strange considering it was posted recorded delivery and had been signed for. It then miraculously appeared!
The paediatrician had a very strong accent and asked my son lots of overly complicated questions. My son struggled greatly to understand what he was being asked both because he didn’t understand the words and because he didn’t understand the questions. To be honest I struggled to understand too and I ended up getting the Doctor to repeat himself and then interpreting for my son who then tried to answer the questions. I still to this day have no idea why he was asked any of it or what relevance that appointment had to anything! The paediatrician told me nothing and said he would make an appointment to see my son again in six months. I went home thoroughly confused and feeling like it was all a waste of time.