Screen Time

Have you checked yours this week? My phone now gives me a weekly report as a measure of how much time I have spent and how productive it was too. Who would have thought that we would be willingly scolded for our choices by a handheld device that simultaneously makes us use it to tell us that we are using it too much? The irony. These little screens have seeped into so many aspects of our lives though and the data that is held about us is scary if we take a moment to consider it. Think back to a few decades ago and the very freedoms that were hard fought for then and predicted as a dark future by dystopian writers have become reality. 

Every time we click one of those seemingly fun quizzes on Facebook or allow access to a new app, we are willingly giving up personal details and our location, in fact we are often waving a big flag and shouting to all that we are currently away from our homes should anyone be interested, as we post stories and snaps of our days out and holiday adventures. Even our watches conjure up motivational messages or award a quality score on our sleep patterns and the number of steps we have made. Suffice to say, technology has seeped into all aspects of our lives through these screens. We have definitely opened the metaphorical ‘Pandora’s box’ and there is no turning back with it now.

Although I know all of this to be true, and somewhat resenting that fact, I find it hard to consciously move away from my screens. Now I have to rely upon them as a vehicle for my writing. Not only as the medium for creating written pieces but also where I have to trudge through the treacle-like experience of promoting that work, on all the social media platforms that exist through said screens. I have to accept that I need to use my laptop and my phone frequently but I am aware of how addictive this practice can become.

If you look away from your screen right now, the one you are using to view this, what do you see around you? Are you at home with other family members staring into their own devices? Perhaps, like me the other week, you are on public transport, crowded into a tube carriage with armpit odour as company or squashed on a bus with windows steaming up as the rain rivulets run down the outside of them. If so, I’m guessing a high proportion of your fellow travellers are engaged in their own screen time. Last week I stood in the High Street for a few minutes and just watched how many people were walking and screen watching at the same time, oblivious to their surroundings, some narrowly avoiding trip hazards. It conjured up a sci-fi plot where all inhabitants of a future earth are born with a phone screen instead of one of their hands, but I digress.

Recently at a hair appointment, I had to check my phone for a text message from a family member and I started talking about this very subject with my hairdresser. She brought up an interesting point, which is what really got me thinking about this blog post. Her bugbear, as she described it, is when she has made arrangements to meet with someone for coffee or lunch and the first thing they do is to put their phone alongside them. They then continue the time being distracted throughout, glancing at what floats across the screen and not giving full attention to the social meeting that both parties had signed up for.

It made me stop and think. How often have I done that? Does that mere act signify from the start that I am not fully committed to the occasion and the people that I am with? Perhaps it does. It is certainly something to think about. I need to work on separating my social and relaxation time and activities from my ‘work’ related ones. Keep my phone in the bag when I am spending time on the first of those, so that I can fully engage in them. Just as I have previously extolled the virtues of being in the moment, usually connected in my mind to being outside, close to nature, it is true that I should devote the same courtesies to connecting with the people in my life.

That all sounds fine and uplifting but I guess I am not alone in thinking of times when I have been the only one to put away the phone and to look around to see everyone else glued to theirs. Some evenings in our house, the television is on whilst every family member is either tapping on their phone screen or engaged in a screen activity on a tablet. Still, I guess we can all start somewhere. I can put away my screen and start a conversation, one where we actually look at each other too. It is all too easy to talk with our thumbs, to tap away and be drawn into screen chats, emojis and gifs. There's a lot of research out there about the negative effects of screen time, about the wisdom of putting screens out of sight for a while before bedtime, perhaps I need to take all of that more seriously. I am going to make a conscious effort to reduce my screen time. How about you? I wonder how many people can you actually engage with today. There’s my challenge, but don’t put your answer on social media!

Quality Time

This week has been about quality time. Time spent away for a few days, with my Mum, my daughter and the dog. Three generations together enjoying each other’s company, talking about all manner of things and loving the luxury of the hot tub that came with the lodge that we had hired. We stayed in a small holiday park which was basically set up to be a landscaped area for the lodges - both privately owned and holiday let - with a small reception office, staffed a few hours a day. That was it - no frills, no shop, no on site activities, just peace and quiet a plenty, with sheep and ducks as our neighbours.

Knowing this was the type of site we had signed up for, we had planned accordingly and between us taken a box of provisions. Although we could drive a short distance to a supermarket if we needed to, there was something of a nostalgic element to packing our provisions box. A nod to past holidays in my parents’ caravan when our kids were small and we would load up the car with groceries, toiletries, clothes and all the extras that toddlers seem to need before driving off for a long weekend or half term break.

We weren’t far from the spot that Mum and Dad had their caravan and although over a decade since we were last there, it was hard not to reminisce about past days out back then, with my Dad. Much has changed and some aspects remain the same, like any typical English seaside town, but walking around Hastings and Bexhill-On-Sea I found myself wondering what Dad would have made of it all. Back before his illness took hold, he would walk for miles and find a little spot to sit to survey the countryside with his packed lunch of sandwich spread or crab paste sandwiches, a packet of crisps and a chocolate penguin biscuit. Once retired from teaching, he would often travel down on the train for a few days and spend his time walking, running and cycling. He always had a drive to be in the outdoors and active.

Being close to nature, as I described earlier, was part of the relaxation process this week. Of course, as I have often mentioned in my writing, I benefited from being by the sea. Beyond that though, to feel the wind on my face, walk around the fields and watch the clouds pass overhead, all helps to focus the mind on the important parts of life and induce an inner calm.
Being back in the setting of the many holidays spent when my children were young felt strange at times and made me consider how much has changed since then. I miss the togetherness of when the children were younger - when we would all go to places together, eat together and be part of the experience together. A ‘bear hunt’ through the swishy, swashy, long grass on our way to Pevensey castle, looking for fairies hidden in the tree trunks of a National Trust garden, or losing count of how many strokes there have been as we work our way around a busy Crazy Golf course.

Does everyone look back to past sections of their life and think how much simpler things were then? The ‘memory seive’ effects your perception though, filtering through all the positive moments and nothing in life is ever really that simple. For every happy bucket and spade moment there may well have been disagreements about where to go, what to do about lunch or stand offs with the children when we wouldn’t let them buy up a whole souvenir shop. I am sure you can recall both the good and bad parts of your own holidays or days out with family, to know what I mean. Then again, family by its very nature and familiarity brings out the best and the worst of us all, perhaps as it is when we are with family that we are in our safe space to show how we really feel.

Today life often feels complicated, my children have their own interests and pursuits, meal times are sporadic and that elusive together time is to be treasured even more when we actually all manage to sit down together and talk to each other for a short while. If anything should come out of my week of quality time, then I think it is the importance of valuing what you have and when you have each other, take a few moments to be grateful for that. It may not happen so regularly with a grown up family, but when it does and we are all in the same place at the same time and absorbed in a given activity together, I’ll be content with quality over quantity.

Master of the House

‘Who wears the trousers in your house?’ That’s a strange expression isn’t it? So many aspects to explore there that I would see as irrelevant in the modern day family dynamic but I know this is not the case for many. Obviously the assumption is that ‘traditionally ‘the man of the house, wearing the trousers, was the dominant driving force of the family. I am not sure where to even begin to unpick that. So many different family types with so many different relationship dynamics within them and even thinking back to the archetypal nuclear family of the 1950s, wasn’t it often said that behind every man was a good woman who was holding it all together? 

Perhaps such an analogy still holds up though, if we ignore the sexism implicit within it. If the phrase is to apply to who is perceived as the driving force, the one making all the decisions, the one motivating the others in the household, then at different times in our house we may both wear the trousers or, with increasing regularity, feel that neither of us are doing so. In fact, the trousers have become like the proverbial missing sock in the wash and have disappeared so far back in the wardrobe that they have gone to Narnia! Those are the overwhelming days. When life beyond the confines of home and immediate family, demands reactionary measures and you can feel yourself standing still whilst all around blurs into a fast-paced montage. An image comes to mind of an individual standing still on Waterloo Bridge whilst all the commuters and tourists hurry along on all sides in a blurred focus of movement. I have probably lifted the scene from a film or somewhere. Suffice to say, when life throws a lot at us at once it is easy to feel as though you are standing still and observing a whirlwind unfurling around you.

Within the family unit too, lines blur- at least they seem to have done so for us. I have written before about the changes and adapting to life in close proximity now that we have four adults and not the parents and two children dynamic. Take a look at my previous post 'The Rule Book' to see what I mean but today I do find myself asking whether the children who are now grown-up, are the ones to be wearing the trousers? Have they become the masters of the house? That can often feel the case and whilst the knee-jerk reaction to that might be that as the parents in our own house, we should still be calling all the shots and making our own decisions, reality is often far more complex.

In a time when children are remaining in the family home long into adulthood, they have to have scope and space to make choices, become independent and feel like adults. Getting the balance right so that each of us feels respected within the shared space and a valued part of the family unit can be tricky though. I am not sure we have managed that yet. Then again, I am not sure I have managed to find what I truly want and where I am trying to get to and that’s at the age of fifty. I frequently find myself wondering where I am headed and asking for guidance from friends or family members or anyone that will listen really. 

Being master of the house and I choose that phrase over mistress as that unfortunately has a whole other set of connotations! Being master of the house or master of any relationship, surely requires you to understand those things? To know what your long term aim and your short term objectives are and have some sort of viable action plan in place of how to get there? Maybe that’s why the trousers are missing in our house. Sure, we both know where we are aiming to be in the long term - mortgage free and both able to stop work and start living some of life’s adventures together. Getting to that point seems to include an unsure pathway and we have certainly stumbled over many of the bumps in that path over the last thirty years. I am sure there will be many more bumps or pitfalls to negotiate in the future but actually, I have to admit that we have also started to find some little stopping points along that path where we are tasting some of life’s adventures. We have been learning the value of enforcing a pause on daily life - taking a time out to think about all that is going on around us. Perhaps the key has been admitting to each other that we don’t really know what we are doing or where we are going but that we’ll keep on trying to work it out together. Who needs to know who the master of this house is anyway? I think it’s the dog! 

Overwhelmed and Out of Time

This term will be my last after 16 years supporting the children and families of one school, and about 27 years of teaching altogether. The decision to leave education was huge for me as I consider myself to have been good at what I do: igniting fire in young minds as I have built relationships with the children in my care, working hard to support their families and also being there to listen and help out colleagues however I could.

I am sad to say that I no longer feel able to do the job that I trained for and that I developed an expertise in, as the direction that education has taken has brought with it so many obstacles that I have found the people that matter, the children, have been lost amongst the targets, the red taped package of Ofsted and monitoring and the tick box exercises of daily teaching. It is with much soul searching that I have had to accept that I cannot continue trying to reach the goals set externally and have been left overwhelmed by a system that currently appears to be unsustainable for the long term positive future of the profession and the wellbeing of our children.

I accept that I have been struggling with family issues which have centred around both physical and mental health of different individuals within the family, alongside the process of managing a highly stressful job. This has been a double edged sword as whilst it has given me an obviously difficult time juggling the hats of career, wife and parent as discussed in my blog post “Diva or Door Mat,” it has also given me an insight into the difficulties that I have tried to help parents with as my role within Special Educational Needs has developed in recent years.

There have always been certain individuals or families that have made indelible marks on me during my career, often the ones I have had to invest the most time in to support. Over my time in education, my interest in SEN has grown to the point that I studied and completed the SENCO qualification a few years ago and have spent the last two years attempting to embrace the immense task of being a SENCO in a busy primary school. This has put me in the privileged position of being the trusted person when families are at some of their darkest moments and it has been a joy to see the relief when together we have been able to find solutions or gain much needed support when paperwork is agreed by SEN panels. For those cases that I leave unresolved, I feel a pang of guilt and hope that others in my place will sort things quickly as, unless you’ve been part of the roller coaster of accepting that a child in the family has special needs, you cannot begin to imagine how all-encompassing this becomes.

As for me, for many reasons, I found that I had become completely overwhelmed by the demands of the job alongside family issues to the point that I now have to consider my own mental health. So, rather like a large sand timer, I see that the time has come to accept that the sand has all run through and my energies have been sapped with it to the point that I am now out of time.

That phrase is apt for several reasons - out of time in how I now feel that I cannot continue fighting the daily battles with accompanying rising stress levels, out of time in how, as a middle-aged teacher my training was at a time that now seems unrecognisable for the current demands of the job, out of time in what I value as important in teaching young minds and how that doesn’t fit into the narrow focused curriculum that measures all children in a one-size fits all way that actually does not fit at all well for many of them.

I face an uncertain new year, with no fixed plans of what I will choose to do next. I have given myself permission to take some time to have some head space, to focus on my writing, to consider if there is another route that I may take work wise. I do not know right now, if I could return to teaching at some point. I feel that I have more to offer, especially in the field of SEN, but as yet have no plans about the form that this will take. I hope to make something of my writing, as it is certainly true that blogging my thoughts this year has helped me to confront long buried emotions and face up to issues that have been hard to talk about. I am too close to it all right now to answer questions about my future. Just today my husband asked if I feel I could do something in the future to keep making a difference in the field of SEN. I could not even think of how to respond to the question without welling up - I suppose that must mean that the guilt in leaving families part way through a journey, in stopping being the one waving the SEN flag at school and fighting a child’s corner is all still too raw for me. Being a SENCO is more than just a job, it seeps into your bones and you certainly cannot leave it at work.

Perhaps readers of this blog will have ideas of where I could jump next? I would be happy to hear suggestions. For now, I have to remind myself that it is okay not to know where I am headed. Moving from a heavily time managed environment to a situation that is bound by no rules or deadlines is simultaneously liberating and intimidating. Friends have put a rose coloured spin on it, encouraging me to follow my dreams. Perhaps they are right? So I am working hard to think of this point in time not as an ending but as a beginning. I have a lot of people to support me and I have got better at asking for help. My past successes will always be there, my future ones are worth striving for and I am truly blessed to have my support network helping me to keep moving forward. Perhaps I am not out of time, more choosing my own time, my time to shine.

Frantic Festivities

So this has been a year of twists and turns, many of which have been documented within this blog, and now I find myself at the start of December looking at the finish line of 2018. This month is probably the busiest, as most people celebrating Christmas will no doubt agree. In recent years, we have found ourselves jumping through hoops to accommodate the various requirements of the festive season and often ending up exhausted by the whole process.

Beyond the plans for the big day itself and who will be going to who and how much food you really need to buy, is the clamour to sort out gifts for everyone in enough time to wrap them and get them to their destinations. The whole process seems to become more intense each year and I wonder if my memories of a simpler, distant Christmas are somewhat rose tinted? I’m sure that we all buy more stuff nowadays and, even with the immediacy and convenience of the little brown packages from Amazon Prime, the whole process seems to demand a level of commitment and spreadsheets that would not be out of place in a corporate organisation!

Since the kids lost their sense of wonder in the identity of the man in the red suit, it is certainly true that a certain amount of magic is lost from the whole event. Still, in the years immediately after that revelation we had times that we found time to share festive moments together; visits to see Christmas lights, taking long walks on a winters day or the odd special treat seeing a show or similar.

Then dark times invaded our festive season. Several years hosting Christmas dinner with an ill relative attending is hard but worse still is spending Christmas or Boxing Day in hospital alongside the bedside of a parent, unsure if they are going to make it through the night. Against the backdrop of those experiences, it is no surprise that the C word often conjures up an initial negative response from me. It is impossible to have the different parts of Christmas, the little family traditions that we all develop over the years, without poignancy and thoughts of those no longer able to join us round the table. 

Recently, whilst taking time alone with my husband, we tried to talk through ways of making this year calmer and less stressful. We’re still floundering somewhat in achieving this but we have got each other’s back and when one of us feels like it’s all too much, at least the other is able to offer a hug or a suggestion to help out. I think we’re both feeling a little resigned to the actual Christmas event being whatever it is and have adopted a sort of ‘let’s not overthink it all’ approach. I think we’re tired of trying to accommodate everyone’s wishes, be there for all and fit in with what everyone wants without regard for what we might want ourselves. We should be grateful to still have close family members around to share the two days with but it does feel like we’re ticking off the list of expectations and once again, putting ourselves at the bottom of the pile.

The things I am looking forward to this year are the little events we are choosing to have in the run up to Christmas and the promise of a few quiet days afterwards. There are evenings planned with colleagues and friends, a lunch out here and there and a mad party of dressing up and silly games set up for the drama group that I get to call my other family now! I suppose the attraction of these events are how they centre around simple things: raising a glass of wine together, playing a party game, walking in a wintry wood, chatting over lunch, wearing a silly hat or watching a friend open an inexpensive gift that has more effort in the thought attached than it has monetary value. Little things count. It may sound cliché to say so, but it’s true.

For many reasons we’re trying to scale back the excesses of our festivities this year. The money spent, the food wasted, the pile of wrappings- all seems an excess that we could well do without. I feel that I’m looking back with nostalgic eyes and perhaps trying to replicate some of that through us having a simpler celebration this year. I certainly intend to value the simple aspects of the festivities ahead: sharing time with those important to us, giving thought to tokens of love or appreciation, noticing the little touches that others have made, enjoying moments of calm or silliness away from the daily routines of our working lives. When all is said and done, these are the things that should refresh us and bring us joy and the strength we need to face the year ahead. 

Just as this year’s twists and turns have felt significant, I know that there will be more to follow next year. The unknown pathway is extending into the distance beyond me and I feel small as I stand there looking forward. Each year, as we reach midnight on the 31st December I check myself thinking what will this year bring? What have I got to be grateful for from this year? What can I do to make the most of the year ahead? No one has all the answers, for life tends to follow no rules. All we can do is give it our best shot and be thankful for those that we have alongside us to share it with. 

There will be more for me to reveal in my blog next year and many aspects that I cannot begin to imagine right now. For I stand small and timid, with images from films in my head akin to Little Red Riding Hood skipping off to Granny’s house and taking the forbidden steps off the pathway. Will there be a wolf in disguise awaiting my arrival into 2019 or will I find my way out of the dark and twisted forest and back on to the clear path? This story is yet to be told and its blank pages are waiting for my ink to spread across them.

A House of Cards

As a teenager, I went through a phase of trying to learn to juggle for a few weeks. It was mainly instigated by my younger brother who was annoyingly quick to grasp the technique and proudly showed anyone who would look at his new skill, as he progressed from 3 to 5 juggling balls, scarves or even pieces of fruit! Never one to be outdone by my sibling I tried to follow his instructions to master the art but never quite managed it.

As a wife, mother, career woman and dedicated drama participant I regularly feel like I am still trying to succeed at juggling. There are times when all the balls are in the air at once and for a while at least, the illusion perpetuates and anyone pausing to look would be impressed by the circus act. More often than not though, at least one ball goes wayward.

A dear friend once said to me that her life only works when everyone is well. It is certainly true that as soon as one family member feels ill or needs a day off work the impact ripples through all the arrangements of the well-oiled daily life machine and metaphorically throws a spanner in the works. The times when this has impacted upon our lives most significantly were the months leading up to my father’s death and two years later, when my mother developed sepsis and the long slow recovery time from this.

When I look back to these times and think of the daily hospital visits fitted in around work and continuing family life, I am at a loss to contemplate how we managed - but of course you do because you have to and everything else is re-prioritised.

It occurs to me that we have spent time building up a house of cards over the years, balancing one section and moving onto the next as we pass from one phase of life to the next. Starting off as a newly married couple the lowest floor of our house of cards comprised budgeting to pay bills, working out how to take on household responsibilities as part of adult life and developing our confidence in the workplace and all the while feeling like we were playing at being grown-ups.

Once children came along we were onto a second floor and the playing at being grown-ups became a whole lot more serious, as we were actually responsible for other little humans. Balancing some of the cards on this level took a lot of practice and many times when we felt like we might never get things straight and in order. In the early parenting days I felt as though I hadn’t a clue about what I should be doing and worried about the smallest decisions. Thankfully, this anxiety does lessen and we relaxed more into the parenting role, had a second child and grew along with our children into a family unit.

I feel like our house of cards has perhaps reached its third or fourth storey now. With grown up kids, busy careers and relatives with increasing need for support, the construction and balancing of this phase proves quite a delicate and demanding task at times. There have been days when it has felt like it will all come tumbling down and I think of the courtroom scene from Alice, with a pack of cards circling around her somewhat like a tornado.

I have read something recently about a person never really being too busy to do something but having priorities which show truly where others figure in their lives. I think I have been guilty of feeling compelled to accommodate people in my life, to stop what I am doing or put one item on hold in order to help others when they ask me for something. I certainly like to please people, to help them and I think caring about others cannot be a bad thing. But I have been told that I lose myself in all this. By jumping up straight away to help others out, I have often given myself extra work or a pile of jobs to complete later at more inconvenient times. It’s hard to change one’s nature though.

Prioritising and delegating are skills I am still working hard to improve. It was pointed out to me that if I always put myself at the bottom of the pile, then I won’t be able to give of my best to help others anyway.

Reflecting on this, I find myself unpicking why I have developed these habits. Automatically saying yes to colleague requests or jumping up to fulfill wishes and demands made by my children, is perhaps a desire to keep all running smoothly? Don’t make waves - the saying goes. I know I’ve been guilty of opting to keep quiet sometimes in an attempt to limit the emotional ripples caused from confrontation and as I have explored in my previous blog “Confined by my Cage of Confidence” this is not a successful strategy to employ in the long term.

When our house of cards looks like it’s in danger of tumbling down it is easy to feel that all is lost and at those times, I know that I can sweep aside all that is still positive along with the knee jerk reaction to what is currently going badly for us. The thing about my deck of cards is that, although flimsy on their own and subject to fall as the winds of misfortune blow past, together they have formed a strong structure and balanced well on the foundations of a 30 year relationship. Many things have come along to test us, from redundancy to serious family illness and grief. Many things have also made us smile: pride in our children’s achievements, accomplishments in our working and home lives, celebrations of milestones and family events.

Each of us finds ourselves dealt a deck of cards in life. Sometimes we are envious of others and what appears to be a better hand and we would like the opportunity to swap our hand. Sometimes we need to shuffle our deck to mix things up a bit, step out of a rut, try a few new tricks and in doing so, make a few treasured memories.

Whatever turn of a card fate has in store for us next though, remember that you have an inner strength and when you’re feeling that you can’t find it sometimes, family and friends will always be on hand to keep you going. This year has been a personal journey for me where I keep discovering how true this is - you just have to speak up and ask for help.

To Dance with my Father Again

I’m not sure I’m ready to write this as I sit this crisp, cold autumn morning, thinking of the subject matter. This week sees the 6th anniversary of my Dad’s death and I have spent this weekend trawling through old photographs which has been a bitter sweet experience. It became obvious that I don’t have many photos of my Dad and I suppose there were several reasons for this. My early childhood pictures were mainly of myself and my brother, or some included my Mum - I suppose that Dad was behind the camera. Later pictures rarely had him feature as he was always more comfortable in the background of events. That all said, it was therefore a treat to find the few snaps that we did and to glimpse the hidden memories from the past.

An unassuming man, Dad worked hard to make our lives better and mostly left us to follow our own interests, just as he was free to follow his own interest in athletics and walking. When you’re a child you don’t think to ask your parents how they are feeling or what they would like to do. You just spend your time demanding things from your parents without any consideration of their wishes. Yet, looking back, we did spend many a Saturday ‘helping’ Dad at his athletics club, so perhaps he did have time for himself.

For many years Dad liked a beer or two, or maybe more, on a regular basis. In the days when he was still teaching it was acceptable for staff to pop out for a pub lunch and a swift pint on a Friday lunchtime, before returning to lead lessons in the afternoon. The educational landscape has changed dramatically since and there wouldn’t be time now to get to the pub and back, let alone consume anything and let’s leave any moral issues about alcohol consumption by those in positions of authority to one side! Back then though, Friday saw the teachers lunching at the pub and seemingly having a more positive work-life balance than current times, and still supporting their students to achieve good results.

Our Sunday habits involved walking and a pub too. Dad would take us out for a walk, usually to spend time in a park, whilst Mum cooked the Sunday lunch. I remember with fondness sitting outside the pub with a bottle of coke and a packet of crisps that we had added salt to, from a little blue bag. After returning home and eating our roast dinner, Dad would doze off on the sofa - sleeping off the beer and roast potatoes!

The few photos that we did find were mostly linked to athletics and walking. Dad with his stop watch in hand, ready to be official timekeeper at a race meeting at Battersea or Crystal Palace, or a few with him in his full running outfit at the end of a race - clearly not looking his best. The walking pictures were usually from our family holidays on the Isle of Wight. We used to joke that we could only go somewhere exciting if we could walk there first! Often we would walk 5 miles or more to our destination but that was all part of the experience - climbing styles, avoiding nettles and cows in a farmer’s field, trying to negotiate a cliff path that was perilously close to a sheer drop! 

As I grew older I know that I felt closer to Mum, than Dad. Perhaps that’s s girl thing? Girly shopping outings as a teenager replaced by conversations on common ground about married life and then childbirth and raising toddlers. These phases are where I didn’t think to include my Dad more.

All too soon, he had suffered a stroke which brought on dementia and it was too late then to ask him meaningful questions. Adopting the role of carer with him, those were the times when Dad was in the room but spiritually elsewhere. Memories were often discussed with close family or friends at this time, with Dad sat alongside, out of a need to try to include him and in the vague hope that a shared memory would bring him some comfort or respite from his daily anxieties at the time.

There’s a line from the show ‘Blood Brothers’ referring to the character’s mind going dancing. Perhaps by this time, Dad’s mind was dancing, or in his case running a marathon. I wish I could remember a time when we had danced together though and think of the song lyric with pangs of regret. So, make the most of your time: sing, dance, laugh, walk up a hill together and take photos to share - not of stuff, instagram meals and landscapes, but of people who matter, all of them. 

Time for a Chat.

A typical 4 year old, if there is such a thing, has a vocabulary of about 1500 words – impressive in such a short space of time. So you would think that by the teenage years their eloquence would extend beyond “No, uh, M-u-m and what?” All the rich tapestry of the English language laid out before them and it is reduced to a smattering of mumbles, when pushed, and a string of hashtags or a winky face emoji as their thumbs work overtime on their stream of messages in one online chat forum or another. It seems at times that they have entered some secret club that you, as the parent, can only view from the outside. They certainly don’t want to engage in conversation about their daily activities and if you do hear them speaking, it’s often in some new and strange language that I won’t embarrass myself now by attempting to quote any examples from. There’s nothing worse than a Mum trying to be ‘down with the kids’ and I’m sure we all remember the cringing feelings when our parents attempted to be cool in front of our teenage friends, way back when.

Now my kids have entered this teenage and beyond phase, it can be with some regret that I nostalgically look back on their toddler years – the time when they asked questions every single minute of the day – and think why didn’t I appreciate the value of this at the time? Why? That’s what my children asked constantly – why is this or that the way it is? At the time, it is easy to pass off questions with a quick response to close down their line of enquiry or to think if only they could be quiet for just an hour so I can drift off mentally to a place of peace and quiet. But at that point in time, to them you are the font of all knowledge and this doesn’t last for long. How many times more recently have I heard them scoff “Mum, don’t you know what that is?”

Perhaps our household has always been a chatty place. As my two children grew up they were always included in conversation around the dinner table and although encouraged to wait their turn and be polite enough to listen to others, they knew their opinion and contributions would be valued. I recently came across a quote which I find poignantly significant at this time in my life:

“Listen earnestly to anything your children want to tell you, no matter what. If you don’t listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won’t tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff.”  (Catherine M Wallace)

Joking aside, I am grateful that my kids – who are mostly grown-up now – do still want to talk to me when they have something on their minds. There has been a patch where this was difficult, where the adolescent hormones combined with diagnosed anxiety and depression in such a way that it felt almost impossible for one of my children to speak to me. Almost 18 months of talk therapy and a whole heap of hard work by the family have helped to address this and I’m feeling that we are now sharing things again. Whether this sharing has been little or big stuff, and some of it has indeed been big stuff, it is worth remembering that the seemingly small step taken to talk about it has been a gigantic leap of faith in making the decision to do so.

And what about me? How am I in conversation? The phrase – “Do you have time for a chat?” conjures up different connotations for me, some negative and others positive. If you’re called into your line manager’s office for a chat, it’s rarely to be about the latest developments on a TV programme or to plan a social event together. Sometimes I will send a message to my husband via text / messenger and receive the reply “Let’s chat about it later.” I know that means that the subject matter is going to be up for lengthy debate later and neither of us are sure what the outcome may be.

Meeting a friend for a chat might go one of many ways. Often it is because one or both of us need the space to unleash all the niggles that have been grinding us down over the last months and say them out loud to someone that we know will listen and not judge. Other times, amongst the niggles, is a bigger, more demanding problem that needs airing and a friend can be the support mechanism for this. Food, drink and chatting with friends can help to make the world a better place, even if only for that moment in time.

A chat about no particular thing is also a great form of therapy – talk about whatever comes into your head first and just go with it. To an outsider, I am sure that’s what a lot of my conversations with friends look like. But the process of this - being with good company, those with shared interests and common experiences - that is a great recipe for a successful chat session. Sometimes you don’t even have to say out loud what is really troubling you – the random other bits of chat act as a cover or code and those who know you well, know to keep that going so that you can process the difficult stuff and everyone in the room knows that’s just what you needed.

And now I come to group chats – you know the ones you can set up on Messenger? I’m quite the technophobe, in fact setting up my writing into a blog was a challenge for me and one for which I had to call upon the support of a tech-savvy friend to complete. Is it a good thing that we have the technology available to be able to hold a multi-way conversation without any need for the physical presence of those people in the room?

Group chats have been great when trying to organise a social event or give details for rehearsals to the whole drama group that I am part of. Sometimes, a couple of members of the group chat divert from the intended point of the original message and if you weren’t online at the time you open the chat to a stream of comments, thumbs up signs and GIFs that you have to scroll through, emphasising just how late you were to this party chat!

It is true that I am guilty of holding several group chats at once and then I really have to be awake and aware of which comments I am sending to who. It would be difficult to explain a flirty message intended for your husband to a group set up with work colleagues about an important meeting in the schedule.

However, I have found myself checking my chats daily and it has been good to be able to access advice from friends when I have needed it or to check where my family members are and whether they are intending on being home for dinner. The benefit over texts being that I can at least see that they have received a message, even if they choose not to respond.

I don’t think electronic chat can replace the real thing though, for all the reasons I’ve explored already. To talk to each other, in person, face-to-face is to be human and individual amongst the daily crowd of automatic responses and faceless encounters. “Do you have time for a chat?” Always, for my family, my friends, I will always make time.

 Have you ever been caught out in a group chat?

What do you think about the social media opportunities for chat and how our children engage with these?

Parent Sandwich

People make different choices about their relationships. Back in the 80s, when I met my husband, within our social circles, it was still the accepted norm to meet someone, get married and then have kids. We followed that pattern and after 7 years of marriage, started our family.

When you have a freedom like that, you don't really appreciate it. Those 7 years where we could stay up talking to friends until 3 in the morning, cadge Sunday dinner off the in-laws with little notice, lay in bed on a Sunday morning until it was actually Sunday afternoon and fit in work commitments around it all and still have plenty of time for each other.

Then Bam!  Babies arrive and you can't distinguish one end of the day from another. Relentless rounds of feeding, changing, smiling at relatives and friends who've come round to coo, leave you unable to stir a cuppa, so stirring any passion is completely out of the question. After childbirth your intimate areas don't quite hold the allure of sultry promise as previously. When you've had to put your private parts in the public domain of a hospital birth it seems like everyone's had a look up there including the guy who only came in to the room to change the bins! So it takes a while to think of yourself as attractive again.

Though debilitating at the time, the sharp end of parenthood passes after a while and then you continue on to each new phase or, if you're like us,  you do it all again and repeat the baby madness with the added complication of a toddler in the mix. If you think the 1st was tricky, you don't know what has hit you with a 2nd!

Still, without any formal parenting qualification and no prior manual of support, we grew into our parent role and did the best we could to support our kids from one phase to another: baby, toddler, school years into teenager and beyond.

Somewhere along the line, it gets easier doesn't it? Kids grow up and the family dynamic changes and you get to that point where you can stop being so much of a parent and get back a little of that freedom can't you? I mean, that appeared to be what I observed some friends doing. I began to think of possible couple holidays that we might have and fantasize about moments of calm, in a more settled house. Ask a woman what her fantasies are and you might expect all sorts of erotic scenarios with various hunks playing the lead. Actually, it's more likely to involve the need to carve out a bit of peace and quiet, sipping wine somewhere with a pleasant view and a slice of cake!

Anyway, I should get to the 'parent sandwich.' This is something that has happened to us over the last decade I suppose. Not only are we parents to our kids, something that we willingly if somewhat naively signed up for, but somewhere along the line we have adopted the role of parent to our own parents.

I lost my Dad six years ago but to be more accurate, I lost the clever, funny, kind man that he was ten years ago when his illness struck and smudged areas of brilliance in his brain. So looking back on it, from then I had to step into that parent role to explain basic daily things to my Dad and to support my Mum. Not only had she lost all the things I had with Dad, but she had lost her soulmate too and looked like a ship cast away on what was to become a very stormy sea.

Not long after his death, I almost lost my Mum too. A perforated bowel and sepsis did not make a good prognosis but somehow, after all the difficult years with Dad, she found the strength and reserves to come out the other side fighting.  It was probably a six month fight when at its most difficult, yet to this day she lives with the effects of the time. Being the positive person she is, she manages well and doesn't often let on that she's feeling emotional or anxious or lonely. So my 'parent' duties with Mum have reduced to more of a checking in and supporting from time to time and that's absolutely fine. 

More recently, it is my husband's turn to be the sandwich filling. Both of his parents are now in their 70s and have growing health issues and lessening independence. A proud and driven man, he has risen admirably to the task and, as the eldest child, feels duty bound to carry the weight of it all on his shoulders alone.

I never realised how the lines of responsibility and duties of care blur as your parents enter that phase of life, where they need you back in their lives more than they ever like to admit.
Like a dough stretched out, being pulled from each end by our kids and our parents, I find the safest survival tactic is to stick together and hang on in there. From time to time, they loosen their grip and we can take up the slack to remould ourselves and start again. 
We may not be in a place where an exotic couple's holiday is possible but a moment here and there for each other will have to do. I'm lucky to still have the man by my side who was acceptable in the 80s and, all things considered, he's okay now too.

If you're currently coping with a parent with dementia there are support networks out there, for example: https://www.dementiauk.org/ 
Perhaps you have other methods of support that you can recommend too?

Mum's the Word.

So, I’m staring at a long path in front of me, wondering how I came to be there and how I might even take one more step along it…

“Don’t look back” they say, for nostalgia clouds the pictures in your mind and regret hinders the ability to step forward. Yet, where you are is a reflection of where you have come from – the path already trod, the familiar footsteps that lay behind you, fading with the memories they have touched.

Sometimes it seems obvious how to proceed – keep on going in the direction you have chosen for yourself, your family, your career. But life has a habit of throwing a curve ball and disrupting this. Then there is no obvious course of action available. As wool from a pull in a jumper, I have found myself to be unravelling lately. The very fabric of the foundations of my life fraying around the edges.

A Mum at a certain time of life, should know what she’s doing by now, shouldn’t she? I mean, I’ve been doing the job for over 20 years now! Yet, the task remains as complicated now as it ever was before. The boundaries are blurred. When my children were young, I called all the shots (well, jointly with my husband of course!) Looking back, I didn’t appreciate how simple things were at the time. The obvious tiredness from the demands of the baby and toddler stage can blind you to the pure joys of the discoveries our children are making amongst the daily routines and then, all too soon, they’re off to school and never quite just yours any more. Still, you know where they are; you direct their mealtimes and bedtimes, facilitate their hobbies – even if you joke with friends that their social life is better than your own and you note that you have added taxi driver to your ever growing list of jobs. Multi-tasker – that’s your middle name!

Perhaps the birth process triggers something deep within, kick starts an energy reserve that serves to get you through the early sleepless nights, the troublesome toddler years and the juggling of everyone’s time and resources to succeed with the military-type schedule of the school years? Or is it just that, at almost fifty, I’m just not young enough to manage daily demands now? A job, a home under refurbishment, two kids – one still a teenager, a dog, older family members that need support too. Okay, that sounds like quite a list but I’ve juggled a lot before, right?

Then, along comes a snake in the grass – slithering in unnoticed at first. I’ve heard its name but know little about it, for it seems to be a well-kept secret weapon which only unveils itself once it’s well and truly bitten you on the bum! The pre-menopausal stage. There, I’ve said it, and said it out loud! How is it that only once you’ve mentioned to others that you’re having a difficult time, do you discover that so many others are too? Women should really give each other the heads up about this. I’ve felt out of control, unsure what is happening to my body and my sanity, unable to sleep, weeping at the slightest things, incapable of rational thought at times, as well as having the symptoms that are far more publicised.

So, a menopausal mum I am. A stressful job I have. Nothing unusual there, I’m sure – except for suddenly adopting Yoda-type phrases! But to be serious, amongst all of this, I’ve had several years now of coming to terms with how mental health issues have affected close family members and, more recently, I’m starting to think myself.

Have you ever thrown a pebble into a still, calm pond and watched the ripples emanate out in circles, widening and widening until they reach the furthest edges of the pond?

Observers are full of opinions about depression and anxiety. Stock phrases are quickly offered: “You have so many positive things to be thankful for” or “Cheer up, things aren’t that bad” Or there are the questions – “What started this then?” “What’s caused it all?”

To be caught up in the maelstrom of mental health and see first-hand how it chips away at the loved one you know, changes their personality, seeps into every aspect of their daily life, and is to be stuck on a twisting, turning roller-coaster that has no end.

I’ve had days of triumph as we’ve slowly worked on recovery techniques together as a family. I’ve had days of despair, when everything seems bleak and no answers seem possible to find. I’ve been on a journey that I wouldn’t invite anyone to accompany me on. Yet, I’ve learnt so much.

Mental health issues are starting to hit headlines, they’ve even been somewhat exploited to form an advertising campaign for a bank! People are starting to talk about it and need to keep doing so. Talk therapies sound weak when you’re at the start and you’re looking for a magic wand to wave or a super pill to take. But we all need to keep talking.

So, ‘Mum’s the Word’ is an accurate description of who I am but the idiom – hold it all in, keep a secret – that’s a complete mistake. I’ve learnt to ask for help, to talk through what is on my mind and to recognise that it is okay to say that I am not coping well and I am not having a good day. That’s when you find out who your friends really are: those who are there to listen, are not afraid to say that they don’t have an answer but they will listen anyway. I may not be the best Mum in the world but I am doing the best I can in my world, my home, with my family and with the support that I have to carry on, facing the days as they each come along.

So I’ll take a few more steps along that path and see where it takes me…