Bringing up Boys: when being thick skinned is a virtue

The other day I was at a friend's house, just for a catch up, a bit of company. It was the middle of the week and for some unknown reason I got the feeling we weren't exactly welcomed with open arms. I felt kind of guilty for foisting myself on them all when we were all probably a little tired.

Now my friend has two lovely boys, one a bit older than The Boy and one in the same class. Of course they all wanted to travel back in the same car from school but there was only room for three not enough room for Bog Boy, not that the older lot wanted him there. So in order to be fair I suggested that we split the boys up. Mr Friends boys didn’t want to go in HER (i.e. my) car and in order to stop a fight between my boys I hoicked the elder out and we all went in our own separate vehicles.

On arrival at my Friend’s house we all bundled out and trooped in, me telling the boys to find the other two and play while I anticipated a good old girly chat. However, of the other two boys there was no sign; they’d gone off playing elsewhere. A none too subtle hint that we weren’t wanted.

I told the boys not to worry and that if the other two didn’t want to play with them never mind, watch a bit of TV until they came back. I was a bit annoyed to tell the truth as I felt it rude. I longed to go home there and then but I’d promised to buy a take away for supper as a treat for all of us...

The Boy’s class mate came back and soon they were all happily playing on the Wii. Bog Boy came in to the kitchen demanding cakes for tea and we iced some buns and made a cheesecake as he drifted in and out.

When it was time to go and get the take-away, we decided to use my car and after a bit of: “No way not in HER car!” we all bundled in with S9YO, my friends eldest mollified by being allowed to sit in the front while his mum squashed in the back with the rest –all very sick parrot.

I think I tried too hard to engage S9YO and there is nothing worse, is there than a grown up trying too hard. Problem is I couldn’t help myself I needed to get this boy on side but I forget how young he is, only 9. You can’t reason with a 9 year old or try to get him onside if he is determined not to allow it for one minute. There were one or two chinks but they were swiftly closed up and the butt of the anger and frustration being felt was directed at Bog Boy, the youngest.

Bog Boy is nothing if not thick skinned, would that I was too, and the cross words and sarcastic comments seemed to go over his head. Any complaint about him was directed not to me but to S9YO’s mother as if I was not there. And Bog Boy’s name was never used, just the euphemism HE. I loathed it and said things like do you mean Bog Boy? as innocently as I could, while bearing up under the frankly haughty gaze of a nine year old.

Supper was OK, but strained and afterwards I hoped that all would be well. I so longed for a chat. However things that I thought were going well patently were not. Having a nearly five year old tag after one is not tolerated even for a few hours and the evening was cut slightly short by a tearful wail from my youngest.

It wasn’t until yesterday that I found out why. Bog Boy had been put in a wardrobe to get rid of him; I gather he thought it was a game. His elder brother knew different. I was shocked and have promised myself that I will not get Bog Boy in that situation again. He’s not unduly upset by it, but I am. I am very aware of the slights and nuances of dislike and have no wish in making it worse for either The Boy or Bog Boy. Best we are looked on in a favourable light and our visits anticipated with good humour than I ever force a meeting that is quite obviously resented.

It’s a small incidence that shouldn’t make a hap’porth of difference but it does. I feel very uneasy….why didn’t my youngest say anything? How could my eldest let it happen? Apart from nearly going off in the deep end when I heard last night I haven’t and I won’t be mentioning it again. Maybe it’s a boy thing?

Well you know it’s whatever…

Why is it the things you worry about most just don’t register with your young? Is it just a boy thing to totally dismiss something really brave as a “whatever”?

In a state of extreme anxiety I heroically curb my tongue as we walk back to the car on Friday afternoon, longing to ask a myriad of questions about how the talk on epilepsy went. Did everyone understand? What questions did they ask? Have any of them been horrid since?

Tell me I want to scream tell me everything and if any of them have been beastly then just let me at ‘em!

I get a shrug of his shoulders and a whatever  look and I begin to feel that The Boy is perfectly aware of my agitation and is studiously skirting the subject, scuffing his feet along the ground so that I am soon telling him to pick his feet up properly and not to ruin his shoes:

“Do you know how much they cost!” I bark, “Honestly money doesn’t grow on trees you know. They were brand new only a week ago! Now look at them!”

Bog Boy skips ahead without at care in the world calling out to me how his shoes aren’t all scruffy are they Mummy, in an attempt to gain my approbation and a little of my attention too.

The Boy scowls and scuffs some more muttering under his breath how much he hates his little brother.

“Boy! Have you been listening to me? Pick. Up. Your. Feet!”

Despite the bright sunny September sun, the mood is cloudy by the time we all reach the car and it crosses my mind that this is not what I wanted at all. I want to be the caring Mum, the one who listens, the one who they turn to and here I am being Nag Hag. All I want to do is help and it galls me to think my kind of help is not wanted. I am obviously doing something wrong.

A change of tack is required.

“Who wants sweets?”

Scuffed shoes, annoying brothers and prying mothers are forgotten and as we wander our way along the lanes back home with music blaring and sweets being chomped I get an answer of sorts.

“O says he gets rashes…”

The comparison of ailments I must conclude is a good thing then…

"I'm Sorry Mrs Weasle but you'll just have to move...."

I have been bereft, alone but not of my own free will. I was cut off, sidelined, unable to contact anyone - well maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration but it comes pretty close to the truth!
Dear old BT have been up to their old tricks again and the world has been cut off from this little haven in Suffolk due to broadband failure: AGAIN!
It's a sort of fame I suppose, to be one of the 2%; the 2% who live in a broadband blackspot but it seems rather silly when BT have their headquarters less than 15 miles away! So if you hear of a demented woman besieging  BT at Martlesham Heath ; it's me. It's got that bad.

Getting broadband in my village really is a hit or miss affair and BT have actually admitted that it is their fault. Their so helpful solution was to tell me if I wanted better connection I should move. I couldn't believe my ears. However the sad fact is my village is unlikely to ever get decent connection purely because it is the only village in the area to have the problem and there are just too few of us to count. Doesn't stop the company from bombarding us all with fliers and telephone calls to get the latest broadband/digital TV connections. What is so horrendous though is that people new to the village actually sign up to them and then spend months, and in some cases years, trying to untangle themselves losing money in the process!

It's really quite simple, the problem is that the cable to the village is too weak to carry a strong enough signal and if that wasn't bad enough part of it is fibreoptic. Broadband connections cannot A) cope with a change of material and B) don't like fibre optics. The village is stuffed although the telphones work, most days...

I thought I had been very clever indeed by opting to get my broadband over the airwaves at more than double the cost as those using more traditional means via a telephone line, but no BT can still get me via the exchange some four miles away, which one of their workmen kindly left open to the rain a few weeks ago rendering me and a few other businesses broadbandless. Because  the company that supplies me with internet access counts as one customer, even though there are about a hundred users relying on it, BT didn't rate the urgency of the problem. Punishment I take it for not sticking with BT's measly intermittant 512MB service.

Oh heck this sounds like a rant when all I wanted to say was I'm sorry for not being around these past few weeks and I have so much to tell you!

Anyway back on line and ever the optimist I'll hold out with BT's promise that they really are trying to get me better connected, though probably not in this lifetime...

Everyday bravery

Sometimes the smallest things are the most courageous. Telling your friends that you are ill is a small thing but it is something people find hard to do; what with all the social ramifications that one, surrounds illness and two, impinges on our social belief system that different is bad.

It’s scary that those two ideas are already manifest in a seven year old. I understand The Boy doesn’t want to be different from anyone else, nor seem to be weaker than his peers in any way. He just wants to fit in and get on with life.

But life has dealt him an odd hand. He has epilepsy. Not the Grand Mal where you collapse but Petit Mal or Absence Seizures. I am not sure whether having Absence Seizures is a blessing or a curse. It could be considered a blessing in that it is easily hidden but it could also be counted a curse because it is so disguised no one actually believes that he has a problem.

The Boy’s life is a record that is always jumping, and I really mean that. For a short period of time at any point in the day and mostly several times in an hour he “blanks” for a few seconds. During this time he sort of goes away, I am not sure where, and then he comes back and carries on exactly where he left off. You wouldn’t think a few seconds would matter but I have found that there is a whole lifetime missing in those seconds. Think about it a second is a long time, it could mean life or death or why else would we talk of split seconds?

The funny thing is, with Absence Seizures is that he can carry on doing things even though he is not ‘there’, for instance, he can carry on walking, even though he doesn’t know it. Can you imagine one moment you are just leaving your classroom and the next you are six foot away from the door down the corridor? It’s not much I grant you but it would be pretty disconcerting. Or say you are telling a joke and you are about to hit the punch line and then everyone is looking at you frustratedly and you know you’ve lost your audience in that split second, or at least what you thought was a split second. Then you could be walking to your table in the school dining room with your tray and suddenly all your food is on the floor and you don’t know why.

What amazes me is that The Boy is able to cover these lapses and no one seems to think any the worse of him. It’s just the Boy. His jokes are lame, he’s clumsy, and he’s in a world of his own.

But there are times he cannot cover, these are the times when he blanks and he wets himself. Just because one part of him is not there doesn’t mean the rest of him will wait. So he stands there and does nothing while he empties his bladder.

He stands there while people shout at him and get cross or laugh at him. One moment normal; the next different and marked.

Today The Boy is going to tell his classmates why he is as he is, he’s going to open himself up to everything he fears because if he doesn’t then worse could happen. He has worked out that he has to tell people even though he will from then on be different because that is the only way he can be accepted. He has to make the moves, he has to anticipate the mood of the community he is in and he has to get them on side, and quickly. Of course he knows there will be some who will make an issue of it but hopefully his friends will show their true colours and he will not be alone.

I am not sure I could be that brave…

If you'd like to know more about Epilepsy and in particular Absence Seizures  check out these links:

Epilsepsy Action

Absence Seizures

http://www.epilepsy.com/epilepsy/seizure_absence

Dive God Da Gold

You know the new term has started when you suddenly feel a little low and not quite right. Within 12 hours you've got a tickle in the back of your throat, three hours later the tickle is definitley sore and you know without a shadow of a doubt you've going down...
Down wid da gold.
All the symptoms were there right in front of you but you failed to do anything about them.

• He suddenly wants to be cuddled all the time - so he can surrepticioulsy wipe his nose across your chest.
• You find yourself listening to heavy breathing down the phone - and it isn't your stalker or even your husband, merely a  minor nosey parker wanting to know who you were speaking to...
• Nose picking grows more prevalent - and you know that hoovering out the car is a definite MUST this weekend.
• There are ghostly goings on in the dead of the night - and you have to budge up in bed as your snot nosed heavy breathing little friend spends the rest of the night placing his freezing feet on all those extremities not coverd by your nightie.

Welcome back to that Great Autumn Term Treat: the Common Cold - pass it on...

Caught in the Act - The wickedest whippet again

Here she is just scouting out the leftovers....

Now she's actually on top of the counter and see the chair has not moved!

 

 

 

 

Still on the counter...

Now in a blur she's off again....

Bringing up boys: the things he’d do for love…

Bog Boy is enamoured of his five-year old cousin ever since he saw her one cold winter’s evening descending from the car in a beautiful silk party dress, with fur tippet and obligatory tiara after attending her godmother’s wedding.

This ethereal being was greeted with the immortal words: “Are you a real Princess?” And she just giggled delightfully saying nothing and yet so much. He has hung on her every word and does anything she asks whenever they meet. This conquest is complete and the power from it is heady indeed. But, Bog Boy’s love is not reciprocated. His cousin has shown her favour to a boy called Max in the same class at school.

I know Bog Boy adores his cousin but I had not realized how deep his hatred for his unseen rival had grown over the year.

Last week Bog Boy was in the garden with C, who helps me with the Veggie Patch. He was excited about the imminent visit from his cousin at the weekend, and was telling C all about her while he helped rake the lawn in preparation for some more grass seed.

Bog Boy: I’m not going to marry her you know.

There was a pause.

Bog Boy: She’s going to marry Max.

There was another pause.

Bog Boy: I asked my big brother if he would kill Max but he said he wouldn’t…

Bog Boy carried on raking and said not another word to C until lunchtime.

Review: Disney cost me £500!

I love reviewing things especially things I like and want to recommend. And I am a sucker for the movies.

No, I don’t get to pop out to the latest big flick junket, there’s no red carpet premier for me or my family. No sneaky peeks at the latest 3-D epic but honestly I really couldn’t fit that in my already hectic social life what with parties by the River (OK it was a birthday party for a four year old) and putting on grand events on one’s estate (a BBQ), really, I’m not that bothered because I love watching movies at home.

Any movie, in fact it is quite distressing to note how very undiscerning I am. In my defence though, it’s not until you see the really bad ones that you appreciate how good the really good ones are.

Now I am not particularly tech minded and in the past that has saved me a lot of money. I mean I was so long deciding about whether to go Betamax or VHS that the market made up its mind and I landed up with a very serviceable Video recorder made ironically by Sony. It lasted year and years and years. In fact I still have it and it’s doing sterling work even now. Come on! I still can get classic movies on VHS for 10p down the road although the quality has a lot to be desired….

And that’s where my problem with Disney started. Now I am not so far behind the world that I did not also have a DVD player, I did. And I have watched some great movies on it, I’ve reviewed some great movies on it but they weren’t in Blu-Ray. Big deal I thought no worries I mean I could see everything fine and the stories are the thing aren’t they?

Well I was extremely lucky in that the very kind people at Disney thought I should be able to appreciate all their hard work by being able to view their films in Blu Ray so they sent me a Blu Ray DVD player.

Everyone was SO excited. The whole family was so excited. Not since crystal radios has my family been able to keep up with the  Joneses nay perhaps even a little ahead of everyone else in the technology stakes. That is until we tried to get the wretched thing to work.

It seems as if my TV and the Blu Ray DVD player didn't like each other much, in fact were imcompatible becuase of the simple fact that my TV is a trifle old – in technology terms. In real terms it’s only 5 years old; in tech terms TVs are ancient history in 24 months not as bad as computers which are passé in 24 weeks or as bad as mobile phones which go into extinction after 24 days…or is that mobile phone tariffs???

Anyway, in order not to lose face and have to send the gift back, I decided to buy myself a new HD-ready TV  (i.e. Hight definition ready) and to take advantage the great leaps in viewing technology and the fact that you can pick up great flat screen TVs really, really, cheaply nowadays. Or so I thought.

If this should ever happen to you do NOT, I repeat NOT take your partner/husband/father/father-in-law or in fact any male member of the species with you to Comet  just days before the First Test Series/World Cup/Masters etc in order to salvage your conscience about getting a freebie. It is expensive. Very expensive.

But I hear you say was it worth it? Well £500 for a new state of the art 36” flat screen TV, which is so clear I hardly have to wear glasses anymore...yup it was worth it and as for the Blu Ray? Come on Guys what are you waiting for, it’s brill!

PS: Many apologies to Disney I had a mad techie problem and this was posted (or something pretty similar but I lost it) on what I thought was a really cool stand alone Review site attached to my main blog. But it’s not and I’ve lost that and a whole load of other stuff somewhere in the ether, if anyone comes across it please could they point me in the right direction!!!!