Tag Archives: childhood

Mum you’re my inspiration in all that I do!

18 Mar

So, today is Mothering Sunday, a day to show your appreciation to the woman who carried you, gave birth to you, loved you, sang to you, taught you invaluable life lessons and nurtured you from the day she laid eyes on you!

Although, I’m a mother to three amazingly wonderful children, who have so lovingly surprised me with mini rose brushes and melt in the mouth chocolates, as well as some impressive home-made cards, I’m actually posting today, more so as a daughter than that of a Mother.

I’m thankful to my mother for so many things, more than I could possibly put into words! She, gave me a wonderful childhood, and although at times life was difficult, mum never let anything beat her. It could not  have been easy to discover your 2-year old daughter is riddled with the evilness, one better known as cancer! Yes, my baby sister had leukaemia (Cancer of the blood) and although at 10 years old, I knew this to be bad, it’s only once I had my own children, that I could truly appreciate how much that must have frighten and sadden my mother.

Mum has always been an inspiration to me, she’s the type of woman who doesn’t have a bad word to say  about anybody, even if they are #@•## holes. This is simply her way, one of her many beautiful qualities!

Growing up we had ups and downs, ones I guess mothers and their teenage daughters everywhere could easily relate too. Yes, I was a bit of a rebellious one at age 13, though in my defence, My challenging ways were sorted before they had started (well, that’s not exactly true, It was for a period of one year tops…. honestly)!

At 17 years old I fell pregnant with Little man (aka A boy with Asperger’s) giving birth to him on the first day of October during the year of the millennium! I was now 18 years old, an 18-year-old mother in fact. 

Regardless of such a reality, I wasn’t exactly your “average” 18 year old, I’d already lived and worked in Greece at age 17 and at this point, had been in a relationship a little over 3 years. Of course I worried that my mother would disapprove, think that bit less of me! Though this wasn’t true, mum supported me, she had faith in me, just as she continues to on this day. 

If any of you have followed the blog from the beginning, some 3 plus years now, you’ll understand when I say that for the first few years of my son’s life, all was well! Little man was a good baby, a great toddler who never had a tantrum, Boy did I gloat. Little man spoke early, he spoke well, he met milestones and even exceed a few. He was potty trained by his second birthday and seemed to be the type of child you only heard about in dreams.

Sadly most good things come to an end and although I had noted concerns by the time Little man reached 4, no one really actually listened. It really hit a peak shortly after his 7th Birthday when he displayed the meltdown of all meltdowns, hitting me with a metal pole in the process. This almighty meltdown seemed as if it was sent to make up for all them years without a tantrum. His sleep pattern, well more appropriately “lack of sleep pattern” was at a high, he became an active school refuser giving me my first taste of what life with the AWO (attendance and welfare officer) on your back was like! I guess people found it hard to digest, no, correction, believe! My son could go a whole 48 hrs sleep free, I’d wake up in the most unusual of places, laid on the stairs, on the toilet and quite shocking stood at the ironing board! I was so, tired and had no say in the  process, despite being his mother I failed to improve the situation! Black baggy eyed and rambling to myself on a daily basis, I considered myself to have reached that point, the one referred to as  “Madness”

My mother has been a rock throughout, attending the numerous meetings with professionals, supporting me throughout my battles to obtain the services, educational or otherwise that Little man has needed to progress! No matter what life has thrown in my direction, My mother has been there every step of the way! 

I know I’m incredibly lucky, not everyone in my situation is as lucky to have this degree of support! I’m blessed to have such a wonderful family and I hope that my children grow up to appreciate my mothering ways as much as I do appreciate those of my own mothers!

This is for the woman who thought me the beauty and benefits of good honest value’s ! A woman who showed me how to look at the world and make it my own, a woman who loves me whatever happens, someone who has always believed in me no matter what! This is a woman I owe a thousand thank yous, a woman I admire for her hardworking ways, and sheer positiveness however testing life becomes  …. A woman I’m dead proud to call my mum! 

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY MUM

YOU’RE THE INSPIRATION IN ALL THAT I DO  XX

 

My week full of chuck up and poo

22 Oct

One week + One bug+ three kids= One nervous breakdown

It all started last Sunday evening when I realised that my youngest Little Harley was getting unwell. It’s horrible when your children are sick, especially when they are so young as it is much harder to disguise the root of the problem. How did I know Harley was getting sick? Anybody who is a mother will know what I mean when I say it was mothers intuition!

Harley was moaning for England and I had this feeling it was just the start of something worse to come!

Yes, Harley got a temperature that refused to shift, he became clingy, so bloody clingy I couldn’t take a pee without him hanging from my ankles.

What happened next was all too much for this mother to bare. Little man returned home from school Monday evening removed his coat and shoes and fell onto the sofa! Before I could count to thirty the child who doesn’t sleep till at least 3 am was snoring heavily.

“Please god… No”

This wasn’t the usual Little man, by now he would be in his bedroom building buses from Lego or sat at his computer on the hunt for new buses in-order to record their number and destination, but instead sleeping… something wasn’t right. Again this was mothers intuition and mothers intuition is never ever wrong!

Some hours later he woke complaining of a headache.

“Brilliant, just Brilliant!”

I gave both the boys some medicine and prayed it would be over quickly! You see when your child has Aspergers he either has a high tolerance to pain and discomfort or is highly sensitive! There’s no guessing to which category Little man falls into!

So, there I was with a 22 month old sat on my hip, trying to cook a dinner that no one even touched. I was ready to fall into bed but found myself clearing up sick ten times through the night.

These are my children and of course I love them like nothing else, but I don’t love they’re whining, sick and sorry… Shit!

In the days that followed there was plenty of the above to deal with. It was Harley doing all the throwing up which in a weird way was better than Little man. You see, Little man really can’t do sick! He gets really upset and scared when he throws up. He panics and actually screams and shakes… So thank heavens it was the other way around.

Of course like a true pro my words were spoken too soon and yes, Little man began chucking up on Wednesday night… 3 days after first becoming ill and 4 days after Harley. By now I was a flipping mess, Harley was still clinging and the only time I got to see the bath tub was when I was putting my sick brood into it in-order to wash the smelly sick from their hair. Seriously I even tried to engage in a quick strip wash with Harley having a full-blown tantrum on the floor screaming,

“NO MUM, NO…”

… like the flannel was trying to murder me or something!

As I first suspected, Little man didn’t deal with the sickness side of things to well. He refused to eat & drink in the fear that he may chuck up again!

It may sound selfish but I was losing the will to live!

It’s funny, Harley is quite a daddies boy, but he wasn’t interested in daddy it was mummy he stuck to like glue. Children do seem to have a tendency when sick to seek comfort from their mothers.

Luckily the sickness side of it passed quickly for little man but by Thursday when you would have thought God had dished out enough crap, I heard the sound of coughing coming from my daughters bedroom and yer, I knew it!

Alice-Sara, was sick on the stairs (better than my hair, Harley had already fulfilled this task).

Now I ask you is it true what they say about “Man flu?”

OK, OK, Little man is highly sensitive which is down to his Asperger’s and Harley would be clingy after all he is still a baby, but Alice at eight just got on with it! I felt kinda bad that I couldn’t be more hands on in her care but what with Harley becoming an extension of me, I swear It was as if I had grown an extra limb or something, and Little man telling me he thinks his dying, I was finding the task at hand pretty difficult.

There was once or twice I think I shouted,

“Oh… shout up Harley”

As he throw himself on the floor every time I tried to detach myself from him. Yes, it’s true I even cursed loudly (Bad mother) when Little man woke in a panic, waking his sibling resulting in myself flying out the bath, (the bath I waited so long to get in) slipping, falling hard on my arse, I may have shouted..

“For F…. sake….”

I am only human!

Yes, by now, I was a baggy eyed, bruised arsed, over sensitive mother!

So my question is…. Why do people always state, “Its better they all get sick at the same time?”

Please…. People are you mad lot serious? How is this somehow better, better for who, for me? Doesn’t it make sense to be dealing with it at different intervals, at least getting some shut-eye in between?

It’s now Saturday and the first day in what feels like forever… that Harley has sat and played with his toys.

I even peed alone!

I type that with a fat grin releasing that I have always taken peeing for granted & never will again!

Little man just scoffed some chicken so I guess his recovering and my daughter, well she’s still a little tender!

So, Little man was off school for a total of four days and Alice two days, we now have a half term to get through!

What a Joy… Bring on, I’m ready!

Just a Little girl (part one)

4 Aug

A smiley little eight year old girl with golden blonde locks in pig-tails could be seen darting about in the summers evening sunshine with all her friends. Her eyes were so big and so blue, her massive smile lit her whole face causing her eyes to twinkle, her laughter, it was electrifying , her giggles infectious. She had many friends on the street in which she played and lived along with her Mother, Grandmother, Little brother and baby sister. She was truly loved by all, such a care free, happy child. 

 But once all the children had been called in for tea, bath and then bed, the Little girl could no longer hear the giggling happy voices of her wonderful friends, but that of her own thoughts, the ones she felt convinced would drive her insane.

 At bedtimes she would pretend to sleep but wait anxiously for her mother to go to bed just so she could finally do what needed to be done. Her mother would sometimes stay up far to late, but more than not the little girl battled her bodies urge to sleep, It had to be done, or she would be punished, Yes, she would be punished by God.

 Finally she would hear her mothers footsteps coming up the stairs, first she would go to the toilet, followed by the bathroom to wash her hands, face and brush her teeth, finally the bedroom door would click shut and the little girl would wait a few minutes allowing her mother time to fall into a peaceful sleep, then…..

 On her little tip toes, and ever so quietly the little girl would creep down the very creaky old wooden stairs, first stop, ” The living room”  

 Right… Ashtrays first, next plugs and sockets. With her little fingers crossed she would count,” 123, 123, 123, quickly uncross her fingers, then crossing them again she counted 123, 123, 123! Six sets of 123 but if added together they made the number eighteen! She didn’t do it once or even twice but six times, six times for each and every plug socket in the living room, kitchen and hall way. 

What in the hell was this little girl counting for, and in this strange way at such a ghastly hour?

Its like I’ve said, she was counting plug sockets! Is it that hard to understand?

 Some items in the little girls house needed to remain plugged in, the freezer for one! This bothered the Little girl she needed to sleep, how could she sleep knowing the freezer was left plugged in? What if their was a fire? It would be all her fault! Ignoring the urge and the thoughts that bombarded her head she sneaked back up to her bed. “Did I check that the gas rings on the cooker where turned off ?” she asked herself! She knew her Grandmother always made sure she turned the cooker off and she was almost certain she had checked it and counted it just as she had with all the plugs and plug sockets and that of the ashtrays. What if she was wrong and the cooker blow the house to pieces! It would be all her fault she would kill her family! It was far to much for an eight year old to deal with so for the second time that night she quietly made her way back down the stairs but didn’t just check the cooker, she rechecked everything in the same way she had before.

 Some nights the little girl did this some eight times or more. Sometimes she woke her mother or was unable to face the fight with that of her own mind so she would unplug the freezer, much to her mothers horror!

 When that little eight year old girl crawled back into bed so tired she could hardly keep her little eyelids open she would force herself to pray to god, asking that he kept a long list of family and friends safe! To end her prayer she crossed her little fingers and counted in the same way she always did. Yes, sometimes the little girl did this six times, other times she thankfully feel asleep on the first attempt (Thank goodness).

 This all started when the little girl was just seven years old, when she first see the TV advert,”Wake up get a smoke alarm!” She had the images of that brown Leather Chesterfield sofa turning into an inferno of black smoke and bight red flames when the cigaret fell from the ashtray! She had the images permanently imprinted in her mind. How could she ever forget what she had seen fore the little girl was sat on that very same sofa! 

 It was just an advert on the TV right! But that Sofa was the same design, even the same colour… Did that mean the same thing would happen!

 Life went on quite normally around her. Days, months and years passed in a haze and when that Little girl was ten years old her world changed for ever. 

 “Where’s mum and Rachel”  asked the little girl when she found herself at her mothers friends house alongside her little brother. Rachel her little sister was now two and a half. She hadn’t been well lately and that worried the Little girl. She was told her mother would be back soon, but she had a horrible feeling. Then sat on the stairs she heard her mummy’s friend crying, she was on the floor crying.

 Some days later the little girls mummy told her that her baby sister would need to stay at the hospital as she was quite sick. No one said how sick! Yet neighbours and friends knocked on her door and brought flowers, people visited and hugged mummy as she cried. I’m sorry was the words she always heard. Her daddy who just stayed over at weekends seemed to be staying more often, everything was suddenly different and confusing.

But the Little girl wasn’t stupid! This Little girl was wiser than most ten year olds, she knew this was bad. 

 Her mother wasn’t at home much anyone and her grandmother and sometimes father looked after her. It felt like a life-time when finally her mother told her she could visit her little sister.

 As she sat with her mother and brother she took in her mothers words, trying to make sense of it all! “Rachel’s very sick and because she’s very sick she has been given special medicine to make her better. The medicine is very strong and this makes some peoples hair fall out.” Her mother struggled to get her words out… The little girl asked, “Mum, has Rachel had the medicine, has Rachel got no hair?” The mother who was trying so hard to hold back her tears, shook her head, “No, she doesn’t Claire”  

 That’s right, the little girl was me! My baby sister had cancer (Leukaemia, known as cancer of the blood) and my mother was the bravest mother in the world.

 I remember looking at the little toddler playing in the hospital cot in a side room at the hospital, I remember the look of fear in my mothers eyes every-time the doctors came to speak with her, my father stood at the window weeping, the sounds of her screams with the needles and injections that she soon become accustomed to!

 I had OCD, through at the time it had no name, it was just normality to me!

I was ashamed and hid this somewhat oddness that was now a massive part of my life and would be for some year to come.

 When my sister became ill my own life was turned upside down forever! We were not a religious family yet I’d prayed for the safety off those I loved since I was seven years old. I had tried to protect them but I must have failed. Only now a woman with my own children, I know it was at this time I took my OCD to a whole new level.

 This story can’t be told in one post so I have decided to tell it in two maybe three parts. My reasons for sharing this is to give you an insight into the real me. We all know I’m a mother of three, one with a diagnosis of Aspergers Syndrome, but I want to show that although I’m not on the spectrum there are many demons that my son faces and I not so strangely can relate too. I’ve had my own difficulties held against me by Little man’s old school… Many tried to question my own past health issues for those behind my sons. But I’m not ashamed of the child I was and the mother I am today. I just want to show that with in this story. Please if you have enjoyed part one then look out for part two to find out what happens next.  

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