A Mixed Misfit Bag

It's been a busy week in the Misfit house.  The teen turned 19 and my cousin and her hubbie came to visit from Canada so there has been much fun and jollity.  Today saw me returning to the desk to chain myself up until my self-imposed 2K words for the day were written.

Here's a quick update on my week.  Oh, and be warned - it ends with a rant!

FORMULA 1 GO-KARTING

Oh boy!  What can I say?  The teen and Mr Misfit had a blast.  Me?  Well I simply tootled around the track, at an average of 16 miles an hour, like a nervous granny on her way to church. And the heat!  Dressed from head to toe in a rather unfetching BO-infused boiler suit, a beanie and a helmet, I was sweltering.  My only escape was putting myself in the Sin Bin so that I could remove the helmet and cool off.  The teen found himself covered in bruises as he has no flesh on his gangly bones and was thrown around in the kart as he swerved around corners. As each day passes the bruises grow and change.  We tell him it's the birthday gift that keeps giving!

 The teen pulling a daft pose.

Just as well this isn't a scratch and sniff photo!  The suits were ripe!

 His final lap

FAMILY PARTY

It's been 28 years since I last saw my cousin and her husband so it's been wonderful having them here.  They are both huge fans of my books and I was delighted to learn that I, at the grand old age of seven, had been the one to help my cousin's husband 'get' AA Milne.  He said it was the British accent that suddenly made it click for him.  Their lovely daughter is named after me and we keep in touch through Facebook and Twitter.  We were amazed at how many similarities there are between the two of us and also between her and the teen.  Families, can be spooky things!
On Saturday, our family got together at our place and a good time was had by all.

Sharing family memories.

My mum, me and my cousin.

 

THE SQUIRREL

On Friday night Mr Misfit and the teen came back from a late night walk and told me that there was an injured squirrel at the end of our cul de sac.  Being a bit of an animal nut, I headed off to see if he could be saved.  He was right in the middle of the road where he could have been squashed by any passing cars returning home or ripped apart by foxes (or our cats!) so we knew that we had to stay with him.  We managed to give him some Rescue Remedy (a herbal medicine) and for a while it looked like he might be perking up a bit. Sadly though, we suddenly realised that his leg was broken and there didn't seem to be much hope.  After willing him to live, I found myself willing him to let go and drift off to squirrel Heaven.  We called him Faith as we told him that we had faith in him and that we would stick with him to the bitter end.  Watching him die was horrible.  He threw his little head back in a final spasm of pain and then he passed.  The teen then decided it would be cruel to just throw him in the bushes and insisted on a proper funeral (the second one we'd been to that day!)
A shoe box was duly found and Faith was laid to rest with a gladioli.
Sadly, Faith was dug up again two mornings later and then he disappeared.
This reminds me of the time we buried our goldfish in a Dove soapbox and the teen, then quite young, was concerned that when he got to Heaven God would be confused as the box said 'Dove' and not 'Goldfish'!

THE RANT

I had drinks with 'Fenella' last night and I found out that she'd had a falling out with a Putney mum who had been rather vocal about me and the way I'd dealt with the teen's school phobia.  I was livid!  This was a mother I'd known reasonably well and always got on with.  How dare she pass judgment on me and my life when she knows nothing about what we went through.  As any mother knows, if someone starts to pick holes in your child you become like a protective tigress.
When we went 'public' with the teen's problems, people fell into two camps - those who sympathised or had been through something similar and those who thought they knew everything and that the condition quite simply doesn't exist.  So there's no such thing as depression then?  Is that what I'm hearing?
So, to all you Putney mums who feel you know me oh so well, I hope your boring little lives where you have nothing better to do than discuss me at your dinner parties are never blighted by any mental health issues.  Oh the shame!  Enjoy your perfect children as they grow and head off in to the world and hope that you never have to stand by them in the way I stood by my son.  I, meanwhile, will be the one having the last laugh as I know who each and every one of you are in the Misfit books and my son has grown into a confident young man, doing a job that he loves. And, do me favour, if you do have an opinion, say it to my face so that I can educate you.  But then that would take bravery wouldn't it?

Rant over!  As you were.

In Celebration of the Teen

The teen will turn 19 on Thursday, so last night saw us enjoying the first of many celebrations.  We got together with his best friend from primary school - before he heads back to Uni tomorrow - his parents and sister, an old family friend and another of the teen's pals from secondary school.

The theme was 'Curry & Games' and, as usual, we had a ball.

We'd just recently been given a John Lewis voucher for our anniversary so we splashed out on new china and cutlery.  I think our black and white themed table looks pretty glam.

Our dining table had to get ditched in the garden as it's not big enough for nine guests.

This is our ping pong table glammed up by a damask cloth my Dad acquired as an antique dealer.

I'm ready to party.

Still hating the new hair.

As the current obsession in the Misfit House is 'Breaking Bad'

we ordered a rice paper cake topper from eBay for his chocolate birthday cake.

The 'cooking' reference comes from the series!

He was pretty impressed.

Once the meal was over we started on the games.  The Misfits are well known for the daftness of our parties and, thankfully, our guests are always willing participants.

We started with 'A word from a Song' - this involved single words on a piece of paper, picked from a hat and then we each had to sing a line from a song containing that word.  E.g: LOVE - 'She Loves You' or 'Love, Love me Do.'  The aim of the game is to find as many as possible containing the word.

Then we moved on to 'Paper Art'  - we picked a category such as 'animals' or 'things you find in the kitchen' and we each had to tear a piece of A4 paper into the shape of our chosen object.  We were surprised at how many cats and giraffes we had.  Then we had the lazy man's effort of 'a puddle of milk' for 'found in the kitchen'!

Next was 'Alphabet Story'  - we began at a random point in the alphabet and told a story line by line with each person starting the next line with the next letter of the alphabet. E.g:  Amanda went shopping.  But the shops were closed. 'Can't think what to do,' she said.

The game we played for the longest was 'Keep it going' - the teen would find a well known song on his iPod and we would start to sing along with it.  One example was 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.  While we were singing, he would suddenly turn it down so that we were unable to hear it and we had to keep singing to see if we were at the same point on the track when he turned it back on.  Much fun and laughter was had by all, and I have to say we didn't do too badly.

This then led onto 'Joint Bongos' with the teen and his friend taking half a bongo each and bashing out tunes while we danced - quite a lot!

Action shot!

Their hands were moving so fast, they're a blur!

I can't believe that these are the two boys who used to camp on the floor.

Fine young men to be proud of and a joy to spend time with.

And from our boys, I gained a best friend.

(and also a Goddaughter - not pictured)

A sneaky ciggie in the snow, 13 years ago, and we're still going strong.

'You had me at the snow!'

Ugh!

The worst part of a dinner party - the clearing up.

 

Mr Misfit and other menfolk were at the party but we seem to be short on photos - which, when it came to the dancing, is probably just as well!

 

We had a fabulous time and were all feeling a little exhausted this morning.  Now ... on to his actual birthday on Thursday.  But first, sleep.

Happy Ending to our School Journey

Last night we were delighted to attend the Upper Sixth Leavers’ cocktail party at my son’s school.  Those of you who are regular followers of the blog or my books will know that my son suffered from school phobiawhen he changed schools at eleven.

I couldn’t have wished for a better school to help and guide us through this awful experience and I feel that the time is now right to name that school and shine a light on the staff in all their wonderful glory.

In 2006 my son moved from a very small prep school in Putney to his secondary school in Barnes.  For whatever reason the transition didn’t go well (we’d recently had my elderly mother living with us part-time as she was suffering from panic attacks - who knows what effects this had on a young boy?) and he went through a very dark time.

There were occasions when we thought that the only thing we could do would be to move him on to somewhere else - but where?

With the support and unfaltering understanding from every single member of staff at The Harrodian we managed to (eventually) create a boy who is sad to leave a much loved school.

The Harrodian is a very special place - you only have to walk around it to sense that- and we first saw this on one of our many initial visits.  Every child is seen as an individual - no one is expected to be good at everything and that felt so right for us and our boy.

The Harrodian School, Barnes, London

From his first ‘blip’ - when he suddenly couldn’t bear to be in a classroom- we felt that help was on hand and that whatever happened they would see us through it.

Some would say ‘Money talks’ and, yes, The Harrodian doesn’t come without its price but there were many times when we struggled to find the school fees and the school did all they could to set us on the right path to find the assistance we needed.  Without the ‘beyond the call of duty’ assistance from Mr Hooke or Dr Parmley, my son would not have had the wonderful education he has been privileged enough to enjoy.

But, money aside, I don’t know of many schools where they would have been happy to have a mother sitting and reading (or writing!) on a sofa, just to see that their child would go to classes.

I’ve been slated, slagged off, called a bad mother and a soft-touch for what I did but I would say to any of those (small-minded) people, ‘Walk in my shoes and THEN tell me how you would have dealt with it.’

All I know is that I now have a very bright and well-adjusted young man who’s sad to leave a school he grew to love - in his own time.  What more could I ask for?

School phobia is nasty but very real.  We all hope that our kids deal with transitions in life with ease and excitement - but it doesn’t always happen.  All children are different and, as parents, we have to deal with the cards that we’re given as they grow and change.

We just happened to be lucky enough to choose the right school for a very unhappy boy who grew to be happy.

In the words of his Principal, ‘They say your school days are the best days of your life but I hope those days are still to come when you go on to realise your ambitions and dreams.’

And in the words of his Head, ‘The Harrodian is more than a school - it’s a family.  And a headmaster’s ‘chicken and chips lunch invitation’ is permanently extended for whenever you wish to return and update us with your news.’

These are the reasons we chose this school and why we’re happy/sad to leave. It was one hell of a journey but we got there in the end!

With extra special thanks to Andrew Parmley, James Hooke, Alison Heller, Shirley-Anne Burton, Ben Roets, Adele Monsef and Jake Murray.

 Dad still has to tie my tie!

 More hair, almost more height!

 Mum and son.

With his nanny.

 By the pool at school.

 Best music buddy.

 The boys!

With special thanks to the Head.

The End of an Era

Today was my 17 year old son's last day at school.  Following a week's study leave he will then just sit the last of his A levels and then his schooling will be behind him.

How on earth did this happen?  Where did those years go?  It really feels like just yesterday that I was dropping him off at nursery, with a lump in my throat and his tiny hand in mine.

FIRST DAY

Regular blog followers will know that this hasn't been an easy journey for us.  School phobia at eleven and  then fighting tooth and nail to financially afford to keep him in the private school he grew to love, have left us with a huge sense of relief and achievement (and debt!).

But nobody has achieved more than him - our lovely young man.  After missing out on a full year and two part years of education he still managed to forge friendships and come out with 9 GCSE's and 3 AS levels.  We have quiet confidence in him passing his A levels this summer - but with teens, who knows?

Would I do it it all again if I had my time over?  Aside from the crippling fear which engulfed him, hell yeah!  I believe that every sacrifice we've made has been more than worth it and we've given him the best possible start in life - what he now chooses to do with that is up to him.  And even his anxiety can be turned into a positive - if I hadn't been there in my car for three years to support him, I may never have put finger to keyboard and written my first chicklit novel.   I guess all things happen for a reason.

In fact as my son often says, 'If it hadn't been for my mad phase, you might never have become a writer.'

Yes, he is one quirky boy!

LAST DAY

So tonight, I shall raise a glass to my young man - who still doesn't drink and says he never will! - and reflect on the years which have flown by at a rate of knots.  All you mums out there with kids about to start school - love every minute because you won't believe how quickly they pass.

Now a new journey starts for my boy - job searching.  Watch this space ... 

Misfit and Son on TV!

Oh boy, today was the day!  Our big TV debut.

Who would have thought that my son's crippling condition of school phobia would lead to me writing five books, featuring in the Daily Mail, on BBC Radio London and THEN ITV's This Morning.

I'm so proud of my young man - from all of the bad, so much good has featured in our lives and today really proved that.

So ... I was up at 6am today ready for our cab to ITV at 7.45, in the vain hope that my face might wake up!  Mum Fail #1!

Son fell out of bed at 7.10, bright eyed and bushy tailed - not an ounce of nerves in sight! Point to Son #1.

Arrived at the studios to the friendliest security man in living history, instantly put at ease in my sleepy and nervy state.

Directed through sets and storage area to lift - Mum Fail #2 - I hate lifts.  Son told me not to be daft and so I got in.  Point to Son #2.

And it's such a glam lift, how could I resist?

Me looking like I need a nappy change - just a tad scared by now.  Mum Fail #3

ITV coffee and croissants, toast or biscuits before make-up

One view of the Green Room and the TV hubbie watched us on.

The framed photo to the left of the TV says,

'Please Tweet your performance on ITV's This Morning'

Love it!

I have to say what a lovely bunch of people work at This Morning - we were made to feel welcome from the minute we arrived and everyone was just so happy!  People who love their jobs and want to be there - special thanks to the lovely Flo, in particular.  Son was so impressed, he's already been invited to send his CV in as he really wants to work there (BBC and ITV now!)  Point to Son #3.

OK, so next I headed off to make-up.  Lovely ladies but I will never let you near me again.  You may have tried to curl my hair but you will soon realise it has a mind of its own and please don't cake me with STUFF! Mum Fail #4.

With my boy - coffee #1

This is where we hit Mum Fail #5  - weak bladder!  Off I went to the loo ... and got lost.  It's a big place, ITV! So Point to Son #4 - who then had to take me to the loo and bring me back each time.  His comment?  'Mum!  Please don't make me do this!  It makes me look clingy!'  Extra Point to Son #5  for humour and putting me at ease! How the tables turn!

Cool, laid back son - tweeting and chilled.

Hilarious!  I was guided here to smoke, in the non smoking area.

Go figure!

Piles of fag ends at my feet!

So ... then we had our tour of the studio.  Sooo tiny and really weird to see it when you've watched the programme on and off for so many years (throughout the whole of my pregnancy and breast feeding!!!).

We shared the Green Room with David Mellor and Tom Parker-Bowles (or Tom Parker Meat-Bowles, as son has now renamed him after he cooked horse free meatballs on the show!)  Point to Son #6.  Liz Fraser was also there - fellow Twitterer and author - but I didn't get the chance to say hello.  Mum fail #6. We have since Tweeted one another and promised to say Hi, if I'm ever invited back!

And then it was 10.45 - the ad break and time for us to head to the set for our slot.  Phil and Holly were lovely and SO eager to make us feel comfortable - kisses and hugs all round and a quick chat about our interview and ... BAM!  they were into it!  Unbelievably cool, calm, professional - Philip is so cute and Holly is glamour personified (like a lovely dolly fresh from the box).

The interview was over in a flash - I have now had the chance to watch it and I  feel so very proud of my lovely young man.  He was confident and well spoken and he made my heart swell with pride.  Point to Son #7.  I, on the other hand, looked like a woman attacked by fear and a make-up artist.  Mum fail #7.

All those hours of panic were over and we headed back to the Green Room for coffee.  LOOK at the mug they gave me!!!

And we were then given these signed photos to complete our morning out:

The Silver Fox

And the lovely Holly Willer-Boobie!

Our cab brought us home and we were just in time to watch it on ITV+1.  Bad move!  I was cringing and moaning about how old and YUCK I  looked.  Mum fail #8.

Son said, 'Yep, I looked OK.' and disappeared to Tweet and play on the computer without a second thought.  Point to Son #8.

And then of course, we had the 'haters'!  Amongst all the wonderfully positive comments on the show and on Twitter, you will always get those without a brain cell.  This is old hat to us now - been there, done that.  We've clearly helped so many people to start talking about their own experiences, I'm now past caring.

My final point would be this.  Some may think that school phobia is just a 'label' but it's a very real feeling - it's not naughtiness, petulance or 'trying it on'.  My son was not bullied or lazy - PLEASE people, listen!  I just pray you never face anything like it in your lives - karma will be your reward.

And to all of you who have supported us along the way and those who have spoken out or asked for advice, I thank you and I wish you well.

Look at the son I have to show for it now!  #SonWins

'There but for the grace of God' ...

As the saying goes, ‘there’s no such thing as bad publicity’ and, after appearing in The Daily Mail yesterday, I couldn’t agree more.

Regular readers of my blog will know that I began my writing journey after my son developed school phobia and I found that I had time on my hands to read and ultimately fulfil my dream of completing a novel.  My son was crippled by his condition and, at the time, there was very little help or information - even online.  So when the opportunity to feature in a national newspaper came up, both my son and I agreed that if it could help just ONE child it would be worth it.

I’ve now had many people contact me through Facebook, Twitter and via comments on the article saying how relieved they were to read the story - that they no longer feel alone.  And, always a bonus, my book sales have rocketed and my first book ‘Diary of a Mummy Misfit’ is back to #49 in humour on Kindle.  And for those who aren't familiar with my writing, none of my books are related to my experiences with school phobia - I write humorous chicklit, which I don't think came across in the article.

On the downside … people can be so nasty!  Some of the comments made by ill-informed readers astonished me.  I don’t mind for myself, but when they’re spiteful and directed at my son, that’s when I start to see red!  Thankfully, he’s a level headed boy and has had a good laugh at them - no, he’s no the weak little weasel who likes trainspotting and hides behind his mother’s apron, as some readers seemed to think. He’s a tall and feisty 17 year old with a wicked sense of humour and a definite mind of his own.  I agree that the photos are very staged and imply that we are joined at the hip - but that’s the papers for you!

But the truly laughable comments were:

‘So sad when you see an old mum’ !!!

OK so I’m almost 50!

‘Where was the father in all this?’ / ‘Another single mother ruins a child’s life’

Did you not read the article?  It clearly states that I’m married and my husband was supportive.  Why show yourself up by commenting on something you haven’t read?

‘Why didn’t she get him counselling or attempt half days?’

Go back and have another read, love!

‘How convenient that he developed this problem in time for some publicity for a new book’

Er, excuse me, the book mentioned in the article has been published for 18 months.

‘How wordy is this article?  Did she have to hit a word target?’

This was an annoying one as, although the article had my name at the top, I didn’t write it.  This had worried me from the start but it was the only way the Mail were prepared to do it. I'd also like to add that I never agreed to the headline, 'Now she wonders if she was devoted or deluded' - this implies that I regret my decision, which I don't.

Then, of course, you have the bullies - the type who would have made other kid’s lives a misery.  The ‘clip round the ear’ / ‘give ‘em a good whacking’ type who have been fortunate enough to never suffer from feelings of fear or panic.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but, you my friends, can have a bloody good dose of it and rot.  And, as one reader suggested, God forbid you should ever have to be there for one of your own loved ones - you wouldn’t have the tools to cope.

Just to set the record straight, I did not mollycoddle my son when this condition started - I was a hard-hearted, mean mum who screamed, shouted and lost the plot on several occasions.  I’m not proud of that but we had no idea what we were dealing with at the time.  I helped in the library for a year (unpaid) and was on the brink of being offered a job there when the owner of the school decided against employing a mum - so, to all those who implied I was a lazy middle class cow who was happy to sit in my car and file my nails, remember newspaper articles never print all the facts.

It’s so easy to judge, isn’t it?  We all do it - I’ve been guilty of it in the past.  I can fully accept that there will be many people who will totally disagree with the way that this problem was dealt with, but they haven’t lived through it or walked in my shoes.  I have no problem with reading people’s opinions but is there ever any excuse for such vitriol?  I wonder if it makes these trolls feel good?

So … would I do it again?  Hell yeah!  As long as my son is OK with nutters’ views, then I’m happy and all we’ll do is focus on the positive comments and hope that we can continue to help other kids and parents.

And if you are one of those people who go round, willy-nilly, leaving vile words - stop and think before you type.  Or maybe just try getting a life!

Education Soapbox

An eensy-weensy little bit of a rant this week I’m afraid.  The news of changes in our education system, again, had me seeing red and screaming at the TV and radio.

‘England's exam system needs further changes,’ Education Secretary Michael Gove has told MPs.  And plans are being made to return to a two tier ‘O’ level and ‘CSE’ style exam.  Mr Gove is reported to be preparing to replace GCSEs for England from autumn 2014 and also to bring in a simpler exam for less academic teenagers.

How many times do we need to keep changing our exam system for yet another one that doesn’t work and fails our children?

The opinion that the current GCSE’s are ‘too simple’ and are ‘dumbing down’ infuriates me and many other mothers I have spoken to whose kids have been part of them.  Let’s put all those kids down after they’ve slogged their guts out to get good results, shall we?  I can categorically state that my son’s GCSE English exams were far harder than anything I tackled at ‘O’ level - endless coursework culminated in exam essays that were so constricting, the kids were totally drilled in what to say and how to say it.  Any ‘thinking outside of the box’ was quite simply not allowed.  If my son had come up with the most enlightened thought on why Lady Macbeth acted the way she did, it wouldn’t have mattered.  If it’s not what the exam board want to hear, don’t write it.  How sad that endless ‘parrot fashion’ essays were being churned out for a pass.  And how hard for the teachers to have to get every child to see it their way, with barely a moment to go ‘off course’ - just to get them through the gruelling curriculum.

The old ‘O’ level system didn’t work, for many kids.  Some are crippled by exam nerves and a bad day could mean a fail for a child that had been obtaining straight A’s throughout the course.

I admit though that the 2^nd tier of ‘O’ levels - the CSE - was a Godsend for me when it came to maths.  I certainly didn’t feel as if I was being ‘put down,’ there was quite simply no way I could cope with the standard of ‘O’ level.

In the same way that I feel the old style of exams didn’t work, I also feel that GCSE’s with coursework are open to possibilities of cheating.  Many kids had access to older sibling’s coursework and ‘adapted’ essays to their needs.  Then, of course, there is other outside help from parents and gentle prodding and coaxing in the right direction from the teachers.  My son re-wrote a Macbeth coursework essay approximately seven times to get it close to the standard required for a pass.

Which brings me to my main point.  My son is a bright boy who took his GCSE exams a year early.  Achieving mainly A’s and B’s, we were incredibly proud of him.  But after two years of slogging, rewriting, rereading and a lot of moaning, he still only managed to get a C for English.  He can spell just about any word you chuck at him, has a vivid imagination and can argue for Britain but he wasn’t giving the exam board what they wanted and was tying himself up in knots.  Were we disappointed with his grade?  No.  Why?  Because, quite simply, we can’t all be good at everything.

Surely this is what needs to be considered when looking at education?  I never passed a maths exam - I wasted three years trying to get a C when I could have been putting that time to good use elsewhere.  I get through life without a maths certificate and I use fingers, toes and other people’s brains when it comes to adding up.  I didn’t intend to go into a career which needed maths, so what was the point of all those years struggling?

Similarly some kids hate science, which has always been compulsory.  If it’s not going to feature in their career, why force them to do it?  A second language?  No head for it?  Why bother?

If kids have a hunger for a subject, that’s half the battle won.  Why do we need to compartmentalise them all?

The fact is, some are academic and some aren’t.  Put a system in place and keep it there so that our children know where they stand.  Offer more options and accept that the most vital skills some will leave with are hopefully being able to read and write - the fundamentals on which the most emphasis should be placed.  Another bug-bear of mine, as I’ve taught adult literacy in the past and kids are still slipping through the net.

Far too much importance is put on grades at any early age.  Life is stressful enough, let kids be kids and accept that they are all individuals with different skill sets.