Smile

Well, its been a while, kept meaning to write but finding the time recently has been impossible! Right now it's 7am on Saturday morning, Harvey decided once again that 5.30am was the perfect time to get up and Darcie was up by 6.15am. I'm sure some people have children who actually go to bed early, sleep in their own beds all night and wake up at a reasonable time......! Harvey attempted to engage me in various games but I managed to distract him with some wine gums - yep, I'm a terrible mother for giving my son sweets at this hour, but hell at least it shut him up! Annoying Harvey hates the black and green wine gums like me, I sneakily tried to give him those but he grabbed the red and orange ones, bloody kid. I'm sitting here wondering if 7am is too early for chocolate.....

Anyway, quite a bit has happened over the past few weeks. Just before she finished for Easter, it was Darcie's parents evening (well strictly speaking it was parents afternoon as our appointment was about 3.40pm!) After her less-than-fantastic report, I was feeling quite tense but each set of parents was only allocated 10 minutes with the teacher so I reassured myself that it wouldn't be that horrendous. Darcie's teacher, Mrs Smith, is one of the better ones we've come across, despite being depressingly skinny and having a permanently sad look about her (although that may be because my daughter is in her class!) I've been to quite a few parents evenings already, but this one was by far the worst. Mrs Smith looked at Simon & I, sighed especially sadly and said "I just don't know what to say about Darcie....." I could tell that this was a bad, bad sign and resisted the urge to run far, far away.

So, we officially have a difficult child. Darcie won't go out willingly to play at break/lunch times, preferring instead to tidy the classroom (although she normally refuses point-blank to tidy up at home) and do jobs for Mrs Smith - helpful to a point I guess but the point is that most kids can't wait to escape the classroom and go outside to play. Apparently there's no sign of bullying or anyone being especially nasty to her, which could be a reason why she'd rather be inside with the teacher. Granted Darcie isn't a very active or physical child to say the least, and I reckon running around is just too much effort, but surely she could just sit on a bench or something? We came to the conclusion that she sees herself as one of the staff rather than a pupil, which fits in with her obsession about being a grown-up and inability to understand why she's younger than us! If Darcie is in the classroom helping Mrs Smith rather than playing outside with her peers, then in her mind that makes her a member of staff, on the same level as her teacher.

Her work has plateaued, mainly meaning that she's reached a certain level and then given up. Despite making minimal effort, Darcie remains in the middle groups which says something I think....academically she'd do well if she wasn't so bloody lazy. I'll freely admit that I didn't work to my full potential at school, and so often wish I'd tried harder - the gift of hindsight which comes with being an adult is a marvellous thing! Mrs Smith was exasperated by Darcie's rudeness, apparently she often turns her back on her teachers when something doesn't suit - very rude I know, but in some little way I quite admire her because I'd never have dared! Of course I looked suitably shocked and didn't say "wow, she's brave! I'd have loved to turn my back to plenty of teachers when I was at school!"......

One of the most shocking things is Darcie's inability to sit properly on the mat with the other children. This is clearly crucial to her success at school and development as a person. I know Mrs Smith was simply highlighting this as an example of Darcie's general awkwardness and reluctance to follow instructions, but if that's the worst crime she ever commits in her life then I'll be happy! Yes, she should do as she's told, but she's sitting slightly outside the designated area, not running amok through the school with a loaded gun - I would have thought it was the latter from the deadly serious look on Mrs Smiths face.

The good (in a weird way) bit is that we've finally found someone who agrees there is something wrong with Darcie. Previously, whenever we attempted to discuss her behaviour with her teachers, they brushed it aside making us feel like we were over-exaggerating. Mrs Smith, however, admitted she was relieved that we think there's something not quite right, as she also thinks so. She described Darcie as depressive, in addition to her general awkwardness and odd behaviour. I think I mentioned that we saw a woman from CAMHS (Child and Adult Mental Health Services) who were were due to meet with again coincidentally the day after Parents Evening. When we saw the lady, Mary, the first time, she asked permission to send a form to school for Darcie's class teacher to complete - Mrs Smith explained that she had received the form and duly filled it in. Our 10 minutes were up, and we left the classroom feeling shocked after such a negative meeting, collected our children from the hall where they had waited patiently (ignoring the fact that Harv had been climbing on the apparatus which was forbidden) and walked home in the rain.

We saw Mary the woman from CAMHS) as planned the next day, after school at our place. She informed us that she's 60, and really very nice, with a vaguely amused yet suspicious look about her which means she must have her own kids. As soon as Mary entered the room, Darcie recoiled as if a mad gunman had run in, flashing her an evil look which is normally reserved just for me. We were actually quite pleased as Darcie was demonstrating just how peculiar she can be, but Mary ploughed on, not fazed at all (another indication that she's a mother) Harvey retired to our bedroom to watch telly (and to do some destroying of various objects, taking full advantage of the fact that he was unsupervised) When we met with Mary the first time Darcie was at school, but she'd been very keen to meet her (glutton for punishment).

Mary spoke to Darcie (in fact all of us) veeerrrrryyyy slowly and calmly as if we were ever so slightly mentally defective (which I am) and her soothing voice made me want to doze off. Guessing falling asleep while seeing a counsellor about my daughter's serious problems would undoubtedly place me firmly in the Bad Mother category, I managed to stay concious.

Mary referred to the form she'd sent to Mrs Smith, and read us some of her comments. With the parents evening fresh in our minds, we already knew what Mrs Smith's main concerns were, and what she'd written on the form generally reinforced what she'd said to us. However, Mrs Smith had added that she has never seen Darcie smile. What? How can a child never smile? I was shocked, and clearly Simon was too - suddenly I was wide awake and wondering what on earth is wrong with our child. She loves school, and as I've said before, frequently informs us that she'd much rather be there than at home. So why isn't she happy there? Apparently she didn't even smile or seem happy when her class voted her costume the best on Superhero day, and she won! I can genuinely say that that was one of the saddest moments in my life as a mum, my daughter is so sad that she doesn't smile. I could have cried, but luckily we moved quickly on......that comment has stuck with me though, and probably always will. Simon and I have often said that Darcie doesn't know how to react in certain situations - ever since she was tiny shes been odd about getting presents, etc. there's usually no excitement there. I remember on Darcie's 3rd birthday my parents bought her a doll's pram which she'd been desperate for - we sat her on the sofa and got her to cover her eyes while we wheeled it in, I was so excited thinking she'd be over the moon. She opened her eyes, looked at the dolls pram and said something like "Oh, right." which has always been her reaction to most gifts. I don't reckon she knew how to act when she won the competition at school, she may have been embarrassed by all the fuss as kids are sometimes. The not smiling thing is weird though, I've been watching her like a hawk ever since and she does smile, not nearly as often as she should though.

The conclusion Mary came to is that Darcie isn't going to open up to her or anyone else about why she screams and behaves in the way she does. There's no point in continuing counselling, which I agree with - we've been there, done that, and got nowhere. Darcie has a flair for art and so Mary has referred her for art therapy, not sure exactly what it will consist of, but it's proved very successful for certain children with problems. It will take a few weeks for the art therapy to start, but we're hoping that it helps her and does some good - feeling tentatively optimistic......

Just after Easter we went to stay with my parents; Simon, Harvey and I returned home after our usual 4 nights, leaving Darcie there for a couple of days. It was so good to have a break from home, and Darcie was generally fine there which was refreshing. We actually had a good time as a family, which is a rare thing these days. My mum brought Darcie home on the Saturday before she went back to school, and despite being pleased to see us (she phones us twice a day when she's with my parents and is a joy to talk to, my mum insists she misses me) the screaming resumed when my mum attempted to leave. Darcie lost the plot, clinging onto my mum and begging her not to go, luckily my mum managed to free herself from her granddaughter's vice-like grip and catch her train home with seconds to spare. Then came Darcie's death threats, the claims that we hate her and want her to die, that we're plotting to kill her, she hates living with us......it went on and on, for the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday. Of all the things she says, I find it especially hurtful when Darcie says she hates living at home, with us. Kids should be happy at home, but sometimes it seems like she'd rather be anywhere else but here.

So week one of the new term is over and done with, the dreaded summer holidays are edging ever nearer. Darcie is supposed to do 10 minutes of reading every night, plus practice her spellings for a test every Friday, plus do her homework every week. We struggled endlessly last term (and the one before) with this, but I've realised that I want her to succeed and she WILL make progress this term, even if I die in the process. I bought a reward chart and am paying her to do her school work, not the ideal solution but she loves money and I can't think of a better plan. It went okay-ish this week, Darcie got paid yesterday (we even have special envelopes to put her money in) and has realised that she can earn even more next week if she tries harder. Just hope this works, even though we may well end up broke!

Harvey remains the same, as ever my high maintenance but loving little boy. He drives me completely mad at times, but tells me he loves me every day, at least I have one child who does.

If I could turn back time......

Hello again....its been a while! Well the theme for this month seems to have mainly been illness, in addition to the usual stuff of course. We all had some kind of tummy bug which ranged from dodgy tummy to full on projectile vomiting, which was pretty horrible and resulted in tons of washing and Harvey completely losing his appetite. The latter isn't usual, but of course I had to do what I always vow not to do, and get stressed about it, leading to my blood pressure increasing and everyone else probably wanting to throw me out of the window! We got some tonic and thankfully Harvey's appetite returned and he's now back to munching his favourite weird and wonderful things.

Darcie has been a worry, as she nearly always is, for a while. Yeah, she caught the tummy bug, but it usually takes a lot to put her off her food - her appetite mysteriously vanished and at first we assumed it was thanks to the lurgy. I started to panic a bit when Darcie still refused to eat much days later, she mentioned a sore throat once or twice, but swore it was better and I didn't think much of it to be honest. After not eating much and being generally miserable for days, it all got much worse and last weekend she clearly wasn't well. We realised the root cause was her throat, but despite looking awful she insisted on going to school. Of course I'm thrilled that she likes school and I'd hate battling to send her somewhere she hated every weekday, but seriously, what kid would rather be at school than home, especially when they feel rotten? Darcie had clearly kept quiet about her illness for as long as she could though, just so she wouldn't be kept off school - I find that vaguely amusing, but mainly very sad. Ultimately, my daughter would rather go to school ill to receive virtually no sympathy from strangers and struggle through the day than stay at home in the warm with her mum.

My own throat was weird on Monday, then the bug struck and I had the worst throat I've had for years; I know I'm a moaner but not being able to eat, drink, yawn or even swallow without being in agony isn't pleasant. Tuesday and Wednesday were very nasty but fortunately Thursday saw me feeling a bit better, thank God. I found myself feeling sorry for Darcie who clearly had caught the bug first, and wondering how the hell she could even contemplate going to school feeling so dreadful. Thursday night she had a melt-down and very obviously wasn't well at all, so we informed her we were taking her to the doctors the next morning, no choice - although of course we had to promise her we'd lie to the school about her being ill, so she could go back in afterwards! It turns out she has got tonsillitis, and if her throat was half as sore as mine then I'm very impressed with how she kept on functioning!

Anyway while I was waiting with Darcie at the surgery yesterday a woman came in with a little baby girl. I often think back to my own daughters baby days, and how mainly happy they are in my memory. Of course I've probably mainly erased the bad bits, and time has a habit of making you forget how hard things really were (labour painful? nah, eating watermelon hurts more, I'm sure!) but I know I enjoyed my baby and the little girl she became. There are times we struggled of course, and she used to drive us mad, but she was so bright, happy, bubbly.......I wonder whatever happened to that little girl sometimes. I see her occasionally, but mainly my daughter is a whiny, screaming, miserable, jealous, unhappy thing and that's awful. I so wish I could turn time back and start again with her, but of course I can't.

So we can't go back, there's no rewind button to press, nor is there a fast-forward one - Darcie would love that, one press and she'd be an instant adult! So what we have is now, and the future. Sometimes I think this will all work out, but most of the time I feel like I've made such a huge mess of everything and there isn't a way of fixing it. If I made a list of my biggest fears, things that I would dread to happen to me personally, up there in the top ten would be, without doubt, this - Darcie as an adult turning around to me and saying something like "You wrecked my childhood, I was utterly miserable, and as a result I'm desperately unhappy now. I hate you and I never want to see you again." followed by knowing she meant those words, and turning and disappearing from my life. I don't know what to do with Darcie most of the time, I don't understand her and dare I say it, I sometimes don't even like her, but not having her in my life for ever is something I can't even contemplate. She's a part of me.

Finally, the school report came home yesterday......more worry. I know she's bright, we've been told shes bright, so she has to be, surely. But now Darcie has virtually been branded as non-academic - she shines at art and IT but not at the more "academic" stuff. Sure, I hated maths with a passion and was useless at it, even some science stuff I never grasped but I could do English whereas she can't seem to do much at all. French is apparently the only "academic" thing she's got any real ability in, I found her report very depressing. Darcie isn't officially below average in anything, which is terrific I suppose, but she clearly isn't down as a clever one. I know most parents think their darlings are clever; I've always known Darcie isn't a genius, nor would I want her to be one especially. I thought she was bright, brighter than this - not top of the class but to be put down as "non-academic" which seems to be the general message? I know she's only 8 and has years and years of school ahead of her yet, but I want her to make something of herself. The way she's going, another one of my fears is that she'll be a nothing, pregnant at 17 and dragging three miserable moaning kids around town by the time she's 25. I know lots of teenage mums bring up wonderful children, and there's nothing wrong with having kids young (I did that myself I suppose) but I want my girl to have a career first. I want her to be someone, make a difference, no matter how small, have a house, car, holidays, money in the bank....and then have kids if she likes. I realise to get a good job Darcie will have to be bright, work fairly hard, push herself and have determination, it seems like right now she's not ticking any of those boxes. I know I need to push her, but how on earth do I do that when she won't let me near her physically or emotionally?

It's like Darcie is a building of some kind, and shes built a solid, electric fence around herself. The gate is nearly always open for her dad, he can go in and normally Harv can too. But when I approach that cold metal gate, it clangs too with such force that the ground almost shakes. There's nothing I can do to open it, I can't push it open, guess the code to open the gate - even shaking it makes no difference. I'm not allowed in there, that's final. But the mystery is why not?

This is sounding stupid now, so I'll go!

My two daughters

Well actually I don't have 2 daughters, but sometimes it feels like I do! Darcie can be the most lovely, caring, sweet little girl and I really enjoy her company. I genuinely believe that her little brother Harvey is incredibly lucky to have such a kind, patient big sister who adores him, despite him being a complete pain in the bum at times! Although she desperately wanted a sister, Darcie accepted Harvey brilliantly and they really connected from the start. Of course they argue and I think she is jealous of him sometimes, but that's normal for siblings - they have a wonderful relationship and I'm so proud of her for being so good with him. Darcie loves being the oldest and the boss but she deserves Harvey's admiration and love, he worships her.

So there's my bright, funny, lovely daughter, and then there's the other one. I expect I'll mention this a lot in my blog, but we have major problems with Darcie. She screams, and I don't mean the occasional outburst, I mean hours, literally, of standing there screaming until she's purple. Worrying behaviour for a three-year-old perhaps, but extremely disturbing that an eight year old does this. She's always been highly strung and a bit on the "different" side, but I'm not completely normal myself! She screamed and had moods when she was younger, but over the past three-ish years it's spiralled out of control.

I won't go into it all here as there's plenty of time for all that later, but we do have a very real problem. Darcie reacts very negatively to me, and most of her anger is directed straight at me. I admit we never bonded properly at the beginning, that was confirmed for me when my son was born and I clicked with him instantly, it was much different the first time. I blame myself for most of Darcie's issues, and know I'm a rubbish mum to her, I just don't understand how we've ended up like this.

Sometimes, things are fine. This is always the calm before the storm though, we're lulled into a false sense of security and explosion is never far away. Darcie will totally flip over the slightest thing, even me simply walking into the room where she is can, and often does, trigger a screaming session. Ideally she doesn't want me near her, and as her mother this is so incredibly hurtful. I never thought motherhood would be simple, and of course I expect her to scream and shout at me sometimes, but not like this. The guilt is incredible, I carry it around with me constantly and at times she hurts me so much I feel ill. I realise I've somehow made her like this, but an eight year old shouldn't have this much anger inside them. She'll scream regularly that she wishes she'd never been born and that we hate her, I only hope that some little bit of her knows that this isn't true.

I've only scratched the surface but this is a little bit about the complex creature which is our daughter. We've had counselling previously but we're seeing someone new this afternoon, we're just praying that he or she will actually listen and understand that Darcie's problems won't be solved with a sticker chart. I honestly think she has a degree of autism/aspergers/ADHD or something, but because she behaves relatively normally at school, we don't get any proper help or understanding. I really hope the counsellor we're seeing today does something good for all our sakes.

Last night Darcie told me she wishes I was dead. That hurts, but strangely enough it hurt far more when I stood waving at her as she went to school this morning and she never waved back.

Hello

Hello and welcome to my life! I'm not sure exactly why I'm writing this or if I want anyone to actually read it, but I think having a blog is kind of cool. I decided that things are going to change in 2010 and it's going to be a positive year, but so far not much has changed really. I do have plans, but making them happen is always the hard bit, maybe writing it all down will help and encourage me! I've started several blogs over the years and then abandoned them, hopefully this will be the one that survives.

I think the main things I'll write about will be my kids, they take over everything! This time of year always makes me think a bit, it was this week 9 years ago when I discovered something which changed everything forever for me. I know that sounds dramatic, but it was, I found I was pregnant with our daughter Darcie. I can honestly say that nothing has ever shocked me as much as that positive pregnancy test did, I don't think I'll ever have a bigger shock!

I know thousands of people every year get pregnant by accident, so it's no big deal really, but it was for us. I always knew I wanted kids eventually, at some point, way in the future, and I'd have a job, house, money...everything would be happen as I wanted it to. But life has a habit of chucking things at people when they least expect it, and this was chucked at us. I was 21, my partner Simon was just 24, he was approaching the end of his degree course and I was doing an English degree. I had a false start, basically I chose/was pushed into the wrong course to begin with and it took me a while to admit to myself that it wasn't what I wanted. I got onto the course I'd always wanted to do in the end though, and was enjoying it, and then my whole life was turned upside down.

People find themselves pregnant and in much worse situations, but it was a nightmare for us. We had very little money, were living in separate student accommodation, were at uni....and basically weren't ready for a baby in any way. It all seemed so completely unbelievable, and I'll be honest and admit that abortion was a very real option for us for some time. I'll be honest again and say that we do sometimes wonder how different our lives would be if we had gone down that path. No matter how hard things are and how much she infuriates me, I can put my hand on my heart and say for once we absolutely made the right choice though.

That year, 2001, was most probably the hardest of my life, we started it as a young couple with no real worries or responsibilities and ended it as parents of a three month old. We came to terms with my pregnancy, considered our options, made a decision, then coped with months of me chucking up everywhere! Simon managed to graduate, get a job, and on 11th September 2001, a memorable day across the world for all the wrong reasons, we found out we'd got our first home. Moving on a tight budget while eight and a half months pregnant was an experience, but I can laugh about it now! We had to break the news to our families, and I'll always know that I let my parents down to a point which is a hard thing to live with. Suddenly being told that your daughter is six and a half months pregnant while trying to enjoy your starters in a crowded restaurant is a slightly unusual situation to be in, but they coped fairly well even if my mum went red and my dad turned a worrying shade of grey! I'll never forget the looks on their faces, but the champagne my dazed father ordered helped with the shock I think. I still have the cork!

We were lucky to get support from both families, support which still continues today. I think it's true that you always need your parents, and I felt much better when I finally stopped hiding my pregnancy from my mum and dad! I still can't believe they genuinely never realised, although living seventy miles away and not seeing them every day made my secret easier to keep I think. My mum especially had hopes for me and I'll always feel guilty for not living up to her expectations, but life doesn't always work out the way you expect.

We really thought we'd dealt with all the hard stuff as my due date arrived, but the greatest challenge of our lives was just about to begin! We were told the baby was big, but nobody actually gave us an estimated weight or went through our options with us. I had a scan on 12th September, and was informed that I was booked in for induction on my due date, eleven days later, due to the baby's size. We were naive and didn't question what we'd been told, these days I know so much more about labour and wouldn't have agreed to be induced then.

We duly turned up at hospital, 9am on 23rd September 2001, all nervous and excited. Simon & I were in fact quite glad to be getting a break from organising our new home and moving the last bits in, and genuinely believed that we might well be parents by that evening, or the following morning. I knew labour would be painful, but told myself that everyone must be exaggerating - how bad could it be? We spent the next three whole days being mainly ignored and insulted, for some reason most of the midwives assumed we'd insisted on the induction for no real reason! Darcie was in no rush to come out, and I'll never forget pacing up and down those bleak hospital corridors, and hanging around either on the ward or in the cafe, just waiting for something to happen. We had a bit of fun, but couldn't believe how long the whole process was taking, it was like a nightmare. It couldn't have been much fun for our families either, anxiously waiting for news for days on end!

Finally, Wednesday 26th September arrived & it turned out to be the day our daughter would be born. The midwives must have got sick of us, because suddenly we were whisked up to the labour ward, my waters were broken and then I was stuck on a drip to start the contractions. Pure hell is the most accurate way of describing the next eight hours, but that doesn't really do it justice - I have never experienced pain like it. I honestly thought I was going to die at one point, there was just no relief and as a final insult I couldn't even have an epidural as the anaesthetist was in theatre! The memories of that day will stay with me forever, and it took me a long time to recover mentally from it. I survived though, and at 5.52pm Darcie came into the world. I'd been so sure all along that we were having a boy, I'll never forget the complete shock of realising that our baby had no willy!

Life changed for us forever in that dark delivery room that Wednesday teatime, we were parents. Simon went off to phone our parents and break the news that finally, finally I'd popped, and the midwife and student also vanished. I remember lying on the bed clutching Darcie, unable to move because there was nowhere to put her down, and thinking "Oh my God....what the hell do I do now......!" It was just so surreal, of course we'd known for months that we were going to have a baby, but a tiny bit of me thought it still could be some sort of joke!

Anyway, that's the beginning, how it all started really. So much has happened over the past 9 years, and I sometimes wonder how that positive pregnancy test turned into the eight year old I have now! I don't know what the purpose of this blog will be, but who knows, maybe one day my daughter will read it herself. Maybe her children will also read it, you never know!

I'll finish my first post with a couple of photos of my baby girl, one of her in hospital the morning after she was born, and another when she was just a few weeks old, it's one I've always liked.