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Sunday, 23 October 2011


     After spending a fabulous day together yesterday having a "girly shop-fest", exploring our new surroundings and finishing up in a Victorian Tea Room eating toasted crumpets....

.....Daisy ventured out in to the Back Street.

     Less than 5 minutes later, she returned sobbing as they had all immediately started calling her horrible names and telling her they were not her friends.

     In Daisy's own words:

     "This was the best day ever, and now it's turned into the worst."

     I have no more to say.

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Back in the Saddle....'s been a while since my last blog.

     I'd love to report that things in the garden are rosy, but I cannot tell a lie.

     it isn't. It's really quite awful.

     The backstreet politics run along seemingly unabated. Maybe this is just how NT kids are. I don't know. Maybe I am some kind of expectation freak who is constantly astonished by the behaviour of NT kids, but I was one for a while, and I don't remember anyone being on the receiving end of such wildly fluctuating behaviour. Bullying, yes, because someone was fat or black or Chinese or wore glasses but it was dished out and taken (although it was painful at the time, and I leave it up to you to decide whether Yours Truly is fat, black, Chinese or Four Eyes) and then dismissed. There was always someone else to mock or ridicule and the fat, black, Chinese and short-sighted were left alone in favour of the next new victim.

     I KNOW kids are fickle and shallow, as previously noted I was one myself once, but to me....and I really am trying to NOT be an "autistic mom" seems hugely over the top. One minute they are all clambering over the garden gate to get Daisy out of the house to play, and the next she is running home sobbing because they have all turned against her for reasons she cannot comprehend. To be fair (or possibly unfair, it's all about your view point) I don't understand it either! Only on Sunday, she ran home sobbing because some boy or another had brought up the Biting Incident (again), and demanded to know why she had 
bitten Teasel. Again. Daisy was distraught and then, to add to it, her toys (which she insists on taking out with her) were thrown all over the place causing her even more distress. See, they aren't toys to her. They exist in her reality as real, alive creatures. They feel. They speak. They live, and they can die.

     As I have said in a previous post, Teasel's mother didn't run to our house breathing fire and retribution. She did nothing. At least as far as I can see. She never banned Teasel from playing with Daisy, and Daisy and Teasel get along fine. At least they do, just as long as one of the others doesn't "fall out" with Daisy. Then they all turn against her and even she doesn't know why.

     How do I deal with this??? I am at a bit of a loss. The Head Gardener and I both advise her that she needs to be assertive and just tell the troublemaker of the day to mind their own business. (Teasel has been apologised to and he doesn't appear to have a problem with it, so why should anyone else?) 

     Daisy cannot do this, incidentally. She doesn't have the courage or the confidence to stand up for herself. I cannot fight this battle for her, as it wouldn't happen if I were there, I cannot intervene at the time. I can only support her and hug her when she cries like it hurts real bad.....




Friday, 26 August 2011

Being Autistic Can Really Suck.....

     There's trouble in the flower garden.....

     Daisy and I recently transplanted ourselves to a new location and a new start. After all the problems at the beginning of this year, I simply couldn't stay where I was; the thorns were too troublesome and the memories and constant reminders of the past....well, I didn't want to be constantly reminded.

     So, we discussed it and we both agreed that transplanting was a good idea. I knew it would be tough on Daisy but I felt that it would be tougher if we had stayed where we were.

     So we up-rooted ourselves and travelled. It was tough, and we wilted a bit and wondered if we were really doing the right thing, but the dye was cast and we both rose to the challenge.

     If I had been asked "how's everything going?" on Monday of this week, I would have smiled and said that it was all going perfectly, our new life was going exactly in the direction we both wanted and although there will always be challenges with an Autistic child, they aren't new or different or anything we haven't faced before.....

     If you had asked me on Tuesday, however, I would not have smiled because it has, in the space of 24 hours, gone a bit runny.

     Daisy has made friends with the local children. She went for tea at theirs, we fed them at ours.....just like it should be. Just like NT children. My Daisy was doing NT stuff with NT kids.....happy me! Happy Daisy. She was even relaxed enough to tell them (and parents of her choice) that "I have Autism". How, I thought to myself can it get any better. The children and the parents seemed to accept her and told me how nice she is.....

     How quickly the seeds of unwanted plants have spread to my Garden of Eden.  I find to my horror that the local children are now, seemingly, going out of their way to mercilessly bully my poor little Daisy.

     Her crime? Well, I admit she was kind of wrong, in that she bit a boy younger than her. He and an older boy, for reasons unknown to me, were pinning her down. Unable to get away, she reverted to what she always does when panic-stricken and restrained. She bit. She does it to me every time I have to keep her safe. 

     The moral dilemma that some might see here, is that maybe I should have mentioned that Daisy is violent and aggressive when she feels "cornered", but how the Hell could I have known what would happen? I am also loathe to advertise the bad bits of her Autism as, let's face it, it's going to colour someone else's opinion of her......

     Anyhow....the next day she goes out to play as usual to be confronted with out and out hostility by almost all the local children that she played with. They were rude and mildly aggressive to her and deeply hostile. They used words against her that children should certainly not use against one another.

     This behaviour has continued every day this week. Daisy is now reluctant to go out and play, and when she does pluck up the nerve, she returns in tears...she is unhappy about going out and really needs me with her....not the steps towards independence that I was hoping for.

     It has been witnessed that an older boy seemed to be approaching her with the intention of scaring her....but he was prevented by the arrival of the Head Gardener who intervened merely by his presence. 

     I cannot approach the parents of the children as I do not know them, and Daisy does not know where they live, and although I do believe her, I have to have proof that a particular child is behaving in a hostile/nasty way to her. I don't want to accuse someone of something they haven't done....

     I cannot quite comprehend the severity of the hostility of the children towards Daisy. I know that she shouldn't have bitten, but she shouldn't have been pinned down, and the parent of the bitten child should have come to me (they all know my Daisy; once seen never forgotten and all the children know where she lives!) and discussed it with me. They didn't. 

     Now we have some weird Lord of the Flies thing going on here.....OK, that might be a bit over the top, but the children have seemingly taken the law into their own hands and are meting out their own type of punishment. They actively seek her out to taunt her and tell her to "fuck off". Yet she is not approaching them......

     It is hard to watch her learn this very painful lesson. She (as I) does not think that the punishment fits the crime but is not allowed to offer any kind of reparation. 

     Is this how it is with NT children? Her cuddlies who are real as you or I to her have been taken from her and "hurt", she has "accidently-on-purpose" been run into by a pushbike and her feelings have been severely damaged along with her very fragile self-confidence.

     Well, we are both a bit fed-up with it. If this is what mixing with NT children are like, then I think we need to reconsider who we make friends with.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

"Some kind of Syndrome"

Yet again I find myself "tangled up" with the SS.

Ooops, that would be Social Services.....Sorry, I'm sure!

I am becoming an old hand at this.....deeply narked that, yet again, I have to hold my life up for inspection and justify my day-to-day existance to a stranger, but (now) quite used to the unwanted attention enough to see it for what it is.

However, today I hit a new level of irritation with the SS.
See, because I have moved house, i am now dealing with a new SS person. Not a problem in itself, I quite enjoy the change in them as they walk into the house all abrupt and hard-faced and leave smiling and much softer than when they arrived.
The new level was hit quite early on in the whole episode when the SW commented that "it has been suggested that she (Daisy) has some kind of Syndrome".


I am still trying to decide which annoyed me more, the use of the word "suggestion" or the casuality of the phrase "some kind of Syndrome".

She has a proper diagnosis of PDA Syndrome, it's not a "suggestion" from the team of professionals who assessed her over 2 days. I have her written report which contains a full diagnosis and a prognosis which screams that my Daisy will never be able to live independently IN HER ENTIRE LIFE.

It is not "some kind of Syndrome" and to use those words belittles and demeans Daisy, me, the people who work their bums off every day dealing with PDA persons whether they are professionals or parents.

Is it any wonder that me and all the parents of PDA children (be they children or adults) have to shout really loudly to even get people to LOOK in our direction, never mind actually help us.

Why the hell do "professional" bodies share information that has been cleansed? Why bother to share the information if the most important part is missing?

So, I am gonna say it: loud and proud:


I am willing and prepared to share this information with anyone who will stand still long enough for me to say why can't the people who are *supposed* to have Daisy's best interests at heart doing the same thing?
Isn't the sharing of information what they are all about?
Or doesn't it make for a very interesting case?

So unimpressed.

Sunday, 20 February 2011

Throw Another Shrimp On The Barbie!


My Daisy has gone multi-lingual and is now fluent in Australian!

How did this transformation occur?

Well, it was something to do with a cartoon on TV that I was happily zoning out of (bad mommy!) I was happily catching mice (MouseHunt, a fantastic game from HitGrab on FaceBook...go try it. Not NOW, in a minute when you've got to the bottom. There'll be a reminder in case you forget!) when Daisy starts "boinging" across the room.

"Look Mummy" she yells gleefully down my ear "I'm a kangaroo!"
"But you haven't got a pouch" said I, half-deaf and clearly suffering from some temporary brain injury.
"Yes I have" says she, stretching the waistband of her leggings to near breaking point. "Look"
"Oh, yes. So you have!"
Seconds later she boings back grinning in the way that only kangaroo-girl can, and happily announces:
"Look Mummy, I've got a joey!"
For a split second I was scared to look, the elastic on those leggings really does stretch a long way, and I couldn't see the cat anywhere, but I braced myself and yes......there really WAS a joey down the front of her leggings.

So...picture the 9 year old kangaroo daughter, boinging up and down the living room, complete with joey, bombarding me with questions:
"What do Australians eat, Mummy?"
Boinging stops....then starts again.
"What else do they eat? When they can't get kangaroo?"
"English children"
"Mummmmmmmeeeeeeee! They don't eat people! What do they wear on their heads? Do they wear cowboy hats?"
"They wear hats with corks tied to the brim to keep the flies away"
"Oh, I saw that in Bob The Builder. What else do they eat in Australia?"
"Erm....seafood. Shrimps" My knowledge of Aussie gastronomy is sadly lacking.
"Oh, I love seafood. The dog likes to eat the eyes, but I just like the body"
"Oh, that's good then. No waste......"
"What pets do they have? Do they have pet dogs? Oh, yes! Dingoes, they have dingoes in Australia. We MUST have an Australia Day. We will have a barbecue and hire a sculptor and he will make a copy of that big rock, the biggest rock in the world in the middle of Australia...what's it called again?"
"Yes, then he can make a copy of joey and make it so that water comes out of it's mouth. Won't that be fun?"
"Erm, yes but where..."
"You must ask all your Australian FaceBook friends to come to our house"
"Isn't it rather a long way?"
"Oh, that's OK, they won't mind. They'll like it here and we have lots of space, and we can have a barbecue, and we will have a sculpture of Ul...Ula...Ullerooo, and joey and his mom will be here and it will be just like home for them. They can play mousehunt on your computer and sleep in your room at night, which is really our day so we have to be quiet in the day because they will be asleep and they will have to be quiet in the night because we will be asleep. Oh, look, Garfield is on now......"
"Oh. Erm...OK then."

Apart from the occasional "G'day" it has gone scarily quiet on the Antipodean front....I think I preferred it when she was a dog. Except that kangaroos don't bark. That is a Good Thing. epic game to drive you nuts, delivered to you from HitGrab via it and you could catch this:
or this:

Worth it for the artwork alone!

Friday, 18 February 2011

What IS this stuff falling from the sky?


On closer inspection I see's bullshit.

Sorry to use a Naughty Word, but sometimes you've gotta call a spade a spade.
And believe me, this stuff is falling by the spadeful.

For the benefit of anyone who doesn't already know......and where the hell have you been, might I ask?! beautiful daughter aka Daisy is autistic. With whistles and bells on. When she was diagnosed I was handed a sheet of paper with a list of characteristics on it. I mistakenly assumed that I was reading about Daisy's condition, it was only when the Paed. made a comment that I realised that I was reading about my daughter. She ticks every single box....and then some that aren't even on the list! She has Pathological Demand Avoidance Syndrome (a shade on the Autistic Spectrum). She has sensory issues. She suffers from Separation Anxiety.  She also presents many characteristics of MCDD (Multiple Complex Developmental Disorder) but her autism overlaps and hides it in a clinical setting. I am not too bothered by this...we have enough labels attached to us already, who needs another one?

So, it is clear then, that Daisy isn't quite NT (Neuro-logically Typical)?
But, and this is the important bit, her disabilities are hidden.

If you saw a photograph of Daisy you wouldn't know she was different.

If you saw Daisy happy and playing, you would think she was just another 9 year old.

If you saw Daisy kick and bite and scratch and verbally abuse me, what would you think? That she is disabled?
Or just spoilt and naughty?

If you saw Daisy weep with frustration, what would you think?
That she is disabled?
Or just a brat who can't get her own way?

If you saw Daisy run into the path of a car, what would you think?
That she is disabled?
Or just the thoughtless child of a careless mother?

If you saw Daisy in a wheelchair, what would you think?
That she is disabled.

It's so easy to label children as "naughty" or "wilful" but how many of those "spoilt brats" having a tantrum in the supermarket are actually autistic children suffering from anxiety levels we can only wonder at? The answer to that question lies with the person (funnily enough, quite often the mother) with the child. Watch her. Listen to her. She will not lose her cool; she knows it's pointless. She will not take any notice of you; for her (at that moment) you are not there, she is focusing on her child and it's awe-inspiring anxiety. She will not attempt to argue with her child; she knows that cannot help either the situation or the child. She will simply be the whipping boy of her child's terrifying anxiety and will take everything her child throws at her until the moment has passed. Then she will simply carry on as though nothing has happened. If she does any or all of these things, then try and catch her eye; smile at her, wink at her, nod your head at her, run impulsively to the flower stall and buy her the biggest bunch of flowers in the store but please, do something! Don't assume anything, just let her know that you think she's amazing and tolerant and kind and loving and everything that she might doubt she is. Because she is doing an incredibly hard and thankless job simply because she loves someone enough.

The life of a full-time carer is tough. We are paid a pittance and save this country millions and millions of pounds every single year. Yet, there are plans afoot to make it even harder to raise a disabled child.

Our glorious leaders (at the time of writing I can blame David Cameron) have decided it is time to reform the benefits system in "this green and pleasant land" of ours. The universally detested DLA application form is to be scrapped and replaced by....and I never thought I'd say this...something worse!  Not a form this time, but a face-to-face assessment. Anyone who has even the remotest connection with an ASD person knows that this is NOT going to work. Period.
One of the key ingredients in the ASD mix is "poor social skills" an "inability to interact". Yet we are expected to push forward our ASD people and hold them up for inspection.
Are you disabled enough, ASD person? You don't look it.
You can speak, ASD person.
You have no problems with mobility, ASD person.
You can read and write, ASD person.
You can dress yourself and go to the loo, ASD person.
You seem normal enough to me, ASD person.
Now go away and let me deal with someone who really needs my help.

But what about the disabling anxiety?
The no understanding of cause and effect?
The fact that ASD people can be a danger to themselves and others?
The fact that being able to walk doesn't make you safe when you don't understand that you can't walk in the road.
What about the fact that you are housebound if you don't have a car because public transport is unsafe for some ASD people.
The crippling fear of being anxious about everything?

Hidden disabilities are just as cruel and painful as visible ones, but by their very nature it is very hard to assess them. Especially with an ASD person. Many ASD people put on an "act" to appear normal for a period of time, but it is always unsustainable and always results in a massive melt-down, usually when the ASD person is at home or with a person that they feel utterly comfortable with.

This face-to-face assessment will damage so many ASD people and their families.

Daisy and I were granted "indefinite DLA" last year as it was finally recognised that autism is for life. Looks like I am going to have to fight that fight again.....

This reform is wrong for US, for anyone who cares for an ASD person. It is one-sided and oblivious to the needs of the very people it is supposedly designed to help.

This bullshit needs to be re-directed to my rose bushes, at least there it will do some good.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Around We Go Again.

Daisy and I appear to have inadvertently and most unwillingly joined the Social Services Carousel.

Yes, we have another visit from a Social Worker tomorrow.

Yes, not my fault again.

Yes, they have been informed that Daisy is at risk.

Is this sounding familiar?

Yes. Me too.

This time though, it isn't due to a craven act of spitefulness (that IS a real word, right?)
It's due to an Act of Supreme Stupidity and a chain of events that I could neither predict nor control.

The fault lies NOT with me, but with 2 supposedly grown men who should know better, and My Lady Alcohol who had a very intense effect of one of the aforementioned grown men, hereafter referred to as Dick 1 and Dick 2.

Had I been able to predict that Dick 1 would call Dick 2 and that Dick 2 would antagonise Dick 1 and spin him a yarn of pure unaldulterated fabrication, I would have been able to intervene.

Had I been able to intervene, then I would have been spared the inconvenience of having a wrecked kitchen and the frankly tiresome chore of having to clean up broken china, plants, glass etc etc etc

Had I been spared the annoyance of having my kitchen broken, I would never have needed to call the police.

Had I known how my day was going to pan out, I would probably have just stayed under the duvet.

Oh, to be able to predict the future......

So, because I called the police, I am now subject to another investigation into whether Daisy is at risk.

Was Daisy scared? 
Not especially, no. Because I made it so that she wasn't.
Was Daisy worried about the police?
No. She WAS a bit worried that they didn't want the jaffa cakes she was offering on a plate though. She thought they must be hungry.
Was I concerned about our safety?
I did call the police......just in case. Pissed-up people do the strangest things.

So, the police came and removed Dick 1 from my house. NOT arrested. Removed. I answered all their questions and was completely calm throughout the whole incident. I was not injured and neither was Daisy. I never felt that Daisy was at risk at any stage. Me, possibly, but not Daisy.

Yes, it's right that Daisy should be safe in her own home. We all should. But it's me going through the mill again, not Dick 2 and most certainly NOT Dick 1. Yet it isn't my doing. But I have to be subjected to yet another investigation while the instigators dance around the countryside with no thought or concern for the consequences of their actions. How is this right?

I couldn't know what Dick 1 was going to do.
I had no idea that Dick 2 would do as he did.

I would never, could never put Daisy in a situation like that. But I didn't make it or cause it. I just have to live with the fall out.

How is this fair?

I'm not wallowing in self-pity, really I'm not, but I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating. I'm angry and feel utterly betrayed by someone who is supposed to care about me. Makes you wonder how he treats people he doesn't have feelings for...

Both Dick 1 and Dick 2 have apologised. Big deal. That makes it OK then.

All back to normal.

Well, actually, no.

This is not my normal. it will never be my normal.

Stressed, depressed, betrayed, gut-wrenchingly hurt and so angry I could burst is not my normal.

I want.....reparation. Not revenge, but "sorry" doesn't even come close to sorting this out. Initially, I was calm and controlled and not forgiving, but much more understanding. As time passes, instead of letting it go, it is festering and can only get worse as there is no outlet for it. I can't take it out on Dick 1 and Dick 2 because they don't care. If they did, they would have offered their support for tomorrow. I may not have accepted, but they could have damn well offered. But no. They had their little tiff, my stuff gets broken, the police get called and it's all over for them. For me it's just the beginning. I have to pick up the pieces, quite literally, and prove my beautiful Daisy is safe with me.

I know, that tomorrow will be OK. I know it because the alternative is just too dreadful to contemplate....

Thursday, 13 January 2011

"How Long Does Sorry Really Last?

Is it tattooed upon your heart?"***

Or does it expire once it has entered your ears?

Elton John once sang about "sorry", he claimed that it was the "hardest word", but I beg to differ.

"Sorry" is incredibly easy to say. We say it all the time, and often quite needlessly. It has crept in the English language as an alternative for "pardon", what is wrong with "pardon"? Although a quick delve into "Collins English Dictionary" informs me that "pardon vb (tr)  1 to excuse or forgive (a person) for (an offence, mistake, etc): to pardon someone: to pardon a fault" so do we say "pardon" in forgiveness for the person we didn't quite hear? "Oh, I forgive you for mumbling into your beard, please repeat your self". Actually, "sorry I didn't quite catch that as you were mumbling into your beard, please repeat yourself" fits much more comfortably than "pardon".

Sorry,I think I am beginning to digress....

Begging your pardon, I will return to the word in hand....:"sorry".

It is an apology, a form of condolence and a word suggesting pity.

It is the apology I am interested in.

Daisy doesn't get "sorry". She says it, but I think she has no real idea what it means any more than I understand Quantum Physics. I know the words, but they have no real meaning to me, on the face of it, they are incomprehensible.

Daisy is the same. She will apologise, but 9 times out of 10 she will have to prompted and reminded that what she did was wrong and an apology is necessary. The word is meaningless to her.

When she has a violent and abusive "melt-down", she has absolutely NO idea what has happened and what she has done. If she sees the bruises and scratches, she will ask me how I hurt myself. It's as if she has some kind of mental shutdown or blackout. I no longer expect remorse or regret, they are emotions that are currently alien to her. Emotions can't be learnt, you can learn how to deal with them but you can't acquire them through study or from a book.

I don't even know if I want her to apologise. Is it right to even expect an apology for an act that is committed under the fog of fear and rage and anxiety? She is autistic, I think it comes with the territory. She doesn't operate out of spite, she doesn't understand that either she is just near-terminally frustrated. She doesn't possess the bit that controls, well, self-control. Her emotions are completely uncontrollable. Maybe we can learn together how to corral them into something a little less explosive and a lot less painful, but with a child who is approximately half her true emotional age, it is a struggle! I am currently dealing with a child with an emotional age of 4 and a bit. It's challenging, to say the least. Especially when you know that Daisy is very, very smart and it is easy to forget her emotional age when she is advanced in so many other areas of her development.

But I think "sorry" has become a sticking plaster...a bit of a cop-out. It's almost a non-word. Like "nice" before it, it's in grave danger of becoming a nonentity. it is losing it's meaning. 
For me to say "sorry" I have to have the associated feelings, at least the feelings I personally associate with the word "sorry". I know when I have made a mistake, that I need to apologise, with feeling. I have to feel and the recipient of my apology has to feel it too. I have to apologise and then explain why! Otherwise it's just words. Empty words that mean nothing, and you know you simply just know that you are going to hear "sorry" again for the same set of reasons. With added hurt. If you are truly sorry then why would you go off and do the same thing again? Because you don't care enough about the person you are hurting. Where is the remorse? The regret? How can you do something that you know is going to hurt someone innocent? Because you can simply apply the band aid marked "sorry" and expect everything to just sail on as normal. Because you are selfish and think only of things from your perspective and not anyone that is going to get hurt in the process. But to me, it means nothing if the feelings behind it are not genuine.

Maybe Daisy and me are on the opposite ends of our own spectrum. She doesn't understand the sentiment of "sorry" and I am a sentimental apologist of Olympic standard!

So, to answer the original question.....for me, sorry lasts forever. MY sorries last forever. If I make a mistake and need to apologise then I do, and I am a wreck until I get the "sorry" said and out into the open. If I make the same mistake again, then I am distraught until I can apologise. That is not to say that I beg forgiveness, for I don't. For me, the apology is enough, I have said it and felt it, it fits within the confines of the Golden Rule (it happened; it passed; move on) and that is that.

if anyone ever wants to drive me crazy? Make it so I can't apologise....I'll be a drooling wreck in days!

***More pilfering, this time from Heaton/Rotheray of The Beautiful South with "How Long's A Tear take To Dry?"

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Get Out Of My Pigeon Hole!

Every person on this planet has, at sometime in their life, been poked into a pigeon hole.
You're a single parent?
Pigeon holed as (depending on your age) "loose" with the added stigma of "scrounger" if you happen to have to scrape a living on state benefits.

You have blonde hair?
You're stupid then, and we can mock you.

You have red hair?
You are clearly some kind of weird retard and we can mock you and be so grateful that we aren't "ginger". (I hate, loathe and detest the word "ginger", by the way!)

My children would *never* behave like that. Why don't you give her a smack?
You are entirely to blame for your child's behaviour, go beat her.

All of the above apply to both Daisy and I.
Along with many, many others.

But it is the last one that has provoked this entry.

How lucky you are not to have "badly-behaved" children. Are they so well-behaved because they live in fear of being beaten? 
Well, I say, LOUD AND PROUD, that I am the lucky one! For I have Daisy. You do not!

If my child was physically disabled you would look at me in a different light. If you looked at me at all, it would probably be with pity tinged with relief. "There but for the Grace of God..." But you look at me with scorn instead, but you know what?? I believe that my Daisy IS physically disabled. Her autism is debilitating. It prevents her doing just as many things in life that a flight of stairs prevents and impedes the progress of a wheelchair user. It renders her physically incapable of doing all sorts of things that other children take for granted. It creates the most excruciating anxiety that mentally cripples her and physically scares her and causes her to engage in "fight or flight". Restrained she will "fight", unrestrained she will run. In exactly the way that a prey animal runs from a predator.

But you look at me, and HAVE to categorize me and Daisy. I am a rubbish mom and she is a brat. Well, good folks....take a second, closer look. I am a mom trying to keep my daughter from debilitating anxiety and she is trying to work with me by focusing on me. It isn't easy and it isn't always successful but if I was that rubbish, why am I constantly reassuring and verbally connecting with Daisy? See? Not only do you see things wrong, but you don't listen either.

I don't regard myself as a bad parent. 

I regard myself as a mommy, dealing with a challenging child. A bright, funny, crazy Daisy.

So don't try and poke me into a hole that I neither fit nor belong in.

And I will try not to categorize you as ignorant.....

Sunday, 9 January 2011

School's Out!

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.

She lived with her mom and their cat, and every day the princess had to go to school.

At the school was a nasty evil dragon who picked on the princess and made her feel very very sad.

The princess' mom tried to fight the dragon with the armour of reasonable discussion, the sword of understanding and the shield of Autistic Spectrum Disorder. 

The dragon repeatedly failed to listen or understand and so, because dragons are a protected species and therefore you can't kill them, the princess and her mom left the kingdom and lived happily ever after.

Until we met the Behavioural Specialist.

Most definitely NOT a dragon. Or anything evil or nasty. She's very very nice. 


She has convinced Daisy that school is where she should be. It's all she talks about. I'm convinced she's on some kind of commission rating as she sells it so well!

Daisy is one of those people who wants to fulfil your expectation of them. She is desperate to please...particularly people that she feels are in authority...and tries to say the right things, effectively she says what they want to hear. Then when she can't do it, they question her and make her feel bad about it. Even though she tried her best. So her very fragile self-esteem takes another bashing and I get to pick up the bits. It's not that she is incapable, far from it. She has no real concept of limitations, so in the right hands she could fly. She could do anything, so long as it involves her being the authority figure. Authority figures SET the limits, but if she was in charge? Hell, she could run the world!

But, school and Daisy don't mix.

I don't want to put her through the trauma, but she's now pecking my head over it as the BS has filled her head with schemes and dreams and seems oblivious to Daisy's needs.

One of my Amazing People read a previous blog about Daisy's particular needs and has said that what we need from ANY school is simply not do-able. 

We need a statement, we need full-time 1:1 help and we need it in place before Daisy even arrives at school. This is never going to happen....statementing is hard when the child is in school but when Home Educated? Very nearly but not quite impossible. 1:1 help? full time? Dream. On!

So.....tomorrow I am going to re-double my efforts in making my voice heard. I don't know what the Hell I am meant to do.....chair and megaphone, perhaps??

*********Many many thanks to the team at HitGrab for allowing me to plunder their MouseHunt artwork. 
Mousehunt? It's a game on Facebook.....go play it! You'll love me and it forever!

Friday, 7 January 2011


I am in the doldrums.
Maybe I should call the "black dog" Doldrums?

Anyway, whatever, I am in the doldrums.

It's been a really really rubbish week. I'm not going to lie, it has not been pretty, but as I sit here at the end of a horrible week - well, 5 days anyway - I can look back over my shoulder, past the "dog" and sift through the debris. There seems to be an awful lot of it.....
It always starts the same way, I wake up and there's no "dog" in the room. Daisy and me do what we want to do, on Monday it was "Super Mario" on the Wii. We aren't very good because we both collapse into fits of giggles, but we have "the most fun ever", as Daisy puts it! 
Then, that evening after a day of Wii and dancing round my bedroom to "The Beautiful South" it all changes.

One phone call and it all changes.
The "dog" bounds into the room tail wagging and tongue lolling and "whoomph"....down I go.

All because of a damn phone call. 
What makes it worse, is that the reason for the "dog" isn't even MY fault. The person I was on the phone to took a call on a different phone and took it out on me. THEY get a rubbish phone call, and I get to bear the brunt. Enter "Doldrums" stage left.

I know, I know....I shouldn't allow that person to take control of my feelings and emotions, but it's easier said than done, isn't it?

Then the real dog gets into trouble. She's an old dog and a bit lame, but her back leg went dead. Complete paralysis. It was horrible to watch and we tried to help her, but she's an independent hound and doesn't see what's good for her! It seemed to go on for hours and I had the phone number of the vet pre-dialled but happily, this time, it wore off. 
Daisy was....I don't even know what word to use....distraught. Devastated. Terrified that the dog was going to die. Desperate to talk to dog's owner as if somehow that would make it all OK. Bombarding me with questions as to what the vet will do and what will we do with the dog's dead body.  She wouldn't go to sleep as she was so scared of waking up to a dead dog, and when she did finally sleep, she was so restless and ill at was horrible.

Depressed for 2 days, my daughter roamed the house with no smiles or laughs, just heartsore sighs and tears. Her gorgeous green eyes were pools of sadness and fear. All because of someone else's dog and their reluctance to take responsibility for anything.

Her real name isn't Daisy. I chose that alias for her as she would be a daisy if she were a flower. Tenacious, resilient, petite, beautiful with the happy smiley face that makes everybody feel just a little brighter when they see it.

Except when the situation is beyond my control.
I tried so hard to lighten the mood, even though I was on the floor myself. We always prop each other up, except that this time we were both in the same horrible place at the same time.

The back-lash from the phone call continues on unabated, and the week has got worse culminating in money going missing from my bank account, so I have to cancel my card and wait for the bank to find my missing money. 

BUT.....I am DAMNED if i am going to let someone else upset my daughter any more. I "liked" a FaceBook page which had the title "Hurt me 'cause i can take it, but hurt my child and I will bury you so deep in the woods they will never find you". Well, rest assured I won't be murdering anyone soon, but the sentiment works just fine. I will do all I can to prevent Daisy having a "black dog" of her own, and if that means there have to be changes around the place, then so beit.

This is probably my most disjointed and rambling blog to date, but I type as I think and my thoughts are all over the place.
Thanks for sticking with me thus far, you'll be pleased and relieved to learn that it's over now!