We so ruled in the 80's & still do now

I spent this weekend with five mates I was a secondary school with in the 80's, so I've known them for over 25 years.  A couple I lost touch with for a decade, but here we all are lounging on sofa's and drinking fizz after driving to a remote cottage, from all over the UK.  We were all once 13/14 the same age the teenager is now; will he be catching up with his now-school mates in 2034 I wonder?

We've all got children, all work, have partners/husbands.  One had a baby when she was 19 after a one night-stand, one is getting divorced and ones Mum died recently, another talked of her Dad's sudden death.  Big heavy stuff.  I sat with two of them outside with a coffee, holding the hand of one as she talked about the last few days of her Mum's life.  Her lovely Mum who welcomed us in their house with a big smile, always. We talked about one husband who could not 'get it up', some admitted it had been a year or two since that was even an option. We talked about the NHS, Hilary Clinton, chin-hair and if cous-cous was overrated.

We talked about our jobs; a specialist heart nurse, a corporate lawyer, one has a PHD in social care, another a well-respected counsellor.  Stuff that keeps the world go round, that people need.  It astounds me who we have all grown to be and who we are - totally yey us!  We told our stories, shared our experiences, our worries and hopes.  We pissed ourselves laughing watching The Full Monty, we paused the TV watching the X-Factor trying to look at Dermot's package.  We burped and farted in complete abandoned glory.  We looked up old boyfriends on Facebook, we talked about our extended families and it was great to know that at least three of them would still shag my older brother!

Some the mates my son has now will be his mates for decades, others he will find hard to even remember.  Which are which I couldn't tell you from the snippets of their character I have seen so far. Will be the one who carried his bike home after my son felt off and hurt his leg?  Or will it be someone he's not even met yet?  I hope he's a good mate, now and in the future.

I started to cry on the way home, one of them had sent us all a message saying she felt 'centred, confident and brave after a weekend with us all' and I could not have put it better myself.

Hey teachers, cool your boots!

We are only a couple of weeks into year 10 and the 'bug bad wolf' GSCE talk is now tedious according to the teenager.  He was enjoying school but he's ad the big bad wolf talk so many times it's flipped him in the opposite direction.  He's been told, according to him, at least 1,000 times that:-

GCSE's are THE most important thing in life - they have so much to learn is so little time - their whole life depends on GCSE's.

Literally, every lesson, GCSE's tourettes non-stop.

They couldn't lay it on any thicker and then some.  And do you know what?  He gets it and so do his mates, since when did banging on at a teenager about something have any effect?  If I get asked more than once to do something (which doesn't happen often because I'm amazeballs) I feel like flicking the finger and not doing it.

So teachers cool you boots, they are on it, they know.  It's been 2.5 weeks enough already.  Stop the 'pressure talk' and concentrate on the teaching and less of the lecturing.

Teenagers and Toddlers - not that different

I've had two toddlers and now have one teenager, the other four years off becoming one; I'll be a total expert by then of course!  I was having a not so pleasant discussion with the teenager the other day about why he couldn't stay out when it was dark at 9pm.  The argument hinged on my unfairness and my lack of trust.  Of course I explained that it was more about that, he had no lights on his bike and that he would have to cycle across a field in the dark, as well as cycle on some busy roads.  He just couldn't and did not want to see reason and had to have the last word, and I mean the very, very last word.  Just like when a toddler has an epic tantrum about, oh I don't know, everything.  

No matter what you do or say they are still inconsolable, feet slamming on the floor and fat frustrated tears flowing, over toast cut into squares and not triangles or an episode Pingu ending.  Even as I was walking downstairs the teen was still talking to me about it, shouty-mumbling to be precise.  I had to leave him to it, there would be no end to the conversation if we had stayed in the same room.  I was out of order - FACT.    The best advice I was given when my two were toddlers, was to ignore the tantrum, make sure they were safe, but to just ignore it.  Giving the tantrum attention is like pouring petrol on a fire.  So I poured no more petrol on to the teen fire and it eventually went out.

LOL

I work from home doing various things to earn a living.  Now and again I find a note from the children in my office.  Here's the latest one, done by the teen whilst he was doing some homework on stakeholders for his business studies GSCE.  I concur LOL.

Shrieking in the park

I saw an old school Mum-friend recently; she'd been in the USA for three years.  I was with my teen in the local park when I bumped into her.  Some of the enthusiasm Americans are known for had certainly rubbed off on her; she shrieked like she was at a ball game when she saw us; "Oh my gosh, your son, he's just gorgeous, those eyes, I can't believe how much he has grown, he’s so tall, 14 wow amazing" and on and on she went, so much so my teen wandered off looking acutely embarrassed and puzzled.  Of course I think he’s as handsome as they come, I’m his mother it’s a given.  But as much as I felt that her words and expression were too over the top and frankly inappropriate, there was a side of me that felt chuffed by what she had said.  Something akin to those pedigree dog owners at Crufts, who parade their perfectly preened dogs around the ring in front of the judges. (For the record he'd be a Golden Retriever with a touch Red Setter) Not that I plan on putting him on a lead and trotting him through town!   I think yes, I’ve done a good job over the past 14 years or so, high and low points but mostly OK.  And why not have a random person shriek like a loon in public about him from time to time.

Dyslexia - we don't do that face, ever

If you ever want an afternoon where you wish to depress yourself into a black hole of grimness just Google 'dyslexia'  You will see that there are two distinct categories into which you could fall if you are dyslexic; the very slim chance of being like total genius mega-bucks Richard Branson or most likely a serial prison visitor for petty-crime and drugs. Seriously, go do it now.  The teenager is dyslexic, picked up at primary school in Y3 by a great teacher, he's now just started Y10.  Like the common cold there is a wide and varied scale of how this affects people, with my teen it's spelling and writing, so much so he gets a reader and scribe in most of his exams.  The proof is in the pudding as he has done test with no help and he's not even finished the paper and his result was inline with bedrock, with help and he's up in the clouds with a finished paper.  Just proves he knows what he wants and needs to say, his brain and hand just don't work well together.

But we don't do that face, the sort of woeful face, with sad eyes and a down-turned mouth, which is what a lot of the so call industry do that has sprung up to do with dyslexia do. Talk about a half full glass ethos.

I once went to a conference designed to help parents with dyslexic children and it was as it was full of misery-loves-company type people.   The endless talk of 'special schools' or 'not academic children' and 'lifelong issues faced' was enough to make me reach for a crack-pipe.  I left at lunchtime and went to Pret to have a brownie to cheer myself up.  Are there worse things a child could have?  You bet there are.  This down-trodden attitude is no good for anyone, least of all the child.  Yes it's an utter arse-ache at times and he gets thoroughly pissed off with it all.  It's fortunate he lives in 2016 with voice to text tech, iPhone voice memos, shit-hot teachers who email home Power Point presentations from lessons and quite frankly the list of stuff you can get your hands on to help is endless and free (he learnt to type for free for example).  You just need to get off your arse, investigate stuff and do what works for you. But never ever do 'that face' as if your world has ended.  Oh a never to go a dyslexia conference unless there is a Pret nearby. My teens glass is not only half full, but brimming over with fizzy pop.

Here is a great book on the subject with no self-pity crap anywhere to be seen The Dyslexia Advantage

Shit, I'm older

Now I have a teenager it made me realise I am getting older, I know, like durr.  I remember my 87 year-old Grandmother telling me she still felt 25 in her head, but her body just disagreed with her and to quote unquote 'it pissed her off' and I sooo get that now.  I once could work all day and drink and party all night, just turn my knickers inside out and rock up at 9am at the office with a cappuccino looking like a fresh faced super model (ish) with the vitality of a sheepdog!  Now I more mint tea/Estee Lauder Overnight Repair Serum/vitality of a hedgehog on a good day.

Ten years of having babies and caring for your children makes you knackered, worn out, brain fried; and of course I wouldn't change it for the world and I never ever want to spend another day wearing inside-out knickers. Now they are older 14.5 and 9.5 the freedom is creeping back in, they are less hands on manual heavy, they do their own stuff and you get get on with yours.  I still have that party animal in me; check me out going to bed at 2am at the weekend, after a hard-core night out, smashing it at game of Pointless, walking home drunk, in the middle of the road after eating a selection of cheeses from around the globe.  Told you, still got it.

Brotherly Love

I have a love and loathe kind of relationship with my two year older brother.  He was protective at school, but I was not allowed to look at him at school, let alone talk to him.  When the class bitch pushed me down the steps of a school coach after a swimming trip, he jumped off the wall he was sitting on with his oh so cool mates and slapper her across the face.
Everyone froze except me and my heroic bro, we moved thought the pause of people quickly, my knees red hot from the pavement scrape.  I thought right there and then to myself 'wow, my brother is a super-hero!'  He's done the same sort of thing on and off over the years; after a particularly nasty work incident he told me he could arrange to have their 'palms blow torched' as much as I would have loved to say yes, I declined. This is the same brother who once put all my soft toys in the big chest freezer we had in the garage as a joke, I can still remember that the ears of my Snoopy were stuck frozen to the side of his head.  He also gave me some plaque disclosing tablets telling me they were new sweets; I foam pink at the mouth all the way home.  Siblings, brothers, sisters and brothers and sisters can be vile to one another but I reckon most of the time they have your back even when you are 45.  What stories my two boys, the teenager and his younger brother will have when they are older I have no idea!

Nice Tits

So after a care-free Summer in which I hardly saw the teenager as he was off with shis mates from lunchtime till dusk.  He woke between 11 - 12, consumed a large amount of Oats & More, with even more toast with jam and lemon curd.  Then he was off on his bike, yes with a cycle helmet on.  He told me I was just like Claire from Modern Family; in a recent episode watched together Claire chased Luke down the road yelling about the helmet.  I'm not quite that bad, instead I use my mate who is a critical injury specialist lawyer to tell him tales of crushed brains, popping eye-balls and horrific injuries to ensure the helmet goes on each and every time.  It works, try it, scaring the utter shit out of the them way outweighs any banter from his mates about it.  And to be honest most do wear the helmet.  We did have a fun chat one night when he asked me why a girl had Snap Chat'd him a picture of her cleavage.   Hmmm, was my reaction.  He then went on to tell me she had been texting him a lot asking him to meet up, asking him where he was going, why didn't he respond to her, was he at football later etc  The texts and messages were endless.  He had not replied to any, as he says 'girls are too much effort' and after that barrage of messaging it would seem so.  Not to mention the 'Sharpie eybrows' 'endless tears' and 'shreiking' that he finds perplexing.  I didn't know the girls parents but I knew a mutual friend, who passed on the details.  Her Mum called, mortified and thankful and the same time.  I felt awkward talking to her, but I asked myself the question, would I have like to have known?  The answer was yes.  Drama over, girl now told to cool it, all is well again. He's nearly 15 and is literally more interested Fifa, football, movies and his mates than girls.  It will flip I'm sure, but eventually boobs on his iPhone will, I am sure, be a lot more interesting at some point.

PS: Pic shown not actual boobs mentioned, just a random internet pic to illustrate and wow what a selection to choose from when you Google 'cleavage'  80% fake I reckon.