When not parenting 3 kids (one in a wheelchair, one with Aspergers and one poor child stuck in the middle, all with an undiagnosed genetic condition), she can often be found trying to change the world, usually after the kids are in bed. Nocturnal megalomaniac. Rarely sleeps. Often Tired.
When not parenting 3 kids (one in a wheelchair, one with Aspergers and one poor child stuck in the middle, all with an undiagnosed genetic condition), she can often be found trying to change the world, usually after the kids are in bed. Nocturnal megalomaniac. Rarely sleeps. Often Tired.
Find more about me on:
Being in a hospital waiting room is like being stuck at an airport waiting for a delayed plane, although without the promise of a holiday at the end of it. Dominic and I usually sit and while away the time staring at a small screen, me on Facebook him on the DSi. We're generally happy
It was Easter Sunday last week, and my Facebook page was littered with people reminding me to remember the true meaning of Easter which apparently has nothing to do with chocolate. How disappointing. Although to be fair, for the most part, in our family it kind of isn’t anymore anyway. It is not, however, because
They say that life changing events change you for the better. But nothing healthy or good has emerged from coming so close to losing Dominic. It has broken me and scarred me. It just made me so very sad, so very scared and so very lonely. But finding my way out and learning to accept that I could never have my ignorance back, that once you have felt the pain of saying goodbye you can never win back the peace that other parents seem to take for granted all around you has become part of my journey. It’s something that has woven itself into the way I see the world, see my family and ultimately see myself. It is part of everything, so it is undoubtedly part of my normal daily life.
I thought that perhaps my days of being able to surreptitiously gather ammunition for free and guiltless use against my children when they morph into grunting, fridge-clearing Neanderthals teenagers were all but over. Certainly my oldest (who is 9, but shows signs of precocious development of the evil genius trait earlier than I had originally
It's been a strange old week. First I found out that you lovely people have nominated me for an award despite my British reserve and lack of confidence having prevented me from asking anyone to even consider me. I have since added the badge that is meant to encourage you to vote: if you look
Facebook
Flickr
Google Plus
LinkedIn
Pinterest
Twitter
YouTube