the headlights of an oncoming train.
It’s always been one of my favourite “Murphy’s Law” sayings… but somehow it seems to have become my motto for life. What I’d do without God holding me together I don’t know, I think I’d be a crumpled heap on the floor (except that the place is such a tip that there’s not much floor to crumple onto – thank heaven for clutter, that’s all I say… it’s keeping me upright)
It has suddenly become apparent to me that Tiddles cannot return to school. Things are going to wrong, and he’s not going to manage to break free from things without being taken out of that environment. Trouble is, I go back to work on Thursday. So here I am, frantically trying to explore the ins and outs of home education, frantically trying to establish a working environment for him, frantically trying to fix up cover for him while I’m at work, and it’s all got to be done by Thursday. My home seriously needs sorting out (The Wightmeet in April is proving simultaneously a source of stress and the perfect motivator, as I know I need to get on and do it so I am forcing myself to overcome my reluctance and actually do something!) and with Dad’s bungalow going on the market in April I also need to get on top of sorting things there. And that’s before we start talking about the plans for the extension being with the planning office and me needing to decide precisely what I want in the plans for the builders.
The other problem, of course, is that Tiddles is finding the adjustment difficult… I have been advised by home educators that it takes about one month of “detox” for each year the child has been in school… and that it’s best to leave the first year to just gentle readjustment rather than hoping for any learning. Hmmmmm… not easy. Especially when you have a younger child who’s still at school – a very good school – and feels he’s missing out just because he’s being good. But the level of learning Tiddles needs in order to get the GCSEs he needs for nursing is definitely book based.. and somehow I have to get him able to take on some responsibility himself for his learning. I think I’d have been perfectly happy home educating him from the start – I’d often said I’d love to do it and it’d have been right for him too – but starting now at fourteen is daunting, and especially doing it because it’s the only way to keep him safe rather than because I have a personal drive towards home education. The exuberance I felt at bringing Dad safely home and now rediscovering my own life seems a bit of a distant memory at the moment, and there’s little time to grieve either. But there’s lots of good friends, and love, and with God on our side we will come through this, our next hurdle in the race of life. And they haven’t yet worn me to such a frazzle that I’ve totally lost my sense of humour.
Lots of people are saying “And what are you doing to protect yourself? This is a lot to carry on your shoulders, how are you managing to cope with it?”. They say it in a loving way and I really appreciate their concern and support. Trouble is, what’s the answer?