Healthy Kids – revisited and assimilated

Posted on September 3, 2009 by attamum

I’ve been wondering how to bring all my random scribblings together in one place, so I thought I’d start with this one as it seemjed a) the easiest one to start with and b) still relevant to our lives. It was a blog I called ‘Healthy Kids’ and I managed one whole post! This is what I wrote originally:

I’ve been thinking about starting this blog for a while now. My main motivation is the fact that we all, as a family, seem to have been getting really out of shape over the last year or so and I wanted to try and find a way to encourage some changes without making any of my children feel self-conscious. There are issues around eating disorders in our family in the past so I want to be as sensitive as possible to the needs of every member of the family, and anyone else who reads this blog. I guess what I’m saying is that this is most emphatically NOT a diet blog or a ‘fat camp’ blog. What it is about is making changes slowly and steadily so that we can all start to embrace a new way of being.

Our eating patterns as a family have been getting healthier and healthier over the years, but there is definitely room for improvement, especially as regards encouraging the kids to eat more fruit and veg. We have few additives in our diet and sweets and crisps are kept to occasional treats, but we still all crave the ‘nasties’.

As for exercise, it feels like we used to be more active as a family than we are now. We used to live in a town until the kids were 7, 4 and 16 months and we’d be out on foot or on bikes or scooters most days, walking the dog along the beach or down the cycle path. If we needed any shopping we’d walk into town and back and it was just a part of our life to fit exercise into our day. I think it helped that none of us thought of it as ‘exercise’ it was just part of life, and fun.

Since we moved to the countryside I’ve found it quite difficult to fit the same kind of exercise into our days. The road to the nearest village is too dangerous to walk the kids along and the only circular walk from our house is at least two and a half hours long, which is great once in a while, but kids really need achieveable, short-burst activities. We now have a bigger garden than we’ve ever had (we moved from a terraced house with a concrete courtyard) and the kids have a climbing frame and a trampoline, but they seem almost phobic about going outside. I’d have put it down to the change of scenery but we’ve been here three years now, you’d think that would be long enough for them to adjust.

So what I’m hoping for from this blog is to find new ways of looking at our diet and exercise and help the kids, and us, stay as healthy as possible. If you’d like to share the journey with us, please do. You’re very welcome.

 It’s really interesting to read what I wrote then and to have a go at an update. Well, it felt like things didn’t really improve as regards exercise, but looking back I remember a few cycle rides and walks and swimming, so I guess we didn’t do all that bad. Also the road into the village has been improved and a fantastic footpath has been added. And we’ve doggedly continued strewing fruit and veg in front of the children in the hope that they’ll give in and try it. One of the kids will eat almost whatever is put in front of her, but the other two are still a bit resistant, one of them, I feel, on principle. Just as they look with disdain on anything overtly educational, so too the idea of healthy food is met with high-minded refusal.

I’m hoping that the addition of a dog into the brew is going to produce results. The great thing is that puppies are not suppose to be over-exercised: five minutes of walking per  month of their age, thus 15 minuts at 3 months. So I’m hoping that the kids will barely notice as the amount of walking increases, as they’ll be too busy running after Charlie. Sneaky eh? And as is the way with these things, after a while I’m hoping that the endorphins will start to kick in and they’ll find they no longer mind or even notice the distance. When we first got Merlin I realised that I really missed walking if I wasn’t able to get out some days. It had become its own virtuous circle. I like stuff like that, that grows organically as it were:-)

Posted in getting healthy | 2 Comments

Reclaiming our life

Posted on August 31, 2009 by attamum

I can’t believe that it’s not actually that long since I posted last, it feels like such a lot has been happening . That coupled with the fact that I know how rubbish I am at posting. I’ve toyed with the idea of setting up another blog for brief posts, that way I might be able to blog a bit more often. Maybe limit myself to one minute of writing. I’d still keep this one on for longer cogitating.

Well, some exciting stuff has been going on here. I arrived home from camp to find a message in my inbox that a friend had sent about there being one male labrador puppy left out of a litter in a town not too far from us. We’d planned on leaving getting another dog till late september at the earliest, but this message got me thinking. I pondered for a couple of days and then rang the number only to find that the puppy had already been taken, but  by then the ‘damage’ had been done and I realised that I was actually aching to have a puppy. I put it at the back of my mind and set to on tidying the pantry, throwing away all the out of date stuff including the medicines. I came across some of Merlin’s very expensive tablets and Daddy Bear rang the vet to see if we could get any money back on them. While he was on the phone the receptionist happened to mention a litter of labrador puppies even nearer to us. We discussd it for a while, then I rang about them. The owners seemed really keen for us to come and have a look at the pups, which we arranged to do that evening. When we got there the puppies were let out into the garden and it suddenly seemed as though there was a carpet of labradors. You could barely put your foot down without treading on a wriggling, tail-wagging, squirming little bundle of fluff and fun. We thought it would be really difficult to choose one, but in the end he chose us. There were four yellow ones and four black ones. As our Big Girl had sadly lost a yellow lab at the tragically early age of fifteen weeks, we knew we couldn’t have a yellow one, so they were put back in their kennel, along with the black bitch and the black dog, wo were already taken. That left two black males, one of whom ignored us completely while the other one chased the girls around the garden and then came and stood in between my legs. Job done. We arranged to pick him up at the weekend after we’d bought him a bed and some food and a toy and all the other necessaries. The journey home from meeting him for the first time was a bit dewy-eyed for me. I just knew this wa sthe right thing. We’re a dog family who’d been temporarily dogless and now the natural order was being restored. Taking him home from the breeders on the sunday was a traumatic event for the puppy (who was named Charlie on the journey). First he did a wee down my front, then he threw up all over his brand new bed, which was on my lap. We’d been throwing various names around for a few days, none of which we could agree on. Besides we figured we needed to get to know him for a while before we chose a name that really fitted. And Charlie really does fit, as he’s a proper charlie, full of mischief and silliness. Despite the tiredness and the puddles and piles, he’s brought smiles and hope back to our family. We can think of our life with him and it seems to make the future more tangible somehow, maybe it’s because we know he’ll grow so quickly, whereas the kids growth will take a relatively longer time. I hope that makes sense. The merlin-shaped hole in our lives will never be filled and never could be, but Charlie will make his own palce in our family, which will be a different shape.

Having Charlie in the family, amongst other things that have been going on, has made me think about what’s not ‘right’ in our lives. This year has been such a trauma for home educators. I was thinking about it this morning. For a week or so at the very beginning of the year we were all in blissful ignorance of what was to come then suddenly the review was announced, and nothing has been the same since. At first I remember feeling shocked and worried and then more optimistic and feeling that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible and that maybe the bad man would see that home ed doesn’t need fixing or tinkering with. Then the feeling of dread descended as it became clear that the bad man had no real intention of engaging with anyone and had already decided what was to happen even before the review was concluded. This, along with another bizarre twist in the proceedings, left me feeling baffled,anxious and scared, so that when the report came out I was dismayed and angry but not entirely surprised. What surprised me was the scale and scope of the recommendations. Since then I’ve been through various emotions and felt tied to the computer, in case I miss a vital piece of info or call to action. It has taken me away from my family, at least mentally and emotionally, and although I can see and hear me shutting myself away in cyberspace and blogworld I can’t seem to stop. The kids are pretty good at amusing themselves but that’s not the point. I don’t like what ‘s happening and what has been happening to me. I even find myself wasting valuable  energy, not to mention real time, getting mentally and emotionally drawn in to the arguments about and between organisations, and fighting the shadow of one deliberately provocative blogger. I need to work out what’s really important to me, and Charlie has been a way of trying to reclaim my sanity and my family. Although the review recommendations are trundling towards us like a steamroller,and I fear that nothing will stop them, I have to find a way to thwart the feeling of hopelessness at least on a personal level. One way to do that is to determinedly live, really live, our lives. Apart from replying to the consultation, which I’m not going to do until I have at least an inkling of what the select committee is going to do and say, I’ve done what I can.I wrote to my mp and got a very positive response along with another signature for the best of the early day mothions. I’d like to try and get a submission for the select committee together but haven’t the first clue where to start. Besides, it’s getting too late to organise anything,and I admit I’m relying on other people more erudite than me submitting something far morre eloquent and useful than I ever could.

I don’t want t throw the baby out with the bath water and give up cyber space altogether. The solidarity and support it gives me are invaluable and actually essential to my daily life as a Hedder, but I have to try and strike a balance. Maybe set myself a time limit, or a particular time of day. I’ll really struggle with that though as I really like to be free to be spontaneous and choose what and when and how long I do things for,it’s what I want for the children so why not for me too?

I could try a complete break, but just as I can’t read a book and skip parts, I feel that, if I miss something that was said on a group while I was away, I have to go back and make sure I’ve read everything, or at least not missed anything. And as everyting is hotting up with deadlines looming large out of the mist, is now really the time to take a back seat? But then again, how much difference can I actually make to all of this. Maybe my energy would be better spent on planning my civil disobedience if/when the recommendations come in. But that could take many months. I can’t stand this feeling of being controlled by outside events for all that time, I would have effectively spent more than a year being tied to this process, which makes me really angry. How DARE they waste my time like this?!

I haven’t come to any conclusions. Maybe some of you out there have managed to find a balance?

Posted in badman, Charlie | 1 Comment

camping it up

Posted on August 21, 2009 by attamum

This summer we have mostly been…camping. Or that’s how it feels anyway. We had tried camping in groups in the past with varying degrees of success and enjoyment and I think I’d decided that it just wasn’t for us. I did however envy those who enjoyed it and were able to ‘up and off’ on a cheap getaway, so when the opportunity, and support, came up this summer I decided to give it another try. We were lent a tent and a helping hand for our first try, which lasted 3 nights. It chucked it down, and there were a couple of dramas with other campers, but we were snug and felt very comfortable with friends who held my hand when I got a bit wobbly. It buoyed me up enough to try it again, this time for 5 nights, in Scotland to visit my Big Girl. She had friends to stay at her little place so offered us her tent. We found a nearby campsite and away we went. Again I had a lot of help putting the tent up and I knew the area quite well so we had plenty to do while we were there. The weather wasn’t brilliant, but we were warm enough and again we survived to give it another go. By our third trip, after a one night mini camp in the garden with our friend with the tent we’ve just bought, I was feeling a lot more confident and, if I remember, I think I was actually excited to be setting off to do it all on our own this time. I managed to put the tent up, and get it down again at the end of our trip, with help from the kids. I even managed to pack, unload and load up the roof box on my own, at my height no mean feat.

So I think we can safely say that we’ve well and truly embarked on this camping journey, but I’m still not certain that I actually ‘get’ this camping lark. I’ve been thinking about all the different campers we’ve met and there seems to be a continuum of types of campers. There are non-campers, then there are reluctant campers, virgin campers, interemediate campers,seasoned campers and finally, the nirvana of camping, happy campers. Maybe I won’t really appreciate the whole experience till I’m out of virgin territory. There were things I  really enjoyed and which gave me a warm glow inside, such as making and breaking camp all by myself, and setting up my little kitchen (windbreak, low table, stove, washing up bowl, kettle) and watching the kids going off and exploring and being outside a lot of the time. Equally there were things I could have done without such as squabbling rooks and seagulls fighting over scraps of food right outside my tent at stupid o’clock in the morning, little Hitlers who think they can make up their own rules about what others on the campsite can do and tipping down rain. There are also things I’m not sure I’ll find a way round such as going to bed freezing cold and waking up too hot. Sharing a bed with a 5 year old octopus didn’t help with that one as she’d get too hot and throw the covers off which left me scrabbling to pull them back over me before I turned to ice. Many’s the night that I had the covers pulled right over my head, and even sticking just my nose out lowered my body temperature by way too many degrees. Then there’s the uncertainty of whether you’re going to wake up in the middle of the night needing to go. And if you do need to you lie there debating with yourself whether to try and make it till morning until you’re so awake you might as well get up and go anyway. There’s also the problem that the kids won’t sleep till it’s properly pitch dark and then get woken up with the sun. The resulting sleep deprivation for all was tough to deal with. I really don’t have a handle yet on the food aspect either. I decided that I wasn’t even going to try and cook, so we’d have one meal out per day and have cereal and sarnies the rest of the time, which doesn’t make for a very balanced diet, but something has to give. Camping isn’t supposed to be torture (I’m presuming). 

I’m sure that I’ll get more discerning as we go along as regards choosing which camps to join in with, how to choose a good campsite, how to choose a good pitch when we get there and how to field the little triumphs and crises that come our way. I’m still prepared to give it a try and see how we go.

Posted in camping, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

gaining perspective, I hope

Posted on July 20, 2009 by attamum

A few days ago Daddy Bear and I were chatting about life in general and a project of his that was coming up that he was really excited about. I said how great it was that he could be doing something he really enjoyed. He agreed and said he wished I could find something I really loved too. Then he said ‘You used to really enjoy being a mum’. I was suddenly struck to the core. He didn’t mean it in a nasty way, far from it, but I suddenly realised that he was right. I did really enjoy being a mum, but recently it’s just felt like a hard slog. It’s not the kids themselves, although they can be hard work at times. It’s the stress of this whole situation and the fact that I can’t see an end to it. I’m stressed out and the kids seemed to pick up on that. And they seem really stressed too at times. Then I start blaming myself, because it’s obviously my fault, or that’s how it seems. If I was a better mum I’d be able to keep them happy. This endless guilt-feeling then pervades everything and I start to feel that I’m not doing anything ‘right’. It’s at times like this that attitudes such as those in the Badman report really start to get to me, and I wonder what on earth I’m doing, home educating three kids. I mean if I’m not teaching them stuff how can they possibly be getting a ‘suitable education’? Little things become huge and loom over me like giant shadows. And everything becomes my problem to solve. It’s a paralysing feeling.

I’m so angry and worried and stressed that the only way to deal with it seems to be to plug myself almost permanently in to the computer so that I can keep myself up to date with what’s happening. The trouble is it doesn’t seem to be helping. It only adds to my feelings of impotence, and takes me away from the kinds of things I ‘ought’ to be doing to keep myself sane. I’m sure the kids are sick of seeing the back of my head and hearing my non-commital mumblings. I’m not eating well, and I know that I should be in order to keep myself on an even keel. It’s just one more chore though. Eating properly is hard work.

I’ll be taking the kids to Scotland camping at the end of the week. We’ll be borrowing my Big Girl’s tent and camping in the grounds of a castle. There’ll be trips to the beach and visits to interesting places and a chance to really connect with the children again without all the usual distractions. There may also be  freezing, shivery sleeping-bagged nights and the threat of another dose of d and v, but I’m on the case and will do all I can to make it pleasant and healthy. I learnt a lot from the last camp we went on. It’ll be just a few days and nights but I really hope it might give me a little perspective on this whole distressing time.

A couple of years ago I stopped watching or listening to any news on the tv or radio because I felt that, as it was mostly bad news, it was distressing to listen to and there was nothing I could do about any of the news I listened to so it was ultimately a pointless exercise. What was the point in keeping myself informed about things I was powerless to influence? The difference with this situation is that I am involved, whether I like it or not, and I can’t choose to ignore it because it won’t ignore me or my family. It’s hard to know whether I’ve done all I can do, which is one of the only ways for me to deal with it. If I get to the end of it and feel I could have influenced the outcome differently if I’d done this or that, I’ll feel like I’ve failed my family, so I’m tring to pre -empt all that by second-guessing what this or that could be,and making sure I’ve done it. I know none of this is personal, but it feels like it is. It’s my family it’ll be affecting. It’s my children’s home that’ll be invaded by strangers. It’s our whole way of life that’s under threat and that can be taken away from us on a whim.

Here’s hoping I come back feeling refreshed and renewed.

Posted in autonomous home education, badman, home ed, parenting, wobbles | 3 Comments

Let’s go round again

Posted on July 12, 2009 by attamum

I have become so sick of waking in the morning feeling angry and upset, so I spent some time yesterday listing in my head all the adjectives I could think of to describe how I am feeling. I was going to note them all here this morning to try and exorcise the helplessness that overcomes me. Strangely enough though, when I woke up this morning another idea suggested itself and I entertained myself for a while seeing how it developed in my head. This is the result: 

Ok now. Are those straps nice and comfy? The ones round your wrist? And your ankles? Not too tight? Good. How about the one round your waist? Well, we wouldn’t want you sliding off, now would we?. Mind you centrifugal force will probably hold you on once we get going. Hark at me using big words like centrifugal. Must have learnt something in school after all, eh? A gag? Whatever gave you that idea? We wouldn’t be able to talk about how it’s going would we? No, I think that one’s a non-starter. Oh, now you’re just being silly. How would I be able to see what I’m doing if I’ve got a blindfold on? Well, it may be how all the best ones do it, but they’ve had years of practice. I’m sure they all had to start somewhere.

Sorry what was that? This sharpener’s awfully loud when it gets going isn’t it? My desired/ planned outcomes? Well, I guess that would be for the knives to hit the board. Somewhere. Eventually. Ouch! Yes they’re ready. Now I wonder whether I should take the systematic, step-by-step approach or just hurl myself into it. Ah well, never one to do things the conventional way. Let’s just do it, eh? Sorry, what was that? You thought we were going to agree on a twelve month plan? I hardly think that’s necessary, this isn’t going to last that long, more’s the pity… Anyway, enough of this nattering, we’re not getting any learning done just talking about it are we? So, here we go, I just push this bit of the table and: Round and round and round he goes, where he stops nobody knows. It’s making me dizzy just looking at you, maybe a blindfold would have been a better idea. No matter. I’ll just focus on the middle distance. Now, slowly back… and…throw! How was that one? Did it hit anywhere? Erk, yes I can see that. Better luck next time,eh? Yes, I’m sure there’s a first-aider around here somewhere. Still we’ll leave that for later. Wouldn’t want to interrupt the flow. How on earth would I learn if I was flitting from one thing to another all the time? No, sorry, you”re just going to have to sit tight and let me get on with it. Let’s try another one. There! Much better. Very nearly hit the wood that time, if only your arm hadn’t got in the way like that.  

 Well, I suppose I could have taken lessons in it from an expert, but I find that when you’ve mastered something by your own efforts it’s more, well, satisfying, don’t you think? Look I’m half way there, I reckon. Could you be quiet for a minute, do you think, and let me concentrate? Got to get in the zone. Whoosh! Don’t they make a lovely noise whizzing through the air? Oh, what are you complaining about now!? I only nicked a bit of skin that time. Pretty good throw I thought, right in the middle of the board. Bull’s eye, I’d say. Sorry? It’s pinned your what? Odd, didn’t think you had any of those. Oh well, you live and learn.

You’re slowing down a bit. I’ll just give it another push. Oh that’s much better. I can hardly see you. You’re just a blur. Funny how the colours all meld into each other like that. You’ve gone all grey. No your clothes, I mean. Ok, hold onto your hat. No I know you’re not wearing a hat. Have you never heard of a figure of speech? You’re a what? Oh I see, your background is in science not english. You ought to know all about basing conclusions on evidence then. Let’s give you some more shall we? How about that one? And that one? and that one? Well, I thought that was the whole idea. You do something repetitively and you automatically improve. Well, now, that’s not very supportive, is it? I’ve only tried six of them.

You’re really going to have to stop screaming. How do you expect me to focus with that racket going on? It’s really quite hypnotic watching you go round and round and round and round. Huh? You’re … sounding…very … faint… Oh yes. Sorry, I was miles away. Well, how on earth would I be able to hit you, er, the board if I really was. You don’t seem to have grasped even the basic mechanics of this. Let’s try one last one, shall we? Call it my valedictory. It’s a  term Americans use. Never heard of it? Oh well, we’ve both learnt something then. Let’s make this one a good one. And… whack! Oh yes, definitely the best so far. I can see you’re quite speechless. No, didn’t catch that. Say again. Through the what? Oh well, that’d explain it then. No wonder I can’t make out what you’re saying. Nope, still sounds like gobbledigook to me. I’m going to have to pull that one out. Oh, don’t be such a baby. A little bit of pain never hurt anyone. Now, now, the bell’s for me, not you. Actually it’s my ringer timer. The kids have been doing some baking while we’ve been learning this new skill.

You’ll have to speak a bit slower. Well, it’s all swollen for a start. I can barely understand one word in three. Try again. Measuring my progress against my plans?  I guess that would be counting the number of knives that hit the board and stayed in. Well, that’s all of them then. Oh except the one that bounced off your head. Must have been due to the thickness of your parietal bone. That’s biology. Well, anatomy actually.  Sorry? I don’t see how that’s an accurate gauge. I mean what’s the amount of blood got to do with anything? I’d say that was more of an unintended outcome. Still, I reckon I score quite highly on that too. What do you think? Hello? Are you still there?Well, now. That’s not very professional, is it? The least he could do was stay awake. It really is impossible to find someone with the necessary qualities these days.

Posted in home ed | 2 Comments

I dreamed a dream…

Posted on June 28, 2009 by attamum

The stress I’ve been feeling about the badman review has been causing me a few sleep problems. I wake very early, suddenly wide awake with sleep a million miles away, but with my eyes feeling gritty and sore. There follows a sickening thudding of the heart as I realise what has woken me so rudely, again. Every morning is like groundhog day. An endless stream of worry, anger, disbelief, helplesness, and despair with no sign of relief in sight. Usually I manage to get back to sleep, but when that happens I wake up later than I’d like and less alert than at stupid o’clock in the morning.

The time between the two unhappy awakenings is often filled with weird and vivid dreams, two of which have stayed with me recently. In the first dream I discovered I was pregnant. The only reason I knew this was that I was in labour. No one seemed willing to either believe me or to help. So I was having to deal with my own shock at the unexpected state of affairs and others’ callous disregard for my pain. I used to be very interested in the meaning of dreams and would have interepreted this one to mean that I have a new project, which has been forced upon me and which came out of nowhere. Those whom I should have been able to rely on for help were actively making things worse. Or maybe I just had a bad stomach ache in my sleep and this dream was a manifestation of that.

The second dream appears to need no interpretation. I was at a party where the guest of honour was the badman. He asked people to tell him what they thought of the review, so I joined the queue and when it was my turn I tried to explain to him exactly how destructive and disrespectful the recommendations were to me and my family, but he appeared not to be listening, constantly turning to the more entertaining people around him. I ended up shouting at him in an effort to be heard, but although he had his ear turned towards me it was clear that he wasn’t hearing.

However depressing the situation is I’m determined not to be brought low by it all. I have to find the confidence in myself and in what we do as a family to stand up and draw my own line in the sand. Writing this I am suddenly reminded of my eldest daughter’s first day at school. I am thinking more specifically of my sad, ponderous walk home on my own after having dropped her off. I felt that I had left her entirely in the company of strangers, who had no idea of, or respect for, my views and values and who would do their best to overwrite these with their own. I remember feeling completely helpless then, as helpless as I often feel now. The difference now is that I know that there is an alternative, one that works not just for me and my family but for countless families all over the world. It can’t be shoved aside no matter how often one person ‘believes’ it can. It is worth fighting for. I will never, ever walk that walk again.

Posted in autonomous home education, badman, home ed | 2 Comments

Badman report on the review into home education

Posted on June 14, 2009 by attamum

For the last ten years our children have been growing, playing and learning without interference from outside agencies, yet if the author of this report has his way, after the 19th October we will be acting illegally. Will we have suddenly started to abuse our children? Or neglect them? No. We will be acting illegally because we choose to autonomously home educate our children. One of the recommendations of this report is that “At the time of registration parents/carers/guardians must provide a clear statement of their educational approach, intent and desired/planned outcomes for the child over the following twelve months.” Anyone who knows anything about autonomous education, and from this report it is clear that Mr Badman neither understands nor wants to learn about it, knows that this recomendation is a nonsense. I can no longer say what my desired/ planned outcomes of my children’s education over a year would be than I would be able to accurately predict the weather. In fact predicting the weather would be a darned sight easier. My children learn what they learn when they learn it. End of.

 People are often incredulous when I try to explain it to them, my own family included. It is hard to let go of the belief that in order to learn something children must be taught. However over the last ten years I have had it proved to me by my children that this is not necessarily the case. My ten year old son taught himself to read at the age of six with no more input from me than reading books to him. My seven year old daughter is teaching herself to read in a totally different way, which works very well for her. I began to worry about my son learning to spell as he is a reluctant writer, yet when I asked him to write about his dreams, as he is always telling us about them, he typed a fairly lengthy piece on the computer which was word (and punctuation) perfect except for one word – tortoise. He really didn’t need to be discretely taught to spell. He reads so much for pleasure that spelling comes with it as easily as crawling, walking and running did when he was younger.

These desired/ planned outcomes will have to be agreed by a LA official. This seems odious to me as I will no longer be responsible for  my children’s education. Someone else will. If I try to circumvent this directive by stating the very minimum I expect my children to achieve I can easily imagine that the official will say it won’t be enough. My only hope is that the official assigned to me and my family will be sympathetic to AE. It seems unfair though that I have to cling to the vague hope that this one person will understand our approach.  

To say I am dismayed by all this would be to understate my feelings hugely. I am devastated. The pain I am feeling at the thought of the loss of our way of life is akin to being told that a dearly loved relative has a terminal illness. I am losing sleep over it. My waking moments are filled with fear and panic. I hate feeling like this.

Posted in autonomous home education, badman, home ed | 1 Comment

Merlin’s last walk

Posted on May 24, 2009 by attamum

Today we took Merlin for his last walk up the fell. Daddy Bear went to the vet to collect his ashes while I cooked us brunch, then we got the kids kitted out in ‘getting muddy gear’ and suitable footwear and we set off up the fell behind our house. It’s part of the Pennine Way and we met a few hardy souls on the way up. The first part of the walk, the slog uphill, was accompanied by obligatory moaning and whingeing from the kids. We had to cajole and nearly bully them to press on past the sheep and cows (cows always freak me a bit when I’ve got the kids with me, especially if they have calves at foot as they do at this time of year). The livestock were very well-behaved though, and we managed the stiles and muddy, boggy bits with a minimum of fuss and made it to the top. It was breezy but warm on top of the fell, and the views as always were stunning. We stopped for a well-earned drink and some Hobnobs, and after that it was a lot easier to keep them going. We met a couple of guys with their lovely brown and white Border Collie and big sister told them all about what we were doing and pointed to Daddy Bear’s backpack which contained Merlin’s ashes. They were very sympathetic and I could see them sneaking glances at their own lovely pooch. I just know that they’ll make the most of their dog while they have him.

As soon as our house came in sight we took the ashes out and checked the way the wind was blowing. As luck would have it the wind would carry Merlin down the fell in the direction of our house. Each of the kids had a handful or two, held it carefully then they let the ashes go as though they were setting a bird free. It really was a magical moment, and we said a silent ’Goodbye’. We saved some of the ashes for later in the walk and set off downhill to a little farm shop where the kids were rewarded with some melting moments biscuits. It was far from a sombre occasion, with plenty of laughter and horseplay, chatting to some piglets on the way. We headed for the bridge near the village and again the kids each had a handful to throw off the bridge. It didn’t go quite so smoothly this time as there must have been an updraft from the river and the cars going past. Daddy Bear sprinkled Merlin over the edge and inevitably some of the ash came up to get us in the eye. Just Merlin’s little joke. We laughed heartily and sent him on his way downstream. So now he’ll always be there when we cross the bridge and walk along the river, and on top of the fell. And we saved some to bury in the garden so he’ll always be here too. 

 I sometimes catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye while I’m busy around the house, and if I walk into a room I expect to see him lying there waiting for me, lifting his head to greet me. I find my memories of him outside are usually of his back end trotting off in front, as that was his favourite way. Following from the front, as I put it. When I popped into town I saw a familiar back end, another leggy, lean black Labrador. I thought it would make me sad to see another Labrador, but it doesn’t. It’s not Merlin. I don’t begrudge anyone their lovely dogs. I just hope they’ll always treasure them, as we did ours.

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Merlin 1995-2009

Posted on May 13, 2009 by attamum

Yesterday we lost a member of our family. He has shared and enriched our lives for the last thirteen and a half years. He brought love and laughter to all of us, and brightened our days with his calm and loving nature. He protected me throughout my pregnancies, often putting himself in between me and anyone who he considered might be a threat to me, despite being more firmly attached to Daddy Bear (well, *he* was the one who threw the ball for him), he welcomed all our babies to the family and helped them to grow, and was a constant source of support and companionship. Even in his last days he seemed to think more of us than of himself, which made our final heart-rending act of love so much easier to bear.

A year ago he suddenly found himself unable to do the things he loved. He couldn’t even get out of our car to go on a walk with us. We discovered he’d been in pain for some time, but he’d carried on stoically, trying to do what he thought we wanted him to. His vertebrae had been slowly fusing, causing him immense pain. He was put on medication, which helped, but as his spine stiffened and his pain eased he was reduced to following us around the house and garden and occasionally going for short walks with us, but his discomfort was obvious. After all those years of looking after us, now it was our turn to look after him. He’d always hated being alone in the house, but now he was clearly telling us that he really didn’t mind spending an afternoon on the sofa while we took the children out. He’d always welcome us home with a smile and a weary wag of his tail.

He’d been coping with his lot up until a couple of weeks ago, when his back legs began to falter. Due to muscle and nerve wastage his legs could no longer support him. In his customary way, he tried to carry on as he had always done, cheerfully, calmly, always eager to please. The vet suggested acupuncture, which we tried in the hope that it would give him some relief. He submitted to it in his trusting and unquestioning way, sensing, I hope, that we were trying to help. It was all too much for him though and after we’d made the agonising decision to have him put to sleep and booked an appointment at the vet for two days hence, he deteriorated so quickly. I honestly believe that if it had been within his power to take the decision out of our hands and slip away quietly in his sleep he would have done it. He was that kind of dog.

Two days ago he managed to walk almost all the way round our house without collapsing, and we spent a lovely evening indulging his newly-discovered liking for mature Gouda. He sat on the sofa between us and treated us to a few precious hours of happiness with him. In the morning he could barely lift his head, and couldn’t even make it to the back door. He had to be helped outside for a wee and then carried indoors. He was telling us as clearly as he could that he’d had enough. As I said my last good bye to him before taking the children out so that Daddy Bear could take him to the vet, I kissed his head and his greying muzzle and told him how much we loved him and thanked him for being the best friend any family could have. He lifted his head and planted a wet smacker of a ‘licky kiss’ right on my face. A perfect gentleman right to the last.

I haven’t been able to cry yet. I’m hoping the healing tears will come. I’ve been carrying on, supporting Daddy Bear and the kids through their grief. Strangely it hasn’t felt like a huge effort on my part. I have been doing what I felt was my job. It helped me to get through it all knowing I was helping my family through the last difficult days. I will never forget my strong, beautiful, calm, wise, caring Merlin. He’s going to be such a tough act to follow, and I will always be grateful to him for showing my children the meaning of selfless love. When we get his ashes we’re going to take him to the top of the fell behind our house and let him fly free.

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Look how far we’ve come

Posted on April 28, 2009 by attamum

I’ve been thinking back to the early days of home ed and it struck me how totally different things are for me now, and probably others. I didn’t realise it at the time but we began as soon as Big Brother was born, sixteen years after our Big Girl. We made the decision proper when he was about 3. Our first contact with other home edders in our area was through the eo contact list and newsletter. I found out about who else was ‘doing it’ in our area by checking out the listings for our county and seeing who was nearest. And didn’t they all sound exotic? I remember thinking ‘Ooh, I wonder what they’re like and whether we’ll ever meet them.’ We found out about the local group that met once a fortnight, went along, liked it and kept going. Outings were decided on and arranged at the meeting and if things changed we used an old-fashioned thing called the telephone. If we wanted to meet up outside the group again the phone was used. Some people even had little tiny ones that they didn’t have to talk into, they could type little messages and send them to others who had a similar device. ( My Big Girl finally dragged me into the 21st century by flinging her old one pityingly at me.’Here Mum, have this. It’ll come in handy’. I rebelled, partly out of Luddism, but mostly because of the cost, but succumbed, at least to pay as you go). I gradually became aware of an even more exotic way of keeping in touch which involved odd squiggles and symbols. You had to choose a ‘handle’ as we used to call it in the days of cb, and then add a bit to it, which meant that you could then send messages to others who had also undergone this strange ritual (mostly my up to the minute friends who were still working). I remember being pretty Luddite about that too.And proudly so. I could access information on the interweb, but I know I didn’t really ‘get’ how a lot of that was done (elves maybe? holding up cards to the screen like Dylan did). I don’t remember exactly when I discovered email groups. I think my first was the eo list. Those funny email thingies came in thick and fast. Too fast for my poor brain. I got moaned at a lot for filling up the inbox with ‘rubbish’. Then slowly but surely I learnt to handle it a bit better, found out how to read messages on group websites and then I was truly up to speed. Now I have so many groups I have to cull them on a regular basis. Looking back I honestly don’t know how I managed without them.Or that’s the way it feels. They are such a huge part of my life now. I have a group for every possible need. It takes all my time keeping up with what’s going on with all of them. Then I discovered that I could check up on what my friends were doing in their everyday lives. It started off with people I actually knew, but soon I could peek into total strangers’ lives and even pass comment on their doings. I now had cyber friends. Finally I actually managed to make my own online journal. Mine isn’t as good as I’d like it to be. There’s so much untapped potential, full of feeds and widgets and other stuff I don’t understand. The computer calls to me every time I pass it, and I have to resist the temptation to sit and ‘listen’ to all the chat that’s going on ’out there’ (or should that be ‘in there’?). I even join in on groups where I feel at home. And now I even run a few groups of my own. Who’d've thunk it? And what’s next? I wonder.

Posted in blogging, discoveries, home ed, Uncategorized | 3 Comments