Looking Back, Gently

So it’s that time of year when we’re all encouraged, or forced to reflect on the last twelve months. Spotify Wrapped, Instagram reels, Facebook memories. All quietly reminding us what 2025 held, for better or worse.

I asked my lot what they wanted to achieve in 2026.

Kike said, “Make money.” (Always.)
Summer said, “Eat more,” which I fully support, as long as it’s not exclusively chocolate.
River was a bit of a stretch. He’s currently quoting a cartoon he’s watching on repeat about a dad getting hurt, so most of his answers were along the lines of “Daddy hurt his toe / back / neck,” and occasionally, “No holiday.”
I promise, he did enjoy it.

And me?

The last few days I’ve been doing what I said I would. Slowing everything down. Letting everyone do what they want. Trying to see the bigger picture instead of getting stuck in the hard moments.

And it’s been really good.

I honestly haven’t felt this happy or positive about the future in a long time.

Where I Was

Looking back at my mental state before I started writing, it wasn’t good. I was holding it together because, well you have to, don’t you? But I was exhausted. Scared. Unsure what was happening to my family or to me.

I’d lost parts of myself and was just going through the motions. River was extremely hard to manage. I’d isolated myself from friends and social events. Everything felt heavy and relentless.

Writing changed that.

It helped me reflect on what was actually happening. The meltdowns, the cancelled plans, the endless hours of Halloween YouTube – they’re real but they’re also just a small part of our lives, even when they feel all-consuming.

At the start of the year, River had only a few phrases: “Potty.” “Boo boo.” “Halloween.”
For three years I narrated my life to him. I stopped asking questions. I repeated his words back. We all learned to “talk River.”

And now? There’s no shutting him up.

Is it always right? No.
Does it always make sense? Definitely not.
Is he making progress? Absolutely.

This morning he climbed into bed and said, “It’s OK, everyone makes mistakes.” I looked at him, unsure what to say, and repeated it back. He smiled, mentioned Daddy being hurt, and ran off. It’ll be off the cartoon but still.

Doing Things Our Way

I wrote earlier this year about my sadness around River’s birthday, how he didn’t want to celebrate, didn’t want me to sing.

So this Christmas, we did it our way.

No wrapping presents. No visitors. No timetable. We went on holiday. Santa made an appearance. River loved his Halloween book. We all loved the sunshine.

Did we miss Christmas? Not at all.

We did exactly what our family needed.

My dad came over yesterday. We had a roast. River had a present. He lost the marble within five minutes and decided his favourite thing in the house is the mop bucket. (It does spin very fast.)

Our Christmas doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s and that’s OK.

Further Than I Thought

I also wrote about how sad I was that I didn’t travel anymore.

But look at us.

Two family holidays abroad. A trip to Bath. Trips to museums, theatres even a stay at Grandad’s house. Yes, a lot of planning. Some very tough moments. Quite a lot of vomit. But also some genuinely amazing times.

We did more than I ever thought we could.

Work, Growth and Purpose

I went back to work at the start of the year, to a school very close to my heart and I’ve loved it. I love my role. I love being back in the classroom. I love talking to adults.

I’ve brought something new with me: a growing understanding of neurodivergence. I try to use it every day: changing how I teach, how I speak to children, supporting colleagues with regulation strategies and even designing my first sensory room.

I’m excited to see children use it. To keep learning. To help River and hopefully hundreds more children and families too.

Looking Ahead to 2026

So what do I want for 2026?

I want to keep doing this.
I want to keep writing and actually hold a physical copy of 50 Days of River (once I finally send it to the publisher).

I want to get an ADHD diagnosis for Summer and make sure she has the support she’s starting to need.
I want to support Kike with his ever-growing list of projects and his lifelong mission to earn more money.
I want to continue slowing everything down and regulating myself as much as my children.
I want to meet more families like ours, so we can support each other.
I want to celebrate difference and remind myself and others that you don’t have to do things because you think you should. You do what’s right for you.

Put your own mask on before helping others.

And with that, I wish you a very Happy New Year.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting, it has meant more than I can say. Thank you to the people who know me and my family, who have shown up and supported us. I truly wouldn’t be here without you.

Whatever your year has looked like, take a moment to step back and be proud. You did it.
And you can do it again.