Tagging Out (But Never Leaving)

Pyjama Days and First Weeks Back

Another pyjama day and honestly, this might become a regular Saturday thing.

The kids are having the best day. River loves not getting dressed. The heating is on high, the TV hasn’t been off and we’ve had loads of snacks and cuddles. Sometimes this is exactly what we all need.

I’ve been reading messages about people’s tricky first week back after the holidays. With neurodivergent children, there’s always the chance and it’s quite a high one that they will simply refuse to go to school.

If you have a small child, you can usually work through the screams and protests with patience, reassurance, maybe a bit of bribery. But if you have an older children, a teenager, who is bigger than you and refusing school, a bag of gummies isn’t going to solve the problem. I started to worry about the future but managed to stop myself. Hasn’t happened yet so need point in worrying.

River didn’t want to go back to nursery this week, but I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t enjoy it. I don’t think any of us wanted to get out of bed on Monday morning. It was dark. It was cold. We’d all become very used to being inside together with very little demanded of us.

He screamed. He cried. He refused to let me dress him. It took 45 minutes to finally get the last piece of clothing on. He’s back to his crocs and no coat (brilliant in January, but you pick your battles).

My heart hurts when this happens. I start questioning everything. If he’s this distressed, should I even be sending him? But the alternative is me not working and he can’t just live on the sofa.

Kike takes over. He has a more no-nonsense approach. He finishes getting River ready and takes him to school. Later, I get a message: River happily skipped in and went straight to his little area. Where he immediately took off his crocs and socks.

Back to Reality (And Swimming Lessons)

It’s been a shock going back to reality. The logistics never quite work properly that first week back. Clubs haven’t all started, so figuring out where Summer is meant to be each day has been a bit of a headache. We’re back to speed-cooking dinners and rebuilding bedtime routines. It’s almost like the holiday didn’t happen at all.

Although if you ask River about it, he still shouts, “NO HOLIDAY!”

I decided to make the week even more complicated by adding swimming lessons for River. Summer had already started lessons at this age, group lessons where she mostly played in the water but it was a start.

Group lessons just aren’t possible for River. Ten children, lots of noise and his love of lying face-down in the water? Not safe. So it’s 1-to-1.

The only time that worked was 4pm on a Thursday. Kike had to take him, to get him dressed and into the water, he’s the only person for the job.

The night before, we got an email explaining the rules:

All children must wear a swimming hat and goggles.

I couldn’t see that happening.

I emailed back, again (I am very needy), explaining that River is autistic with high sensory needs and is very unlikely to tolerate either. They were lovely. The instructor had been informed. They suggested a cloth hat and said goggles could be worked on gradually.

Thursday arrived. I was anxious all afternoon. As soon as school finished I was checking for updates. Did he scream at pick-up? Did they find it? Would he get dressed?

Finally a message.

4:09: It’s bad.
Could be worse.
But he is in the water.
He’s testing the patience of the instructor.
I don’t think this is going to work.
How long is this lesson?

It was a long 30 minutes for Kike, sitting on the side of a warm pool while River splashed, ignored instructions, and did his own thing. The changing afterwards was stressful. The towel got left behind.

But when he got home, Kike said, “Maybe next week will be better.”

Tagging Out (If You Have Someone to Tag With)

I’ve been thinking a lot about Kike this week.

I mentioned to some friends at work that Kike was taking River swimming because River often does more for him than for me. One of them said, “Sometimes you just have to tag out.”

Another said, “Well… if you have someone to tag with.”

She’s a single mum. She raised her child completely on her own, good cop, bad cop, everything in between. I honestly don’t know how she did it.

Kike doesn’t talk about River in the same way I do. He’s not emotional in that way, he’s pragmatic.

If I ask whether he’s sad that he can’t take River to jiu-jitsu, he just says he can’t take him yet.
If I ask whether he ever thinks about what it might have been like if River were different, he always gives me the same answer:

“But he isn’t. He’s River.”

He didn’t grow up with a dad. He had a very strong connection with his mum. I remind myself often that he didn’t have a father figure to model himself on but he has a strong drive for River to have what he didn’t.

Every morning he gets up in a country he wasn’t brought up in, in weather he definitely wasn’t built for, speaking a language that isn’t his mother tongue and he just gets on with it.

He wrestles River into clothes.
He makes sure Summer’s clothes are the right way round.
He makes pancakes.
He cooks dinner most evenings.
He takes Summer to jiu-jitsu and swimming.

He doesn’t roll his eyes when River needs specific food on a specific plate, or when we always have to carry a plug that isn’t plugged into anything. He isn’t the biggest fan of the pushchair but he knows it’s necessary if we want to go further than our local area.

His mum passed away fairly recently. He had to fly home alone because I couldn’t take River that far on a plane. It was a horrible decision to have to make. He understood but I know he wanted me there.

This Is Not the Version We Imagined

When you fall in love with someone, you daydream. About how cute your kids might be. About family days out. About taking them to see Santa.

The reality of having a family is not so picture-perfect. It demands time and attention. Add work. Add exhaustion. Add a child with additional needs and suddenly there’s very little left.

You compromise constantly. You have to work hard to still see each other outside of being parents.

The kids and I had our pyjama day.
Kike went to work.

He faced the cold and the underground and his reward is currently sitting through Zootopia for the second time, with a sweaty River sitting on him and Summer tucked in close.

Life isn’t always what you think it will be like.

I’m sure when he met this chatty London girl and spent the day drinking caipirinhas on a boat in Brazil, this wasn’t the future he imagined. And I’m sure the version I once pictured didn’t look like this either.

But this is our life.

It isn’t easy. It isn’t neat. It doesn’t look like the version I once held in my head. But it’s ours.

He’s here. I’m here. The kids are here. And even when it feels relentless and exhausting, it’s still built on love.

His mum was and still would be so proud.