The Crash After the High

As I’ve said before, I tend to start out strong and then crash. This is a little trait I may have passed on to River because, after the high of our zoo trip, the rest of the week wasn’t quite such smooth sailing.

Thursday arrived, and with it came a lot of “No!”

I was more than happy to have an easy, screen-filled morning. We had lunch and then it was time to leave the house. Nobody particularly wanted to, but the cleaner was coming.

For those who have read from the beginning, it took me a long time to decide to get a cleaner. I felt guilty about spending the money when, technically, I could clean the house myself. Eventually, though, I realised that I could just about manage to tidy, but things were never actually clean. I would spend my entire Saturday morning cleaning the bathroom, kitchen and floors, and I just couldn’t keep doing it.

Now, having a cleaner forces us to tidy the day before so that the house can actually be cleaned. Normally, they would come when the children and I were at school, but obviously there is no school. Just us, together, all day, every day.

Lunch was eaten and it was time to get out. I was already tired, so I wasn’t particularly interested in doing anything physically exerting. Summer and I decided we would go to the cinema and rewatch Minions. I could possibly even nap during it.

We left the house and began walking towards the cinema. Summer and I were talking about the film when River suddenly started screaming.

“NO MOVIE THEATRE!”

We stopped. I tried to convince him that it was a good idea. There would be popcorn. There would be Minions.

Nope. He wasn’t having it.

“NO MOVIE THEATRE!” he screamed again as he threw himself onto the ground.

Summer and I stood there watching him. She shrugged and suggested that we lie and take him there anyway. I pointed out that this exact thing would then happen once we arrived, to which she reluctantly agreed.

“OK. What would River like to do?”

The screaming stopped immediately.

“Park.”

Well, we do live opposite one. I looked at Summer, who seemed fine with this option, so off we went.

A Very Long Trip to the Park

We walked to our local park, which, like most parks in the UK at the moment, looks more like a desert than a luscious green space.

You can normally cut across the grass to reach the playground, but River was having none of it. This dried-up yellow stuff was clearly not grass and was therefore not considered safe to walk on. We took the long way around, sticking firmly to the path.

When we reached the playground, we discovered that it was being renovated, but they both made the most of the sections that were still open.

It was hot, as apparently is now the norm, and River quickly grew tired. I suggested going to the café. He likes the new café because it had magnets in it the last time we visited.

The magnets were not there.

I asked Summer to watch him while I ordered and gave them a Scrabble-type game to keep them occupied. Less than two minutes later, the screaming began and I heard the tiles hit the floor.

I must have gone backwards and forwards at least three times, collecting tiny alphabet tiles, before I successfully ordered two sandwiches, half a pizza and some juice.

I managed to calm them both down in time to collect the food, which they promptly refused to eat.

River had seen another playground through the window and had decided that he no longer wanted to be in the café.

I did, however.

I pretended I couldn’t hear his protests while I drank my drink and ate my sandwich. Summer always gives me a look at moments like this that seems to say, Are you going to stop him?

But at that point, I just wanted my lunch.

I finished my sandwich, wrapped up theirs and told them we could leave. The screaming stopped immediately, and we went to playground number two.

This playground was much smaller, which I liked, and it had a mini trampoline, which River liked. Unfortunately, he does not like anybody else being on the trampoline, which is tricky during the summer holidays when there are quite a few other children around.

The next thirty minutes were a rollercoaster of extreme happiness when he was bouncing alone, followed by complete distress whenever somebody dared to bounce near him.

The judging looks were back. The confused looks from children who couldn’t understand why this boy appeared to be in such extreme distress. The slightly embarrassed looks from Summer.

It brought me straight back to why I avoided parks for so long.

River would come running to me, distraught. We would hug it out. He would sit beside me and cry until the trampoline was free again, then run happily back over. The whole cycle would repeat the moment another child joined him.

I loved watching his face when he bounced. I loved how completely happy he was in those brief moments. I was also tired of managing every other moment around them.

Both things were true.

Summer and I eventually decided to visit the local museum next door. We wandered up and down the stairs and explored the almost empty building. We took the lift up and down and eventually settled in the old schoolroom with some toddler toys.

It is far too young for Summer now, but it was calm. To her credit, she settled down with some Lego, perhaps enjoying the peace for a while too.

I looked at the time. We still had a bit more time to fill.

We went back to the mini playground, where the original lunch was finally consumed, then returned to the café for another juice. Eventually, it was time to go home.

We had been walking around the park for almost five hours.

Summer went to jiu-jitsu with Kike, leaving River and me silently watching television together.

I may have fallen asleep.

The Guilt That Gets You Out of the House

Friday felt long again. Everybody was still tired, although perhaps that wasn’t surprising after spending five hours wandering around the park the day before.

The morning was screen-filled again.

When I still wasn’t ready to leave the house but felt the television had been on for far too long, I handed them two bottles of slime and they sat in almost complete silence for nearly an hour. Consider this my sign to double down on sensory play.

And then, as usual, the little parent-guilt voice appeared.

You should take them out.

It will be good for all of you.

To be fair, it usually is good for us once we are outside. It is the thought of it, the preparation and the organisation required to get everyone out of the door that can feel impossible.

There was no particular destination this time. I have an app where you earn cards and treasure boxes by walking to different places, and it actually kept them entertained for an hour. We stopped briefly at a mini playground and then went for our usual Friday pub dinner.

By this point, I knew I wasn’t doing very well.

I told Kike that I felt completely drained. I had barely spent more than a few minutes away from River all week.

The more time River and I spend together, the more intense our relationship becomes. He doesn’t want to be away from me at all, even physically. He needs to be close enough to touch me and repeats my name every thirty seconds.

There is so much love in that closeness. I know that I am his safe person and that he wants to be with me because being near me helps him feel secure.

I am grateful for that bond.

But being needed that intensely, without any space to breathe, can also feel overwhelming.

Admitting that still makes me feel guilty.

“River Stay With Mummy?”

I woke up on Saturday morning to find that Kike and Summer had gone to jiu-jitsu again and River was lying beside me with his forehead pressed against mine.

“ARE YOU AWAKE?”

“Yes, my love. I’m awake.”

“RIVER STAY WITH MUMMY?”

“Yes. River stay with Mummy.”

I got out of bed, made him breakfast and set up his slime.

Then I returned to the kitchen and a wave of heaviness came over me.

I don’t think I can do this.

I’m so tired.

I need a break.

The panic began as it used to. My breathing quickened and I felt dizzy. I did my breathing exercises and managed to calm myself, but the tears had already begun.

I haven’t cried properly in a long time. Thank you, antidepressants. But I couldn’t stop these tears. Suddenly, it all felt too much again.

I busied myself with cleaning and getting ready because I still had to take River swimming.

We walked there after a twenty-minute screaming protest about the fact that he wasn’t going.

When we arrived, he was suddenly very eager to get inside. Then he realised that I wasn’t wearing my swimming costume and the screaming began again.

I simply hadn’t had the energy to put mine on. I thought he could go in without me this time.

After lots of persuading, he did eventually get into the pool. I sat down with my Diet Coke and tried to calm myself.

I spoke briefly to another SEND mum, who told me that she had also had a really difficult week and wasn’t quite sure how she had made it through. We talked about the frustration, loneliness and guilt that can all hit you at once.

We exchanged numbers, then she was called away to care for her younger child.

I went back to my Coke.

Then I heard him.

The screaming had begun again, but this time he was in the water and was also drinking the pool water as he screamed.

I went over to help, although I’m fairly sure I made things worse. The owner suggested that I sit outside for a few minutes and assured me that River was safe.

The tears started again.

Another mum friend gave me a hug and told me I looked tired.

Yep. I was.

I sat with her for the remaining twenty minutes of the lesson, and by the time we needed to walk home, I did feel calmer.

Sometimes, being told that your child is safe and that you are allowed to step away for a few minutes is exactly what you need.

Taking the Break Before I Break

We had friends coming over for a barbecue that afternoon. To be honest, I wasn’t sure about it because of how tired I felt.

I started very slowly, sitting on my own and not really wanting to hear any more voices. Eventually, though, I relaxed and had a lovely time seeing everyone.

But I had already made a decision.

I needed some time off.

And if there is one thing I learnt from last year, it is not to wait until I am completely broken before taking it.

So that brings us to today.

Kike took both children to jiu-jitsu this morning, leaving me to have a lie-in, a shower and a quick tidy-up.

Then I went to my favourite place. The cinema.

It is dark and cold. There is Coke on tap with loads of ice. I went to M&S for picky bits. Living the dream.

The Odyssey is three hours long, which was perfect.

This isn’t a film blog, but it was very good and definitely needs to be seen in a cinema. It was also very graphic, and I did close my eyes multiple times.

Afterwards, I went for a walk and then visited a friend. We sat in the garden and chatted with some of her friends.

Now I am home. River is fast asleep, Summer is watching a film, and I feel ready for another week.

Love Doesn’t Mean Cherishing Every Minute

Nobody really tells you about the guilt you feel as a mother.

You are constantly told to cherish every minute because you will miss it when they are older. You only have eighteen summers. These are the best years of your life.

I do know how lucky I am.

I love my children. I am grateful for the time we have together, particularly after spending so much of the school year rushing from one thing to the next. There are moments when I look at River and feel completely overwhelmed by how much I love him. I know one day he won’t press his forehead against mine and ask whether he can stay with Mummy.

But gratitude does not cancel out exhaustion.

Love does not mean enjoying every moment.

And needing time away from your children does not mean that you have failed them.

When you are in the middle of it, especially when things are difficult, it is OK to say, “This is hard. I’m not coping very well today.”

I wasn’t able to do that last year. I would pile everything up and keep going until I reached the point where I could no longer even look after myself.

My first thought this weekend was still, You’ve failed, and it’s only week one.

But I am trying to answer that voice with a kinder one.

I hadn’t failed.

The children had a great week. We went to the zoo, the park, playdate, the museum, swimming and obviously the pub. They walked, played, bounced, ate and spent time with us.

We were all tired.

They were allowed to spend a day with their dad, and I was allowed to rest. I could take some time away, come home and love them just as much as I had before.

Possibly even with a little more patience.

This is a marathon, not a sprint.

And sometimes the best way to keep going is to stop.