My kids aren’t perfect – believe me I know – and all too often there are those moments when I wish they’d remember the manners we’ve strived to instill in them over the years. They’re not always brilliant at doing the littlest of things that would make a big difference and I know that’s something that can frustrate my Mum (Hint: it does frustrate her and she might have mentioned it just once or twice to me in the last couple of weeks) Both G and M are a quirky mix of grown-up attitudes – due to their life experiences with chronic health problems – and a lack of rational thought because they’re both still very much children at heart. They’re tentatively challenging the boundaries set them by family members in particular; and sometimes not so tentatively at all; whilst very much toeing the line outside of the home, which inevitably leads to tears and meltdowns, and not necessarily just from them. Insecurity, uncertainty and lack of self-confidence is overcome with bold talk and bravado, which can be misinterpreted as arrogance and rudeness, when the truth is that the child beneath it all is struggling with anxiety and striving to find a different face to present to the outside world.
However, the one thing that I insist happens every year without fail is something that almost certainly falls into the category of “old-fashioned” manners in this day and age. Just a few days into the New Year, I shared this photo of G and M sitting at our kitchen table working hard to write the thank you notes for the Christmas presents and, in G’s case, birthday presents, they had recently received. It may not be their favourite task in the world and it may take a little persuasion to get them started, but they both know that this is a non-negotiable part of the celebrations for both Christmas and birthdays and always buckle down to write them, often treating the job as a competition to see who can finish writing all their notes first. These are no great literary pieces, just a simple acknowledgement of those family members and friends who have remembered them at this time of year and taken the time to buy and send presents that are always gratefully received.
M views me as being a particularly evil Mum because I won’t let him type out his letters, but rather insist that we take advantage of the opportunity to draw faint pencil lines and practise his best handwriting. Why? Well, I suppose I just think there’s something a little more personal and thoughtful about receiving a handwritten note of thanks, though frankly I would be happy to receive even an email rather than absolutely nothing at all. No acknowledgement leaves me wondering if the gift has arrived at its final destination and I have been known to threaten to not send presents again when weeks have passed by and I’m still uncertain whether they’ve been received or not. Does this make me old-fashioned? Maybe, but good manners don’t cost anything and it’s important to me that my children develop an attitude of thankfulness for all that they are lucky to have.
I hadn’t got round to restocking the larder as M’s interest in the crisps appeared to wane and I didn’t want to fill my cupboards with yet another safe snack that would end up forming part of Mike’s packed lunch for months because M no longer wanted them.
This week saw the first outing of this piece of kit as I finally got round to trying out my brand new kitchen gadget, the 
than suggested in the instructions booklet. The apple crisps worked well, though it would have been good to know that they aren’t immediately crispy when the cooking time is finished, but actually need a couple of minutes to stand and crisp up. Both children declared them as delicious and the plateful quickly cleared in front of my eyes. The pear was less successful as the one I used was evidently far too juicy to crisp up properly and we declared it an unmitigated disaster, although M conceded that it “…wasn’t bad for your first attempt Mummy..!” The trays are delightfully easy to clean and store, which is always an added bonus in my somewhat crowded kitchen.
has declared on more than one occasion that she has no plans to learn to drive when she reaches 17, but will instead ride her horse wherever she needs to go. Over the last 18 months or so, she started asking about the possibility of riding lessons again and it was then that my Mum came up with the idea of rewarding all her hard work for her SATs with a short course of lessons.
with confidence and impressed not just her riding instructor, but me too, with her sense of balance and ability to trot round with her hands and arms in every position imaginable except where you’d expect them to be.
7 years to diagnosis 