Days like these

6 06 2014

“No, no, no. NOOOO! NO! I don’t want it. Get off me. No! I don’t like my medicine. Noooooo. Leave me alone. I don’t want those tights. Get off me! Nooooo. NO! NO. NOOO. …”

GM holds the writhing, shouting, distressed and disregulated 8 year old on her lap whilst CD goes in search of leg/footwear options. LML has been in this state for about 10 minutes so far, and GM is quietly satisfied that she has managed to keep the yogurt and ADHD med mixture on the spoon. 

5 minutes later LML has had her meds and chosen a pair of black tights “to suit GM, ur mood” CD suggests to her.

In another 5 minutes the family are in the car on their way to school. The girls are happily warbling away to the ubiquitous “let it go” from Frozen. GM sighs deeply a few times, calming herself. CD pats her knee “your away day is going to be a doddle after that start” he says, smiling.

GM smiles back, already starting to focus her mind on the staff away day she is facilitating. The staff are in a very unsettled phase, due to changes in management and an information black out from the powders that be.  “Yeh right” mutters GM, taking another deep breath.

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Loser

2 06 2014

“You loser! I’m going to hit you! You loser. Loser. YOU LOSER!” Rants LML.

The ranting and threats are a usual part of the getting ready for bed routine, along with the ‘being told no’ trials, any transition and general expression of frustration or fear.

It’s the language that has changed recently, and it worries GM.

“LML love” she starts, laying on the bed with her daughter, “where do you hear someone saying ‘loser’?” GM doesn’t really expect an answer, as LML finds this sort of conversation very difficult. 

“At school” replies LML with a slightly grumpy look on her face.

“Oh at school?” says GM, “who says that at school?”

“The boys.” comes the answer, quick as a shot.

“Who do they say it to sweetheart?”

“Me” comes the obvious answer.

“How does that make you feel love?” GM asks gently, again not expecting an answer.

“Sad” comes the reply.

“Yes it must make you sad sweetheart” GM says, searching for the next words.

“I farted on your hand mummy. I farted!”

The conversation moves on.








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