Chromosomes, Coffee and CANADA ❤️🇨🇦

This summer we were fortunate enough to visit family in Canada. We hopped a plane to Toronto from London...I'm not going to lie, the prospect of a 7 hour flight with a 6 & 2 year old was not exactly thrilling but they were angels. Seriously - total angels! We had lots of food, a couple of glasses of wine (not the kids obviously), some strong coffee, a ton of Disney and suddenly we were touching down in this vibrant city. As soon as we disembarked I had a wish that I'd visited before children - we would've had so much fun!! 

A yummy dinner, a good sleep & before you knew it we were greeted with a new day. We took a quick wander round the city...a little spy of the CN Tower, the Rogers Centre (Go Jays!), Ripley's Aquarium, the cool orange signs, the immaculately clean streets...I could go on. As we stepped I looked at my girls and thought how lucky we were to be sharing this moment together. Such a cool trip & it had barely begun. 

Later that day we jumped in our hire car and headed towards Lake Huron. 3 hours zoomed past and finally we arrived at a little piece of heaven. Have you ever found somewhere and immediately felt at home? As if all those times of questioning where you fit in, why you've always felt the odd one out, suddenly seemed to dissipate. It was incredibly freeing, in fact it made me quite emotional. Now, before anyone says it, I'll do it for you...we were witnessing Canada (Lake Huron to be exact) in all its blissful summer glory. I know that come winter this place transforms into a sub zero winter wonderland...but perhaps with less of the wonder if you've endured Canadian winters for a lifetime! But, despite those nagging thoughts in the back of my mind, I loved it. I adored how polite people were, the extraordinary level of kindness extended to us, how welcome we felt (despite our British accents - trust me, that isn't always the case when you travel) and the relaxed nature we continually encountered. 

During our stay we went to a Celtic Music Festival...one of the beautiful things about Canada is the diverse community. So many families travelled far & wide to North America, to settle, to make it their home. It's what my family did - Irish born but London based, my relatives left for a better life and they found it. For 40 years they have carved out careers, relationships, homes...a new way of living that they have fully & unquestionably embraced, but their Irish roots remain apart of who they are. I saw that history of birth running through the veins of the towns I visited. The Celtic traditions: the music, song, poetry, was evident to see and hear. It was, without sounding crass, magical. All these many nationalities embedded together under one flag, it made me feel proud to be there...& made me feel a million miles away from all the negativity, hate filled problems Brexit has caused in the place I call home. It made me want to stay there forever. 

My aunt described it as a 'kinder community'...as a parent of a child who faces the potential of a lifetime of challenges and obstacles, this was deeply appealing. I'm sure if there are any Canadians reading this they will think I'm being too idealistic or viewing their country with rose tinted glasses, and maybe I am but something about it clicked. It felt right. And surely that's what it's all about, finding somewhere that you feel passionately about. 

So what now? Do we take the plunge and try a new life? I'm certainly nervous at the prospect, the million and one things I would need to do to make it happen but if there is even the slightest hint that we could give my girls, Bean especially, a kinder and more understanding future then I want to grab hold of that & not let go. It's hard for others to understand that...unless you have a loved one who has an uncertain future then all this might seem silly but I know that we have to do everything & anything in our power to improve and enhance our lives but more importantly the future for our girls. 

So...although nothing is certain yet, I hope we have the opportunity to try something new & give us all reasons to be positive for the future.

Bibi xx

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Today is Not the Day...why I'm not ready to tell my daughters.

I'm starting this post with a little dose of trepidation...I'm usually not one to worry about people's opinions but this subject makes me feel somewhat uneasy and I'll explain why. One of the questions I frequently struggle with is when and how I will discuss my daughter's diagnosis with her and her sibling. Yes, two years in and I still haven't talked about it with my eldest. She understands that her little sister was unwell during her first year but since then she has thrived in lots of ways, so it has never felt necessary. When we discovered that our daughter had a genetic deletion, I remember thinking how much better life would have been if we didn't know. How we would have allowed her to develop at her pace, without the constant scrutiny, notes and discussions. Whenever I start to go down this route, I remind myself how immensely beneficial the diagnosis has actually been to her and us...it's given us a head start - we've been able to work on targets, focus our minds on what we need and have to do to open up all those neural-pathways. This intervention has worked and I'm grateful for it...but it doesn't stop me from querying the what ifs and if onlys. 

Without doubt, the knowledge has had two major effects - positive in the sense that I'm aware of how to support her and negative in the sense that it's easy to 'blame' the condition. I have a tendency to fixate on the characteristic traits e.g. being over friendly or a 'cocktail personality', as it's so eloquently described. Over recent months I have obsessed about this and worried intensely about its potential. I've allowed myself look too far ahead, that hazy future none of us have control over but we desperately want to organise and manage. It's taken me to a whole host of scenarios that leave me in a cold sweat. A few of my lovely friends of late have recognised that I'm worrying and have reassured me...they've reminded me that plenty of 2 year olds wave and say hi to people...that my incessant stopping of this is almost squashing her vivacious personality, something she inherits from my husband's side of the family, not necessarily just from her deletion. She certainly doesn't say hello to everyone and can become very shy if someone talks to her - all totally appropriate for her age; but I've allowed her label dominate my reaction to this. Obviously, my intention is to keep her safe and to teach her about boundaries; but my knowledge has affected how I've responded to her behaviour. 

My fear is that by telling Bean, by telling Beebs (her sister), they might respond in the same way that I have. I might limit their expectations of what my gorgeous girl is capable of. Will they read this long list of traits and allow it colour every decision they make? Will it propel them to live in fear? Will it make my daughter see herself as a label, rather than an individual? Of course, these are all unanswerable but they can become tormenting if I allow.  

The truth is, at some point we will have to have that conversation. We will have to tell her about her condition, as there can be health risks attached to it and consequences if she goes on to marry or want a family. I suppose what I'm trying to say is, I want her to have a life unburdened by a diagnosis. I want her to live without the worry that 'different' can bring...but that's just not possible. I don't want her sister to be sad, to suffer guilt (something I know many siblings can feel), to feel responsible for anyone but herself. These, though, are the cards that we have been dealt and we have to face them as a family - us against the world. I would love to keep it a secret to allow her to just live life like everyone else but I suspect that this is unrealistic and would be unfair to both my girls. In fact, they might not react like me - they might embrace this knowledge and champion it, something I want to do too. I'm sure, they would probably teach me the right way to digest the emotions and concerns.

Diagnosis doesn't stop when the doctor utters the words to a parent...it can be a torrid journey that shows no mercy to its traveller. Every step forces us to make a new decision, to manage a situation/emotion, to find the best way to cope. We won't always get it right, in fact we often get it wrong. Ultimately, my main reason for not telling either of my girls yet is that I want them to live a life beyond limitations. I want them to uncover their strengths and weaknesses first, rather than be presented with a list of who you are or, rather, who you might become. Life's joy is discovery, freedom and evolving into an individual...both of my daughter's deserve that. So, for now, I'm going to allow them the peace and quiet to do just that...when we need to we can talk, explain and work through it all together... but I don't believe that day is today. For the time being, I want them just to enjoy the here and now...something I'm learning to do too. 

Bibi xx

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Friday Favourites...Black Nail Polish!

After all my talk last week about how I love bright colours, this week might seem a bit hypocritical. But my all time fave nail polish colour is black...I totally adore it and it's pretty much the only colour I will use on my nails (feet and hands!). 

I love when I first paint it on - it's shiny and beautifully dark. It kind of feels a bit rebellious - the sort of thing you would slap on as a teenager back in the 80s/90s!! 

The only issue I have is it chipping all the time because of using baby wipes etc, which lets face it, is not a good look. I've now got 2 different versions...I'm hoping one is going to withstand the nappy changes & day to day grind of mummyhood. 

Something about having my nails painted, a bit like having my hair done, makes me feel like I'm making an effort & lifts my spirits. Every little helps to keep a smile on your face :) 

Happy Friday everyone...enjoy the sunshine this weekend!

Bibi xx

Please follow Chromosomes and Coffee here on Blogger or on Twitter @BibiMac3 

Moving Mountains...One Day at a Time :)

Last night I read a post celebrating the successes of a fellow blogger's family*. It was full of love and joy at her children completing tasks that often can cause distress. As I read each line & witnessed each experience unfold in front of me, it made me realise how important it is to capture the beautiful moments when they happen. 

Last year I completed the 100 Happy Days challenge (yes, I know I've mentioned this before - I am slightly evangelical about it!!). What this aims to do is to get you to be more observant - to notice something that made you smile. It can range from enjoying a bar of chocolate to a special occasion. Each and every one forms part of your happiness awakening (so to speak - ha ha!). What this did for me personally was to focus my mind on the good and not tune into the negatives. This is no mean feat and certainly was not always easy. As time passed on this challenge, I learnt that far more good happens on a daily basis than I had previously realised. Since the completion of my 'happy days' last September, I have tried (not always successfully) to notice the positives. It's incredibly easy when you have children, with or without needs, to get trapped in the work: the washing, cleaning, school runs, homework, appointments...need I go on?! But just as this blogger did last night, she caught the good in her day and by doing so, reminded me to do the same.

As my daughter napped over lunch, I took myself into the garden and thought. I thought about how much we achieve on a daily, weekly, monthly basis and how many of these stepping stones are lost in the day to day flurry of activity. I started to ponder how far we've come and how much we've overcome. Each day we get little victories - they aren't necessarily life changing but they are meaningful. The simplest moments spent in idle pleasure are successes but not always given recognition. Spending the morning playing playdoh, cutting stars, rolling out wiggly worms...seeing the happiness beaming from her face as each squishy creation came to fruition is & was beautiful. That's worth celebrating. A walk round the shops listening to her gabbing away as we collected everything we needed for the week, seeing her play a matching game while saying and signing the word 'same' - gorgeous self satisfaction etched on her little face! Again, this is worth celebrating.

But it's not just the little moments...today my little Bean asked me to "blow the balloon". Although she's had lots of single words and even two word phrases for a while, starting to hear mini sentences appearing and the delight on her face when she gets the reaction she wants is sublime, in fact it makes me feel quite emotional. This time two years ago, she was losing weight, being sick constantly (I'm not exaggerating-she was sick with EVERY feed and even when not feeding there was a constant clear liquid being expelled from her little mouth). It was hell on earth - we were weeks away from hospitalisation. These were some of my darkest days. Then, this time last year, she had been walking for around a month, she was growing in strength, gaining weight, saying words and sounds. She was hooked into portage, a child development group and her hypercalcaemia had finally disappeared. These were all major achievements - huge successes but I'm not sure I ever celebrated any of them. Life was too busy, life had been too hard that perhaps this rising out of the ashes felt almost too good to be true. That by celebrating these beautiful moments, it was like tempting fate, like you were begging destiny to knock us down again. 

Despite every obstacle she has faced, she has fought like a little tiger. Nothing has dampened her spirit - if anything it has only served to exacerbate her determination. It is often my eldest that reminds me to notice the simplest successes - she has a lovely way of cheering her on. She, unlike myself, recognises that we move mountains every day, if only we took the time to notice and give ourselves permission to celebrate it. 

Bibi xx

Please follow my blog Chromosomes & Coffee on Twitter @BibiMac3

*The blog I was inspired by was the fab @Ojosworld 'Celebrating Successes' - beautifully written and reminded me why capturing these moments is so very important. Have a read :)

Happy Monday All...We ❤️ farms!

What a gorgeous bank holiday weekend! We've been incredibly lucky & had mild, sunny weather over the last three days...it's been bliss. 

Today we decided to don our wellies* and head down to one of our local farms. We're pretty fortunate to have a number of beautiful estates close to home, so we often take a little trip to see the animals and have a walk in the fresh farm air.

This is obviously the perfect time of year to visit your local farm as they are bursting at the seams with divine lambs, kids & piglets. I love lambs & kids but my all time fave is the piglet...I just love these little guys. Their little curly tails, their little snouts snuffling around in the mud, their short little legs dashing about after their mummy (Bluebell to give her her correct title!). Both my girls have joined the piglet crew and were desperate to give them a cuddle... thankfully there was a gate between them or I think my youngest would have been all over them! 

Once we'd exhausted feeding & petting all the animals, we ventured to the playground...the girls dived between swings, slides, riding tractors, racing on the zip wire (the big girl, not my little one!) and running around the sandpit. Despite the woodchip flooring (I swear this stuff is the devil's work), our little lady did pretty well getting around.

The smell of the food being cooked in their cafe was pretty intoxicating...but sadly we didn't try any. Next time though I won't resist. 

All in all, it was a truly lovely way to spend our bank holiday as a family. Plus, it always feels good to support a local business.

Happy Monday All! 

Bibi xx

Please follow my blog on Twitter @BibiMac3

*My wellies (magenta field welly) are from Joules . I've just checked online and found them for only £20 on this website - wish I had seen this before I bought mine a few years ago!! My big girl's ones are from Hatley - amazingly comfy, bright and gorgeous :)

Undiagnosed Children’s Day - 29 April 2016

Today is the 4th #undiagnosedchildrensday. Often the word SWAN (Syndromes Without A Name) is used - it is essentially an umbrella term for a child or young adult who is believed to have a genetic condition or rather an undiagnosed genetic condition. This can impact on a child and their family in enormous ways. There is no designated medical path to follow - no exact treatment plan. Sometimes it can involve guess work and fighting fires, instead of a preemptive strategy. 

For anyone who has read a few of my posts, you will know by now that diagnosis came relatively quickly for my daughter. She had a very precise symptom, which lead her consultant to carry out a FISH test (I’ve attached a link as I wouldn't dare to attempt to give an exact translation of this!). They were able to administer this test to look at a specific chromosome - number 7. Within 8 weeks we had a diagnosis and a plan. I have frequently said that it is easy to become blasé about having a label, a name for why your child is developing in a particular manner. As time has passed I have started to fully appreciate what it means to ‘know’, to be able to map out and consider the future. To know the organs of the body that need to be monitored or observed. The methods that might unlock or support your child to achieve. 

When my lovely girl was diagnosed we had genetic counselling (one of the most fascinating meetings of my life). This incredible man enlightened us on what we had in store, what we would need to be aware of but more than that he offered us hope and support for the journey we were beginning. At the end of this session he handed me a booklet, which contained around 50 pages. This outlined every stage of my daughter’s life and what medical checks would need to be done. I can remember casually putting this in my bag and walking out. I had no real appreciation at that point how valuable & fortunate we were to be carrying this paperwork. I feel completely ashamed writing that today but I do it to make people realise how grateful they should feel to have a diagnosis, even when it hurts to your core. 

I know a number of children & young adults who have yet to find a diagnosis. I have witnessed first hand the struggles, worries and apprehension this can cause. The not knowing must be deeply painful but yet they continue to put one foot in front of the other - determined to give their all to their child. Studies like the 100,000 Genomes Project are working towards finding diagnosis and treatments plans for those who need them. I have met one of the Drs involved in this and he is simply the most dynamic man I have ever met - he is passionate about discovery and changing the lives of families. The support he offered my family post diagnosis will never be forgotten. 

So, this is my plea to you. Please support #undiagnosedchildrensday - retweet, Facebook, tell your loved ones, tell everyone about the importance of it. For the friends I know who live this every day, life without diagnosis is complicated and unforgiving at times, but their child is just as loved, valued and significant as your own. 

Bibi xx

Please follow my blog on Twitter @BibiMac3

You can make a difference - if you would like to support SWAN then please find the details below:

“If you would like to make a one off donation you can also do this via Just Giving or Virgin Money Giving or text SWAN11 plus the amount (up to £10) to 70070.” from https://undiagnosed.org.uk/get-involved/

I am Alison...The A Word (from my perspective)

So, full disclosure...my child doesn't have an autism diagnosis. She has a genetic deletion, which presents a range of distinct traits with strengths & weaknesses. Hence why I've added the ‘my perspective’ to the title of this post. I cannot and do not claim to understand the experience of raising a child with autism. Despite this, ‘The A Word’ resonated with my own life. Alison often felt like gazing at my own reflection. Seeing her attempting to silence the use of the 'label', being overly assertive (pushy!) with professionals, fearing the stigma, grasping onto breakthrough moments only to be crushed by reality once again, scrambling for support to 'unlock' your child to enable them to access life, like everyone else. When I say these words I am not speaking on behalf of anyone else - I'm not suggesting that everyone feels this way, but I'll admit that I did, or, maybe more accurately, that I do.

Many of the episodes rang true for me - I kept catching glimpses of myself on screen and this made me shudder. I recognised Alison's plight - yearning both intervention but the need for privacy. The final episode felt like a culmination of these emotions. Witnessing Alison being dragged to honesty was acutely painful to watch...particularly as I feel I'm edging ever closer to that epiphany or fate. Alison was pressed to describe her son - to expand on his personality (essentially to reveal his autism)...this brought me to tears. Observing Alison stumbling over synonyms & euphemisms spoke volumes to me. Right there I was watching myself...nearly two years post diagnosis and yet saying the words, the label...hurts. Each solitary letter causes me pain, physical pain. Diagnosis, labels, your child being different ("but not less") is an enormous thing to digest. It's a strange paradox that I find myself in - I envy people's openness. Those who fight, campaign and champion their child's condition. I want to be those people but I’m not, yet. 

The truth is I have told my parents, my sister and a tiny number of very close trusted friends. When people have questioned why my daughter was in hospital, if she is 'better now', I'm ashamed to say that I've twisted the truth. I dress this up as my way of protecting her - I frequently hear myself saying "it's her diagnosis", that I want to maintain her privacy and dignity. Part of me believes this, the other part thinks I'm just not ready to face the enormity of my daughter's future and her sister's too. Acceptance is a marathon, not a sprint. It is a path laden with broken glass, each step can cut and scar. Eventually the road clears and you begin to find beauty in it, but that doesn't necessarily mean you have crossed the finish line. The irony is, I embrace my daughter’s diagnosis - I have no desire to take it away, she is who she is because of those words I struggle to utter. I do though have days where I wish I had a magic wand to ensure she has a happy and fulfilling life.

Alison wasn't always likeable - she could be defensive, defiant & often desperate…desperately in pain, desperate to awaken the child she thought she had and desperate for a professional to empower her and her son. She, at times, neglected to notice her eldest child. The truth is that this can and does happen - it makes you feel terribly guilty but when you have enormous complications, you don't always get it right.

'The A Word' was, just like my own situation, perfectly imperfect and that for me was its beauty. It touched upon painful and poignant issues, revealing the pathos felt by parents coming to terms with a diagnosis - from denial to the first steps in acceptance. The word ‘grief’ was used…”It feels like grief to me” said Dad, Paul. It can, for some, feel like a bereavement. They shone a light on the stigma sometimes felt by individuals with additional needs - the scenes where Ralph, a young man with DS, was suspected of doing something untoward. These moments made me sob - the injustice, victimisation and down right ignorant attitude of some of the characters made me want to scream, but I am so glad that Bowker showed this, because it can and does happen. 

For me, personally, I thought it was a triumph - it opened the door for people to see that parenthood isn't always simple, it can be a lifelong challenge that doesn't always repay you in love and kisses; remember too, for many of us, it won't always end with children flying the nest and our freedom being regained. It conveyed the intense pain, joy and fight felt by Mums and Dads. Bowker revealed a world that still needs fine tuning to fully welcome and accept our differences. If it engaged people in conversation, if it makes someone think twice before they sneer at a parent in the supermarket who is dealing with a meltdown, if it encourages someone to offer a kind word or take the time to be a little more understanding, then it has done a truly beautiful thing. I hope it has achieved this. 

Finally…I want to end with an Edgar Allan Poe quote from ‘To My Mother’. Alison's actions were not always easy to rationalise but were those of a Mum learning to navigate this new ship, gripping on for dear life. I share her heartache, anxiety, determination and imperfections because I am Alison and I wonder how many other Mums felt the same:

“Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, 

The angels, whispering to one another,

Can find, among their burning terms of love,

None so devotional as that of a ‘Mother’”

Bibi xx

Please follow my blog on Twitter @BibiMac3

NOTE: I have written this from my perspective of a mother, hence the quote. However, I know that there are a wealth of Dads who are fighting for their children day in day out. I know that because my husband is one of them. I truly believe a father is equally as devoted to championing and advocating for his child xx

What a week!

This week has, quite honestly, been fabulous. A month ago I officially resigned and became a stay at home mum. I knew this was the right decision for my family, particularly for my daughters, but it was extremely painful. I left a school that I have worked at since my early 20s...during my time there I met some of the most incredible children, parents and teachers. Walking through the school gates felt like opening the front door to my home. I felt safe there, inspired there and part of a community. So, as you can imagine, finally saying goodbye was sad. Beyond sad in fact. It seems though I'm not alone in this - lots of my friends who have resigned also feel like extricating yourself from your job is almost like closing the door on who you used to be. It's the end of your life as a professional, as a worker, as your younger self. This feeling has lingered with me...until two weeks ago and particularly this week. 

Starting this blog was something I've longed to do since I completed the 100 Happy Days challenge in 2015. So to finally achieve it (and to have people reading it!!) has given me some direction and purpose beyond my motherly duties! I need that. Professionally I'm a driven person, so this is giving me targets...what shall I write about? How will I come up with ideas?!! It's making me notice things a little more, which surely has to be a good thing :) 

I've also been fortunate enough to be invited into a SEND bloggers group - I'm hoping to learn lots from more experienced writers, to improve what I'm doing and make it the best that it can be. 20 months ago I couldn't see a way out of the heartbreak, the diagnosis that I thought was going to colour every moment of my life...I wish I had realised then that it would propel me to try new things, allow me to meet such brave parents (who are now gorgeous friends) & to relinquish all the nonsense that once obscured my vision. C.S Lewis was spot on - the hardships have given me a fresh start and I'm relishing it. 

So, to anyone that has taken the time to read or comment on my posts over the last few weeks, THANK YOU. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

Bibi xx

Follow my blog on Twitter  @BibiMac3

Don't Forget...

My first foray into motherhood was in 2009 when I gave birth to a big beautiful girl. She was quite honestly the most divine baby...please don't hate me when I say this but she was one of those babas that slept through from around 6 weeks *runs for cover as people start to shout at their screens* and took to milestones like an Olympic athlete. Nothing challenged her, she just whizzed through the first year like a champ. I totally adored every moment of my maternity leave with her...I only wanted to be by her side and when I wasn't (when I returned to work part time after 10 months) it felt as if someone had cut off one of my limbs, such was the loss I felt. 

What I didn't realise then, that I do now, is just how good I had it. Sure - I knew she was a contented baby but I was blind to how much motherhood would change for me as the years passed. My eldest has taught me what true patience is - she has never complained about the time I had to devote to her younger sister during her first, tumultuous, year. There was an unspoken understanding that I had to focus on this fragile little being that had invaded her home...somehow, even in her fledging years, she had embraced this truth and accepted it. Without question, she missed out on things and this pained me (it still does)...but at that point there seemed no other way.

As the years have elapsed, I have been determined to put this right. When I write things like this, I always feel a bit silly...I obviously don't get it right all the time - I make mistakes everyday but I'm trying to make a conscious effort to enjoy quality moments just us. We had 4 years being a little double act, so whenever it's our time we instantly slip into our old ways...and I love it. Last week, because of the Easter holidays and my husband taking some time off work, my mini-me and I spent lots of time together. A cheeky cinema trip to see Zootropolis (which, by the way, is brilliant!) and then a lovely hot chocolate (obviously I had coffee - I pretty much have an IV of coffee plugged in at all times) with chats about everything & nothing. 

Just being with her makes my life richer - she reminds me of my wonderful first moments of becoming a mum, she made me a much better person and I will be eternally grateful that she is mine. I know that her journey as a sister differs from most and for that I feel guilt that is beyond expression. The future is hazy and I know we have so many difficult conversations ahead of us. The grief, that we have come to terms with now, is yet to be digested by her. I would give anything to take that away from her but I can't. So instead we have to face it together and savour the gorgeous moments - the days out, the hot chocolates, the giggles and her incessant love of spending my money!! 

Having a child with complications, whatever they may be, makes life challenging but I'm working hard not to forget that it's equally hard for their sibling...so don't forget to catch the simple opportunities to let them know they are still your darling. 

Bibi xx

Follow my blog on Twitter  @BibiMac3

Happy Monday All!

Since becoming a SAHM I secretly love Mondays...it's normally a quiet day in my house - we get jobs done and generally enjoy the peace after the whirlwind of the weekend. 

I thought I would start a little diary of our week...I will endeavour to include what we do, places we visit and talk about the child development group that we attend. So here is today's xxx

Back to School:

Today marks the end of the Easter Holidays (sob sob) and the start of the summer term (yea!). I adore the holidays with my girls - I love the feeling of having no ties, having long leisurely brekkies & making our own plans without restrictions. My eldest made a list of '10 Spring Things' that she wanted to do over the hols...and we pretty much did them all. It ranged from a PJ day to the beach. It really was a gorgeous two weeks :) 

So when the alarm screamed at me this morning at 6.30am, I felt pretty miserable. Suddenly you're back to the grind...back to school runs, pack lunches, racing around all day trying to get stuff done in time before pick up. My big girl, on the other hand, was thrilled to return to school. She skipped all the way down, eagerly telling me about how excited she was to see her friends and her teachers...to be honest, as much as I love having her home, I equally love hearing her delight at returning to school. 

Potty Training...aghhhhhh! 

My youngest has been telling me for some time when she has gone to the toilet...she's just over 2.5 and despite her diagnosis, I've always treated her exactly the same as my eldest. I have no idea if that's what I should be doing but it feels right to me, so I'm going with it. I decided this weekend to take the plunge and just start. I'm going to level with you - potty training is my absolute least favourite stage...I know the end goal is amazing - no more nappies (well in the day at least), one less thing to spend my money on & just the awesome sense of achievement that getting your child dry gives you.

So far today it's been one long wee-athon. She has managed to wee everywhere (& I mean everywhere) except the potty. She's a total pro at telling me where she's done a wee but just doesn't seem that bothered to get it in the potty!! I think I need to invest in a whole batch of them to dot around the house to get the odds more in my favour. If anyone has any foolproof tips for me, then please feel free to share...I always welcome comments or tips. I know we'll crack it - fingers crossed over the next few weeks...well, here's hoping anyway. However, this pretty much sums up how I feel this evening!

Wishing everyone a Happy week...may tomorrow bring wee to our potty and not my carpet!! 

Bibi xx

Follow my blog on Twitter  @BibiMac3

I am Somebody...

Last year I watched a Ted Talk by Ruth Pierson. called 'Every Child Needs a Champion'...I found it so inspiring and uplifting that I wanted to write about it. For my entire twenties & my early thirties I was a teacher, who also worked within the Inclusion team. I adored teaching, I was enthusiastic to get out of bed every morning - eager to get to school to make an impact on the children's lives. Now, I'm not for one second suggesting that every single lesson I wrote or delivered was outstanding, of course not, but I did truly believe in my profession and the children in my class. 

Being a teacher is a privilege - you can enable children to excel and achieve, you witness lightbulb moments when something just clicks & you share in their discovery/enlightenment. But not every child gets to make these leaps as instantaneously as others. You can see the prospect of learning is exhausting - mentally, physically & emotionally. Imagine how that must feel? That every day is a chore, a battlefield even. You have to fight to stop yourself drowning & yet you are still expected to fit into a rigid school environment that only bends & flexes if you are fortunate enough to have a passionate teacher, Head, Inclusion team & LSA. All of those individuals play an integral part in keeping a child with additional needs buoyant & successful...they are the child's champion.

Having been at the coal face of education, it is logical then that I face the prospect of my youngest's steps towards school with rather a high dose of anxiety. I feel frustrated that so many factors need to align in order for her experience to be fruitful. For the last 2.5 years I have been her champion: I have fought for her, I have knocked down Drs offices, pestered Consultant's secretaries, I've worked on every target set, attended endless appointments on her behalf, brought myself to my knees at times because I am determined to see her succeed. Relinquishing the reins is a challenge, but I hope that the school of our choice will echo my feelings and champion my daughter - in her strengths and her weaknesses. 

Rita Pierson said: "I am somebody. I was somebody before I came and I'll be a better somebody when I leave. I am powerful and I am strong. I deserve the education that I get here. I have things to do, people to impress and places to go. If you say it long enough, it starts to be part of you." These words are true - every child is a somebody. Every child deserves their education. I hope that all teachers watch this video & take note. To hold a child's education in your hands is a precious gift. You get one chance to make a difference, one opportunity to make an impact and one year to show a child that they are important, worthy & valued. It is irrelevant if the child before you is surpassing all expectations or not...the responsibility is yours & you must respect it. Thank goodness for teachers like Rita Pierson...may other educators take her lead. After all, as it has been said many times before "To the world you may be one person but to one person you may be the world." Every child needs to be treated as an individual & every teacher has the power, in fact the duty, to empower them to reach their goals. We are all Somebody. 

Bibi xx

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