When I last yapped with you I was telling you about, amongst other things, Strawberry Shortcake.  And quite a few people were kind enough to tell me they enjoyed reading that blog.  Many said it was funny, and I get that, I really do.  That’s the thing with our lives, one minute we can be telling each other about the stuff that makes us laugh out so loud there are tears are rolling down our face, and then...well sometimes the tears aren’t from laughter. 

When I last wrote the schools hadn’t started back yet here.  All over the region mammies, daddies, grannies, carers and anyone else who I haven’t mentioned who has primary care of a disabled child was running through every emotion known to man.  (OK - can we get the mammies, daddies and everyone else bit sorted now?  When I talk about being a parent of a child with diffabilities* it’s because that’s what I am.  It is not my being insensitive to everyone else who looks after a young person so for the purpose of this blog I’m going to write about me being a mammie and Sarah being my daughter - so no offence meant.  I can feel a blog on the benefits versus utter nuttiness of always being pc coming on :=) )

Where was I?  Oh yes, emotions.  I only have to look around me at my friends and family to see how different the returning to school experience is for people.  There is no doubt in my mind that this is a time of anxiety even for those pupils desperate to return to school.  But what happens when you have a child who doesn’t want to return.  When your wee angel is in fact not passive, but has earned that most “interesting” of labels - challenging.  And who would rather stay home with you.

What happens is that you live your life dancing on eggshells.  Any of you who read about Strawberry (may her wee pup run off and may her friends denounce her for the control freak she is) Shortcake and have a son or daughter on the Autistic Spectrum already know what’s coming... listening to those lists, that dialogue hour after hour, day after day, is not always funny.  At times it is heartbreaking and it shreds your nerves.  I find myself screaming inside, wanting it to stop, praying that soon we will have a new obsession.  I don’t of course let my girl know.  I try to concentrate, remember the sequence of characters.  I smile, keep eye contact and try never to let my gorgeous girl see my own anxieties.  Because I know that one character out of sequence, one hesitation on my part, one sharp word - will send my girl spiraling into a state of anxiety.  In the moments when I reflect on this I see myself in a 70s tv studio, I am on the Generation Game, Anthea is giving us a twirl and it is time to win a teasmade and a cuddly toy.  But instead of remembering all the wonderful gifts -  I have to recall the names of every friend Strawberry Shortcake ever made!  And if I get it right my girl will be happy, if I get it wrong she will unravel.  Either way,  within 5 minutes she’ll be back, and I go through it all again, and no, I have never won the cuddly toy. 

You get the picture.  I love my girl but there are times when I wish I wasn’t so determined to do right by her.  I often wonder what it would be like to just not do the whole interaction bit.  Just to say “no, stuff Strawberry I can’t listen to another hour of this”  and those are the Dark moments.  There may be some of you reading this who are shocked by this admission, horrified, disgusted or even angry.  And that’s fair enough.  But there will also be some of you reading this who think “yes I get that, I love my kid but sometimes I want to scream inside”  and you know what - that’s ok too.  Because, and remember this is only my view (as they say at the BBC - there are other views available out there!), I really believe that if you don’t accept there will be dark moments when you can’t cope, then you are deluding yourself.  Worse, you are not allowing yourself to prepare for those days.

Anyway back to the story.  After nearly 8 weeks of school holidays I had decided that Strawberry and her wee pals were in fact the Devil’s spawn and had grouped together to drive this particular mammie to the edge of reason.  As much as I adore my girl I needed her back at school.  Because here’s the thing - when you look at the picture of my girl, what do you see?  A lovely girl, smiling with her mum, a typical 14 year old?  I would see that too.  Only your average 14 year old has friends, has been to someone’s home for tea (and by that I mean someone of her own age), had a sleepover with pals, been to parties.  My girl has never been asked for tea or a sleepover and I doubt she ever will.  And her friends? Well they are people she has met in the Learning Centre at school or at her Saturday Club, and they are only “friends” there. They are people who happen to have diffabilites* too.  They are not the kids she grew up with or formed a bond over the mutual love and obsession for some pop singer.  And in case you are wondering  - I’m not telling you this for a dod of sympathy.  But to explain why I, and other parents like me, are so exhausted by the time school goes back.  Because we’re “it”.  We are the entertainment, the friend who never materialised, we make the tea party for her and her wee ponies, we try and make up for the fact that our kids have no friends. But it pushes us to the edge of reason, for me - to the edge of the Darkness. 

And what happens then?  Well, that’s the next installment.  I’m breaking this up as I know it’s a long and not very cheery read.  So if you want to know, or if this rings true for you then Darkness Part Two is coming right up.

* Diffabilities - an expression used by Wendy Lawson.  www.mugsy.org/wendy/index.htm  She commented that she had diff- abilities (i.e. - different abilities) as opposed to disabilities.  I thought that was great.