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I sit here, I go through my photos, I start to create the posts… and time runs away with me. And so another week goes by with nothing recorded.

SO. I’m jumping back in again, and I’ll back-fill as I have time.

Yesterday was a Big Day.

No.1 had a rough start to Yr 8. He’s been dropped a set in three subjects, and his best friend and he fell out over the summer, so he spent a very lonely and sad first day back. He’s a bright bright boy – but out of the last three school years he’s maybe managed four full terms (if you add his entire attendance up; Last year he managed just THREE weeks at 100% attendance, and for the year he was at 43% attendance).
No wonder he has gaps in his Maths and IT knowledge, and his confidence in French is shaky. He was in-his-boots gloomy, very tearful and too emotional about it all.

Boy however had an excellent start to Yr 6. He was very scared, as he always is, starting a  new term, new teacher, new room. But he REALLY likes his new teacher. Who started the day with the words “I know some of you have been a bit apprehensive of coming into Yr 6 – but you really don’t need to be”. Music to my boys nervous ears.

Jolly did what Jolly does – shrugged, tipped his head on one side and said “yeah, it’s good. She’s nice. What’s for tea?”.

And Pink? My baby girl? She loves school. Naturally. Like everything she faced it head on with a confident sparkly grin and a pair of baggy socks.

Today, No.1 had a MUCH better day. He had his first French lesson in the new (lower) set – loves his new French class & teacher, and for the first time doesn’t feel he’s struggling out of his depth. This is Good.

OH and.

And and AND.

He did P.E.

First P.E. lesson in what? Two years? Nearly three? It was circuits, and they just had to run around the large gym hall, see how many circuits they could complete. he let the pack of boys belt off, knowing he’d be slow, and just decided to do what he could.

he said the first three circuits were agony, and he nearly stopped when he thought his lungs might actually burst. But then some charming child muttered “come on then, fat boy”. And so he gritted his teeth and plodded onwards. And he said by lap 5, it was easy to just keep on putting one foot in front of the other.

In the end he ran almost 2km, lapped a lot of them and finished fifth out of 40-odd boys.

I’ll just pause for a second and absorb the way my insides just lit up as I typed that.

Remembering the way he was hovering in the kitchen when I got back from the school run, bursting to tell me, the shiny beaming of PRIDE on his face. Just… Magic. Priceless.

Apparently his PE teacher, who’s also head of year and has followed him closely over Yr7 couldn’t stop shouting out encouragement and praise.

Course, it’s now 9.30, and he can’t sleep because his legs are aching so much. Not, I think, the M.E. – just sheer objecting complaints from unused muscles!

Wales was beautiful and wet and chilly and glorious and just… Wales.

We love it so.

No time now, but wanted to show the 2011 version of The Four…

and I, of course, expected to feel nostalgic and wistful for that golden summer when my three tow-headed boys looked like this, and needed nothing more than each other. I saw my No. 1, bright, sparkle-eyed, fit and just bursting with beautiful health. Boy was dancing, jumping, running, fizzing with his endless energy and enthusiasm and saucy fun. Jolly was just so very hugely enormously solidly gigglingly wonderfully JOLLY.

What I did not expect was the reaction of the boys. How at the tender ages of 8 and 9 they could be so wistfully nostalgic for those golden days of their ‘childhood’. How they miss the old toys we have gradually decluttered over the years. How they had already forgotten the way they played, their utter absorption in each other, the way they were three brothers, and yet one body of boys.

I did not expect to see No.1 slowly sadden and quieten as he compared his current slow and cumbersome self to that bright shining boy on the screen. The one he still is in his head.

I saw Boy watch, amazed and joy-filled as his small 3yr old self leaped about the floor with his daddy, playing, dancing, kissing and laughing together. Somehow, in the telling of his horrible anti-daddy 18mths stories, he came to believe he was a bad and hateful boy – one hour of home movies showed him this was not the case, and I watched a weight we hadn’t known was there be lifted from his small shoulders.

Jolly watched, amazed, as he fell down, giggled throatily, and got back up again. Over and over again. I quietly whispered in his ear, pointing out that the new moody tantrum-screech-cry he issues forth whenever he thinks he *might* be hurt isn’t the way he always was. That he wasn’t always so quick to fury, so fast to take offence. And as his family coo-ed and laughed and smiled and doted on the happy-shaped chunky bundle on the screen small pennies began dropping into place.

I love my big bold wonderful boys with every thing I have. But I miss my golden trio too.

Scrambled eggs for breakfast – perfectly cooked by no.1 Jolly offered me a cup of tea – and then whispered loudly to No.1 “will you show me how to make Mummy a cup of tea?”.

Sofa time with my small people, with the most magnificent cards and gifts any mother got. Sorry, I know your love yours, but quite clearly – mine were Best.

An afternoon exploring and running and jumping on a hill fort – and the obligatory game of Block. Which Blue was particularly bad at, giving away every hiders position one after another with smug irrespressibly bouncy glee, no matter how often we hissed at her to go away.

Home for movie night, and the boys ‘treating’ me – to  their very favourite burger-and-chips-from-the-pizza-shop. *eyeroll*. But hey, I didn’t cook.

From Pink - a hand-flower, and a picture of me. Yes my feet are that big and red.

Jollys card - get that Roman mosaic.

And from Boy - an acrostic poem:

M is for making me Happy

O is for Outstanding Mothering

T is for treating me sweets and chocolate

H is for Having you around

E is for Everything you have done for me

R is for being ready to help me.

And from No.1 - an origami card, plus (accidentally) my favourite quote from my hero Winnie the Pooh "If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus one day so I never have to live without you"

And No.1 also made me this most beautiful of sculptures in Art.

Five on a hill

Always the same - the boys explore

... and Pink tries very hard to keep up

Okay, seeing as you asked, I’ll expand – without the huffing and the shouting..

No.1 – tis apparently just result of stress of moving to High School, was entirely expected by CFS co-ordinator knowledgeable lady, and is why she didn’t sign him off her books when he was haring around swimming pools and going to the skate park last summer. Whilst he was slowly struggling (and not really coping) with the adjustment, his energy was sliding, and then around November his immunity took a dip, and the throat and ear infections began, then he stopped falling asleep at night (we’re back to midnight at the earliest…) – eventually had to stop pretending it was a bug (he’ll-be-better-next-week), and realise it needed better handling. Hang on, I wrote it all out for his form tutor earlier, that’ll catch you up…

“No.1 has unfortunately slowly headed into a relapse, falling back around 12mths on his progress.
In theory, if managed properly this should be relatively short lived, but we needed to create a longer-term action plan, as reactive-responses just don’t work with CFS. Resting when he’s tired isn’t good enough – he needs to be resting BEFORE he gets to that point, the end aim being to maintain an even energy level throughout the day/night, rather than serious peaks and troughs

His daytime energy levels are those typical for CFS sufferers – massively painful early morning and evening lows with a peak around mid-afternoon. Whilst Barbara talked through NO.1’s typical day she highlighted various areas which are clearly more difficult for No.1 to cope with, and suggested ways we can manage them better.

It was apparent quite quickly that he still finds the noisy, busy corridors of High School difficult, and the locker area in particular is very stressful for him. He also isn’t building any rest periods into his day, and with the constant movement involved with his timetable he’s just keeping going – and therefore suffering every evening with overtiredness (he rarely falls asleep before midnight currently, despite a strict wind-down routine which would have me sleeping like a baby by 8 every evening!). This of course then has the knock on effect of making his mornings even more difficult, the pain increases, and so the cycle perpetuates.”

So – he’s doing slightly-later-start mornings in school to avoid stressy corridor-before-registration issue, staying through lunch to have rest time with his mates and not feel depressed and isolated again like before, and we collect him at 2 – they only have one period after lunch anyway. On Wednesdays we take him back in at 3 for STEM club cos he’s a geek and he loves it and he’s been upset at missing it.

Boy – tis a phase, you’re right. Tis uber-common amongst 9yr old boys, apparently – No.1 did the very same thing. Mind you, tisn’t helped when one plays one’s DS under the bedclothes at 11 at night either. But all the lessons we learned with No.1 come in handy and we’ve adjusted the bedtime routine. Now instead of climbing into bed, having 30 minutes lights on to listen to MP3/audio books/read whatever he likes, he now has a comfy area on the floor in the corner of his room. He has to go THERE for lights on, and is only allowed to read. At lights out time (which we’ve currently pushed back to 9, and will gradually draw closer to 8)  he is allowed to climb into bed – bed is for sleeping only y’see. Tonight he was asleep about 15 minutes after finally being allowed to climb into bed. DS is residing currently on the Banned Goods shelf in the office, too.

Jolly is shouty cos he’s not sleeping. He’s always been one for 11hrs solid, asleep within 5 minutes of getting into bed. But now he’s taking over an hour to nod off, and then he’s frequently waking with bad dreams. Doesn’t seem to be worrying about anything, can’t get to the bottom of what is causing it, but he’s vicious when he’s not had enough sleep.

Pink is far more delicious, mind. Poo-ing where she’s supposed to. Oh the sheer joy of it. I’ll take all the small happy’s I get this week!