Why are you crying, Mum?*

*Disclaimer: Get your tissues at the ready

It was Monday – my worst day of the week as I am sure you are aware. This Monday was going to be a good Monday though. It was a PD day from school which meant my son was off school. This meant I had had to take the day off work (Get in!!) and we were going to spend the day together having fun. An easy day, quite relaxing full of Christmas cheer. And then he would be fresh for his swimming lesson on the evening instead of tired from school so I was really looking forward to it. I should have known better……

I had booked tickets to go to a local garden centre where they had a VR sleigh ride. I thought we would have a trip there, go on this ride, look at the Christmas things and come home and chill in the house for the rest of the day before swimming. I told my son the plan and he was very very happy with it. He even asked if his Grandma could come with us so I invited my Mum. I was feeling rather pleased with myself….which is stupid I know because things can take a turn for the worse in a second. Anyway my mum arrived at our house and straight away I knew this was a mistake. I should have picked her up on the way rather than her come to the house. Don’t ask me why or how I knew that, but I knew that would have been better for my son. Now my son was refusing to go, he wouldn’t get his shoes or coat on and said he didn’t want Grandma to come. He locked himself in his bedroom for a while. And me and my mum sat quiet waiting for him to process the fact that this hadn’t gone how he had thought it would. It hadn’t gone how I thought it would either.

Now let me explain something about my mum, she finds sitting quiet extremely difficult. This is just a recent thing, she is taking medication that makes her want to talk….alot. She knows it, I know it and my son knows it. He has asked quite a lot recently:

“Why does Grandma talk so much?”

And she cant help it. So we were sat quiet waiting for my son to catch up and I text her while sitting opposite her and said “Please just sit quiet and he will sort himself out”. I knew this would be difficult for her but she did it. And he did it too, he came out of his bedroom and said he wanted to go but he would only go on one condition………

“Grandma is not allowed to talk at all in the car”

If this wasn’t so surreal it would be hilarious. There was a part of me that wanted to laugh hysterically but I knew we were in for some serious sh*t. My mum confirmed she wouldn’t talk in the car on the way, and thankfully it was only a ten minute journey but I knew it was going to be difficult for her. We got in the car and I could see she was desperately trying not to talk. And she didn’t but by the time we got there she was almost bursting. Literally bursting to talk!!!

The garden centre went ok – we went on the ride and looked at the Christmas things but I could feel tension and anxiety all the way round so we didn’t stick around and we decided to go home. On the way out we spotted a write to Santa letter pack so we bought it and I thought my son could write his letter to Santa when we got home, after lunch. Lunchtime wasn’t the greatest…mealtimes are usually fraught with difficulty but I didn’t let it bother me, this was usual. After lunch we ploughed on with the letter to Santa. And it was a disaster. I can’t even explain why. My son thought the letter went wrong – it didn’t. He didn’t know what to write, he didn’t want to write a letter to Santa, he wanted to write a letter to Santa, he wanted to start again. And this letter escalated and escalated. And I could see my sons mood was escalating and escalating. We eventually decided to go buy another pack so he could start again and that is what we did. The tension around the letter and the garden centre was slowly tipping my son over the edge. The day was not the lovely Christmassy day I was expecting. We got the letter written and I knew it was coming up for swimming time. And I took a deep breath and we began the swimming lesson debacle…..

Swimming lessons are an essential in my eyes. And if you had read “why is life hard” you would see our swimming lessons were either awful or really good. No in between. My son loved swimming and was excellent at it. In fact he was so good that in the 6 months of lessons he had moved up 5 stages. This averaged out at 1 stage per month…so 4 or 5 lessons for every stage. That is unbelievable going. This meant that after 4 or 5 lessons he moved from stage 1 to stage 2, then after another 4 or 5 lessons, he moved from stage 2 to stage 3 and so on. He was so so good at swimming. He loved the water. And this surprised me totally because for years he hated having a bath, he hated having his hair washed. He would scream blue murder when I tried to wash his hair, infact as soon as I tried to wash it he literally jumped out of the bath. I tried every trick in the book but nothing worked and for a long long time I barely bathed him or washed his hair. So when we started the lessons I didn’t hold out much hope. He surprised us all……

He was literally like a fish in the water. However moving up a stage so often worked against him. Because the time of the lesson changed and the swim teacher changed and he did not like this. So every time he moved up a stage it was an effort to get him to go to the lesson and when we got there for the first 10/15 mins he would sit on the sideline and just watch the other kids before finally plucking up the courage to get in and join in the lesson. This week was his first lesson in stage 5. And I had stupidly thought it would go great seeing as though he had been off school but after the day we had had I didn’t hold out much hope. And once again the trauma of the swimming lesson started. He didn’t want to go said he was too tired, said he would go next week. So I thought that’s fine with me then literally 5 minutes before the lesson was due to start he said “I’ve changed my mind, I want to go” so I raced around the house getting his stuff together…..we jumped in the car and sped down to the swimming baths.

Lately the swimming baths have been fairly cold, which I thought was good because I had a big thick Christmas jumper on but today it was absolutely ridiculously hot, not good when I had been rushing about. We made it to the lesson, I was stressed, and now hot, I had my son’s bag in my hand, his towel ready for when he came out, my phone, my car keys and his giant Oodie that he wears to go to the swimming pool. We sat on the spectator benches and he said he wasn’t going to join in, just watch for a while. I spoke to the new swim teacher and explained that as it was my sons first lesson in stage 5 he doesn’t always join in, he said that was fine. We sat and watched. I got more and more hot. I kept trying to persuade him to join in. My son was getting distressed the more I tried to persuade him. I was trying to persuade him, the teacher was trying to persuade him, the man sat next to me was trying to persuade him.  I was sweating. I looked harassed, and hot, and about to cry. I had to take my jumper off. I was now carrying a swim bag, a towel, an Oodie, my phone, the jumper and the weight of the world on my shoulders, all in tropical temperatures.

My son said he would join in at 17:26. It got to 17:26 and he didn’t get in. He said he would join in at 17:30. It got to 17:30 and he didn’t join in. He was distressed. I was distressed. And the man sat next to us was absolutely sick to death of us. By this point we were over halfway through the 30 minute lesson and I knew it was a goner. I was resigned to go home. I asked him to put his Oodie on and said lets go home and he was happy to. We had to walk out of the pool past all of the other spectators to get out and it felt a bit like defeat, like when a footballer gets sent off and has to walk off the pitch with everyone booing and laughing and chanting.

When we got back to the changing room that’s when I realised I had lost my car keys. Somewhere in the middle of all the trauma not only had I lost my mind but my car keys. Now I know its only car keys but I never lose anything ever (well maybe my bank card once or twice in the house) but never out in public. I looked like one of those harassed parents who hadn’t slept in weeks and was a hot sweaty mess. I did not like it one bit. I could feel the tears coming but knew I had to go back out in the swimming pool to look for my keys. I walked round the pool back to the bench we had been sat on which was now taken by other people, everyone who had been there before looked at me strangely – I had to ask the other people to move and explained I had lost my car key. I was bright red, sweating and on the verge of tears and there was no car key. I decided I must have dropped them in the changing room so went to look which meant another walk past everyone – no car keys. I finally asked at reception if anyone had handed any keys in and thankfully they had. I could have hugged the lifeguard behind the counter but instead I said thanks and rushed outside with my son following behind. As soon as the cold hit my face I started to cry. I got us in the car and I cried all the way home and my son who was sat in the front of the car and could see me crying said:

“Why are you crying mum?”

And why was I crying. I was crying for the disappointment of the day. I was crying because everything in the day had gone wrong. I was crying because I had lost my car keys. I was crying because my son wouldn’t join in swimming. I was crying because I was tired. I was crying because despite trying my absolute best the day had been a disaster. But most of all I was crying because I knew that the things I wanted to do to make my son happy, things like days out to the garden centre, spending time with Grandma, writing a letter to Santa, didn’t make him happy and even though I knew that I still wasn’t 100% ready to accept it and so I found myself forcing him into situations because I thought that was best, when in reality it was always a disaster. I was crying because I still wasn’t fully ready to accept it. I answered him and just said:

“Its been a really really long day. And I am sorry for taking you swimming and I am sorry it has been a disaster”

And he put his hand on my shoulder. And then asked me:

“Does 4 add 4 add 4 make 12?”

And I cried even more…………….