Comfort Eating

It's been a tough few days.

I drank beer on a school night.

I've eaten Jelly Babies.

A whole bag of them.

190g.

In one sitting.

What's your go to comfort food of choice? 

Brothers and Beer

There was a period of around thirty minutes last evening 

when I realised that I didn't like myself.

Homework had not gone well.

He was crying and saying he hated me.

I was screeching like the proverbial banshee. 

The evening was saved for the both of us by

the friend-who-is-like-my-brother.

Him, and the consumption of beer.

By me. 

A side note:  I was asked over the weekend what it was like coping with a child with autism.

I was particularly direct:

"It's sh*t." 

(The Brainy One is abroad on business.) 

Me on Monday

It was a where-did-that-weekend-go? kind of weekend.

It was one where we covered around 500 miles 

in around 31 hours.

It was one where we met our beautiful new cousin.

It was one where we attended a surprise 50th Wedding tea party.

  It was one where I felt the ties that bind.

It was one where I could see the man who had been Dad's

childhood (and lifelong) friend.

It was one where I could see that our shared history

continues, because he is The Boy Child's Godfather.  

It was one where I knew a family is made up of 

those you love the most and who love you in return.

It was one which left me with a full and happy heart.

This post is adapted from Sian's Me on Monday theme,

 which you can find on the

 fabulous From High in the Sky blog.

Another New Addition

This gorgeous wee thing

is the newest member of my family.

The Boy Child and I are her cousins.

And you know what a big fan of cousins I am. 

Minibook | The Reveal

The mini-book I mentioned earlier  in the week

will be given as a gift today.

 There's no clear shot of the front cover,

because that has The Boy Child's name on.

 Photos, embellishments and paper.

 Keeping it extremely simple.

 With extra photos tucked away in a pocket.

 Odd sized pages, cut as the fancy took me.

 No journalling to speak of,

 which was actually very liberating.

The minibook is a gift for The Boy Child's Godfather and his wife,

who are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. 

Five on Friday | The Starting Over Edition

The Boy Child and I are into our fourth week

at the new school.

Here's a few initial thoughts from me.

~ the school is behind this church ~

1) Drop-off and pick-up are chaotic!  

They probably aren't, it just feels that way.

2) The other kiddos are super-friendly, their mums not so much.

Only two have spoken to me and one of them I knew by sight from the gym.

3) It's a lot less personal.  I knew it would be.

I haven't spoken more than half a dozen words

to the class teacher since the beginning of term.

4) Volunteering is not as straight-forward.

I have to wait to be asked.

I have to complete another DBS check, 

even though I was cleared for a school less than 500 metres away.

In the same LEA.

I will have to complete a training session.

5)  The Boy Child is a lot more relaxed, homework

and spellings test notwithstanding.

Which is good.

     

The Scrapping Groove

The new school hours for The Boy Child have taken some getting used to.

Not by him, I might add, he's loving the shorter day.

That hour less in my afternoons has been a considerable loss,

but I now know I'm getting used to it

because scrapping time is reappearing

in my own version of a timetable   

A double page spread for our 2015 album.

Jazzing up a black and white photo with a sparkly frame.

.

 A double spread for The Boy Child's album.

These photos were printed back in June and

I'm making myself work through the printed pile

before printing/ordering any more. 

 One for The Nephew's album.

My sister sent the photo of him and 

I pinched the Star Wars one from her blog.  

I really love my hobby!

Lunch

With more than a hint of Autumn in the air,

it's time for something a wee bit more

substantial than your 

run-of-the-mill sandwich

at lunch-time.

Cheese and tomato on toast.

A strongly flavoured mature cheddar,

sliced cherry tomatoes 

and a generous dash of

Lea and Perrin's.

Food of the gods.

The Crafting Agony of Mini-books*

I've had cause this last week or so to make 

a personalised gift for The Boy Child to give someone.

I start with good intentions and end 

wondering why I put myself through it.

 It's not the cutting of the cardstock.

 It's not even the design.

 It's the binding.

I never, ever get the binding right on the first attempt.

But I console myself with the knowledge

that the recipient(s) will love what I have made.

Because I made it for them.

And we all know that you should never 

judge a book by its cover. 

* a first world problem, obviously.

Autism and the Everyday #4

There are some things about autism that are hard to live with.

  It's all relative because, let's be honest, autism is hard to live with.

Full stop. 

Let's talk language and specifically, echolalia.

I'd never heard the word echolalia until

The Boy Child started working with a Speech Therapist a few years ago.

As he has made progress with language,

 The Boy Child has built up a stockpile of phrases he can use 

in response to a multitude of situations.

He doesn't, however, always get it right.

He will know that a response is required from him

if he is to participate in a conversation.

But which is the right response?

On occasion, I can see his brain scrolling through

the memory file marked responses and I brace myself. 

An example of when his choice of response is totally wide of the mark:

Little Friend: "Blah, blah, blah, shouldn't we ask your Mum, blah, blah, blah."

The Boy Child:  "What?  My stupid g*t of a mother?" 

These words were uttered when we were at friends for supper.

There was a stunned silence and six sets of eyes swivelled round to look at me.

Now, both The Brainy One and I knew that particular line

 came from a book by David Walliams.

But nobody else did.

Even though our friends completely get The Boy Child, 

situations like that one are still embarrassing, 

awkward and humiliating.

He doesn't understand that words have power.

That they can hurt.

And that sometimes the situation might call for no words at all,

if you are unsure which words to call upon.  

  

The Rising Tide

We were on the Albert Embankment earlier today.

Looking for horses in the Thames.

 The Rising Tide is a temporary art installation in the Thames.

 The statues are hidden and revealed at every high and low tide. 

 They apparently highlight the role of the Thames

 as the lifeblood of London.

 It also seems that access to the foreshore

 from the nearby slipway was forbidden.

Being private property and all that.

I wasn't alone in not realising that.

Keeping it in the Family

We took a road trip out of London today.  

 To the old RAF Sywell in Northamptonshire, 

an hour and a half's drive away. 

 The reason was to see the photographic exhibition. 

 My brother just so happens to be the photographer

of the said exhibition.

 And if The Boy Child continues to practice his photography skills,

he could end up as good as his Uncle.

Scrapping with Shimelle

I legged it down to Canary Wharf this morning,

just so I could attend a 45 minute class with Shimelle. 

 The class was in a tent in the middle of Canada Square.

 There's not much achievable in class format in a mere 45 minutes,
apart that old stand-by, the concertina mini-book.

 Shimelle insisted everyone have their photo taken
and then printed off black and white copies.

 It was a lot of fun, if on the short side.
I took my non-scrapbooking friend along for the ride
and she enjoyed it enormously.

And if Shimelle was taking photos of me,
it was only right and proper that I had one with her.

Things He Says | The Potty Mouth Edition

Me: "Blah, blah, blah ... blah, blah, blah."

Him: " Why don't you just s*d off?!" 

What We're Reading

 The Boy Child: football related books (although I don't believe he is 

actually reading the Rio Ferdinand autobiography,

 merely looking at the photos), his beloved Tintin

an old annual about Biggles (in French)

and a free pull-out about the upcoming Rugby World Cup.

 Me: memoirs ~ the actor Alan Cumming (which is rather harrowing in places), 

Mike Mullane's experiences as a NASA astronaut

and Darrell 'Shifty' Powers, the sniper from Easy Company 

(whose story was told in the mini-series Band of Brothers). 

The Brainy One: hard to say, but mostly

 associated with military and civil aviation.

What are you reading?

Holiday Journal

I've been giving some thought to how our album 

of this year's Summer travels might look.

And mostly that's all I've been doing.

Apart from the title page. 

 I have, however, finished the travel journal.

 The bulk of it was done while we were away.

When you're staying with family and friends, it's fairly easy 

to write up your day after dinner.

 It's not like sitting squashed up on the end of the hotel bed

while you attempt to put coherent thoughts onto paper.  

 As is usual for me, I include tickets, flyers and anything

that can generally be squashed into 

the journal without causing too much damage. 

 This time, if there was a lot of text, 

I used red ink randomly across the page.

The fact that the journal now doesn't lie flat

 tells me that I did a good job.