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I went downstairs to make coffee at 6.30am and the light in the kitchen was thick and yellow, filtered through orange-grey rainclouds and hanging heavily in the air as if I was encapsulated in amber, and saturating everything like a badly-applied photo filter. When I took my phone out to take a picture the camera auto-corrected the colour temperature and sucked all the gold tones out, leaving the room looking thin and blue-grey. I am taking a picture with these words instead.
I have a cold, which is why I was asleep before 10pm last night. I slept good, and feel a little improved this morning. Friday was the nadir: I leaned on Leo to take on childcare (which meant they had to take most of the day off work) so I could spend as much of it as possible resting in bed. Being self-employed is supposed to give me freedom around this stuff, but parenting makes it almost impossible to take sick leave without guilt. I could have dosed up on decongestants and ADHD meds and pushed through if either of us had had unavoidable commitments, but I felt so grotty I was very glad not to have to. Apparently testosterone hormone therapy makes you more susceptible to viral inflammation - but less at risk of auto-immune disorders - in a similar same way to people with naturally high testosterone (in other words, Man Flu is real!). Perhaps this explains why E sneezed twice but is otherwise in fine fettle, and Leo and I both feel we've been hit by a truck.
Yesterday I felt a little less bad, just about well enough to get up and have a cosy day teaming parenting with the three of us, but sadly it was not to be: Leo had succumbed and it was their turn to spend most of the day in bed. I think parenting while sick is my least favourite part of parenting: flashbacks to the pandemic, and the kicker of losing childcare support when you most need it because people cancel so they don't catch it. On Friday when Leo was busy with things I just hunkered down with E on the sofabed downstairs, and we watched Toy Story and ate snacks. But yesterday I felt up to resetting the kitchen and living room, cooking meals, and following E's self-directed play led to some lovely activities: doing a tarot reading together with their colour-in animal tarot deck (their question was about feeling sad when their tablet time is up, and the spread contained some fascinating reflections); making a soft play obstacle course in the living room out of cushions for E to romp across, and then spreading them out and making appreciative noises from the sofa while they practised forwards and backwards rolls; listening to the Cocteau Twins while I hand-fed them tiny slices of cheese crumpet and they pretended to be a baby robin; drawing dinosaurs together out of their new art activities book; watching the playback of their jiu-jitsu coach's competition win an hour earlier, which led to playing Sticky Klingon, a BJJ game where I'm on all fours, they're clinging to my back, and I'm trying (but not too hard) to shake them off; and after dinner we did a bedtime yoga session led by E, and they serenaded me with intuitive piano-playing and singing, both of which I really enjoyed. Their lyrics flowed seamlessly between English and a private language, and I could hear musicality and poetry in the bits I understood. I offered to accompany them on piano while they sang, and that was really fun and turned out sounding quite pretty; they quite quickly got bored and wanted the piano back, but I wish I'd recorded it. Sometimes I find their play extremely tedious, but yesterday between us we managed to land on a whole succession of activities I really enjoy, and it was lovely!
On Tuesday they're starting at the Garden, the self-directed learning community that lured us to Bristol. It's a three day a week setting: 10am-3pm Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays during term time. The focus is on autonomy and cultivating skills: young people take charge of their own projects, play, and learning, and the mentors are there to facilitate, provide support, and assist with conflict where needed. 5 is the youngest age they'll accept (a lot of home ed settings are 6+) and the jury's out on to what extent E is indeed ready to take responsibility for their own toileting, eating and drinking. I've been texting with one of the mentors, B, (who I know through Radical Routes, the housing co-op network) and am reassured that support is available with these things if needed. It occurs to me that being encouraged to undress, clean up, and get dressed again by themself after a toilet accident might be a wonderful incentive to start paying more attention to their bladder signals when they're in the middle of something. However I'm still considering hanging out nearby for the first day in case I'm needed.
I have a cold, which is why I was asleep before 10pm last night. I slept good, and feel a little improved this morning. Friday was the nadir: I leaned on Leo to take on childcare (which meant they had to take most of the day off work) so I could spend as much of it as possible resting in bed. Being self-employed is supposed to give me freedom around this stuff, but parenting makes it almost impossible to take sick leave without guilt. I could have dosed up on decongestants and ADHD meds and pushed through if either of us had had unavoidable commitments, but I felt so grotty I was very glad not to have to. Apparently testosterone hormone therapy makes you more susceptible to viral inflammation - but less at risk of auto-immune disorders - in a similar same way to people with naturally high testosterone (in other words, Man Flu is real!). Perhaps this explains why E sneezed twice but is otherwise in fine fettle, and Leo and I both feel we've been hit by a truck.
Yesterday I felt a little less bad, just about well enough to get up and have a cosy day teaming parenting with the three of us, but sadly it was not to be: Leo had succumbed and it was their turn to spend most of the day in bed. I think parenting while sick is my least favourite part of parenting: flashbacks to the pandemic, and the kicker of losing childcare support when you most need it because people cancel so they don't catch it. On Friday when Leo was busy with things I just hunkered down with E on the sofabed downstairs, and we watched Toy Story and ate snacks. But yesterday I felt up to resetting the kitchen and living room, cooking meals, and following E's self-directed play led to some lovely activities: doing a tarot reading together with their colour-in animal tarot deck (their question was about feeling sad when their tablet time is up, and the spread contained some fascinating reflections); making a soft play obstacle course in the living room out of cushions for E to romp across, and then spreading them out and making appreciative noises from the sofa while they practised forwards and backwards rolls; listening to the Cocteau Twins while I hand-fed them tiny slices of cheese crumpet and they pretended to be a baby robin; drawing dinosaurs together out of their new art activities book; watching the playback of their jiu-jitsu coach's competition win an hour earlier, which led to playing Sticky Klingon, a BJJ game where I'm on all fours, they're clinging to my back, and I'm trying (but not too hard) to shake them off; and after dinner we did a bedtime yoga session led by E, and they serenaded me with intuitive piano-playing and singing, both of which I really enjoyed. Their lyrics flowed seamlessly between English and a private language, and I could hear musicality and poetry in the bits I understood. I offered to accompany them on piano while they sang, and that was really fun and turned out sounding quite pretty; they quite quickly got bored and wanted the piano back, but I wish I'd recorded it. Sometimes I find their play extremely tedious, but yesterday between us we managed to land on a whole succession of activities I really enjoy, and it was lovely!
On Tuesday they're starting at the Garden, the self-directed learning community that lured us to Bristol. It's a three day a week setting: 10am-3pm Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays during term time. The focus is on autonomy and cultivating skills: young people take charge of their own projects, play, and learning, and the mentors are there to facilitate, provide support, and assist with conflict where needed. 5 is the youngest age they'll accept (a lot of home ed settings are 6+) and the jury's out on to what extent E is indeed ready to take responsibility for their own toileting, eating and drinking. I've been texting with one of the mentors, B, (who I know through Radical Routes, the housing co-op network) and am reassured that support is available with these things if needed. It occurs to me that being encouraged to undress, clean up, and get dressed again by themself after a toilet accident might be a wonderful incentive to start paying more attention to their bladder signals when they're in the middle of something. However I'm still considering hanging out nearby for the first day in case I'm needed.
