There have been lots of articles over the last year or two about art in schools and as part of the National Curriculum for KS3 & beyond. The pressure is to reduce the amount of time that students spend on ‘soft’ subjects like the arts, so that they can spend more time on more serious subjects, such as physics or geography.  As a teacher, I understand that if you are judged on the marks in the serious subjects, you will automatically spend more time on these ones, but art should never be seen as a soft subject – and what is this about soft and not soft subjects anyway?

Art subjects – be that fine art, design, crafting, sewing, woodwork, cake decorating garden design, photography or any other variant – is good for the soul, it feeds the imagination part of our brain, and it also allows us to day dream, to escape into another plain where we can work through things that are bothering us. I’d like to think that blogging is an art form, and for those of you who regularly read my blogs, you know that it is a form of therapy for me, but so is gardening, sewing, jewellery and candle making. They all allow me to shut off from the pressures of the news, school, work and reports. I can think about anything, and while I am thinking about what seeds I might want to grow next year (did you know that you can grown quinoa in the UK – not planning to, but hey!) I then get a light bulb moment about the way to teach grammar to teens, or how I can tackle the sleeping problem we’re having with our youngest, or even what I can going to buy my grandmother for Christmas. Art is essential for our mental health.

Moreover, (and I think I may be plagiarising this from a Dan Brown book, so I acknowledge that now, but can’t actually cite it as I’m not sure which book), the higher you get in science and maths, the more artistic things become. There are patterns and rhythms to maths, there is beauty beyond words in the vastness of the cosmos, and the microscopic intricacies of the world too small for our eyes to see. And, perhaps most importantly, the sciences and maths need the arts. They need the imagination that sees beyond what is there and what we know. They need the mind that can wonder until it suddenly gets an idea that might change the world, and save mankind as it does. We cannot have advances in science without scientists who have imaginations to see what others cannot see yet.

Seeing art as a soft option goes beyond school. As most of you will know, I teach, and I am really enjoying being back in the classroom. I also did a science degree & masters, and see myself as a scientist, which is probably why I keep stopping myself throwing myself into my arty hobbies more. I love sewing, and am quite good at it (I made an amazing bridesmaid’s dress last year), and I also make jewellery, candles and am formulating lotions and potions at the moment. However, I cannot commit myself to these completely as my head still sees crafting as a non-science even though my lotions and potions, and, to a certain extent, candles, are a perfect symbiosis of science and art!

We all (me included) need to embrace all the difference subjects available to us as adults, and to our skware pegs. We need artists, scientist, mathematicians, geographers and historians, and we also need people who don’t see any barriers between the different areas, who can be artistic, mathematical geologists who can live happy, imaginative lives, while making amazing discoveries and inventions. And me? Well I need to relax, go into my garden and see where my mind will take me!

Anxiety rules our world – it really does. Sometimes it’s our youngest’s anxiety, and sometimes, bear with me here, it’s my anxiety about his anxiety. And sometimes it’s not the anxiety as such, it’s the need for his safe place (home) which means after almost a week of a two-week holiday in a wonderful part of Cornwall, he is homesick, or at least safe-place sick, and the next few days are going to be a bit of a roller coaster. Our eldest isn’t with us, and I worry about him too. He’s had a day trip to Amsterdam (lots of plane stalking yesterday to make sure he got there and got home OK), and now he’s back home, and I still worry! Hence the blog; my anxiety about our youngest’s potential anxiety has now kicked in, and the best thing for me to do right now is write about it.

We are staying in a different holiday cottage, but in the same little hamlet we have stayed in for the last 9 years. He wanted a change even though we were happy with the flat we stayed in before. He helped me choose this (there were others that he preferred, but this looked lovely, and it was in our budget), and it is a lovely cottage. But, he now misses the flat we used to stay in (even though last year he didn’t want to stay there any more). He misses home. He misses his bed. He misses the animals. He misses his safe place. He’s ok, a long way from a meltdown or shut down, but there is still an underlying tension today.

It’s not just today, though. The house has a double room, and a twin room. We arrived on Saturday, and I have been sleeping in the twin room with him, as he doesn’t want to sleep on his own. To be honest, we expected this. Somewhere new, somewhere strange….yep, it’s hard to be on your own. Last night, however, as the home sickness really kicked in, we played musical beds all night. I had to hug him til he fell asleep, a nightmare in the middle of the night meant he needed another hug and then at 6am he had another bad dream and came in to my tiny, uncomfortable bed that’s only just big enough for one.

This is what people looking in fail to understand or comprehend. Anxiety, autistic traits or whatever barrier is driving this current angst is there all the time. It doesn’t ever go away. Not completely. If the CBT works, we have been told it will just allow him to control his anxiety, rather than it controlling him. And it won’t really have much effect on the ASD traits. They will be there forever, but….. I was going to write that he will be able to control them. And then I stopped and paused. Should he have to control them? If he finds smelly crowded restaurants stressful, should he have to find a way to overcome this? If he finds some places overwhelming on a sensory basis, should he have to find a way to be in there anyway, controlling the head ache or whatever physical affect this causes?

Anyway, the purpose of this blog, this ramble, is to say to all you parents who are sharing rooms on holiday, or watching out for possible stressors or triggers, you’re not alone. Our normal may be different to many other people’s normal, but you are not the only one going through this. We live in a crazy world sometimes (all the time??) but the positives, the conversations, the amazing children and young adults who share our lives make all the craziness worthwhile.

A year ago our youngest had just finished year 6, and our 17 year stint as parents as the same primary school was over – emotional times. Ahead was the roller-coaster summer between years 6 & 7 where our youngest would fluctuate between excitement and terror. Added into this mix was an autism assessment, and the associated stress with the test itself, but also with the results.  Our eldest was getting ready for university, a world he didn’t think he would ever be allowed to enter because of his poor academic record and lack of A-levels or any other level 3 qualification.  Added to all this was my application to get back into teaching after a 15 month hiatus.

One year on, and our youngest has almost finished year 7. In 9 weeks when he goes back to school, he won’t be one of the babies any more. He will be in year 8. He will also go back with another diagnosis of visual stress, or Irlen Syndrome (because dyslexia, clinical anxieties and ASD traits aren’t enough), and his colour will be dark green. The year has been incredibly tough for him, and although things are getting better, he had a big anxiety attack on Sunday night, we slept on the sofa as he didn’t want to be alone, and after an upset tum at 5am, we decided that he needed to have Monday at home. He has started counselling with CAMHS for his anxieties, and sessions with a CBT therapist start at the end of July. All good in so many ways, but it’s all still there, and we still have to help him deal with it. Another blog post will follow very soon about the attitude of some of the other children to mental health issues, but to summise, some of his peers have been understanding; others definitely have not.

One year on, and our eldest has swapped courses, completed his first year, but will probably be looking to change course again for September, but still at the same university. What his year in HE has shown me, is that the symptoms of ADHD & dyslexia never, ever go away. To be completely honest, I was expecting more support and understanding from an established university. Yes, he made mistakes with emails, communication chains etc, but he was honest and open about his learning barriers from the start, and I feel he needed more help, and he needed to be asked if he needed help.

And then there’s me. One year on I have really enjoyed being back in the classroom. It has been very challenging at times, and although I am very part time (only 8 teaching hours a week) it has been hard to balance supporting students and supporting our boys (and each other). But I’ve done it – good attendance, retention and pass rates, and hopefully new, exciting courses are on the horizon.

So, we’ve almost done it. We are almost there. We have survived teaching, university and year 7. We are also making plans for a greener, more eco-lifestyle which will mean than eco-therapy will be on our doorstep, and there will be more info on this in future blogs, and also how eco-therapy can help our skware pegs find their own holes.

The other thing that this year has taught me is that as a parent (and sometimes as a teacher) you need to trust your gut instinct. If you believe something isn’t right, pursue it. If you find something that works for you and your skware peg, embrace it. But most of all, this is your life, these are your skware pegs. There are no other skware pegs anywhere in the world like them, so do what’s best for them.

What a strange week it’s been. It certainly has been a roller coaster, with the highs of an award at Speech Day for our youngest, (plus an award recognising the commitment my husband has with his voluntary coaching he does week in, week out at school) and then the (?selfish) lows of Saturday night.

Saturday was the annual fund raising ball at school, where teachers and parents all let their hair down and have fun. We almost missed out on tickets, but managed to get 4, and I asked our youngest if he would be OK staying at my parents over night so that I could have a proper grown up night out (our eldest usually babysits, but he was coming too!). I wouldn’t drink, because I don’t tend to, and so would be there to have breakfast with him and then we could have a normal Sunday. Back in February he agreed, so I assumed it was all sorted, and started planning our Big Night Out.

Earlier last week, I checked that he was still OK with the arrangements. His face dropped, and it was clear he wasn’t. He was OK going, but didn’t want to stay over. I asked him to reconsider as it was a big deal, and I really wanted to stay out late. I thought it was all resolved, until Saturday afternoon when we chatted about packing his bag and I mentioned staying over. Tears, a shutdown and a change of plan was needed.

So, the new plan was that we went out (we did) and he would stay at my parents (which he did), but we would be home by midnight to pick him up. In return, he would keep it together, not meltdown or shutdown, and we would be able to stay out til then. All OK, compromise made, time to get ready and go.

I had an amazing time. The food was nice, good company, funny speeches, but it all went on a bit, so by the time we had to think about getting ready to leave, it was only just getting started. No dancing, no mixing, no real socialising, and on the way home, I got so cross and so upset. I wanted one night of not watching the clock or checking my phone. I wanted to leave when my feet hurt from dancing, or when everyone else was going. I didn’t want to be the first to leave. I wanted to be carefree, and instead I was conscious of the time. I want to be in some of the funny photos that are on social media, I wanted to do dodgy mum-dancing, make memories and laugh at the jokes we all shared. Instead, we left early, and were home soon after midnight.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I really let my hair down and threw caution to the wind. I can’t remember not worrying or phone checking. I can’t remember being completely spontaneous; I can’t remember being completely selfish and putting me at the centre of plans. That makes me sad.

On the flip side, though, I can discuss Einstein with one son, and the general election with the other. I can indulge in thoughts and conversations on time travel, music, and the benefits (or not) or spirulina and coconut flour.

I really so have an amazingly blessed life. There is so little for me to complain about, and I know that compared to many special needs parents, we have it so easy.  But sometimes it all gets a bit much, and it seems really hard. Sometimes it feels very controlled, and it feels that I sometimes forget who I am while I try to help my wonderful boys.

This isn’t asking for pity, by the way, far from it. I really do have an amazing life, and we are planning for exciting changes in the future. I honestly wouldn’t change anything as it all works, and, for the huge majority of the time, it is truly wonderful.

So, I am now going to crank the radio up, and do some very dodgy mum dancing round the kitchen – and I don’t care who knows!

 

Before I start this properly, this isn’t a ‘poor me’ post. I am not looking for sympathy, I’m just being very, very honest about the lows of parenting, and how some days can be lower than others.

As you know from my previous post, this week was about exams and CAMHS, and so was bound to be stressful for our youngest. What I failed to acknowledge was how stressful it was going to be for me. At the moment, while the rational part of my brain sees two amazing humans who have no desire to be round pegs, and embrace their skware-peginess (???) the irrational part of my brain is currently seeing that we have two children who have barriers to accessing education that has necessitated help from CAMHS. When I was pregnant with both of them, and I was making plans for their future, spending time at the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services department of a hospital didn’t feature at all.  As I talked about in a previous blog (skwarepegrowndhole.wordpress.com/2015/06/30/17/), there is an huge amount of guilt at times when you are an SEN parent, and all those feelings are very close to the surface at the moment.

I am also trying to build and develop a new business venture at the moment, trying to fit everything I do around family, revision, trips to buy suits and everything else that has been normal in our family this week. I am putting extra pressure on myself, but it’s something I really want to do. I stopped working full time 21 years ago when I went on maternity leave, and although I have worked part time for the last 20.5 years, I have chosen not to apply for promotions or new jobs as the boys were my priority. However, they are now 12 & 20, and I am only in my 40s, so feel that this is my time to push what I want to do, and drive my ideas and dreams into reality.

Now you know the backdrop to this week, I need to admit & confess what happened last night. I came home from a day teaching to a full dishwasher, a sink full of pots and pans, dry washing waiting to go on in the washing machine, and (and this sounds so silly now), our eldest had eaten the wrong frozen fish, and had had a double portion for his lunch (and hadn’t washed the baking tray he’d cooked them in). Well, I released the inner banshee and I heard myself shouting, stamping and ticking every ‘bad parenting’ box I could manage. I calmed down, both boys were summoned, and all the washing up was done.

Fast forward an hour or so, and our eldest was back in the kitchen cooking himself tea. There were bits of cheese and stuff on the cooker, and my red mist descended again. He mumbled something under his breath, and, forget the banshee, some sort of demon from hell was released. I was horrid. I lost the plot completely. We’re still barely talking 18 hours later.  I was just feeling so frustrated, that I was drowning in a sea of mess, and that neither of them listened to me. Ever.

This morning I had to take our youngest to CAMHS for counselling for anxieties, feeling a huge amount of blame – of course our 12 year old has anxieties, his mother is a screaming banshee – mixed in with the SEN parent guilt.

The morning was actually really interesting, and his/our work to do at home is to look at feelings. One of these is looking at the ‘negative trap’, where you think of your most difficult situations and write what happens, how you feel and what you think about when you are in that situation. I thought about this on the way home from school, before writing this.

Last night, when I was faced with the mess and chaos, I was thinking: why can’t anyone else see the mess? I don’t have the time, but I really don’t want to stop what I’m doing; I can’t do this anymore; something has to give, and I don’t want it to be me anymore.

What I did: erupted, shouted, stamped my feet and bellowed

What I felt (and this is the interesting one, and I’m being really honest here): sad, let down, that I was drowning, scared that I would never have time to do my thing, guilty (no idea why, but guilt was there), disappointment in myself for not getting the boys to do this kind of thing already, undervalued, and very upset.

This week I am not winning at parenting. There is no kick-ass warrior parent writing this today, but that’s the point of this rambling post. Some days we win, some days we are so freaking amazing that the whole world seems to turn to give us a thumbs up, most days we coast along, doing our best, somehow, hoping no one notices how much we are winging it, and then sometimes we lose it, and we completely f&%k it up. When this happens (and let’s be honest, this does happen) we have to apologise for our words and actions, and then we have to reflect, learn, pull ourselves together (write a blog post) and then find our sparkle again, and carry on.

To my wonderful, passionate 20 year old, I am sorry I lost it last night. It wasn’t good parenting, and I know that. Mum xx

Last week was my exam week – 11 students took English exams at various levels. I know that 4 have passed already, but the other 7 have to have theirs externally marked, so I need to wait for those results, but I feel positive. They were ready, they were capable of passing, and I did everything I could before they went in to make them believe that they could. If you go into an exam thinking you will fail, you probably will. If you go in thinking you will pass, you are much more likely to.

So tomorrow marks the start of exam week for my youngest. Stress levels are high, but we will manage the stress. He probably hasn’t spent as much time revising as he should have done, as every time the books come out, the meltdowns appear on the periphery. On the other hand, we discuss what topics he’s doing at school all the time. I know what the curriculum has been this year for all his subjects apart from Spanish (I don’t speak Spanish, so that’s more or less down to him). I have helped him research the Norman Conquest, we have read maps together, we have discussed forces and energy, made atomical models and have dissected plants to look at stapels and stamens.  We have looked at Roman lives, watched documentaries on Pompeii (and have watched the Doctor Who episode The Fires of Pompeii many times with the excuse that it’s research and revision). We have also debated what or who ‘God’ is, and how much of a marketing tool The Bible was to early Christians (his ideas, not mine). We try to go that little bit extra with home work and research, and I make sure he understands everything as we go along, so all revision is for is fine tuning, checking spelling (as much as we can) and getting last minute details and facts logged.

I don’t mind what marks he gets, but he will. When he had a mini-meltdown that was almost a tantrum last week, I told him I was happy for him not to revise, but asked would he be happy with grades lower than he got last time. He shook his head and did some revision. I really mean that – Ds, Cs or As don’t matter. At 12, in year 7, all that matters is that he learns how to handle the stress of exams, and finds a way to cope. I am one of those strange people who would rather do exams than coursework. I perform well under pressure, and as long as I am prepared (and no obscure questions come up), I generally do well. I am sure this comes from doing school tests twice a year from being 7 (and that was at a large state school).

Thursday is also the first CAMHS counselling session – and that’s causing me more stress than the exams.  I have no idea what will be covered, what will be discussed or how he will react to it. I do know it will be around 10 sessions, 3-4 weeks apart, and I know that there will be homework. I know that, at least at the beginning, I will need to be in the room with him. Maybe it will help me too. Not long til I find out.

Right now, as I type, we are watching yet another episode of our latest box set marathon. Two series down, two to go. In between episodes, we are dog walking, having outdoor time and revising. I firmly believe that mental health is more important than grades. However, when the two are interlinked, and, to a certain extent, good grades are important for his mental health, it is a fine line we walk to ensure that both are attainable.

A year ago this week, my then 11 year old was about to go through one of the hardest weeks of his school life. Even though he has dyslexia and anxieties, he had to sit the KS2 SPaG (Spelling, Punctuation and Grammar) English papers, and the maths SATs tests. He was as prepared as he was going to be, and there was no pressure at all from home. We know from the experiences of his big brother that exam results aren’t everything, and even not so good results can actually lead to better than good situations. So, off he went with a heavy heart, and my day (and my week) was spent trawling social media for hints of how good or bad the tests had been.

Social media was full of horror stories of how the top students had ended up in tears as the test was so hard, that the reading age of the comprehension was higher than expected, and that there were ambiguous grammar questions that could have more than one answer. My heart dropped each day, and each day I waited at the school gates with a smile, a hug and something sweet to each (for each of us).

His results were, actually, really good, above benchmark in everything apart from spelling. In a strange way, I think his SEN and barriers helped; he went into the exams with no expectations except that this was going to be the week from hell. He thought they were going to be hard, and they were. He thought that there would be words he had no hope of spelling, and there were. He thought that the reading was going to be ridiculous, and it was. Therefore he was not shocked or stunned when he opened the paper. He just knuckled down and got on with it, got through it, and did very well.

Facebook memories, and posts by friends, informed me this morning that it was SATs week again. I don’t know how much the tests have changed since last year, and I don’t know if the science SATs have been introduced, as we are now Y7 parents, and I teach year 12+.

Facebook and social media posts, and walking through the corridors at work this morning also informed me that this week is Mental Health Awareness week.

If it hasn’t clicked, let me make the ironic connection obvious.

SATs and Mental Health Awareness are the same week.

At a time when mental health is decreasing in school age children, and when there is an increase in primary school children who are being treated for depression, anxiety and other mental health issues, when agencies such as CAMHS is incredibly overstretched and underfunded, we need to take a moment and take stock of what we are doing to the younger members of society.

We make them go to school 5 days a week, 37(ish) weeks a year. From 5 they have some form of testing. At 7, where if they were in Finland they would still be learning through play (see yesterday’s post for more info),  they have government tests. At 11 they have tests that many adults (and many teachers if they are honest) would struggle to pass, and then they go off to secondary school where they now face a new grading system in line with the new GCSEs, and as the schools are under more pressure to hit the benchmarks, so are the children.

In my opinion, more testing does not make a better education system. More homework does not make a better education system. More pressure does not make a better education system. Making teachers work more and more hours ticking boxes and preparing for more tests, does not make a better education system.

All these do is increase the stress in our schools, and increase mental health issues in children, young adults and teachers (who are leaving the profession at an alarming rate).

A further irony within this subject, is that I have booked my students onto tests this week – 4 took them this morning, another 3 will take tests tomorrow, and 4 on Wednesday. The difference is that I haven’t put pressure on them, and I have waited until they were ready before I booked the test. And I have said to all of them that if they don’t pass, in the big scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter.

My priority this week is going to be mental health – my children’s, my students and my own. Mental health is far, far more important than grades, and that’s what I’m going to focus on.

 

School has been back for 2 weeks now, and things are, more or less, settling down. The pre-term anxieties were high, but not as bad as Christmas, and although I have had to face pouts and sighs most mornings, he’s gone in ok, and come home almost happy!  The only real difference is that there has been very little formal homework set, so far, as there are school tests in a week so most of the homework has been revision (which has consisted of chatting about 1 topic within 1 subject most, but not all, evenings – not enough so far). This has meant that school has been about school, and home has been about home. This has meant there is a clear divide between the two, which has reduced the stress and anxieties.

So, where do we go from here, and what do we do once the tests are done, marked and homework is back on the agenda? And how can I/we put things in place now so that the increase of homework over the next 4 years doesn’t result in an increase in stress for us all?

When our eldest was writing his uni assignments, one was on comparative education, and he compared the UK system to the Finnish system.  Proof-reading his assignment for him was so interesting, and led me to read some of his research too.  In Finland, they don’t start formal lessons until the children are 7. There is funded childcare available for younger children, and most children are at school from 5, but between 5 & 7 they learn through play, rather than being made to sit and learn spellings and maths and things that most 6 year olds will learn through conversation and play anyway (and probably better through play).

The schools run from 7 through to 16, so there is no change of school at 11 where they have to change peer groups and make new friends just as they are on the cusp of pupating through their teenage years before emerging as adult butterflies (and I really believe that this happens, metaphorically, that’s a subject for another blog). They have the same teachers and familiarity throughout, and although there are skware pegs in Finnish education, the lessons are student orientated, and if a student can’t learn a certain way, the teacher will change the way they teach or ask colleagues for advice to ensure that the children do learn. Most importantly, as far as this blog is concerned, they are set very little homework, and have very few in school tests.  Homework tends to be project based, or similar, and there is a culture in Finland that the parents will help, either by reading or being with the child while they complete the work.

All this must be working as Finland are consistently in the top 10 countries in the world for education and attainment, and 93% of students leave formal education with the equivalent of a level 3 qualification (A-level or BTEC National).

I don’t often set homework as the students don’t want to do it (and I really don’t want to mark 20 pieces of apathetic, can’t be bothered work either, if I’m completely honest). The homework I do set is things like ‘Read anything and everything, from instructions to menus to newspapers to novels. Fill your heads with words, and criticise what you read.’  That has meaning, it’s easy to do, and it really does help with the subjects I teach!

I’m still not sure what I need to do – any suggestions are welcome – but I think I may trust my instinct, maybe stamp my feet a little, and see if we can have the final term more or less homework free.  I will post updates, watch this space…..

We are 2/3 of the way through the Easter break. As requested, we haven’t done that much as he needed down time and doing nothing time. We have pottered, gardened, cooked, baked, planted lavender, seen a couple of friends, spent time outside, spent time inside and seen family. He has had more than enough screen time, but not too much screen time. We’ve tried to get a balance.

But now the dark clouds are circling. There is only a week left of the holiday. There is only another week before he has to put up with people, noise, lessons, cricket (no rugby this term, which is a big cause of anxiety) and food he doesn’t really like. There are 5 whole weeks til half term (a rather short term in teaching terms, which I am very grateful for), but the thought of 5 weeks of school before a week off is rather overwhelming to an anxious 12 year old.

We had a chat in bed last night (ours, not his) when the dark clouds were far too close for sleep. I asked him if, on the whole, there were more OK days than not OK days at school. He answered yes. Were there more good or OK bits in most days than not OK bits? Again, yes. So, I ventured, that means that if school was like test marks, it would pass. It would actually do OK, probably over 75% OK? He agreed. But, the thing is, it could be 95% OK and the 5% of not OK would bring him down. That’s the problem with anxieties, worries or dark moments. You can have so much good time, you can have hours of smiles or laughter but your over-riding memory can be of the moments of darkness and anxiety. Some times the dark clouds reach through the laughter and grab you just when you feel you should be happy. There is no logic, or sense of rhythm with anxieties. Obviously there are triggers, but there are also unexpected moments of fear and of drowning. Just because it was OK yesterday doesn’t guarantee it’ll be OK today – but just because you couldn’t face a coffee with friends yesterday doesn’t mean you won’t be able to face it today.

As a parent of an anxious child, that unpredictability makes helping them cope (and helping us cope) much harder. If he had an allergy, we would avoid said allergen. If he had a phobia of something, even something unusual such as water or grass, we could work round that and avoid the trigger. But anxieties haven’t read the rule book. They don’t follow a pattern. They don’t make any sense whether you are the parent or partner of someone who is anxious, or if you are the anxious person.

So, today we got out of the house and went for a walk. We were outside, there were people (but not too many), and we climbed and explored and looked. We had a (quick) drink in the cafe and a (quick) look round the gift shop before heading home, and it was a nice, safe morning out. At the moment the dark clouds are only in the distance and I would say we had hazy sunshine overhead at the moment, which is great.

I have no doubt the darker clouds will gather close to bed time, when the busyness quietens and the anxious thoughts have a chance to be heard again, but we will have more conversations (probably in our bed again), and we will do what we do every time. We will listen, we will acknowledge and we will do our best to shine a light in the dark, and allow sunnier dreams to banish the clouds for a little while.