parenting teens

When the nest isn’t empty…..

| skwarepegrowndhole

At this time of year, social media seems to be full of teens going off to university and parents & carers dropping off and then going back to an empty house. As I drove to work this morning, I was moved by a dad’s words about his daughter going to a university 3 hours away next weekend. It’s a very emotional time for them, and for us.

However, it can also be very emotional when your teen’s friends are all going off to university and they aren’t, for whatever reason. It can be very emotional when your friends are all talking about how they are going to fill their evenings now their teens are at uni, and yours is in their bedroom not knowing what they are going to do next. We’ve been there, and it’s tough. We’ve watched friends miss their children as they leave for uni, and then move on to a new era of their lives, while ours seems to carry on as before, but now we have a lost teen who isn’t sure what’s next. If any of you are in this position, you will find a way, and so will they.

Our eldest didn’t go to uni at 18, and took 2 years out. He tried at 20, but it wasn’t for him, and then he went to uni in lockdown and thrived, and now he’s a teacher. I didn’t go to uni til I was 26, and that was the best thing for me at the right time. Had I gone at 18, I wouldn’t have done a course I loved, and I wouldn’t be where I am now.

University isn’t for everyone, either. There are apprenticeships, jobs, training, travel – and there is time to pause and make the right decision.

Not all who go to university live in. Our youngest went to a local uni, and was planning to live in halls and come home regularly, but it quickly became apparent that living away from home wasn’t for him. He commutes from home, he’s saved money and he’s happy – and that’s what matters.

We all develop and grow at different rates. We all have our own path to walk, and we need to let our teens do what’s right for them. It can be hard if we have an empty teen’s room and a quiet house, but it can also be hard if their friends have all moved away and they’re still there. We can feel sad when we have an empty nest, but it can be sad if we feel our young person has been left behind – but they will find their way, and they will be ok, we just need to give them time and listen and sit with them when they want us to.

Echoes

| skwarepegrowndhole

Even though our babies are now adults, we haven’t really felt any empty nests. Our eldest took an extended gap year, then commuted to university, and moved out 5 months before getting married. When he moved out, we were working at the same school, so I still saw him every day, and they live about a mile or two from us, so we see lots of him and his fabulous wife. Our youngest went to university 2 years ago, and although the initial plan had been to spend some time at uni and some time at home, it quickly became apparent that commuting from home would be better for his mental health, as well as his bank balance. Our children may be in their 20s, but there had been no empty nest emotions…..until Cornwall.

We got back from a fabulous 3 generational holiday to Cornwall. We went down with our youngest, our eldest and his wife joined us later on day 1, and then my parents trained down and had a week with us from day 6. We did some things all together, somethings just the two of us, somethings with us splitting into groups and going in different directions. It was a relaxing well needed break.

On the last day, my parents and our eldest and his wife had left early, so it was the three of us for a day of pottering around Padstow until late afternoon when we were going to head back up the M5 to home. We holiday in the seven bays area, and for about 12 years, we holidayed in Harlyn Bay. We stayed in a flat that was a 5 minute walk from the beach, so we would pack a picnic and head down to the bay, spend a few hours beach combing, swimming, surfing and building sandcastles. We had a ‘spot’ that we used to go back to each year, near the top of the beach where we could let wetsuits and swimwear dry on a rocky outcrop. I have so many pictures of sandcastles, slate monoliths and henges that we used to build each year, and I can track the years with the beach tent(s) that we had to take for toddlers napping and for getting changed and hiding from the rain – or seagulls. So many memories on this fantastic little beach. But times change, and flats get sold, and little children grow into bigger children and then adults who want different adventures.

We now stay on the other side of Trevose Head, and we haven’t been on Harlyn beach since 2021. On our last day of this year’s holiday, we went to see what the new pub that has replaced the Harlyn Inn was like. We arrived a little early, so I left them waiting by the pub, and went for a walk on the beach.

I cannot express how emotional it was. It’s not our little beach any more – there are new families now, the age we were when we started holidaying here with little children. No one was in ‘our spot’ but weather and seasons shape the beach, and our spot didn’t look quite like it used to. I retraced the steps we used to take, where slate meets sandstone that can catch your feet when the tide is in. I walked through the sea pools that the tide leaves on its way out. I looked out at the children and teenagers body boarding in the waves, and I saw echoes.

I saw the echoes of us when we had little ones, and when we had bigger ones, and when we had teens that wanted to go into the sea by themselves. I saw us dragging body boards through the shallows. I saw us waiting for the tide to go out so we could go and look at the rock pools.

I hadn’t felt an empty nest until I stood on our beach, in our spot and saw that all we have now is memories – fantastic memories – but our babies are grown up, and seeing and feeling the echoes of the amazing summers we had with them on this little beach in Cornwall moved me far more than I could have imagined.

For those of you reading this with little ones, or bigger ones, or nieces and nephews or grandchildren, breathe it in. Laugh at the sandy foot prints, take photos with your mind, and then, one day, you too can go back and smile at the echoes that are left behind.

Holidays

| skwarepegrowndhole

This isn’t the post I was planning to write today – it was supposed to be a follow up blog about GCSE results that was going to be very similar to my A-level blog last week, but sometimes you just have to go where the words take you, and today, they have taken me to holidays. I am writing this on the Sunday of the Bank Holiday weekend, but I will publish this once we’re on our way home.

Until this year, we have managed to have 2 holidays in the UK each summer – which makes us very lucky. I used to work in Further Education, and the college I worked at broke up for the summer at the end of June/beginning of July. Our children had scholarships to a local private school (again, the fact that we found the money for this even with the help of scholarships makes us very fortunate), so they broke up at the beginning of July. This meant that we could get away for 2 weeks before state schools broke up, when the prices were a little cheaper, especially when we headed to Cornwall. Then, in August, we went away with my parents for a week, usually to Norfolk and we shared the cost, and we also shared the childcare which was a huge thing when our children were younger.

This has continued every year for the last 15+ years, but the teaching job I have now follows school holidays, so because my contract is term time only, we’ve had to stop going away in July. This year, I decided that we would come to Cornwall for 2 weeks – and our second week would be the bank holiday week (I’m sitting writing this in our holiday home). We would come down for 2 weeks, with my parents joining us for the second week, so it was like a hybrid of the holidays we’ve had until this year.

We are having a lovely time – we’ve been to the beaches, but have behaved like locals (I grew up in Poole, Dorset so know how to avoid holiday makers in the summer) and got to the beach early and left when everyone else arrived. We’ve been to our favourite eateries, but have booked tables or got there early to avoid too many crowds, and have been to Newquay and Padstow, but, again, have got there early. It’s been a lovely holiday, and apart from missing the dogs and the cats, I’m in no rush to get home.

However, it is busy. We tried to eat at one of our favourites, and the restaurant was fully booked, even though we had got there late afternoon/early evening, but we could eat at the bar. The first table away from everyone smelt of bins, the second was next to where the band was setting up, and the third was under the speaker with uncomfortable seats. We left and found a plan B that was just as busy, but had outdoor seats. We ordered food (pizzas), had a drink and we left to eat at our holiday home.

This afternoon, our youngest has chatted to me. It’s too busy for him, and he’s also realised that 2 weeks is too long for him. We’ve already booked to come back at Easter, but because he talked to me, we already have a plan. He’s not a child any more, he’s a young adult who is happy catching trains, so at Easter, he will either come with us and train home early, or train down a few days after we arrived and stay til we come home. Problem solved. This holiday, though, he’s stuck with us til we come home on Thursday.

Has this conversation stifled or impacted our holiday? Absolutely not. Has the further revelation before I started writing that he’s spent a lot of time masking this holiday when we’ve been out, so is feeling tired and headachey impacted it? Maybe a little bit, but it’s his holiday too, so I need to be aware of how he’s feeling, and I need to make sure that I do everything I can to help him not to be in too many places where he has to mask. We have talked, and we have a plan.

Looking back, 14 days in a very busy part of Cornwall over the bank holiday weekend wasn’t one of my better ideas, but we live and learn. I’m not perfect, I make decisions that maybe I shouldn’t have done, but I made them with the best intentions. What we can do, is make sure we all have fun on the few days we have left down here. I won’t try and persuade our youngest to come to the beach or go anywhere where he’ll have to mask, and I won’t do that to our eldest either. We may all have to compromise a little bit, but not when it comes to their sensory needs. No compromise there.

We have a day out planned, we know where we’re eating if we’re eating out, and we know that we can all enjoy the next 4 days with minimal masking. I need to breathe, not feel any blame, and know it’s one of those situations that we learn from, and then move on.

For now, I’ve checked the weather so tomorrow is going to be a beach/chill at the house/read kind of day, Tuesday isn’t as good, but we’re off out for the day, and Wednesday will be a quite day with some walks before frantic cleaning and packing as we head back home on Thursday, hoping to avoid the ‘last weekend before the schools go back’ travel chaos on Friday and Saturday.

When Anxiety Comes Knocking

| skwarepegrowndhole

Nobody chooses to have anxiety. I’m not talking about that anxious feeling you might get before flying or before an exam. Instead, I mean general anxiety, where you overthink most things and live in a state of heightened angst and awareness most of the time.

Our youngest is back at uni tomorrow. He has mixed feelings. He’s looking forward to a more ‘him’ mix of modules this semester, but he’s also very anxious because it’s a new timetable, new lectures, possible new lecturers and, unlike many of his peers, he’s at uni 5 days a week.

Because uni has been harder than any of us anticipated, he has taken steps to keep his anxiety under control, and as I wrote last week, he has been to see the GP, mental health nurse and then therapist, and CBT will continue this coming week.

What we all need to remember, is that anxiety is not a choice. Like depression and other mental health issues, anxiety is not something you can change with a positive mental attitude or by simply stopping worrying. And anxiety can cause ripples that make other things less bearable.

If I am anxious, I get more jumpy, more stressed and my eating patterns change (either increasing or decreasing). I also get palpitations, and I sometimes get IBS symptoms. Anxiety causes an increase in cortisol, and our bodies go into fight, flight or freeze mode. Anxiety is a throw back to our hunter gatherer ancestors. Going into survival mode when predator was close, or when you travelled to a new area where there may be unknown dangers meant you were more likely to survive. Going into survival mode because there is a stressor you cannot control in the 21st Century means that our busy modern lives may be impacted.

There are lots of things we can do when we feel anxious. Being outside, going for walks, and being near animals may help, as can yoga, controlled breathing, mindfulness, grounding and similar activities. I find playing loud music and screaming (or swearing) really loud whilst driving in the middle of nowhere very cathartic and it definitely helps to relieve short term anxiety and stress, but it’s not something my vocal chords could manage on a daily basis!

So, what do we do when anxiety comes calling? If possible, we remove the stressor(s), but this is not always possible. We use different techniques and activities, we talk to health care professionals, we take medication (if appropriate or advised) and we take each day at a time. We also need to be honest and talk to people we trust about what’s going on. As I wrote last week, mental health is health, and we need to talk more about how we are feeling. I write in my book (available here) about how we need a tribe, a circle of friends – or even just one or two people – who we can turn to and who will listen.

As the saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved. Talking to someone you trust really can make a huge difference. If there isn’t anyone you can talk to, then you can contact your GP, you can self refer to talking therapy services through the NHS, and you can talk to the Samaritans, the NHS Crisis line, and other organisations. The list below is listed directly from the MIND website – link here – but remember anxiety can affect any of us, and you don’t need to be alone.

Urgent mental health helpline

England

If you live in England, you can call a local NHS urgent mental health helpline for support during a mental health crisis. Anyone can call these helplines, at any time.

These helplines offer similar support to a crisis team. The NHS website has more information on urgent mental health helplines, including how to find your local helpline.

Wales

In Wales, you can contact NHS 111 and select option 2. This will put you through to an NHS helpline offering 24/7 urgent mental health support. Visit the NHS 111 Wales website to find out more about this service.

post 18 support

| skwarepegrowndhole

This is a positive post – but I am aware that not everyone will have had our experience of post 18 support.

First of all, I need to clarify that our youngest has not had an EHCP. I did query this when he got his ASD diagnosis, but we decided not to pursue this for various reasons, although I was a little worried that our decision may become something we regret later.

I was warned when our youngest was in Year 13 and we were pushing for more support in exams that it would be harder for him to get support at university, and that he already had a lot of exam support. The amount of support, to be honest, is irrelevant. Our youngest is very clever and academically able, so the support is there to allow him to fulfil his potential.

The ‘extra’ that we were asking for was a room on his own. During GCSEs and centre assessed grades (CAG), he was in a room with other year 11s who had learning support. He was distracted by them writing, typing, sighing, having rest breaks, finishing before him, scribbling on the paper and tapping on the desk, to name a few. I had to email the then SENCo to ask for the distractions to be taken into account when the papers were marked. I have no idea if this happened, but A-levels were marked by the exam boards, and no dispensation was offered last year. They were back to pre-covid examinations, standards and marking.

When I found out that another learner had been offered a room on their own for their A-levels, I got a little stroppy. I emailed the SENCo several times, to no avail, and then ended up emailing the form tutor, who was the one who told me about universities. To be frank, university access arrangements meant nothing if we didn’t get the right support for these exams because if he didn’t get the grades, he wouldn’t be going anyway.

More emails were sent, now to the deputy head, and finally a reply from the SENCo, a phone call, and then the room on his own for most exams was agreed. Not quite what I had asked for. Fast forward to the penultimate exam, and the room on his own was disturbed by teens running past the room and disturbing him. Another phone call or two, lots of angry emails, and the final exam went ok.

Even before results day, his first choice of university got in touch and invited him to a SEND day in July. We went (parents invited too), and it was a fabulous, inclusive day. Results day came, and he got the grades he needed.

As I wrote last time (link here), we’ve been through a rollercoaster of emotions since September, but the first exam has been and gone – and it was so much smoother than school. He was told by the disability services that his reader would be in touch before the exam, and there would be time to meet up in person or online before the day if needed, but to email and just go through his needs. He didn’t want to meet up, but emailed what he wanted in the exam. He arrived in time, had the room on his own, extra time, coloured paper and a reader/prompt who did exactly as he asked.

We (and I say we as it’s him with us supporting all the way) are only at the end of the first semester, but the support has been outstanding. Lecturers have taken the time to answer questions and make adjustments where possible, getting the right exam support was so much easier than school, and the specialist ASD mentor and study skills mentor have both been amazing.

So far, post 18 support has been everything he wanted, and has been much easier to get than I was expecting – long may it continue!

What happens next….

| skwarepegrowndhole

As SEN parents, so much of our time is taken up with battles – battles with the education system, battles with school, battles with healthcare professionals, with policies, with how to juggle our time, and the biggest battle of all, the ‘should’ve, could’ve, would’ve’ that runs continually in our heads. So what happens when they leave formal education? What happens next?

I think any parent will tell you that parenting does not stop when children reach 16, 18 or 21. We are a parent for life. We worry, and I’m sure when it’s my turn to become a grandparent, I’ll then have children and grandchildren to worry about.

But I think it may be slightly different when you are a SEN parent.

In August, after A-level results were released, we did not have any children in formal education. We had done it, we had steered 2 children through their Early Years Foundation Stage (EYFS), all the key stages, GCSEs, vocational qualifications and A-levels. We were done – pass the champagne please, our days of battling are over.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Not a chance.

I should have known, really, as our eldest had issues with his first year on his first degree, and I had to navigate the complexities of him being over 18 but still needing support. Many angry emails and phone calls meant we eventually got problems resolved, but the stress of it all triggered depression and he ended up leaving uni at 20 – but went back in lockdown and graduated in 2022.

Our youngest had a completely different experience, but my role as a battling SEN mum has continued. I had learnt from the earlier battles and so had things in place that would allow me to talk to people if needed.

I’m not going into too much detail here, as he’s still in his first semester, and the university have been incredibly supportive, once we got to the root of the problem. But living in halls triggered all sorts of feelings, so after lots of discussion, he is living at home and commuting – and through witchcraft, stroppy emails and pleading, he’s been released from his halls contract. The course is not as academically stretching as he thought it would be – but he has been assured that it will get harder. Lectures with over 200 other learners after being used to A-level chemistry lessons with 4 other teens where there was lots of discussion, have taken a lot to get used to. There were times when the goal was to make it to the end of the day, then we extended to the end of the week, the month and now the first term. A month of exams, and then he’s done the first semester, with optional modules picked for the second one. After thinking he might not be able to stay until reading week, we’re now pretty sure he’ll make it to the end of year one – and probably beyond.

I don’t think that this is just due to protected characteristics. This is the cohort who sat their GCSEs in classrooms rather than exam halls. When they were supposed to be out socialising, they were wearing masks to go to the supermarket with their parents. When they were supposed to be rebellious, risk taking teens, they were careful not to take risks as they didn’t want to infect elderly relatives. They are the Covid cohort – and this has impacted many of them in so many different ways.

In our family, though, protected characteristics have made things even more difficult, but we’ve got through it. I reduced my hours at work so that I could do pick ups & drop offs (which I have really enjoyed – early morning conversations with my teen when stuck in traffic have been a great start to the day (no sarcasm, I thoroughly enjoy the journeys)), we’ve supported him seeing our GP and looking at ADHD diagnosis this year, we’ve emailed mentors when needed, and have encouraged him to ask for extra help when needed – and, despite the warnings from school – he has been given everything he needed, and more.

I am disappointed for him that he hasn’t had the start of uni that he envisaged, I am sad that living in wasn’t an option in the end, but I am so proud of him for getting to the end of this term, for taking control of his mental health, asking for and seeking help when he needed it, and it’s actually been lovely to still have him living at home. Our eldest moved into his own home & got married earlier in 2023, so it would have been a very empty nest if things had worked out how we all planned.

So, what happens next? It seems it’s more of the same, but with more autonomy for our teen to sort things out himself; in the crazy circus of education, I have gone from the lion tamer to safety net, and that’s exactly how it should be. I will always be here, for both of our children, for as long as I am able, to offer support, words of wisdom and to be their safety net – and I am always up for taming lions if the need arises!

where i am right now

| skwarepegrowndhole

It occurred to me over the weekend, that sometimes the pieces all suddenly begin to come together, and everything that you’ve been through – all the battles, the highs, the lows, the sleepless nights, the reading, the advocating, the tears and everything else – has led you all to where you are right now.

I have taught for the last 21 years – in fact it must be 21 years this month since I started teaching for just one morning a week alongside the last term of my undergrad degree. When I started, I had the vocational experience needed to teach at FE level, but I had no teaching skills. In all honesty, in that first term, I winged it. I tried to embody all of the good teachers I had ever had and none of the bad, and I think it worked! I loved it from my first lesson – and from that first lesson I have always tried to get my students, whatever age they may be, to like learning.

My first head of department was the most inspirational manager I have ever have (& if you’re reading this Mike, I mean that completely). He told us that it was an honour and a privilege to be able to teach teenagers. They let us into their lives, and is was up to us to live up to this and do the best we could. He believed, and still believes, that if you have the opportunity to teach teens, you should never be dull or uninspiring. If that’s you, then you’re in the wrong profession. He was right.

I knew very little about SEND when I started teaching. I knew that our eldest (at that time our only) was a bit of a handful and there was something. I didn’t know the terms neurotypical and neurodiverse then either, but if I had, I would have known that our boy was ND. My journey as a SEND parent was hand in hand with my journey to today, where I seem to specialise in ND or SEND students. Both my teacher and my parent hat complimented each other, and both helped me when wearing the other – if that makes sense.

From teaching the wide range of students that you get in vocational courses, I could identify things that maybe weren’t quite expected in my own children, and my journey with my own children has definitely helped me to become a better teacher. I have also seen parents and children let down by the system, I have seen people accept the first thing they were told when actually that was wrong, I have seen teens see their diagnosis as something bad, or something to fight against. I have cried on the way home from work because I can’t change the world for my students, and I have cried at home because I can’t change the world for my own children.

Today, I still advocate for my children, even though they are now young adults. I still see teaching teens as an incredible honour and privilege. I can’t change the world for my children or for my students, but I can give them everything I can to make the world a little bit easier. I can inspire them to learn, to believe in themselves, and to sparkle and shine.

Today I feel incredibly lucky to have my boys – they are two amazing individuals who make my world a better place. Today I feel lucky that I have a job I love, and teens who inspire me as much as I hope I inspire them.

You don’t have to be this tired…..

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When we were going through one of our many stints at CAMHS, I had a conversation with our then case worker. I told him that I was just so tired, and that parenting additional needs was just so hard, and he replied that it is hard, and it is tiring and nothing can really change that, and that was the end of that conversation.  I get where he was coming from, as parenting generally is hard and tiring some of the time.  When you factor into that a child with additional needs, or a child who is going through a tough time, or a child (or parent) who is unwell, ‘some of the time’ becomes ‘a lot of the time’.

However, we have finally got to a point where both our children are doing OK.  We are still riding the roller-coaster, dancing in the rain or making lemonade at times, but, and not a moment too soon, things are a little better. 

I keep asking why, what has made us get to this point? And I think it is because they have both reached a point where their additional needs are an integral part of who they are, and they have the coping mechanisms in place, and the support they need to allow the good side of their barriers, conditions or whatever you want to call them, to come to the fore.  Yes, we have days (& weeks) where they still need help fighting their battles, but they also have days & weeks where their amazing uniqueness shines.

Reflecting on all of this has made me realise that I’d like to go back to the case worker and tell him that he was wrong. That it doesn’t always have to be tiring and exhausting and hard.  One of the reasons why we pushed for a diagnosis for a condition that we knew was there was because we needed people to make reasonable adjustments so that we could get to this point.  One of the reasons why I have worked part time (often juggling multiple jobs working from home and going out to work to get an almost full time wage) is so that I can fight battles and help put coping mechanisms in place.  One of the reasons why I decided to write a book is to help others get to this point sooner that we have!

Don’t get me wrong – over the last week I have had conversations with an anxious teen at almost midnight, offering to sleep on the sofa in the lounge and I have slept on the teen’s floor, and last week I was answering texts relating to OCD style actions and consequence worries from our older one, but it’s not all hard work, and there is lots more laughter.  I can pick the battles I will get involved with, and let them fight some on their own.  They are becoming people who are not limited by their conditions, but also are not afraid to ask for help or changes if that’s what needs to happen.

Let me run that two key points past you again – they are becoming people who are not limited by their conditions, and more and more we are seeing them and their amazing uniqueness shining.  We have waiting a long time for this – as have they – and it isn’t as tiring any more.  If you are going through battles, hard times, bad weeks/months/years, and you’re exhausted, please hold onto this: it can, and it should, get better.

Some days…..

| skwarepegrowndhole

Most of the time parenting is about making it up as you go along, trusting your instincts and winging it. Some days it all goes wrong and you feel like the worst parent in the world. Sometimes, however, sometimes you get this parenting thing absolutely spot on, and it is the best feeling in the world.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Since going back to school, our youngest has been struggling. Revision, exams to decide GCSE options, results and then…well, a bit of a lull, and he’s been getting more and more down in the mornings, more withdrawn, and just going into that anxiety bubble. He was sent home from school last week with a stress headache, but he couldn’t tell me what had triggered it.

Last term, after his ASD diagnosis (on top of dyslexia and clinical anxieties) we decided that once a halt term, if life got too much, he could ‘take a day’ where he didn’t have to go to school, and it would be a reboot/recharge day. Yesterday morning after waking up and hiding under the covers, he came and asked for ‘a day’, and I said yes.

I did my usual morning routine (dog walking, sorting out ponies and hens) and when I got home, I told him to get up & get dressed as we were going out into nature for an hour. He did as I asked, and we drove to a local country park where we had a slow 2 hour walk round the lake where he jumped on every icy puddle (and may he NEVER get too old to crack ice on puddles!) and then popped into the cafe for a sausage roll and a coffee. We talked, we discussed life, the universe and anything else we could think of. He laughed and smiled more in that hour that hour than he has since Christmas. We both came home with glowing cheeks from the cold, and happy faces.

He was good for the rest of the day, was chatty, did his homework without any grumping at all, and then (icing on the cake for me) when I said ‘I love you’ at bedtime, as I always do, he replied ‘Love you too’, something he does very rarely because it’s just not his thing.

Today is another day, and I think I’m back to winging it, but yesterday was fabulous. I prioritised his mental health & well being, he had ‘a day’, and that day was just what we both needed.