I thought I’d share an update on our home education saga as lots has happened that means it is now going to look very different (halle-lu-jah).
The LA (local authority) has agreed to fund a tutor for 10 hours a week which means a wonderful woman comes to our house and teaches our son through play. He absolutely loves it, she completely knows what she’s doing and the responsibility for his education is no longer solely on us. I cannot describe the relief and weight off our shoulders this has brought.
I’m ashamed to admit (though I know I shouldn’t be) that I had really been struggling with home educating. Nothing I did seemed to work, our son often just wanted to stay in bed most days and the community I thought we’d have was just not there. I felt this huge pressure to be teaching our son because he is compulsory school age so really needs to be in education. But the pressure often paralysed me to the point of not knowing even where to begin. To be totally honest, I’m gutted as I really thought that home education might end up being the future for us, and I liked that thought. But at home we are just not able to meet all of our son’s needs in all areas, and that’s ok.
I rarely have good news from the LA, yet this post I have two nuggets! We reached out to a few mainstream schools for a place for our son, but they replied to say they are unable to meet need and that our son needs a specialist setting. Therefore, the LA has decided to update our son’s EHCP to state that he needs a specialist setting, without us needing to go to appeal. Those of you in the know will appreciate that this decision is huge and means there is one less fight for us!
Of course it would still be great if our son could go to an appropriate school for him where he could make friends and… not be in the house all the time 🫣. But we’re not there yet and probably won’t be this academic year. For now, I’m thrilled we have a tutor to support us and who will become another “safe” adult for our son.
We’ve entered into the world of home education and it is like an alternative reality we never knew existed. It appears there are as many ways to home educate as children who are home educated. There is unschooling, school at home, structured, semi-structured, world schooling, but don’t think of doing anything until you’ve deschooled. Then there’s all you need to read, like Charlotte Mason, John Holt, Naomi Fisher and many others. There are screen-free families, online learning families, Christian families and pagan families. Stay at home parents and those who manage to balance home ed with working full time. Those who spend the days outside and those with classrooms in their homes. You’ve got forest schools, coding club, Roblox and Minecraft, and crafting. No idea is better, it’s what works best for your child, but there definitely seems to be an underlying judgement of what’s “right”. Facebook groups abound with conflicting advice, solidarity, inspiration and commiseration. Some parents who love spending every waking moment with their children and others who just.want.a.break. Those who came to home ed out of necessity and those who desired it from the start. Kids who have never been to school, those who did primary, those who are now doing secondary and everything in between.
But there is a consensus that it takes a while to find your feet, weeks if you’re lucky, years if you’re not. You can change your mind, try all the things, throw everything at the wall and see what sticks, but don’t buy all the workbooks at the very start. After all, every child is different and learns differently and it is only through trial and error, experimentation and exploration that you find what works best.
We are still at the “figuring it out” stage and see no end in sight. I oscillate between thinking home ed is the best thing ever and wishing we could just get our son in school. Saying that, I do not miss the fight every morning, the emails, the WhatsApp group and the phone calls. I don’t miss the feeling we were doing something wrong by keeping him in school. But socialising is much more difficult when you don’t have built-in friends in your class. We are yet to find “our people” so it can be very isolating and lonely. Most days I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing and other days are full of small sparks of connection and learning. Perhaps I still have a lot of “deschooling” to do so I can stop thinking education has to look like school.
Onwards we go, thanking God for Twinkl and a kid who can already read. Who knows how long we’ll be here? While we’re here we might as well make the most of it. Term time holidays, empty parks, pyjama days and random days off. As long as the kids are happy and feel safe, we’re doing just fine.
This is the second time I’m writing this post as my first draft from a week or so ago was all doom and gloom and stress. I feel a bit differently about things now, so I thought it deserved an edit to reflect that! If you read my last blog post, you may remember our issues securing a school place for our son, who is autistic. Unfortunately we have now reached an impasse where the LA (Local Authority) have declined our request for specialist provision, the special schools are too full to take him anyway, and the mainstream schools are unable to support him because they state “a specialist placement would suit his needs”. Riddle me that. So instead of putting him into a mainstream school that has expressed they are unable to meet his needs, we have made the (reluctant) decision to home educate him. Our son was too young for home schooling during lockdown so this is our first foray into it.
Now you may be thinking, “But Emma, you love your kids! You’re a stay at home mum so wouldn’t need to quit work! You love stationery and you’ll need loads!” and all these things are of course true. But what is also true is that, in order to stay sane and healthy, I need rest, downtime and, most crucially, time a-l-o-n-e. Home education makes that harder to come by. Thankfully I have found a few groups my son can (hopefully) go to which, when paired with the twins being in preschool, will give me a few hours each week to myself to plan, sort the house out and, crucially, rest. (I’m trying to hold this loosely though as we’re not sure yet whether he will be up for going out to groups at all.)
I am very grateful that I’ve recently discovered that the twins are eligible for 30 free hours of childcare since I receive Carer’s allowance. I was otherwise looking at a lot of time with all 3 kids at home. Sometimes this is wonderful and they play beautifully together, other times they need a staircase between them to avoid WW3. So, mercifully, we won’t have too much of that. However, I am aware that when the twins see me teaching our son at home, they may well then refuse to go to school and instead request to be home edded too. Maybe when it comes around to it, I’ll have fallen in love with home educating by then and be thrilled to teach all our three children. At the moment, the thought makes me come out in hives.
There are also the concerns I’m sure every parent going into home education has: what will we do? How will I be able to convince him to actually sit down and do stuff? What if he gets bored? What if he just wants to play or watch videos all day? What if we never leave the house? How will he make friends? Thankfully there is a large home ed community in the area we live in, though that requires him to leave the house which, at the moment, isn’t a given.
I know I’ve painted a picture of real doom and gloom and you’re perhaps concerned about my state of mind right now… Nevertheless, keeping him home does seem to be the most loving and affirming decision for him at the moment, rather than trying him again in a mainstream school. His last school was fantastic and his teacher was basically Miss Honey in real life, but, even with all their experience with autistic kids, they could not take away the sensory overloading school environment. Consequently, when he got overwhelmed he would often have a meltdown or lash out at other kids. Some days (to my shame) I literally had to carry him into school screaming. School did not feel like a safe place to him and the strain took its toll. Meanwhile, being at home and being with us is his happy place and the security of a known environment will hopefully help him heal from some of the trauma he experienced at school (no shade on the school at all, it was just how he experienced it).
So here we are, about to embark into a New World, with trepidation, anxiety and a smidge of hope that this could be a pivotal moment in our family. We will also at the same time be gearing ourselves with evidence to appeal the LA’s decision which will lead us to a tribunal court hearing. The judge often does favour the families in these appeals but it won’t be until the new year and there’s a lot of work to be done beforehand. Plus special schools are still full so even if the LA’s decision is overturned, we may not be able to get him a place at a special school immediately.
The fight for education is a story that is by no means unique to us, there are thousands of families in the exact same boat. ITV news did a segment recently on SEN kids and shared that 5,254 children in England and Wales who have an EHCP don’t have a place at any school. For a lot of people it then makes sense to step out of the formal education route and choose to educate their children at home. We feel we have been forced by circumstance to make that decision, but who knows… it might be the making of us.
It’s been one month since packers packed up our house in Eversley, yet if you had told me it had been six months I would have believed you. It has felt like a long slog of unpacking, dysregulated kids, fighting with the council (though rather one sidedly since for weeks they didn’t reply to any of our emails), no broadband (hotspots FTW), not a whole lot of sleep or downtime and an unwell boy. It has been challenging and exhausting, as moves generally are, with what felt like a truck load of things on top.
Yet through it all, I have had my eyes peeled for glimmers of God with us, glimmers of His goodness and kindness, glimmers of His light in the darkness. He has not disappointed me.
I’ve seen glimmers in the sheer beauty of the place we live, so close to the sea with incredible sunsets and so close to the New Forest with all its colours, landscapes and wildlife.
I’ve seen glimmers in the times when I’ve told members of our new congregation about our fight for a school place for our son, and their immediate response being that they would pray into it.
I’ve seen glimmers in new friends having us over for a playdate despite only meeting us once, and bumping into each other at the beach (hi Victoria ☺️).
I’ve seen glimmers in my mum coming to help bring order to the chaos of a recently-moved-into house, when all I could focus on was the daily grind.
I’ve seen glimmers in the kindness of a doctor and nurse only today, who saved my son and I from a 4 hour wait at the hospital and gave me a hug when their kindness brought me to tears.
I’ve seen glimmers in people working hard at their jobs with compassion and kindness (even when other people should have done so first).
The glimmers give us hope, the glimmers help us hold on and keep going when there is still so much to be done. At the moment the summer is stretching out unendingly as we don’t have a school place for September, and there are so many questions yet to be answered when we reach an outcome.
God has revealed Himself to be so close, but I may have missed these glimmers if I hadn’t been desperate to see Him with us. I desperately needed to know we weren’t alone in this, that He knew what we needed and would provide.
What glimmers have you seen recently that have helped you cling on to the knowledge of God with us? Maybe as you go into the next week you could keep your eyes peeled for glimmers in your own life?
A thought has been swimming around in my mind for a while and it’s concerned with a certain type of grief that I’m sure many parents/anyone who cares for a child will relate to. That is, the grief of missing the person your child was at a certain age with the knowledge that that person is gone and can never be seen again.
Let me elaborate. Through rose tinted glasses, all 3 of my children were the cutest and most lovable babies and toddlers you have ever seen. Did they sleep? No of course not. But could they melt your sleep deprived heart with their gorgeousness? Most definitely.
C is 17 months here
C from about 18-24 months was my most favourite human on the planet. Not that I love and adore him any less now, or at any other stage, but I remember this stage of him being so inquisitive, hilarious and freaking cute. He was also an only child at this point so we got to enjoy him fully. We were living in Bristol and it was the first lockdown (so actually pretty lovely) and we were a little unit of 3 going on our daily walks, trying out fun crafts and enjoying the sunshine. C’s “quirks” (which in hindsight were autistic traits) made him the most unique, lovable and enjoyable child.
C was our first baby so of course everything he did was the cutest thing ever, but I remember there being a lot of stress up until he was about a year as we, like all first time parents, had no idea what we were doing. Once that stress eased off slightly, apart from the whole not sleeping more than 2 hours at a time at night, C was a wonderful, happy, mostly chill toddler.
B and L are 13 months here
The first year of the twins’ life is basically a blur in my memory, as you can imagine life with 3 under 3 being! Sleep at night was very limited as they tag teamed being awake, and I felt like I was either feeding, changing nappies or trying to get them to nap in a loop for months on end. But I remember feeling at the time and especially now as I look at photos, they were stinking cute babies! I’ve always dreamed of having girls and being blessed with two at the same time was incredible.
I mean what?You’re killing me hereJust trying to remind myself it was hard
There are benefits to them being older, don’t get me wrong. They can now verbalise what they need instead of just screaming (though sometimes they still opt for just screaming) and I can leave them to their own devices for longer than 30 seconds at a time. I do miss the naps, though have to remind myself they rarely napped at the same time or for the same amount of time!
And who’s to say whether I’ve seen my favourite stage yet?? What are the twins going to be like as 8 year olds? And where will C’s inquisitive mind take him as a teenager? What will the adults they become be like? And how much will I look back at the stage they are now with rose tinted glasses, forgetting how challenging I find it as we’re in it?
It is a bittersweet privilege to watch our children grow up, a privilege not granted to the parents of the children who were killed in Rafah, children as young as my babies pictured here. Whilst I miss them at these ages, I can see them right now and I will, God-willing, get to witness them travel through all the future stages life will take them to. I am grateful for that especially now.
It was Maternal Mental Health Week this past week and a number of women took to social media to share a photo of themselves with their child as a newborn and to write what they felt then, and what they would tell that version of themselves now. I thought I’d do my own version of that here.
I’ve always wanted to be a mum. My career aspirations changed frequently but wanting to have children has always been a constant. So when I fell pregnant after years of trying, my husband and I were thrilled and so excited to welcome our first child into the world. I had a fairly straightforward pregnancy until the last week or so when I came out in an itchy rash all over my body. It was unbearable and it made it impossible to sleep (which was tricky anyway because I was huuuuge). After going to the antenatal clinic, the doctors told me that the rash would only go away once I’d given birth as it was some sort of allergic reaction to my son’s male hormones (polymorphic eruption of pregnancy if you fancy a Google). I was already a bit overdue so an induction was booked in.
My labour with our first born (C) was gruelling. Labour took a long time to get started and then we were in a frustrating waiting period where there was no room in the labour ward so the induction was kind of paused until room opened up, making it even longer than it was meant to be. Finally, after a 40+ hour labour, C was pulled unceremoniously into the world. He was placed into my exhausted arms and I was in love.
He was born at midnight and we spent a night on the postnatal ward where I didn’t sleep at all because, whilst C slept soundly the entire night, other babies on the ward did not. Therefore, the next day, I was desperate to get home so we were discharged only 18 hours after he was born.
We were home that evening and that night C slept like a baby (ie not very well), so there was another night of very limited sleep. At this point I was close to delirium I was so tired. The lack of sleep would continue until C turned about 2 years old when he finally started to sleep for longer than 2 hour stretches at a time.
Feeding was another challenge. Because we left the hospital so quickly, I didn’t get much of a chance for support with breastfeeding. I remember being on the ward and asking someone to come and show me what to do and someone (I can’t remember if it was a midwife or health care assistant) came and sat with me and gave me a very brief overview. So when we got home and I couldn’t figure it out, it was very stressful. When C was only 2 days old we went to a breastfeeding clinic to get some advice.
Can you tell I was emotional?
With the advice gleaned from the clinic and the incredible support from BABIES, a breastfeeding support charity at the time in Winchester, I finally felt that I got the hang of breastfeeding when C was about 10 weeks old. Without their support I would have given up out of pain and frustration. With it, I fed him until he was 2 years old.
In C’s first few weeks I also experienced some really unsettling intrusive thoughts. I wanted to take him “back”, then got really upset when I realised there was no where to take him, I was stuck with him. I was convinced I would never be able to do it again, which was heartbreaking because I longed for a big family. I didn’t feel this overwhelming love I thought I would feel, in fact I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him, and I was convinced there was something wrong with me. I’m so glad I reached out to friends who reassured me that my thoughts were normal and would pass, as I was terrified I just wasn’t cut out for this thing I had been longing for all my life.
The first few weeks of C’s life were incredibly dark for me and it wasn’t until he was about 6-8 weeks old that I started to feel I was bonding with him, that I loved him and that I could actually do it. Since, I have learned that all those feelings were totally normal, but at the time I had no idea.
What I would tell that version of myself now
Me and my 3
I feel nothing but total awe and deep compassion for that version of myself. I’d love to take her by the hands and say that it’s little wonder she struggled so much in the first few weeks after such sleep deprivation and stressful experiences. That in the years after, C would receive an Autism diagnosis which would shed light on, if not explain, his early issues with feeding and sleeping. I had no idea what I was up against.
I would love to tell myself that I was doing an amazing job, that I was doing all the right things in reaching out for support, even if it made me feel crazy or like a failure.
I would encourage myself that we did go on to have more children, twins in fact, and that watching them all play together brings the warmth and joy to my heart that I was longing for.
I would tell myself that after having the twins, I didn’t sink to the depths again, partly because I knew I needed to take care of myself and to get all the support I could.
I was given a beautiful baby with additional needs that weren’t uncovered until much later, who was trying to figure out the new, confusing landscape of life Earthside just as much as I was.
Those first dark weeks were my first lesson in the importance of looking after myself in motherhood. It is a lesson I finding myself having to learn time and time again, especially in light of the extra challenges we have with the twins and parenting a child with additional needs. Nowadays, I look after my mental health by prioritising rest, by going for walks, by getting lots of sleep and by taking an antidepressant every day. I spend time with God in prayer and worship and I reach out to friends, family and professionals when I need help. The old adages of “you can’t pour from an empty cup” and “you need to put your oxygen mask on first” are true, as trite as they sound. I know and I have seen that looking after my mental health makes me a better mum. I hope this serves as an encouragement for you to do the same.
Every now and then I like to write a blog post on things that are currently adding value to my life, whatever they are. I stole this idea from Kendra Adachi (The Lazy Genius) who stole the thought from Barbara Brown Taylor. So, here we go!
Walk don’t Run
I know, I know, I waxed lyrical about the joy of running not that long ago on this blog (in fact, you can read it here), but hear me out. A lot of what I said in that post still holds true, I still love running and I would still love to reach the goal I set myself at the beginning of the year. However, I have also been hit with injuries, illness and exhaustion that has made running difficult. Furthermore, I was finding that, as enjoyable as the run was, I would then find the rest of the day more difficult with the children as I had expended so much energy on my run. Learning that my energy is not limitless has revealed the importance of conserving my energy, of learning what uses up my energy and what gives me energy. As a result, I have pivoted to walking. The girls’ preschool has been fundraising this month with a group of us aiming to walk/run 1,200 miles in April. This has encouraged me to go on long walks throughout the month and it’s doing wonders for my mental health. I’ve walked 27.6 miles so far this month (but real props need to go to my friend Lucy who ran just shy of that in a matter of hours in the London Marathon yesterday. Go Lucy!) Being out in nature and listening to music, an audiobook or a podcast without feeling I might die has been a positive change. I love running and it’s wonderful in certain seasons of life, but right now so much of my energy is consumed with the kids that walking is my preference.
Finding a Bible resource that works for me
I feel like I’ve been looking for the right resource to help me with my Bible reading in this season for ever. I want something more in depth than a devotional that has a verse and a bit of application but less than the huge chunks something that Bible in a Year gets you to do. Thankfully, I have found The 5-Minute Bible Study Journal for Women by Annie Tipton. It sets you a short passage to read followed by questions to help you think about it and a short paragraph on how to apply it to your life, then finishes with a prayer. You can get it just as a book but since I love writing and find it helps me process my thoughts, I was thrilled to find the journal version. Before you ask, yes there is one for men by David Sandford. Now, each morning as I eat my breakfast, I sit down and actually read my Bible, which I haven’t done in a really long time. The twins will actually point at my journal and ask if I’m going to do it now, which will hopefully motivate me even more. I’d love for it to become a normal thing for them to see their parents reading God’s Word. Here are some photos so you can get an idea of what it’s like.
Our air fryer
Need I say more? If you have not yet been converted to the wonders of an air fryer, it has helped us (tsk, my husband, Sam, I shouldn’t claim to do any cooking) cook quick and easy meals in a cheaper way. It’s been really convenient and we now get what all the fuss is about.
Getting the kids scooters
Our kids are 5.5 and 3 years old, so they’re probably older than a lot of kids getting scooters for the first time. But anyway, they’ve played with scooters at preschool and school and since the weather’s been picking up (lol), we thought it was time they had their own. Of course, the twins had to have exactly the same Peppa Pig ones because Peppa Pig is Life. Now every single day they want to go out on their scooters. One of the plus points about where we live is that we have a huge drive so a big, safe area for them to scoot around. It’s really helping us rack up our 1,000 hours outside (another very ambitious goal for this year) and is definitely making that stretch between home from school time and dinner time less painful.
So there you have it! What’s saving your life right now? I’d love to know so please share!
The story began in darkness, before God spoke the word and then there was light. Before the Fall’s fail and the flood’s might. Before He was placed in a virgin’s womb, the story was written of His empty tomb.
The years preceding were simply leading to that inevitable end. When the Lord would face darkness, death and pain, for the rupture He was sent to mend. He begged and pleaded of His Heavenly Father to take this cup from Him. But total surrender was the only answer to save us from our sin.
Then long was the journey of humiliation and pain to reach the rugged cross, Where the King of Kings was beaten and mocked, spat at and treated as dross. Still as He hung on that wretched tree, His posture was of grace and love, Promising the thief hanging beside Him of Paradise up above.
Then dark was the sky, the rocks broke apart, the curtain in the temple was torn. The disciples scattered, the guards shaken, the women at the cross forlorn. God’s own heart was broken as He sent His Son to the fiery pit of Hell. The story felt over, ended, finished, the credits’ music began to swell.
Then morning came on the third day, unassuming and covered in grief. Mary Magdalene strode down to the tomb, to anoint, to mourn, to weep. But wait… there lies the stone, rolled away from the mouth of the grave… Mary looks in to an empty tomb, her shock giving way to pain.
Through tears she stumbles out of the dark and falls to the ground, distraught. She lifts her head and sees a man, the gardener, she first thought. “Why are you crying?” he asks her, and she begs him on her knees, “Where have you taken my Lord? Tell me and I’ll go get him”, she pleas.
Then, “Mary” this man responds and the scales fall from her eyes. It is Him, her Lord, her Jesus, gloriously risen back to life. She runs to Him and clings to Him, “Teacher!” she cries. He sends her out to tell others the gospel that transforms lives.
The gospel of grace to the human race from a kind and merciful God. The promise of eternity lived with Him in His all consuming love. While we are here in this broken world surrounded by evil and fear, Because of Jesus’ death and resurrection, we can know that God is near.
Now here we are two millennia later and this story is still being told. Its message of hope, of renewal and redemption will never fade or grow old. Until we stand with the angels in Heaven, no longer in pain or in need, We will stand here on Earth and boldly proclaim “He is risen! He is risen indeed!”
Emma Dinsmore 