sonburn

Rodney from 'Only Fools and Horses - Tea for Three'

I see the humour in a lot of things. I cry a lot when I'm scared or sad or angry at injustice. Then there are the times when I do both...

It's been quite a week for me - a 'rollercoaster' of emotions doesn't even begin to describe it.
But these times happen.
There are days when my son's problems don't affect our lives much - we've become so adapted to adapting that life ticks on in its own peculiar way. But sometimes, his symptoms, when applied to new situations, smack me around the face, reminding me of my complacency in thinking I'd got everything under control.

New situations, such as school trips - the 'overnight' variety - fill me with dread. I hope I don't show that, I certainly try not to. Instead I just focus my anxiety on preparation and planning.
I checked he had everything, 3 times, 'remember to take your medication as soon as you get up', 'brush your teeth morning and night', 'charge your phone so we can pack it in the morning' - you get the picture. Now, the thing about my son is if we aren't explicit with our instructions, then he won't apply logical reasoning, for example 'will you brush your teeth' has to be 'will you brush your teeth for at least 2 minutes at the bathroom sink', otherwise he will wander around aimlessly holding the toothhbrush, watching it vibrate in his hand for 10 seconds, put it in his mouth for a further 10 seconds, turn it off and say 'I've finished'.
Anyway, the point is, he needs explicit instructions. This is obviously something I need to remember ALL of the time, as now, we get to the thrust of my blog and the reason for including the photo of Rodney Trotter - those of you who've seen the classic episode where, due to Del fiddling with the sunbed controls, Rodney gets badly sunburned, will know just how red he looks. Del tells him he shouldn't wear the white suit he has on because he looks like a 'swan vesta'. A similarly frightening sight greeted me on my number one son's return from a 2 day excursion only an hour away from where we live in Spain. Excited about seeing him, relieved he was coming home, wanting to hear that he had had a positive experience, I did not want my first reaction to be negative, but 'shock' made it so. My son, who had a new tube of factor 50 suncream with him, wasn't told by me the night before to make sure he applied it first thing and obviously being 15, wasn't told, by teachers, to put it on at the time - so he didn't.
He glowed with a luminescence that bordered both the beautiful and the frightening, as we wrestled with the urge to take him to A and E for first degree burns. 2 days and 3 litres of 'aftersun' later, he has now lost his glow and most of the pain. We found his tube of suncream - it was almost empty, apparently he had let other people use it.
The pathos of it, how vulnerable he is, the urge to protect him - all these things break my heart. It was my fault. I can remember 99 things but when I forget one thing or when I don't see something coming when I should have, I get cross at myself, at my own inadequacy. So, thank God for comedy shows - where life's not so serious and people are always getting it wrong and it's okay.
In fact, comedy shows should be available on prescription.
That and sun cream

Yeah, but is it art??

Sorry for the delay in posting but it's that time of the year again.

I spent 6 hours constructing some kind of rabbit biscuit barrel, hairdryering every layer of papier maché for speed, spending 15 euros on resources (grumbling to myself - 'I could've bought one for that) and neglecting the healthy food regime of the kids, throwing them a 'KitKat' to share for lunch while avoiding throwing up on the aforesaid work of art as I nursed an increasingly bad migraine.

'But Why?' I hear you ask.

The last minute rush to make sure my number one son passes the year.

This was art. We've done a few weeks of tutoring him too. He's already failed maths and can't afford to fail any more subjects. If he does, he repeats the year, which is de-motivating, humiliating and a waste of time for someone like my son who doesn't see the point of doing most things once, let alone twice.

If it was left to him, he would have given in something resembling this -
Take one rabbit.
Put it in a cornflake's box.
Reverse a tractor over it.
Wrap it in about 3km of sellotape and.......... 'Tadah!'.

In fact, when I saw it the night before it had to be given in and before I knew it was meant to actually resemble something, I thought it was;
a) a metaphorical physical expression of his inner turmoil,
b) the new Damien Hirst or
c)rubbish

I cried a bit inside at the pathos of this 'creation'.
After looking at my son, with a plaintive expression which communicated the single word 'Why?', he just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled with adolescent world weariness - 'I can't do it.'
'But what is it meant to be, son?'
Due to my inability to decipher the abstract construction in front of me which apparently had taken him 6 hours (although, we later found out that 5 hours 55 minutes of that was spent playing with plasticine), he kicked the sideboard and flapped his arms in frustration, yelling,
'SEE - I KNOW IT'S NO GOOD'

So, I rescued him. For the sake of him getting through school. When he saw the end result, he kissed me and, as chuffed as buttons, took it into school.

He got a '7'.

Can you believe that? A '7'???? After all that effort??? It had floppy ears and buck teeth and everything.
I'm gutted.
At least it's a pass.

I'm beginning to wonder if the original 'Rabbit Incarcerated in Crumpled Cornflakes Box and Wrapped in a Never-Ending Stream of 'Sellotape'' wouldn't have got a better mark....