Dysfunctional? Look at your car...

'I don't ever want to go out with you again... so don't ask me.' - serious teenage rant after day trip to Barcelona'.

When do you stop forcing your teenage children to go on family excursions with you?

They would say 'now.'

We want them to come, but more than that, we want them to enjoy being together. Part of me knows that the reality of a family trip will not live up to my aspirations of being like the Waltons but without the gingham.
I blame the car.
Things really are stacked against us from the off regarding a happy day out. Having a moody teenage son who is built like Hagrid doesn't help, combine that fact with our car, which is probably the smallest family car you can get without going to a car dealer in Oompa Loompa land and which is only a 3-door hatchback. The main reason for buying a tiny car with no access for the passengers at the back was to discourage them from opening the doors at high speed and throwing themselves out, shouting 'Nooooooo! We're not with them...'.

Normally the kids have to endure their parents' singing as we drive along. We make sure it's loud and raucous so they can't drown us out with their MP3s.
After half an hour of precision packing to get them in the back of the car, (A tricky procedure as we have to strategically position our car-sickness prone teenage daughter and our anxiety ridden 9 yr-old, who really does not want to be vomited on, which results in our clinically depressed Hagrid having to sit in the middle with his feet propped up and his knees up by his ears, bemoaning the fact that he doesn't suffer from an ailment which would ensure his place in a 'window seat'.) and 2 minutes of being 'on the road', they are forced to endure our latest rendition of a Lady Gaga song but with made-up words - normally about happy families or sulky teenagers. It's at this point, 'Hagrid' is made aware of the advantage of having your knees either side of your ears - muffling quality.

What a happy sight we make on the highways of Spain - in the front - parents oblivious, singing and swaying, happy and carefree. Pan to the back, where the squashed, deformed faces and desperate, open hands of bemused children are pressed against the windows with only enough room for them to write in the condensation from their breath on the glass - 'PLEASE ADOPT ME'...

Pebbles and Ripples

"Can we all just calm down here a minute please....?"

These were the fateful words uttered, with full patronising accompaniment of palms outstretched, patting the air in front of her as if guiding in a Hawker Harrier on an aircraft carrier, by my 15 year old daughter, in response to me raising my voice, at the third time of asking her to look for her mobile phone charger as she had no alarm and the cockerel we'd hired to wake her at the crack of dawn, was slowly losing the ability to crow as it was being intoxicated by her brother's trainer whiff.

I almost choked on my Prozac.

These words did something to me. I found it hilarious, infuriating, saddening, shaming and condescending - all at the same time, in a micro-second. I looked at her, unable to speak. The old chestnut; 'I would never have spoken to my mom in that way...' rang through my head. Although that kind of confidence to express herself is great, I'm beginning to feel like living with teenagers who are not afraid to speak their mind is not good for a parent's self-esteem. Their free expression can come at the expense of feeling good as a parent especially when the children are acting like 'critical parents' and are questioning how you are and what you do. In fact, sometimes it's like being a kid again.

My son is prone to hurling insults freely and the usual howls of 'you don't understand me...', 'You're bad parents...', 'Leave me alone...' and 'I'm ringing Social Services if you don't give me my Playstation' have slowly, mainly due to their repetition and therefore induced compassion fatigue, lost their impact on me. I suppose in the same way as my 'nagging' him to 'cut his nails' has less impact than donning an Edward Scissorhands outfit and, while he rem sleeps at 3 a.m in the morning, sticking a pointed finger up his nostril and bellowing menacingly 'CUT YOUR NAILS'....

However, when I am on the receiving end of my adolescent daughter's wrath and/or condescencion (the latter being worse), it's like a blow below the belt.
'Calm down'??
'Calm down'????
This from the girl who could wind up The Dalai Lama - in fact I'd pay good money to see them in a 'head to head', with my darling daughter jumping up and down, flapping her arms and screaming hysterically while his holiness calmly reassures her that when her brother 'does the finger' at her, it is merely a reflection of his 'inner turmoil' and not a 'let's wind up my sister 'cos it's fun watching her whirl like a Dervish' move. It's like throwing a pebble in a pond - his 'finger', in this case, is the pebble, her reactions are the ripples. As his holiness asks her sagely if she really wants to be a 'ripple', I can see her now - scrunching up her face, shrugging her shoulders, raising her hands questioningly and glaring at me; 'Ripple?? What is he on about??' Buddhist metaphor is lost on the disaffected...
The trouble is teenagers don't know what it's like to live with them... It's probably similar to living with parents when you're a teenager. Pebbles and ripples. Pebbles and ripples.

"Calm down"?
I'd love to.

Hoisted by my own petard

Homework. Exams. Apparently not as important as re-arranging the furniture in your room and placing your book collection in order of size... Now I know that I am to blame for some of this newly adopted tactic by the son and heir to displace any school-related activity in favour of a more mind-numbing activity.
For 10 years, I have tried with a monumental effort, to get my son to tidy his room. For 10 years, I have also, with an even more monumental effort,tried to get him motivated to do his schoolwork and study.
Now, in a cunning twist of events and with a certain amount of intellectual aplomb, my son has decided to do his homework in his room (ok, he's 15 - we'll go with that) - but first, he has to completely overhaul his room to ensure it's habitability. Unfortunately, this process can take 2 hours - not leaving much time for schoolwork, but leaving an immaculate and ordered room. Now, this new approach towards his pit is, don't get me wrong, refreshing - visitors may use the bathroom and on the way, not mistake his room for a pig breeding centre or an experimental toxin laboratory. When people ask if they can use the bathroom, I glow with pride, I am like the woman from the shampoo ad - I shake my lovely shiney hair in a carefree manner and beam 'Of course, go right ahead, take your time, maybe even 'linger' for a while outside my son's room...'. I fight the urge to give them a camera.
The trouble is he knows I like 'tidy' and 'clean' and that I like his room to be tidy and, because his study time is obviously more important, I am going to have to utter words which I know will stick in my throat;

'Forget your room, come and study.'

Coup de grâce, checkmate, 'hoisted by your own petard', 'stitched up like a kipper' -he will use my words to his advantage for ever more. If only he put as much effort into life skills as he does into out-witting me... His bedroom will once more return to its natural state, while he pretends to work (staring at a school book for 3 hours while really plotting his next move). Once more, when visitors ask to use the bathroom, I'll look plaintively at them and say 'We haven't got one...', it's that or blindfold them while spraying half a can of 'Oust' in front of them as they climb the stairs...

Red and Blue makes Purple

I don't know why I'm writing this, perhaps it's because I've just had a barrage of sulky abuse from my son and heir and am feeling alone. No-one really understands the frustrations of raising a child with ADHD unless they do it. The pressure I feel to present him to the outside world in a positive way is huge and always has been. This pressure is mainly because society is very black and white or red and blue, whatever the contrast - if you're primarily perceived as one thing, that first impression will define you. There is truth in the expression 'mud sticks', and my teenage son is not 'red' or 'blue' - he's 'complicated' and needs patience to be understood. My son likes to make a good impression upon others (he’s confessed to ‘manipulating’ people in order to ‘get’ stuff – admiration, sweets, money – any attention), so he’s nearly always charming, which helps, but the downside of that is that people only see one side of him and minimize his diagnosis. To them, he's 'red' not 'blue', when really he's both, to extremes.
The reality is he finds it difficult to take responsibility for anything - his appearance, his work, his self-esteem, even taking his meds. He's almost 15 and other people don’t see me MAKING him brush his teeth, wash, put deodorant on, cut his nails, change his clothes so he doesn’t smell, counsel him, lock the kitchen cupboard so he doesn’t overeat (he finds it difficult to stop eating and was once sick because he’d eaten so much), monitor him on the Internet, make him do his homework, I tutor him daily to help him through exams although he doesn’t want it – even though he’s failing at school, he feels he’s OK and is sulky, aggressive and rude when I try and help him. Despite this, we do try and give him freedom, but we have to be careful because he’s impulsive and doesn’t have much of a sense of danger. So this is where his mobile phone is great, only he uses up his credit on sending pointless texts to his friends instead of keeping it to ring us in an emergency! Sigh... His medication has improved things so much – he’s a lot happier and less impulsive, he thinks more now and is willing to have friends and let them take the spotlight for a moment. It’s easier to let him go out. Before medication, he would get into fights, endanger himself and be very aggressive and depressed. We still have these times, but not like before, although he steals money and food from us and he breaks stuff through anger. We teach him the same basic rules every day and he still forgets them or chooses to ignore them. His room is always disgusting, even though we make him tidy it for health reasons on a regular basis – he hates us for that but as he’s on the autistic spectrum as well, we need to instill basic life skills – I don’t want him to have a negative self-image and low self-esteem. So I cook with him, he can iron, he recycles, takes the rubbish and comes shopping with me - budgeting, reading sell-by dates and nutritional values.
The practical support we can give him is easy really although time-consuming. The psychological and emotional implications of his ADHD and ASD are harder to bear, for him, his sisters and for us.
When he winds his sisters up or swears at and threatens them or tells them he wishes they were dead – I could cry with utter sadness. This is not the picture of family life I had. At the worst moments, I imagine for a split second what life would be like without him – and I'm ashamed - I die inside a little each time, because, despite all of this, I love him with every last breath of me. At the best moments, he’s happily chuntering on about his latest obsession, he makes me laugh till I cry, he’s thoughtful, helpful and charming, respectful and polite. A lynchpin of our family. I'm so proud of him, his achievements and skills. At these times I see the man he can be – the amazing potential in him and I will never let him give up on fulfilling that. It's all I can do when at times I feel so helpless and hopeless - I have to slog on, because he'll have to everyday of his life and if he's going to learn one thing from me, it's going to be NOT to give up.

Adolescence has a lot to answer for.

Living with a teenage woman is like living with Hagrid's dog 'Fluffy'... I'd like to approach her and give her belly a rub but she scares the hell out of me... So I think I'll just throw her scraps of food from a safe distance and not mention anything controversial (like 'chores', 'friends', her brother and any phrase beginning in 'Will you just....'). Controversy or 'winding her up' in 'teen-speak', tends to result in slight foaming at the mouth accompanied by extreme flapping of the arms while jumping up and down and screaming - Animal from 'The Muppets' with rabies. Now, I love her to bits, but it's very hard to relax around her - you just never know when those raging hormones will kick in and, being a wheelchair user - it' s very hard for me to retreat quickly to a safe distance, so I've taken to wearing a crash helmet, safety goggles and a fat suit for protection.

Despite her hormonal troughs (which bewilder her more than me..), she is, and always will be, my beautiful girl. In good times I see the woman she is turning into; kind, clever, confident, sassy and strong. Adolescence has a lot to answer for. Sometimes I worry that our relationship is dying, then she will bring it back to life by being so incredibly nice - today at high school she had to write about someone who was her hero - and she wrote about me.
I grieve her growing up, I remember tickling her, playing with her, just being with her as a toddler and I feel physical pain that she's growing up into womanhood. But she has to. I have to be there to help her make the scary transition. And I will. She will probably never know how much I love her until she has children of her own, and if she does I will tell her to make the most of those precious years because they will be the memories which will help you get through the difficult times later.

Let's be bad and have fun!

Parents' Evenings...sigh. As if I don't feel guilty enough - I now have to stand over my children with a bible in one hand and a whip in the other threatening hell and damnation if study is not seen to be done. I had to sign a contract promising the school to turn my teenage twins into Stepford children so that the teachers' lives could become more pleasant at work. All the parents had to, it wasn't just me, we had no choice. No-one was going to openly defy the teacher, as we all sat at individual desks, sweating. Some swatty parents had brought their own paper and pen - taking down important points and dates, chewing the end of the pen and nodding knowingly as Sir said something about holidays not being holidays but instead; 'opportunities for study'... Great... I got the distinct impression that spontaneous and carefree family days out were gone. Is this really how it is when your kids are teenagers? My shoulders and head drooped under the weight of how to happily balance all of our lives when Sir produced the contract for us to sign... I perked up... unlike the good parents - I didn't have a pen, although I had poked at my finger with a paper clip so I could scrawl down the Christmas holiday dates in blood on the back of an old till receipt. No pen = can't sign = get out of burdening pressure = hurray, let's all go out and be silly. Then Sir produced, from the ether, a bag of spare pens for the bad parents who obviously don't take these things seriously enough. Damn... Have pen = have to sign = have to be a strict and serious parent = conflict = stress = buy more chocolate and meditation tapes to avoid hiding in box for rest of life.
Well, I told the kids I had to sign a contract and that if they break it - I'll go to prison... I wagged my sceptic finger at them (from the paper clip) which seemed to give me more credibility. They're studying quietly now, but they're not stupid - they'll work out I'm lying, then I'll just have to resort to plan B...which involves a pan pipes cd, a stash of Curly Wurlys and a large box.

Is My Son Turning into Lou Reed??

Sibling rivalry. It can manifest itself in many ways, but typically results in non-understandable mumblings where words have no beginning or end and the pitch is so low, that random dogs respond to him as he, without end, laments his life and curses his sisters. Head down, shoulders hunched, walking 10 metres ahead of me as a physical protest to my callousness in letting his twin sister go on a trip with her guitar class.
Anyone would think the poor boy was deprived - I, on the other hand am obviously living the life of Riley behind his back: Mojitos by the pool, endless hours of Playstation and limitless donuts, laughing raucously with lots of beautiful people, while he, miserable and self-pitying, sits in a darkened room, covered in straw wearing a hair shirt and self-flagellating with the recharger lead from his MP3....
His granma keeps telling him she had her first job when she was a year older than him, but to no avail - he thinks there'll be an opening for him at 'Ben and Jerry's' as a taste tester, so is gearing his academic skill towards achieving this goal... which involves eating marshmallow, nougat and cappuccino at the same time and seriously assessing it's enjoyability...
I wish I could motivate him more, I've already promised him a Ferrarri if he just PASSES school (I'm hoping he'll be so flushed with self-importance that he'll forget I said that...).
Oh well, he tidied his bedroom this morning - that'll keep 'Greenpeace' off our backs for a bit longer... as it does normally have a moderate to high 'disaster rating', two men in dark suits came round and mentioned hiding 'Weapons of Mass Destruction', but my son and heir managed to confound them with his teenage slurring, mumbling and grunting and they left saying something about 'care in the community'.... Must check under his bed.....