Skip to main content

Shame...less.

We had our first brush with Big Brother this week.

I should have seen it coming, really.  The amount of craziness that stems from Dude really should have prepared me for it.  I mean, he's been in enough trouble at school that I've been dealing with the Head since he was in reception.  When he was four.  Four.

Still, getting the phone call from the school to let me know he'd triggered a safeguarding warning caught me off guard.  For those of you who have the luxury of not knowing what that means, he said something at school that raised concerns regarding his safety or wellbeing either in the school environment or the home environment.

It wasn't at school.

The call came at the end of a truly hideous week, on the heels of a pretty rough start to the school year in general.  Dude had caused a building lockdown on Monday by leaving the classroom without telling anyone, and then hiding.  Hiding.  Four members of staff, including the Head, had to hunt for him.  Because he was under a table, being vewwy, vewwy quiet.  Tuesday wasn't much better, but at least he didn't lock down the school.  Wednesday, he had an accident that required me to bring dry shoes to the school.  This does not happen.  Then, miraculously, Thursday was a good day.  I allowed myself to hope that things were getting better.

Rookie move.

Friday morning, my phone rings.  It's the Head, with the notification that Dude had triggered the safeguarding issue and I would be getting a phone call from the Children and Family Services department at the council.  That sentence, that's all the information she was required to give me.  Because she's lovely, she went on to say that although she couldn't tell me what was said or to whom, when they report these issues they are also allowed to say whether they have seen any interactions between the student in question and the parents, if the parents are involved with the school at all, if there are any other issues to be considered (like the fact he's on the waiting list for an ADHD assessment)...  Although it was genuinely wonderful of her to try to reassure me this way, all I could think was that I was being investigated because there was a doubt as to whether my child was safe in his own home.

This was at roughly 11am in the morning.  I didn't get the aforementioned phone call until 10am on Monday.  As such, I spent the weekend with a stomachache.

The call itself was not even a big deal.  The man child from the council (he sounded about fifteen) was very nice, and very understanding.  He explained what was said.  Brace yourselves.

Dude told someone that he gets two different kinds of spankings at home... the regular ones, and the REALLY BAD ONES.

Now, I can't honestly even remember the last time I swatted him.  Know why?  IT DOESN'T WORK.  Nothing changes his behaviour, no punishment, redirection or withholding we've attempted has dented his iron will or commitment to total insanity in the slightest.  Why he decided to start a conversation about this is completely beyond me.  When the guy asked why I thought he might have said it, I responded with, "I don't know, why has he told me he's seen a sarcosuchus in the stream in front of our house?"

The call took all of half an hour.  It ended with the guy saying he was completely satisfied that there isn't an issue in this instance.  He documented everything we spoke about during the course of the conversation so that if there's another issue in the future it can be reviewed so I don't have to go through it all again.  I hung up feeling an immense sense of relief and thought that would be the end of it.

Silly me.

That very night, Dude had an acute onset case of croup.  He went from a minor cold to full blown seal barking in the course of a couple of hours.  Steaming him in the shower and using his inhaler didn't manage it, and we ended up in A&E for steroids.  It's the middle of the night, I'm holding my barking six year old in my lap, answering the general course of questions from the doctor treating him, and then she says... "Have there been any safeguarding issues?"

...

I was shocked.  I answered honestly, it never even occurred to me not to.  What I wasn't expecting was the fact that she stopped looking me in the eye for the rest of the interaction.  She became immediately businesslike, a slap in the face difference from the warm and friendly conversation we'd had before this question reared its ugly head.  I left feeling judged and found wanting.

Since this happened, I've spoken to a lot of people about it.  It has shocked me how many of the people I know from my various circles have had similar interactions regarding their own children.  It's scary, the thought that if I'd worked full time all these years and wasn't available to go on school trips or be there for crafts or cooking days, the outcome could have been totally different.  If I'd gotten a different person at the council, or if he'd been having a bad day... this isn't a no big deal sort of thing.

All I can do is try to shake it off.  It's hard to accept that this happened at all, much less that it can continue to affect us for the foreseeable future.  It's been a genuine struggle not to let the whole thing affect my interactions with my kids, not to let it change my parenting style.

I am not a bad parent.  I love my kids.  My kids know they are loved, and they feel safe in their own home.  This is my mantra, and if you seem me struggling, give me a kick and remind me that it's all going to be okay.

Or just buy me a coffee.  That works too.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Sprogging.

That's right, folks. The Browns are up the duff. *grin* Shocked? That's okay, so are we. Seems I'm actually related to my mother (who got pregnant while on the pill more than once). Apparently I'm four or five weeks, which may seem like jumping the gun announcement-wise, but I think it'll be interesting to catalogue the changes to my body for future reference... you know, in case in a year or two I forget how miserable I was and decide we need another, I'll have a reminder of what it was like the first time... Heh, just kidding. At least, for now. Physical symptoms aren't too bad at the moment. I've not had any morning sickness (touch wood), but my appetite is very odd. Half the time I'm starving to death, half the time I'm not hungry at all (like now, while Paul is eating lunch and I'm having a glass of orange and peach juice). I've got low level cramps pretty constantly, and it feels like there's a fishhook in my belly but