I’m working from home for the greater part of this week – to provide a catch-net for our eldest daughter again. Let’s just say she’s finding growing up harder than most. We’ve had school staff visiting the house, a kids counsellor took her for a walk yesterday, and we dropped everything for a “pizza and movie night” last night with everybody together (watched “National Treasure : Book of Secrets”). She’s back in school today. Fingers crossed this is the beginning of the road back to “normal” (whatever “normal” is).
I guess it’s easy to take routine life as a family for granted – until this academic year we had three kids that loved school, had great friends, and went to all sorts of clubs throughout the week. Add puberty, and then streaming towards examination subjects into the school year at 14 years old, and the entire family of railway cars smashed into each other. We’re still picking the pieces up a year later, and know the railway cars are going to crash again, and again.
There’s nothing in the parenting instruction book that covers the bit where the old book sets itself on fire, sets you on fire, sets the house on fire, sets your relationships on fire, and renders everything you thought you knew completely and utterly useless.
All we can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other.