September 2009

Guy and I have just got back from a five day break in Liverpool. We used to go there regularly, (we’re both Beatles fans), but it’s now over four years since we have been there together. We needed the time away, both of us were not only exhausted but also in pursuit of a free space for each other, which opened up immediately we were seated on a train to Lime Street.

Unlike many parents who are helping their oldest teenagers prepare for their first years at university, we have all three children at home, ‘just like when they were little’, as Guy said recently. Only now they are all over six feet tall! Jack, 19, is the smallest at six foot one. It’s a strange experience being the shortest one in the family (apart from Lily, our cocker spaniel. She and I have to stick together, being the only females among this lot).

Our house now seems to be smaller suddenly; the washing machine and dishwasher give off a constant, synchronised whirring hum; and there are frighteningly high piles of ignored ironing that leap out at me from behind kitchen cupboard doors when I’m looking for other things.

Our grocery bills have shot up massively since Will has been at home, and I’m wishing we had one of those American-style fridge-freezers which we could load up, instead of having to visit the supermarket so often. But, I’m really enjoying having everyone at home again. We are a family once more, and things are beginning to feel normal. I’m less jumpy around William, and I’m trusting more and more that we can once again live as a family, without anything awful lurking round the next corner. Guy is handling the transition extraordinarily well. I asked him about this while we were away, complimenting him on the way he’s handled the change. ‘Well, he hasn’t stolen anything from me so far, so I’m fine’, he said with a smile. I laughed then, and saw how clearly that equation worked in Guy’s mind. Men and women really do see the world quite differently, maybe. It occurred to me then, though, that I now leave my handbag and jewellery unguarded in the house. This has evolved without my noticing.

Alex, in particular, loves having Will back, and is rediscovering his passion for sport, now that he has someone with whom to share it. Jack is bemused ‘When was he so keen on sport?’ Changes for everyone. Will bought an X box whilst away from us, which is now in our sitting room. Last night, Alex and Will were playing a PES soccer game on there. As I came into the room Will looked up at me, and then at Alex, and said ‘Oh, you coming in here? Mum won’t want to watch us play this, Alex’. ‘That’s okay, I don’t mind’ I said, sitting down on the sofa next to Will, and smiling to myself. This sort of consideration for other people is what I had begun to give up ever witnessing again in my eldest son. And there it was.

Will is finding the eight-week plumbing course very fast and very challenging. He has also been fighting flu, which has not helped. He began saying this morning, amid nose-blowing, that he would have preferred to do a longer course where he could have more practice before being examined. When I ask him if he might be able to change over to a part-time course, he doesn’t like the sound of that either. ‘That would be another two years of my life’, he sighed. We talked. He began saying that there seems to be a pattern with him, that when he went to the crammer in Kensington he was trying ‘to do the impossible, cram three A levels into one year, and now trying to become a fully qualified plumber in two months, a huge undertaking with maths, physics – the lot. What is it with me?’

We talked about how it wasn’t him who had decided all of this, that we’d found the course together, and I’d thought it the right thing. I told him that it is never helpful to beat yourself up, and moving away from self-attacking thoughts by visualising placing them in a box, with a lid on, can help. Compassion for yourself, coupled with hard work and some good strategies might be better, I ventured. We talked about how demanding the course is, but how he might be able to break the studying into manageable chunks. I told him about how I react to stress, often getting heartburn and indigestion, as if I’ve been eating large rocks. Now I know that when this happens I need to sit down with a pen and paper, to look at how I can create smaller digestible pieces for myself to deal with. Making sure that I know what my ‘big rocks’ are, and how they need attention before the smaller things in life, is essential, but trying to ingest them whole is poor practice.

I passed this on to my son today, pushing through my urge not to talk to him like this, not wanting to be ‘bossy’. I have a loathing for bossy women, and don’t want to ever become one, but I kept going in spite of a voice in my head telling me that I’ll just get it all wrong (so say nothing). Silencing my fears by telling Will how remarkable it had been that he had fitted back so well into the family, and he’d been going in to college every day even when he was ill, and how much admiration both Guy and I had for him, I then went over to the bookcase in the kitchen and found a calendar Will could use, laying it out on the table. We looked at what he wanted and needed to achieve, and by when, and started to look at how he could break the whole thing down for himself.

Guy and I talked while we were away about the importance of Will being able to notch this course up as a success; Guy saw this as hugely important – that he should see himself as having done well, and worries about the impact on his self-confidence if the course is a bad experience for him. ‘If he can get this qualification, it would be good for his self-prestige. There is the element of the strutting cock in the male, you know, wanting to prove to others your worth.’

Whilst we were away, William had rung us to ask if he thought he should ask college for extra time so he could get more practice sessions, and I’d offered to call them to ask for him. Which I did. So it wasn’t a break entirely free from our kids’ issues. I asked William this morning if he thought he would stick the thing out. ‘Of course’ he said, looking brightly at me with those beautiful clear blue eyes. Will has now succeeded in sorting out more practice sessions at college for himself without my help, so things are looking hopeful again.

The house is not only filled with people, but with live music again. Jack has been back from travelling for a month now, and is playing piano and guitar again most days, most hours. He is taking another gap year, having given up his place at university (Liverpool, funnily enough), in order to work towards going to music college. There was a difficult few days after we returned from Liverpool when Jack announced that probably he would give up the idea of music college, that it was too hard to get in, he was too new to formal training, it was too competitive and he wanted to forget the idea, possibly going out to get a job and ‘work my way up from there’.

I realised then just how much I have been relying on Jack to be stable, and to get on with the process of applying and training for the auditions. He had done all the research for his future career and potential courses himself, and did so when he applied to Liverpool too. I guess I have wanted to be able to concentrate on getting Will launched back into life, and had overlooked the fact that Jack may need some focused support and attention as the date for applications drew near. He’s had to be so well-behaved and mature these past few years, with his older brother causing so many ructions in the household, guess this was his turn now.

When I’d calmed down, (which took some time!), we talked about what he might want to do instead, and what he wanted his future life to look like. I’ve been reading Stephen Covey’s books this summer*, and remembered his philosophy that you ‘begin with the end in mind’. This is a powerful technique of looking at what you want, where you want to be, and what you’d like to achieve in the future, and then working back from there. The idea is to create a blue-print, just as an architect designs a house to a home-owner’s specifications of what kind of house they want to live in according to their life-style. Covey maintains that ‘all things are created twice’ – firstly in the mind and secondly, physically. This helped.

We looked at where Jack would like to be in ten years time, what he visualised that looking like, and worked back from there as to how he might have got there – what were the steps he took, who helped him get there, what training he did. The whole picture. Jack came up with ideas for himself: what he saw his life as being and what he saw himself as doing. Few of these ideas would have occurred to me, they were his dreams and desires, which meant that the process was a fascinatingly creative exercise resulting finally in a deeper connection between us, which was probably the most important thing to emerge. Guy said to Jack later that whatever he chooses next, he has to stick to and go for, having changed his mind once already. Jack said he respected this, and liked that approach of really going all out for something once you’ve made a decision. Within a few days, Jack was back looking at music courses again and between us we have found some that are even more suitable to what he wants to do when he graduates. Panic over, and more learning for all of us.

* The 7 habits of highly effective people’ & ‘First Things First’ by Stephen R Covey are published by Simon & Schuster.

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