Monthly Archives: September 2014

The hardest juggling act of all

And for my next trick…

Yep: like all parents, I spend a lot of time juggling. Heck, I spend a lot of time blogging about juggling. And guilt. Let’s not forget the guilt. And of course, these things are intimately related. A huge chunk of the knotty mass of guilt I feel on a pretty much daily basis originates in my feeling that I am a poor juggler. That I don’t get the balance right in my respective responsibilities as Mum, carer, advocate for Boo, partner, employee, and colleague. That I let people down on a regular basis, including myself, but especially my kids.

If you read this blog regularly, you would be forgive for thinking that the hardest circle to square is the working mum/parent-carer one. I wrestle with it daily and the moment it is pretty all consuming. But it’s not the hardest juggle of all. Not by a long way.

The hardest is being Mum to two children, one of whom has extreme and complex additional needs and one who does not.

Sissyboo is just about the best sister anyone could have. Boo is incredibly (there just isn’t a word hyperbolic enough to describe this) lucky to have her in his life. I watch their relationship develop with intense pride and amazement. Her life was as much turned upside down by Boo’s early arrival and all that came with it as anyone else’s and all of this happened in the year she started school.

Cerebral palsy doesn’t faze her. In fact, she is very knowledgeable about it. She has started to question the world around her, the policies and prejudices that affect her little brother’s life. She instinctively, now, notes the accessibility (of often otherwise) of places we visit and clocks lifts and accessible toilets sometimes before I do on trips out. She has the best stare for non-blue badge holders who park in disabled parking spaces because they are in a hurry that I have ever seen. She helps with Boo’s therapies. She makes him sticker charts and buys him presents with her pocket money entirely off her own bat if he hits a new inchstone. She reads to him and plays with him. She forgives him if his wayward arms whack her round the face accidentally or if he pulls her hair.

And mostly, she just loves him. Unconditionally. As I do her.

She may not realise it at the moment, but she has given up a lot for him. Time with me, days out, days without worry. And I worry so much about her missing out.

You see, Boo’s needs will always be the most immediate. He can’t do a thing (except watch TV) without adult support. And she is nearly seven. So when it comes to the two hours before bed what do I do? Shoehorn in as much therapy as possible for Boo? Goodness knows he needs it. And then what to do when Sissyboo asks me to do Hama beads with her? What about when she needs help with her homework and he is screaming because he is uncomfortable and needs stretching or otherwise stimulating because he can’t just get up and walk to the toys he wants to play with.

Sissyboo does after school clubs most days. This is partly because I work, but it is also so I can fit a bit more therapy time into Boo’s day as he doesn’t get enough 1:1 support at nursery. And I don’t feel good about paying someone else to look after my daughter so I can do therapy with my son. Not at all.

Nor do I feel totally OK with all days out having to be geared up around her brother’s needs. Of course, I want him to be as happy as possible and like to be prepared wherever we go, but I hate, for her sake, that so many days out turn out to be about what we can and can’t do with Boo. The only way to avoid this is to split our family of 4 into 2 families of 2, not always practical, and not at all what any of us wants.

We used to have a volunteer from the wonderful Homestart come and help us out for 2 hours a week. Boo was well looked after and I had 2 hours a week with my lovely girl. We used to do crafts or make cakes or watch a movie. That ended 10 months ago now and we both still miss it enormously. I try to take her swimming on my own once a week (like I take her brother on his own once a week too, although she has to come watch). I let her stay up a bit late on Fridays and Saturdays and help me make dinner and do crafts. I plan odd days out with just her. These are so much fun.

But I’m still not used to this. I wish I could get the balance right. I wish I could be sure I was doing enough to support her through school and just being nearly 7. But I can’t. When push comes to shove, Boo often has to come first. He can’t help it. It’s just the way it is. I just hope she grows up not minding. I hope she grows up knowing how amazing she is and how very, very proud I am of her.

If you have any tips on how to juggle the needs of siblings with different needs, I would love to hear from you. This one really has me stumped.


Good News Friday #72-75

Honestly, I can’t keep up lately. There is so much I want to tell you about, good and annoying, but I just don’t know where the time is going lately. Well I do – appointments and work – but I am in denial. So it’s a good time to pause for thought. A time to remind myself, it isn’t all chaos here in Boo land. And the good stuff keeps coming.

So, here are some good news highlights:

1) Running: I ran a half marathon last weekend. I know I don’t post pics of me or identifiable pics of the kids on here, but those few of you who have met me in real life can testify to the fact that I don’t look like a runner. (In fact, I am now on a post-run diet.) And I struggle to call myself a runner. Running is what other people do. But last weekend, after months of following the most skeletal half marathon training I could and still have a reasonable chance of crossing the finish line, I did it. In 2 hours 12 on a hilly course. I am thrilled. Running is so important to me. I can’t say I like running itself that much, but I like the enforced me time, I like pushing myself in recognition of the challenges Boo faces every day, and mostly, I like raising money for good causes. Which I did. I am so grateful.

2) Statementing: Because of a not so happy accident I regaled on the blog’s Facebook page, I found out that Boo is going to be issued with a statement. We hope to have it next week. Of course, we can’t know what it will say and the battles may only just beginning, but our hope is that it supports him better and for longer in his nursery setting. It has been quite a journey so far, I hope the road ahead isn’t too long.

3) Boo: I have about 5 Small Steps Amazing Achievements posts I have to write to tell you about the new things Boo is doing. I don’t want to steal the thunder of the posts I want to write, but don’t set the bar too high. It’s not like he’s learned to walk, or sit, or roll. But you know what? Those inchstones keep coming lately. Little surprises, things I’d almost given up on are starting to happen. Odd words I wondered if I’d ever hear, gestures, small acts that are a very big deal in our world. Dare I say it, Boo’s on a bit of a roll. And it’s a fun ride to be on, let me tell you.

I hope you have lots of good news to share. Do let us know what’s going on in your world. We love to hear from you!



Today we have our first visit to a local school (our daughter’s) to talk about Boo and whether they could accommodate him or not when he starts reception in two years time.

Boo is two. Yep: two.

This feels wrong. He is so young. But we have been asked to start this process now, because we live in a LA that says in hushed tones and not to be repeated words, ‘we just don’t have schools for kids like him here’. ‘They might have to build stuff for him.’ ‘It’s going to take time to work out what to do with him.’ My lovely little boy is reduced to the status of a problem in a matter of sentence.

Today, I wish my crystal ball was working, so when the inevitable questions arise – will he be able to hold a pen, walk, or use the toilet independently – I will know for sure what to say. (I think I know, but can’t say for definite.)

Today I feel a little bit sick because I know this school, a lovely, 3 minutes away, small, modern flat-level, high-achieving, nurturing school is not right for him. I know we are just playing a game. Having to look at schools so we can say to an unsympathetic LA that will likely try to push us to conclusions we don’t agree with, ‘No: we looked there. It isn’t right for him.’

But where is right? Are we chasing something that doesn’t exist?

Increasingly our options seem to be out of county. That involves travel for Boo and tribunals for us. Battles I can’t face. Not today anyway.

Today, just today, I would like to just be able to exist in the now. Not have to think about the past or worry about the future.

I wish today was tomorrow. And then it would be done. Until the next visit, that is.

Mind over Matter?

Hello. It’s me. I’ve been very quiet lately, I know. Things have been crazy busy. I mean CRAZY BUSY. With appointments. With work. With my running. (I ran a half marathon yesterday! Yep: I’m surprised, too.)  And with the therapy.

Post-holiday I can say that I am well and truly back on the therapy horse that threw me. And all the appointments that stopped as we and seemingly the entire country were on holiday in August have restarted with vengeance. We had three (yes: three!) before 11:00 this morning, as well as three phone calls from OT, one from wheelchair repair and one from early years this afternoon. It’s only Monday and my head is spinning even before we head towards the other two appointments we have later in the week.

I confessed to Boo’s physio this morning that I am feeling like a headless chicken. (She wasn’t surprised.) I told her what you will likely already know. We just can’t keep up with all the programmes and targets. Boo might be able to. But I can’t. I’m done in.

Fortunately, his physio is very sensible and lovely. She told me to just keep doing what I’m doing. I don’t need to do more, she assured me. I do plenty as it is. I just need to keep things ticking over.

Ticking over? I get the sentiment, but it’s not the right metaphor in my view. Well, not unless she had in mind an annoyingly loud clock you sometimes confront in an unfamiliar house, the incessant tick tocking of which  keeps you awake at night. Yep: that’s what therapy feels like to me at the moment. Please, please don’t let it feel that way to Boo…

To be honest, I don’t feel like I am keeping things going or ticking over. No: lately I feel as if I am letting things slip by making choices about what to squeeze into our jam-packed days.

Making choices …That sounds good, doesn’t it? It sounds empowering (as in: we’re choosing to focus on walking in his walker this month, rather than rolling you know).

Let me tell you, it doesn’t feel empowering at all. I feel like I am giving up on certain things to prioritise others. If I am choosing things, then I feel that there’s a very strong possibility that I’ll make the wrong choice.

Lately, the biggest choice I’ve had to make is the balance between Boo’s physical and cognitive development. Now, don’t get me wrong. I know full well that the two go together. I understand that we experience knowledge physically as well as intellectually. I also know the mind and language powerfully affects our bodies and how we think about them (without the mind games I played yesterday, my tired old heading for 40 bones couldn’t have run a half marathon, for instance). But when you brain/body connection is disrupted by neurological damage things get more complicated.

For the first year and a half of Boo’s life, we had two things on our mind as his parents: survival and early intervention to help aid his physical development. I wanted to know if he would walk one day and phrases like ‘If he can sit by 2 he’ll walk by 5’ haunted me and pushed me to push him in physio. (He didn’t, by the way, and the later seems ever more elusive as a consequence, but I haven’t given up on it.)

Oddly, Boo’s cognitive development did worry me as much as the gross motor stuff. After all, he smiled at 2 weeks corrected age. He had great eye contact and was super sociable. He babbled at the right age, if somewhat unconventionally. It has always been the case that Boo has loved books and clear as day that he loves being in this world. Even his infantile spasms diagnosis and all the hellish prognoses that followed didn’t shake my faith too much that Boo was bright. That he could learn things. That he would want to learn things. That he would teach me things.

I still believe all of those things. But as Boo gets older, and his physical needs become all the more apparent to others, I see them make assumptions about his brain based on his body. I see people behave as if he doesn’t understand them when they talk to him.

I know they are wrong. OK I think the intricacies of my brief phone conversation with a friend about Syria earlier toady went over his head, but there is nothing I say in a day-to-day domestic context that I don’t think he gets. He responds to requests. He asks for things by looking at them and increasingly by pointing and words. But how can I prove this? How can I show them what I know he knows?

You might say, as some of my family members say, why does it matter? If I believe and know he can understand (and I do) what does it matter if he doesn’t make like the performing seal in clinics to demonstrate that fact outside of an environment he’s comfortable in?

Well of course, on a really fundamental level, it doesn’t matter. Not a jot.

In others, in statementing terms, for example, it matters hugely. It doesn’t take much to evidence Boo’s physical needs: they are usually described as severe in reports and global. But to prove his potential, both physical and especially cognitive seems a Herculean task. If we are to stand a hope in heck’s chance of finding a suitable (let alone ideal) educational environment for Boo long term, we need to be able to show both of these things clearly.

Increasingly in the past month, I have been worried that I have been so focussed on Boo’s physical development and on the many motor milestones not yet and maybe never will be met. But now I am increasingly worried about supporting him in his cognitive milestones in order to ensure Boo can assert his will in the world. Can be heard. Can be seen as a person rather than a person with a disability.

And I have been thinking a lot lately about whether it’s a coincidence (or not) that Boo’s speech and language has developed so much recently. Don’t get me wrong. He is still very delayed in speech. But he is coming on really well lately. His oral motor skills are improving all the time. He can suck. He can blow. He has lots of speech sounds now (most consonants and all vowels) and an increasing (if still small) number of clear and emphatic words. In the last two weeks, we have a totally reliable and determined no. It’s a beautiful sound, let me tell you.

Would he have done this if we hadn’t relaxed on the physio over the summer, I wonder? Or did easing up in one area of his development help him come on in leaps and bounds in another?

Whatever the answer, it’s good news. I know that, of course. But going forward, I just don’t know what balance to strike and what choices to make. Because ultimately, you see, I don’t want to admit there is a choice to be made.

Mind and body … both are important. I don’t want to priortise one at the expense of the other. I’m not yet prepared to give up on any milestone for Boo.

But maybe I’m being unrealistic. Maybe we will have to make choices. Maybe we have to prioritise. That feels like a real weight of responsibility.  I just hope we, I, make the right choices. But mostly (I hope not too far in the future) I hope Boo can tell me how he feels about all this himself. I hope he can make and articulate as clearly as I am sure he will be able to these choices for himself.



The Chaos of SEN Childcare

I can’t believe this post is a year old. Since then I have been proud to give evidence with other parents and disabled young people to the Parliamentary Inquiry into disabled childcare. And I am still at a loss. Our own childcare situation has worsened since in ways I haven’t explained fully on the blog and may do so more. Maybe we will get the statement we have applied for. Maybe it will help. The new SEND reforms are supposed to make a difference. I hope they do. But I fear it will take a long time to put into practice the promises it makes and still longer to change the attitudes of those who think I make a choice to work (interesting word – although I accept many in my position have no choice at all, and I realise I am lucky). These people also clearly think I made the wrong choice and so must live with the consequences. I feel at an impasse. I feel lost. I feel like I can’t go on like this some days. But I feel I owe it to my kids to keep our home, keep within the area do my daughter can go to school with the friends. I feel lost.


I am Mrboosmum and I am a working parent. I feel like I have to write that in the style of a group therapy confession. Not that I feel I need to talk that way to other parents of kids with special educational needs. To be honest, most conversations I have with mums who have kids with disabilities or additional needs go like this:

Them: So you work then?

Me [on the defensive, thinking they will judge me]: Yes, but my employer is understanding and I am fortunate enough to work flexibly to minimise the effects on Boo. I take him to all his appointments.

Them: Oh, I’m not judging you. You have to do what’s right for your family. I’d give anything to be able to work some of the time.


Them: Oh I’m not judging you. I tried to but couldn’t make it work…

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Why blog?

The question isn’t a rhetorical one. It’s one I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. I think bloggers (I still think of them as people other than me, but I guess I am a blogger by now right?) are prone to asking themselves this, especially if stats are low, or comments aren’t forthcoming, or your Tots100 score drops. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bothered about such things. I am a bit. But probably nowhere near as much as I should be if I want to call myself a blogger.

No. For me the trigger for the question was something altogether different: the end of another blog. A blog I have read avidly (I think every single post). since a few months after Boo’s birth. A blog that has got me through some pretty tough times. A blog that has given me hope and a blog that has made me feel less alone even though I have never met its author and she lives many thousands of miles away.

The blog is Ain’t No Roller Coaster and if you haven’t read it, stop reading this post and go find it now and read it. From start to finish. You won’t regret it. It’s a blog by the wonderful tell-it-like-it-is Tatum and her family, including her youngest and amazingly cute son Owen who was born extremely prematurely, has a PVL diagnosis (like Boo) and a CP diagnosis too. Owen’s journey – the family’s journey – is not over, of course. But the blog is. The last post on ANRC was published on the 31 July. The blog had achieved what it set out to do, Tatum wrote. Time to stop.

And this started me thinking. Why do I blog? What is it that this blog sets out to do? And how will I know when I have done it? And is the goal of blogging ultimately not to need to blog any more?

Of course people blog for all sorts of reasons. Some blog as a career or to set up businesses. Some blog as a kind of journal keeping (this wasn’t my intention but even I find it useful to look back at the blog and see when things happened and how far we have or haven’t moved on since). But I don’t blog primarily for any of these reasons. I’m much too selfish. For the most part I think my blogging is motivated by the things I struggled to explain in this blog’s first ever post: to connect with people; to feel less alone; to find my voice. I blog, in other words, for therapy.

And I suppose if these are the main reasons I blog then maybe the goal of blogging is perhaps not to need to blog any more. Maybe the goal is to be self-sufficient to the extent that talking to friends and family and healthcare professionals is enough. To be at peace.

Somehow I can’t ever see that happening.

And partly I don’t want it to. My disquiet with the way things are – not that Boo was born early or has CP, you understand, I love him for all he is – but that life is made so hard for him by all that comes with these things – the bureaucracy, the appointments, the endless therapies, the prejudice and so forth ,keeps me going. The challenges he faces make me determined to tell other people about what life is like this side of the SEN track, to try in my own limited and flawed and probably hopelessly idealistic way to try to make a difference.

I know Ain’t No Roller Coaster did that. I don’t think this blog has. Maybe if and when it does I can stop blogging. Maybe. I don’t know.

To be honest, I don’t really know exactly why I blog. All I know is for some reason, and despite my dissatisfaction with Premmeditations (that I don’t post enough or advertise posts well enough, that I don’t connect with as many bloggers as I should, that the blog is always at the bottom of the to do list), I can’t stop.

So maybe why blog is the wrong question. Maybe I should be asking myself why can’t stop.




Good News Friday #72

I always think the weeks go quickly, but this week has gone at warp speed. It started with two inset days and now we’re totally into the new school year, homework, violin practice and snooze buttons on my alarm. In weeks like this it’s even more helpful to take stock and remind myself of the good stuff before I forget. So here goes, another Good News Friday, which I’m linking up to Reasons to be Cheerful.

1) Girl’s day in. My life is pretty manic. To be honest, I never knew life could be so complicated before I had Boo. But of course, if I resented the complications of our life now it would be like resenting him, which I don’t. Not for a minute. I’ll take the stresses and frustrations. All of them. Because they mean we have Boo, who brings more joy to our lives than I could ever have imagined. But I have to admit I do regret one thing about the complications of Boo life: the time taken away from his sister. It is so hard to give her the attention she needs and deserves when so often his needs are so much more immediate. I miss our time together. I miss that I can’t leave his side even for a second to prioritise her unless someone else is with me. We used to have a lovely Homestart volunteer who enabled me to , but have no help, to spend two hours a week with her, but we have no nearby relatives or respite now and the juggling is a bit tiring. But Monday was a fab day. Boo was at nursery and Sissyboo had an inset day. I offered to take her to London for a mummy-daughter day out but said she could set the agenda for the day. Where did she want to go? Not London this time. Turned out the answer was nowhere. She wanted to have a craft day at home. In particular she had two puppet theatres we had started to make and had never finished. Six hours, two pairs of scissors (yep, I broke one pair cutting up card) and a lot of giggles later and they were both done. And they looked mighty fine, I must say. But not as good as I felt having a whole precious day with my rapidly growing little girl. Which brings me onto …

2) The start of Year 2, which has gone well for Sissyboo. She had a bit of a wobble on day one, just lining up for class, but it passed very quickly and she has loved being back with her friends and adores her new teacher. A huge relief.

And Boo has done his own moving on. He’s moved into an older class in conductive education, which we attend one morning a week. It’s daunting to be with older kids and to have to learn so many new things (I mean for me, Boo isn’t easily unsettled even by things that are really hard for him). It’s also hard (again more for me than him) to be with bigger kids (all are at least 6 months older and are all independently sitting and some crawling or standing or walking). But he is so up for the challenge and totally determined. We may be lagging far behind at the moment but he’ll pick up these new skills in his way in his own time. I know it. Oh and a little inchstone was met today that I had almost given up on. More on that soon.

and finally 3) my running is going pretty well. I still find running long distances very hard, especially with my carer’s back trouble, but I am going faster and am so encouraged by other people cheering me on that I just know I’ll do this half marathon in just over two weeks. If the Boos can push themselves and never give up, so can I.

OK, those are my good news highlights. I am hoping for lots more next week after an important weekend for us. I’ll keep you posted on that. And do let us know of your good news this week. We love to hear from you.




Decluttering: Hard on the Heart but Good for the Soul

For #ThrowbackThursday I am reposting something from this time last year. The post turned out to be a bit of a phoney, I must admit. I did put aside all the things that Boo couldn’t use that his non-special needs sister had. But it was too painful to sell them then. I put them in a cupboard and forgot about them. But in 10 days time I am doing a nearly new sale to sell old clothes and toys. Some have sentimental value. Many do not. But the pain that was behind this post feels just as real to me now, even if it has deadened a bit into a dull ache. Do I sell Sissyboo’s old jigsaws knowing we need space for walkers and standing frames and therapy benches? Makes sense, right? But when doing so means not just giving away things but a life you thought was yours and never will be, believe me, it’s tough. Thanks for reading.


I read a lovely post the other week by the fabulous Learner Mother. It was about September and her new year urges to get her life sorted and ultra organised. I recognised these feelings. It’s partly a symptom of working in Higher Ed. I always operate according to two years at any one time: the calendar year and the academic year. And for me the academic year has always felt more New Yearsy (that is absolutely a word, before you go running to the dictionary…) than New Year itself. It’s something to do with the weather being better and not feeling weighted down by all those mince pies, I think. In September I want to plan, file, spring clean, declutter and otherwise sort my life out.

This year is no exception. But I admit, I’ve hit a brick wall.

Decluttering. It’s not something I usually have a problem with…

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Making a Statement: Part III

As promised, here’s the latest installment in our statementing journey. You can read my previous two posts here and here (they’re short). But if you’re even shorter on time the gist is that we feel that the support Boo is getting in nursery is not up to the task of meeting his needs. This isn’t about school yet or even what kind of educational setting  he would best thrive in (mainstream, SEN, mainstream with SEN unit – I make it sound like we have an embarrassment of riches don’t I? – that’s not so, sadly).  For now, it’s about getting Boo’s needs formally documented, getting a binding agreement of how to start meeting those needs and eliminating the uncertainty we currently live with that any support he gets could be withdrawn at any time.

We will be some of the last people to go through statementing now that EHCP is in place. It was a conscious decision on our part to enter into a system that was tried and tested and known, rather than gamble on something that looks good but about which people’s knowledge differs scarily widely.

Timing it all to meet the deadline before EHCP came into force meant we got the LA’s agreement that they would assess Boo for a statement in late July. Just when half of the NHS, all educational settings and many LA folks are on holiday and us, of course. Fabulous timing, Mrboosmum!

I emailed everyone as soon as I knew that reports would be due on the 28 August, not wanting then to have to wait until the paperwork arrived from the LA. If I hadn’t been so proactive, we wouldn’t have a report from Boo’s fabulous conductive education setting, which he attends one morning a week with us and which turned round one of the most detailed reports I have read about Boo in a day.

I had gathered as much documentation together as I could prior to putting the statementing application together, so was less worried about the health side of things. I hope I’m not being naive about that. Since his birth 2 years ago we have amassed one massive A4 ring binder of Boo reports already and I have about another half a folder to file.

But I was concerned about the Ed Psych report. We had never met an Educational Psychologist before. I was led to believe it would be someone from the Portage team, but as Portage is sadly ending for us, I wasn’t sure. As week after week of the school holidays passed and our holiday loomed I felt more and more nervous we wouldn’t get to meet her or him before the deadline. This wasn’t someone I could approach myself as I didn’t even know who we’d been assigned to. I had screwed up by awful timing.

And then 3 days before we went away on holiday she rang. We explained that we would be going away (our LA officer had suggested we might have to drive the 5+ hours back from holiday to meet an Ed Psych because of the inconvenient timing of our application) and she agreed that was silly and that she would meet us at home the day before we went.

It wasn’t ideal. Boo was distracted. His auntie was visiting to look after his sister and he wanted to play not be assessed and talked about. She didn’t have time to assess him in nursery, which is a real pity. She was lovely but said she didn’t know what she could add to existing reports, since there were so many, or why we even wanted a statement given that Boo was in receipt of discretionary funding. I explained to her what I had previously explained at the Parliamentary Inquiry into disabled childcare. She heard the stress levels in my voice rise as they had in Parliament and she understood. ‘His current 1:1 does not meet his needs. He needs more. It needs more careful management.’ Yes! She agreed with us.

Going on holiday knowing that this meeting had happened was a huge weight off my mind. I drafted all our documents, a lengthy and sometimes painfully depressing task, and put it out of my mind (well, sort of…).

The deadline for all paperwork was last Friday. The meeting is on an unspecified day this week. Maybe today. I have seen the Ed Psych report now too. It is a full and accurate assessment of his needs. Boo is a bright boy there is no concrete evidence either way that he has a learning disability, but there is plenty of evidence that he is a little boy who wants to learn but for whom every aspect of the curriculum is difficult to access because of his physical disabilities.

I wish it said in black and white what the Ed Psych said in person. He needs more support. More hours of and more targeted support but, of course, these forms don’t work like that. Why ask professionals the right question when you can ask them another and make your own mind up about what the answer should be? The answer, of course, will be based on resources as much as if not more than Boo’s need, no matter what the rhetoric suggests. Maybe EHCP will be different…

Now we have to hope that the weight of evidence we and others have submitted will convince the LA to think about issuing a statement that addresses the impact that Boo’s CP has on all aspects of his learning and development. My hope is he gets more support. My hope is that his physical barriers to education are not going to be used as a way to write him off in cognitive terms or expectations capped. And my hope is that some of the strain and worry of taking on much of what should be happening in an educational setting at home might be alleviated. But all we can do now is wait and see. I’ll keep you posted.