The Judging Sceptic

Tags

Acceptance, Blind, Hidden Disability, Non Judgemental Attitude, Sight Loss

I forget people can see me rolling my eyes. To be honest, I forget people can see.

When you have never seen a face clearly before as everyone is just a blur, you kind of forget that the sighted world sees everything. They especially see the things that you really don’t want them to see, such as eye rolling that I am rather partial too. Ooooops.

With a face that just cannot lie, I let my eyes roll upwards and to the side to try and search for a polite answer to the snappy sounding store assistant that stood before me. I am usually far more patient, but I had just experienced this London Bus Syndrome senario where for the third time in less than twenty minutes those dreaded four words were directed at me. To others, the words “you don’t look blind” may seem like a compliment and it is in a way but when it is said in an accusing tone, it really isn’t a compliment. It was this third London Bus that day that had come along after a drought of these well-meaning buses that had triggered the lively eyes rolling in my head.

Maybe my reaction was slightly more emphasised after she had said that she had “seen a lot of blind people in this shop and you don’t look like them”. A spluttered giggle remained inside of me. A colourful phrase stayed inside my head and did not escape my lips. What was more surprising was, I even managed to not bite back to her curt accusing tone with a crocodile snap of my own. The other two previous people who had stopped to cheery chat and said I didn’t look blind meant it in a positive light but this lady was different. She was like many we had come across in the past, which were the worst kind. The Sceptic.

Walking around with a physical disability feels like you sometimes need to carry medical evidence around with you to thrust in somebody’s face to validate yourself and prove their ignorance wrong. I understand that the primary source of information that many in the sighted world use to make decisions is their vision, but I sometimes wish it wasn’t as looks can be so deceiving. Having a unusual looking striking guide dog does not help with the stereotyping of what a blind person or a guide dog should look like either which she also picked up on. This apparent expert on not only what “blind people look like” but also an expert in the field of guide dogs as her next door neighbours aunt had one, thought that a Labradoodle like Munch was not a guide dog. The ignorance of others can really make your mind boggle. It does make me thankful that I do not use my eyes alone to make judgements on people that I know nothing about. Now that would be living with true blindness.

I really hope that my parting words to her would help her to broaden her narrow outlook on life, but I somehow doubt it. Cheerily uttering the words “we don’t all look the same” filled the silence between us with no reply from her as we bid her goodbye. Whether or not this planted seed will grow a more open way for her to see the world or not, I feel like I did my bit. I am still working on my poker face whilst persuading my overtly rolling eyes to calm down whilst in such situations, so maybe I will get there someday. Until then I will continue to clench my teeth and smile sweetly in my non blind looking way.

Judging will always say more about the person judging than the one being judged.

A Different Way Of Life

Tags

Blind, Children, Disability, Parenting, Sight Loss

I was sure that was his ear that I was lovingly gazing at. Just to make sure I gently traced my finger along his tiny head that lay in the crook of my arm and felt where his baby soft hair ended and his tiny ear began. I wasn’t far off where I thought where his ear was. My double vision of this beautiful blur had led me slightly off course but what did it matter anyway? The miracle of life that had still been inside me just 13 hours before was now being fed in my arms as I stood in my dining room with my other hand resting on his brothers highchair. This feeling of unconditional love that swept through me was not new as I had experienced it three other times over the last six years when my other children were born but it was slightly different. Just hours earlier a lovely student midwife had asked me if there was anything that I needed help with because of my eyesight and that was totally new.

Over the years I had never been asked that question by anyone. Had she not discussed my medical notes with me and enquired with her fresh new mind about what issues Marfan Syndrome gave me I would not have told her my eyes were “not the best”. It was so lovely to see the eagerness of the student to drink in all the information that she knew would help her on her placement. As soon as the caring questions left her lips, I began to think if there was any help that I needed? I had never thought of this before as I had always got on with motherhood in my own way and loved all its challenges. If you know no other way of life, then there is nothing that can ever really be missing from it.

I really wanted to tell this sweet young girl that if I had fully functioning vision I probably would need help to learn to parent all over again but I didn’t as it would sound bizarre. The thing was. It was because I couldn’t see that I found motherhood so smooth. I tuned into my children at such a deep level that I could sense everything about them. My touch told me how they were in themselves, my hearing let me know what their cries needed, and my gut told me if there was anything to fear in the silence. My logical brain told me everything I needed to know to keep them safe and therefore if all of these senses that had kept them happy and safe for the last six years were dampened down and I was given fully functioning vision instead, I would have to unlearn all that I had learnt.

I knew each of their personalised footsteps as they raced around the house and listened for the different materials of their coats rubbing as their arms propelled them forward whilst running outdoors to know that they were safe. Their whispering sleep filled breath that fell on my ears at night assured me that they were happily dreaming away nicely. The freshly smelling bathed baby soft bodies let me know that they were clean in their fragrant newly washed clothes. Most of all however it was their giggles that let me know that even though their mother could not see as well as most, they were doing okay. I am not sure therefore if I ever did need any additional help as I felt that however we all worked together as a team, it worked. My four beautiful children were the best teachers I have ever had in my blurry. “not the best” visioned world.

Thinking back to 16 years ago to this scene of me standing with my son (who is now 6ft 4) in my arms, makes me grateful for my sight loss as it made me fall in love with my children and life in a different way. My beautiful eldest daughter is now an amazing mother to her own sweet daughter and are both a ray of sunshine wherever they go. My second daughter who is only 11 months younger has turned out to be the most thoughtful and caring person you can ask for and is herself a student midwife asking similar important questions to help new mothers in any way she can. My adorably quirky oldest son has achieved things that nobody expected him to achieve and overcome barriers that would have stopped most yet his determination is omnipresent. My youngest charismatic mischief making son, is led by his old soul in connecting lovingly to people he meets and makes them feel valued. They have turned out perfect in every way.

So, when people ask me why I didn’t tell people I could not see or ask for help when I brought up these amazing people, I didn’t feel like I needed to. Maybe the whole story will appear in another book someday but until then I will just say that I wouldn’t have changed anything as these perfect not so little people showed me a different kind of magical life that I am blessed to have lived with them.

Sorry, Was That Your…..?

Tags

Blind, Humour, Mistakes, Sight Loss

Have you ever seen something that was not there? A shadow in the corner of your eye, an outline of a face in a piece of toast or a word on a page that only existed in your mind? Me too. It happens quite a bit with sight loss, like missing objects and only seeing space or vice versa when you see objects instead of space. Well, your mind convinces you that you are seeing something that is not there. With sight loss a lot of the time you see things with a combination of your brain working out what it could be through method of deduction and pure and utter guess work.

Occasionally, this combination can get you into trouble in which I am an expert in. Take the following incident for example.

I was out one night with some university friends (pre-Munch days). After falling off stage in epic style (joys of a black stage raised on a black floor and very little vison), we checked for btoken bones then chatted away and tried to find a seat. There were none available, so we loitered with intent near some tables and chairs that were apparently there (I could not see) and waited for people to leave. As I finished my drink I wondered where I may put my empty glass. My friend told me where to find an empty table so off I went in what I thought was the right direction. All I could see what a pair of white legs flopped either side of a table (at least, that’s what my mind told me). This same conniving brain told me that the positioning of the flopped legs either side meant that there was a table in between these legs, and that this was the table that my friend had described. As I lowered my glass onto this imagined table, I saw the white lines growing closer together until they became a unified white line. It was only as my glass gently touched down on the crotch of a poor terrified man that I realized that there was no table and he had just been sitting with his legs akimbo. The panicky apology that I shouted at him over the blaring music felt a little too late. I really hoped that the CCTV cameras were not working that night.

For me, these incidents are more the norm than a rarity. I still think back to such incidents with a bowed head and chuckling heart to all the mistakes I have made in life. Being led astray by lack of vision and a comedic brain never lets life get boring or stale. Being a little daft is just part of my genetic make up and anything normal just wouldn’t be me. Blundering through life always keeps things lively and guessing if someone has a table between their legs on a night out will never get boring.

The above excerpt was taken from my upcoming book What You See When You Can’t See. If you want to read more cringe worthy tales, the book is full of them, so you won’t be disappointed.

Talking Rubbish

Tags

Blind, Hidden Disability, Humour, Sight Loss

My life before Munch was a little….different. Walking around with sight loss made it feel like I was an undercover alien in a world full of normality. The superhuman sighted could do things that I could only dream of. Like tell the difference between a person and a bin. I know, amazing right?

One day, in the land of triple vision hazy fog (my equivalent of 20/20 vision), I found myself standing in a rainy pre-historic, dimly lit train station in the Welsh town that I lived in. With only five trains passing through each day (public transport haven I know), I knew that there was no chance of me getting on the wrong train as the next one was two and a half hours away. I was busy attempting to dodge the icy rain drops that was cleansing the shelter free station when a faint pair of footsteps approached. Minutes later, a deep heavy voice paired up with the boot sounding feet and grunted out a groggy hello.
A fellow passenger awaiting to board the train was a rarity on such early mornings in this sleepy town. Chirping a hello back in the direction that I thought he was in; I went straight into my acting mode. Rummaging in my bag for my phone to attempt to check the blurry time, the echoing voice progressed from grunting to audible two words sentences in a nanosecond. I answered politely to each thing he said although I still could not see him.

I was well into my slow-motion owl impression, turning my head in all angles in a scanning mode, when I thought I spotted where he was standing. About six feet away from me I saw something which resembled a person so decided to direct most of the rest of the conversation in that direction. The darkness of the early morning seemed to embrace the blurry figure lovingly as the figure and background merged into one. At least I was now looking at the person, or so I thought.

Over the next ten minutes before the train came, we talked about the weather, lack of public transport to take us into civilisation, how chocolate Wagon Wheels have got smaller over the years and migrating birds. The usual morning chit chat on a cold winter morning. Feeling proud that I was looking in the right direction of the man although I could not see him, I heard the distant approach of the train. I was so thankful of my hearing, Until I heard the footsteps of the man walk slowly in front of me to walk up the platform for the approaching train.

It was at that moment that I realized that I had all along been facing and chatting to the bin on a post all along. I should have remembered that bin as I had walked into it a couple of times in past. As there was such an echo in the train station, it was difficult to pin-point where exactly the centre of the echo was to try and figure out the exact location of the man. Trying to fit into a world with people with superhuman powers of sight, seemed impossible as I blundered through life. Keeping sight loss hidden from others I had down to a fine art, except for in situations such as this.

Talking to rubbish bins instead of people, walking into benches that blend in with the colour of the floor, sitting on coffee tables instead of the same height chairs in waiting rooms are all perils of living in the sighted world with sight loss. Noticing a guide dog or white cane with a person makes more sense for such odd behaviours and a little more understanding happens. I am blessed that the universe gave me such a “in your face” guide dog that screams sight loss and for that I will be eternally grateful. At least now if I talk to a bin, people will know there is a reason in my madness.

A Million Pieces Lost And Found

Tags

Blind, Choice, Motivation, Positivity, Resilience, Sight Loss

With the upside-down camera like information seeker ready to transform the surroundings into evidence, it begins its job. From the moment that they wake, the sighted are bombarded with millions of pieces of information that their brain will interpret to tell them about the world that they live in. From written information plastered on walls around them to watching facial expressions change in a blink of the eye, the eyes are on constant lighthouse duty. The masses of atoms in front of the eye will get matched by the brain to fit into the awaiting box of named items that will help the observer make sense of the world that they live in.

With the ability of the naked eye to see the light of a candle 14 miles away in the right lighting conditions, these superhumans know things that millions will never know. With half of the human brain being dedicated to vision and seeing, the sighted can be fountains of knowledge to learn from. As the eye is the fastest muscle in the body and does not take anytime to warm up as it is ever ready, when it is working properly, it can function at 100% at any given time without needing to warm up.

The eyes can be full of finds but they can also be full of loss.

What about the 39 million people around the world that are blind or the 240 million or so people globally that have a visual impairment?

What are they able to find in their lack of physical vision?
It can be possible to find more in a world full of visual distortions that many sighted may believe. The information that the brain receives and makes up ideas about the world is not made up of the cluster of atoms that lays before a person alone but collects information from alternative senses. Focusing on the touch, smell, sound and taste of the world around them, allows a different dimension of experiencing the world so nothing is ever lost. With intuition being a guiding light for finding your own place in the world, living on the path of truth is always possible. When a voice from years ago triggers your memory to awaken and remembers every detail about the person that you can no longer see but hear in front of you, you enter the time machine of happiness.

Sensing a quiver in a voice as soon as it appears, you connect with that emotion in an instant and do whatever needs to be done. The beauty of neuro plasticity means that working memory can increase with sight loss which overcompensates for the smaller visual region in the brain. Listening to auditory echoes and changes in temperature’s in closed off and open spaces allows the person with sight loss to be able to keep safe and accident free. The insight gains that can come from sight loss will never make up for fully functioning vision, but they allow a person to view the world in a whole new light.

The sighted and sight loss world are separated by the bridge of vision. Whichever side of the bridge of sight you live on, there will be many loses and gains. It is up to you, which way you want to interpret the world so chose carefully and live the best life that you can as your world is as perfect as you make it.

World Book Day Evolution

Tags

Blind, Books, Life lessons, Love, Sight Loss, Thanks, Worldbookday, Writing

It must have looked weird. A blind woman being led by her guide dog walking around the books shop, but it just had to be done.

As the guide dog whipped past the cookery books, travelled through the sci-fi section and ended up in the land of the fun-filled children’s books, the owner rewarded him with a treat. He had guided her to the place that she missed the most. From Willy Wonka to The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, books had always been fun companions during her childhood and had always left her wanting more. Along with millions of other children, she loved to escape into books of all types and feel like it was just the author and the reader that were in this alternative reality. Life lessons that trickled from the pages of each book, cleansed her mind from the negatives in the world and broadened her consciousness to what humanity was really about.

Even back then she could not really see the words clearly. There had always been a hazy double vision around words, but she had developed her own fun way of dealing with it. She learnt to read by a method of deduction. A five-lettered word that had a hazy straight line and a fuzzy small hump attached lower down was obviously a h and a slanted blur that extended lower than the other letters was obviously a y. With 2 similar looking 3rd and 4th letters that were seen in double vision, the letter could be nothing else but ‘happy’. As the years passed, she began to rely less on her eyes to see and more on her brain to decide what these words were in front of her. She read at a rapid pace and could not get enough of the author’s voice that came alive in the treasured books.

Time passed and reading books got more and more difficult. Even the ‘sniff it to see’ rule that she had always lived by, where she held the book close to her nose, no longer worker so a plan B was needed. Magnifier’s and other aids from the low vision clinic could no longer help but technology came to the rescue. Audiobooks, e-books with narration and screen readers on laptops all made it possible to remain an avid book worm. Even dabbling in a bit in braille meant that there were no barriers to becoming one with an author again. Reading to another however, was something that she really did miss. Reading large print books with her children as they grew, allowed her to ‘sniff to see; and memorise the books after reading them a couple of times. She now wanted to do this with her sweet 3-year-old granddaughter and thanks to modern day Apps on her phone, she was able to know what the books said and memorize them to read back to her beautiful little angel. Life was blissful again.

Standing in the colourful corner of the book shop where dinosaurs popped out of books and glitter from the exquisite cover left magic on the fingers and heart of the reader, she stood happy in the blur of fuzzy colour that awaited her. Pulling out her phone to use technology to be able to identify what she was looking at, she choose a new book for her granddaughter. Her guide dog patiently waited and sniffed some adventures out to help the best he could. In six months-time, their book would be in a similar joy filled labyrinth of a bookshop which was such a strange but warm feeling. People would soon know how special Munch the guide dog really was and discover what he was really like. The mischief makers secrets would be out and hopefully spread a little happiness to the reader. Stories are always the most powerful when shared.

Here’s to wishing that stories will continue to be spread in a variety of different ways that allows accessibility to all. Thank you to each author that changes the lives of people that they may never meet in person but will always be connected through meetings of the souls.

Judge, And You May Need An Umbrella

Tags

Blind, Disability, Dog, Education, Guide Dog, Life lessons, Mobility

Call me pedantic but I really didn’t fancy getting my foot wedged down the toilet again.
After last year’s faux pas of attempting to delicately step over Munch in the toilet cubical and ending up slipping and dipping my toes into what I hoped was clean H2O in the bottom of a Tesco’s toilet, I have been a little wary of our ability to fit into a standard size toilet cubicle. Now, I love Munch dearly, but I often wonder if his dipsey ways are from being away with the fairies or just a sneaky plan of watching on in glee as my mishaps multiply. The day in question, he appeared not to understand the “come on sugar cube, forward” that I used to coax him into getting his pony like body into cubicle, hence my slip and dip routine where my foot decided to dive into the toilet as I clumsily clambered over him. In all fairness, as soon as he heard the splash, he came alive and turned around and closed the door with his nose. If I had functional vision, I swear I would have seen his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Sorry, I am digressing from my original point. It is virtually impossible for me and lofty Munch to fit into standard size toilet cubicle accident free, so we sometimes need to use the disabled toilets if the standard ones aren’t large enough.
A few weeks ago, when we successfully emerged from a disabled toilet with dry feet, I was happy. That is until an irate woman snarled at me as I walked out. “You do know that this is a disabled toilet don’t you” she seethed. Me being as vacant as ever replied “Yeah I know” with matching puzzlement in my voice and probably my face, “You shouldn’t be using it should you” Chirpy Cheryl chastised. “Do you actually have a disability?” Chirpy Cheryl huffed, puffed and tutted with raised blood pressure. “What?” the childish me snapped back. As I heard the pennies fall in her head, Chirpy Cheryl did become chirpy as she started to apologize profusely for not noticing 31 inch high Munch. This not looking blind malarkey did not half get me into trouble. Chirpy Cheryl would not be the first nor the last to jump to the conclusion of what a disability does and does not look like. My daughter who was waiting outside the toilet heard the conversation and we talked about it afterwards. The accuser of the “queue jumping non-disabled person” herself did not appear to have any external clues of a disability but we did not think about questioning her about her entitlement of using the disabled toilet as our minds were not confined in such a narrow space.
Call me bad minded but I think Chirpy Cheryl has many like-minded friends around the place who also like to question your entitlement to join them in disabled facilities. Being blissfully blind to most things around me, I never see the judgement on other people’s faces but people who I am with at the time do. Parking in a disabled car parking spot the other day, we were bitterly embraced by Cranky Colin who we parked next to us in a disabled bay. As my daughter merrily popped my Blue Badge on the dashboard, she commented that Cranky Colin’s scowl towards us was intensifying. As we gathered our things together to get out, my daughter told me that Cranky Colin had suddenly transformed into an owl as he whipped his head around to watch us go to the boot to get Munch out. Even as we walked away on the pedestrian area in front of the car, I was told he was still glaring and had added a few head shakes and I am sure I felt some heat seeking missiles being aimed at my back. I mean if someone is walking with a Guide Dog and has a blue badge, it is fair to say that they can use a disabled parking spot. The Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins in the world maybe should rethink the judging that they do. People who have disabilities and health conditions that require disabled facilities themselves surely realize that empathy is a far better option that hostility.
Unless we have x-ray vision and a medical degree, let’s not pretend to be experts on how hidden disabilities and health conditions affect people. Surely the Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins in the world that themselves live with health issues should know what it is like to be judged. Tuts, headshakes and snappy comments will always say more about the one making them and little about the person they are directed at. Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins may always exist but we can always take steps to educate them. Failing that, we can always send loving unicorns their way and hope their glittery poop that they drop from overhead adds some sparkle to their dull lives. Love and splattering’s Cheryl and Colin X.

Working With Humans

Tags

Blind, Blogging, Dog, Guide Dog, Humour, Labradoodle, Patience, Photography, Sight Loss

How many times can she get it wrong?
Today has been so frustrating. I have been sitting here like the perfect Labradoodle that I am and there she is being the typical scatty maid as she is. Humans are the weirdest creatures ever. We have been here for nearly two hours to record a video of us which will last less than a minute. We would have finished much sooner if my daft maid could string a sentence together without saying “Um” and “no, start again” over and over whilst speaking English, Welsh and Martian all in the same sentence. Why couldn’t the Guide Dogs have matched me with someone more efficient?
Luckily it was my favourite dog walking footman that was with us as he encouraged us to have lots of breaks in filming and led us all to a huge field so that I could have a well-deserved run. Meeting other dogs here meant I could remove my regal robes (or harness as some people not in the know call them) and exercise my gracious body. I even led other dogs to believe that I was an equal as we played together and not the King that I secretly am. Such fun.
Unfortunately, after I had had my well-deserved break, we were back to getting yet another video completed where apparently the maid had gathered her thoughts and was now able to string a sentence together to record the short promotional video for the Writers Workshop for the publisher that we needed to film. I am seriously considering getting another writer for my next book to ensure that not only does everyone know what an amazing guide dog and everyday Idol that I am, but also to let the world know how frustrating it can be when you really can’t get the staff to do what you want.
Working with humans has taught me many things which are.
– They are so fussy about things that they really do not need to be fussy about.
– They need to sniff often, play more and love everything.
– They over complicate the simplest of tasks. Either do or don’t. That’s it.
– They need to run like no one is watching and chase their non-existent tail just to know what it is like to be in the moment more.
– They need to realize that a picture of you from any angle is a good angle because you are perfect just as you are.
We finally got to finish the video when the maid’s mouth became friends with her brain again and I was free to sashay away with grace. Humans can be so hard to control.

The Funhouse Of Mirrors

Tags

Blessings, Blind, Life lessons, Sight Loss, Visual Impairement

The scariest time in my life was when I could see. Well, I say see but maybe I mean see more. OK, so maybe the right term is that I could see something in a little bit of focus. Thinking about it, focus is such a strong word to use here. Sorry am I confusing you? Let me start at the beginning.

There I was sitting in the ophthalmologist’s office nine months after having a cataract operation that did more harm than good but c’est la vie. “The thing is, although it is quite fun walking around like I am looking through a distorted version of Funhouse mirrors, I cannot carry on like this. The lack of depth perception is causing me more injuries than before and looking at out of proportion objects is pretty scary if I am honest” I joked with the blurry stretched man in front of me. He abruptly
answered “we need to give it more time”. “Nine months is enough time, I want it removed” I answered matching his tone.
This stubborn standoff had been going on since I had my cataract operation 9 months earlier and it was long overdue to be resolved. Since this alien object had been placed in my eye, nothing but tantrums and melt-downs had happened in the ocular area with post-operative inflammation and Edema on the retina being the main instigators of the uprising in my eye. I was now requesting an eviction notice to these angry duo as I could no longer deal with their nonsense. So here I was pleading with this nine-foot-tall, egg timer shaped blur in front of me in the hospital room who sat on the rugby ball shaped fuzzy chair. Daily entry into the Funhouse of mirrors really needed to be a thing of the past.

My mule like pig-headedness paid off and I was back in the operating theatre removing the mischievous lens that they had implanted, and I was left lens free and back to being able to live my normal double vision, fuzzy life that I always felt safe in. It seemed that everyone around me felt sorry for me that I was becoming “broken” again after the operation was not able to help me, but I felt a different way about it. I had never felt broken before due to my sight loss, it was just normal. Medical staff and everyone around me seemed to be tempting me into the world of the sighted to “fix” the way that I had been since birth.

When I entered the semi sighted world for that brief amount of time however, life was far from rosy.
I went from seeing birds as gargantuan shape shifters instead of mythical creature that I had never seen, to not being able to reach out to an object in front of me due to the immense difference in depth perceptions in both eyes. Vague faces became things that I could kind of make out but didn’t always match my version of them that I had been carrying around in my head for years. I noticed myself judging things in other people that I had no right to judge, as I began using my eyes alone to absorb my environment and ignored my other senses. I knew that this was not the world that the fully sighted saw as everything was out of proportion and seemed to be the wobbly bridge between the sighted and sight loss world. I was so relieved when I got off this wobbly bridge and returned to the sight loss world with less sight but more confidence.

Seeing the beauty in life cannot be seen through the eyes alone but they can be a magical tool in appreciating the world around us. My time in the Funhouse of mirrors taught me many things and I am glad I had a chance to play around in it for a while. There is always a light-hearted view available in uncertain times of transition if you search hard enough.

Sight Loss and Parenting

Tags

Beauty, Blind, Children, Disability, Gratitude, Life lessons, Love, Parenting, Peace, Sight Loss, Thanks

Inhaling the heat on the skin and the unwanted scent of illness in the small body, you can use more than eyes to observe illness in a child. The activated response to a smell of a dry nappy becoming wet, alerts you to the need for a swift change. Opening the door to smell if there is petrichor in the air before it starts to rain, lets you know if the children will need coats to keep them dry. When a sudden whiff of Sudocrem joins you in the kitchen, you know you need to follow the trail to confiscate the pot and start the clean up operation on everywhere that you cherub has covered with this villain.

When silence falls in a chatty house, you need to peek to see who’s turn it is being the ringleader in the mischief being caused. When your child’s jangling zip on their boot gets further away from you in the playground, you need to follow the sound to keep them safely in ear shot. When you hear your child’s favourite toy fall, you pinpoint the exact location to reach your hand out to reunite it with its joyful owner. When you hear the whizz of the bike wheels coming towards you, you remind your child that you must always be aware of all oncoming dangers and wait to cross safely. As you hear the squeal of joy escape from their perfectly formed lips, you join their celebration despite not being able to see what is exciting them.

Remembering the different feel of each of their coats, you help put them on the right child for them to go and warmly explore the great outdoors. Differentiating between the pristine feeling lunchbox of one and the scuffed one of the other, you pack their lunchboxes with their personal choices. Touching the top of your child’s head and feeling their unique hair type, you can tell the difference between your children of similar height. Cutting toe nails by touch, you learn to trust your judgement to do what others do by sight. Picking up toys with fingers on high alert, allows you to keep their favourite games together for the next time they want to play.

Knowing that they are going to fall before they do, allows you to be there to catch them. Tuning into the energy of their friends to know which will always make them happy, you are alert to those who will upset them and prepare youself to be there for them when they do. Knowing that you will not make the meeting as you need to be prepared, you are able to act calmly when the phone call from school comes when they have had an injury. Being assertive enough to tell doctors that they are wrong about it being a stomach bug and telling them it is actual a ruptured appendix, you don’t get shocked when they rush your child to theatre as you are just glad they caught it in time.

Memories of raising four beautiful children under the age of six, fills me with love and joy. These wildly different souls who are now adorable young adults, mesmerised me with their abilities as they grew. I may not have been able to see their expression filled faces or the true sweet mischief that they caused but I always saw their unique selves. Eyes only allow us to see what we want to see but other senses allow us to know on a deeper level. Maybe if I was gifted with sight from birth, I may not have known my children as I know them today. As my little cluster of beautiful being’s glide through life in whichever direction they want to take, I hope I can still learn from them each and everyday and see them exactly as they are.

I love you all in every way that you are.