Elf on the Shelf: The Adventures of Timmy Twinkles 2013 - updated

I can't tell you how excited I am about this year's elf on a shelf shenanigans...not that I have a clue what's in store for us! Last year I had it all planned out that doesn't seem to have happened yet.

Anyhoo, I thought, since I never got around to posting it last year, I'd show you what our Timmy Twinkles the Elf got up to last year.

So here goes....

Our Elf introduced himself by being found, early on the 1st of December, on the printer, photocopying his butt.

Here's a copy of the note he was found with, which was originally printed onto red card and was so small we could barely read it.

On the 2nd, Timmy Twinkles was found sat aloft the family photos with an incriminating red white board marker and someone had drawn on each one....

The boys were a little freaked out by this and quickly grabbed a cloth, frantically wiping it all off, while muttering about being worried he'd get them into trouble. I'll be honest, I was wetting myself laughing - I have NEVER seen them clean anything haha.

 On the 3rd, he was found in the middle of making paper snowflakes. The boys joined in and we hung them all up.

 On the 4th, he was tangled up in the lights on the boys little Christmas tree.

On the 5th, naughty Timmy had hung the boys underwear on their tree.

On the 6th, he was enjoying tea with some friends.

But things soon turned sour amongst the other toys and he was found on the 7th having been kidnapped by playmobil figurines.

 On the 8th, he got his own back on the world and wrapped the entire toilet in wrapping paper.

On the 9th Timmy had made a brilliant block tower, so tall it didn't fit in the photo.

On the 10th, he was enjoying milk and biscuits with some new festive friends, more to his liking.

On the 11th, he had a climbing adventure on our hallway decorations.

 On the 12th, he was found cooking in the boy's play kitchen.

But once again things went awry and on the 13th, he was found in the oven ready for roasting.

On the 14th, he had got the boys breakfast bowls out ready, but he'd also covered most of downstairs in sticky bows.

On the 15th, Timmy was in the process of finishing a jigsaw. Bean happily helped him finish it.

On the 16th he had some 'seeds' for the boys to plant, under strict instructions that they must only be planted in sugar.

On the 17th, the seeds had grown into candy canes and Timmy was riding a dinosaur in celebration. He does love candy canes you know.

On the 18th, he was found atop the Christmas tree, possibly trying to point out we still hadn't put anything up there.

On the 19th, he'd made himself an igloo using Jenga blocks.

On the 20th we all woke up to red noses and Timmy was found with Rudolf and an incriminating red paint dabber. It didn't wash off so we all spent the day looking like his friend. Thanks Timmy!

On the 21st, he had made a mighty mess, making Stollen using Nanny's recipe.
(That was the night I'd been out with the girls, thank goodness for Mums! Even at my age, they're still needed for rescuing haha. She'd come over while I was out and set him up).

On the 22nd he had letters from Santa for the boys.

On the 23rd he had been camping and toasting marshmallows.

The 24th was a sad day, the boys were gutted to say goodbye and he has been hidden somewhere peculiar ever since, sorry no, he has gone back to the North Pole to make presents!!

This is the note he came with.

So there you have it.

This year, I need to keep a closer eye on where Timmy is at all times because we don't have a 'no touching' rule so he's played with all day, every day and most nights I had to search the whole house. Often, I'd find him under Ed, who would purposefully sleep on top of him to stop him being naughty. He once tied him up with string to stop him getting away.

Writing this...it's possible I'm scarring my kids for life here, but when Timmy left, they were genuinely gutted. And it can't be as bad as a big fat man who fits down everyone's chimney. And what's a childhood without a little naughtiness?

If you want to follow this year's nonsense, the best way is through Instagram. 

Follow me on kitty5069 where the photos will be updated daily, or search #elftimmytwinkles.

I suppose I best get planning then....

Labelling children

So, what's wrong with a label?

My husband constantly complains he can't spell. He gets offended when I say he can he just needs to practice more. I'm not saying he's not worked hard enough, I'm just saying that by writing himself off, he's effectively giving up. Labelling himself as a 'none speller'. Someone who'll never be able to spell. There is of course a possibility that, as a very dyslexic man, he'll never be able to spell certain words, just as a fish will never be able to climb a tree but why give up entirely? He finds it embarrassing, and often avoids it, but in the years we've been married I've learnt to sound out his text messages and often they make perfect sense, so long as I do it in his Derbyshire accent.

It's the same with my eldest, Ed, who is undergoing a diagnosis for Asperger's. He may never be able to cope with certain situations; he may never be able to deal with a lot of noise or his lack of control. But I'm not certain that's true, given guidance and coping mechanisms he'll probably be just fine. 

The label could help him, provide him with the support he needs to carry out a normal and fulfilling life. I would like to hope it wouldn't hinder him, or encourage him to avoid situations he presumes he wouldn't be able to cope with. 

I know labelling children can be detrimental, creating a self fulfilling prophecy. 
The arty kids find it hard to gain respect in the maths class.
The mathletes find it hard to earn respect in P.E. class.
And the trouble makers finds it hard to gain trust because it's much less effort to just behave how everyone expects you to.
Maybe the ADD kid will never sit down because everyone around him presumes he can't. Or maybe, actually, he can't. 

My husband wasn't given his dyslexia diagnosis until it was too late. His self confidence had plummeted and with an earlier label and more support, maybe he wouldn't be so quick to write himself off.

Without a diagnosis, without an explanation as to why my little boys behave the way they do, I feel a little lost. My first port of call is of course to blame myself, blame my crappy parenting skills. But actually, I'm doing my best, I know I am.

During a family meal the other day, everyone commented (adults and children alike) that Ed was having crisps while everyone else enjoyed a delicious home baked meal. He was at least sat at the table, bless him. But we've been through all of this before, and I know he knows I think he's missing out on great food, but that isn't going to make a blind bit of difference to him. For some unknown reason, he can't bring himself to eat most foods. What they didn't see was that before everyone had pudding, he had a bowl of cereal, a cereal he'd never tried before. With gentle encouragement he took two nibbles of the dry flakes, which disgusted him, but then five minutes later he asked if he could try it with milk. I made him a small bowl, which he ate, so I topped it up and we were happy for him to have pudding with everyone else (crisps do not earn you pudding deserving status in our house). He did his best, he tried something new (epic!) and he handled it brilliantly, but I imagine everyone still thinks I'm a bad mother for not making him eat the yummy meal. 

Fresh from a meeting with a speech and language therapist today, presumably the first of many meetings regarding my youngest, who chooses to use his fists instead of his words at school, I found that my referral from the doctor had coincided with a referral from school which basically said he was at risk of being expelled. I knew this of course, but it was a shock to see it on paper. 
Please excuse me while I have a little cry because my lovely little ray of sunshine is deemed 'a threat' by strangers. I can't put into words how sweet Bean is, he just can't seem to control his emotions. 
The therapist seemed surprised to hear that his school haven't started putting any systems in place to deal with his behaviour yet, aside from the one they use for everyone, but I'll not slag them off because they have been so kind and understanding with both my little guys and together we'll get there in the end.

My point is, left to his own devices, my beautiful, loving, bouncy, intelligent little man would soon be expelled from school simply because everything in his head is all jumbled up, it moves too fast and he can't concentrate long enough to see it. He has no idea what his doing, he doesn't understand the consequences enough to stop himself before it happens. The self esteem of this gorgeous boy is in our hands, and a label will help him understand who he is, that he's not broken, he's just different.
Talking to the therapist today, trying to answer all her questions, made me realise just how much we, as a family, just get on with it. We have so many different coping strategies which come so naturally now, it's difficult to pin point which ones are abnormal. As we chatted, I realised that actually having my Mum, who visits at least three times a week turn round to me a say; 
"Yay! Bean said two whole sentences to me!" 
is abnormal because he's five, he just doesn't often choose to speak to other people.
It helps that Bean and I are on the same page. We have always simply clicked and I'm now wondering if there's a running theme here. The more I research ADHD, the more it makes perfect sense to me. I think I presumed everyone's mind worked this way, but maybe that's not the case. I read this a few weeks ago and it pretty much sums up the warning I gave Mr Strawberry before we got married. I remember sitting him down and explaining just how hard I will be to live with. Until I started looking into how to deal with Bean, I never realised how many of these ADHD traits I have myself. I did one of those lovely online tests and got a ridiculously high score. I bet the Doctor would love it if I turned up with that haha. I imagine they get really sick of self-diagnosis and web research. Thankfully, Mr Strawberry loves me regardless.
It's going to sound mean, but my Asperger's research has only led to confusion, I can't seem to get my head around it and more often than not, Ed and I rub each other up the wrong way. I feel nothing but gratefulness that he at least has Daddy. Daddy gets him in a way I cannot. I love him and I'll always provide for him, but I struggle to understand what's going on in his noggin.

The problem with labelling is that it can make us a bit lapsy-daisy. I often find myself forgiving Ed for things I wouldn't let Bean get away with and visa versa. My expectations for each of them is different, but I could be really really wrong.
Also, I've never told them what my visits to the doctor are about because I don't want them to feel 'abnormal'. I occasionally wonder if at the end of this, if one of them, or both of them, doesn't get the diagnosis we're after, will I fight for it? I'm not sure. Today's society of labels creates a vision of what is 'normal' and labels what is not. I don't want my kids to feel like outsiders. We are all individual snowflakes, each with our own quirks. So maybe, treating them differently is exactly what I should be doing. They are not the same child, the same rules do not apply (to a certain extent of course, because no-one is allowed to throw shoes at Mummy's head!). When Ed starts to get grouchy, we encourage him to spend some time alone to gather his thoughts, either in another room with some Lego or on Minecraft. When Bean punches me in the tummy, I ask him politely not to do that (he doesn't listen). I don't naughty step them, because for them, that is a cruel torture device (I understand it works for others, I'm not judging). In fact, when Bean gets really out of hand and can't be distracted, I sit down and hug him, because sofa time with Mummy seems to help when his head's exploding.

But Ed will never be able to cope with the well meaning but heavily sarcastic remarks made by strangers. The other day, while we were paying for our shopping at the checkout, the stupid cashier commented on his thick hair and asked if he could have it. I knew the exact thoughts that were passing through his mind and his shocked expression confirmed my fears. I do so wish people would stop that.
Maybe they both need t-shirts (in their favourite colours of course);

Bean's.

Ed's.