Eep! So, Moo and I are officially going to MCM, and the photo with DT has been booked. Moo knows about it, and immediately started planning her outfit and pose.

Much to my surprise, she started thinking about cosplay, because "It's a ComicCon, mummy, you have to do cosplay." I was surprised because she's normally extremely fussy about what she wears, but thinking back to costumes she's worn in the past, this tracks. She's then adopted the costumes into everyday wear, so we may end up seeing her wear a suit for the next couple of years.

Which will be amazeballs.

Had the first autistic meltdown this morning, however, when she remembered how frightening she found London when she visited before (we live in a small, rural town in the West Midlands). Lots of lashing out and blaming me for things, but she calmed down pretty quickly, thankfully.

We'll get there. I wish she didn't have to struggle with these things so much, though. I wish she could just go and enjoy herself without being so worried and affected by all these things. That I was the ONLY one that was worried and affected by these things.

But thankfully there's breakout rooms we can go and regulate ourselves in, and we can go outside, too, if it's not raining.

Fundraising-wise, we're at 49%.

I'd massively appreciate it if anyone could please share my cause, or help give ideas of how I can further raise the money!

Any support helps, big or small.

Thank you so much to everyone who's helped - you're all absolutely amazing human beings.

at seven, my father tells me if i treat my children the way i treat my siblings i should never have them. i will fail. my temper is too hot, and i am too volatile. i am too disney villain to raise a child, as i feed the crows in my grandfather's front yard, wondering what life might be like if i could fly under everyone's radar, and not stand out for all the wrong reasons.

at ten, when i cannot seem to learn the steps to the complicated dance of human conversation, and all the facts about arthur's legends, witchcraft and wizardry, and all the things i know pour out of me unbidden, my father tells me if i keep losing friends, and i cannot keep them, perhaps, i am the common denominator in the equation.

at seventeen, the very fragile heart strings i have are clipped. i build a wall of stone around the little i have left. signing away the rights to my goodness in blood, sweat beading on my face as i grip the steering wheel, tears pouring down my cheeks, as i hope this never befalls my siblings. though statistics say it will. i've botched another job, insured that their lives will be bungled, knotted up, inside my own, walls behind my back as i back away, mind replaying all the things i should have tried to say - driving home; knowing i will miss curfew. pulling in; knowing missing curfew is all that will matter to them. - no one ever believes me when i tell them my reasons.

for, i am maleficent - and my fairy wings have been clipped

at twenty, i stare at the edge of the water, longing for something i cannot name, words do not describe the pull death's desire has on my feet siren song singing in my ear, saccharine like strawberry starburst, and i ... do not do it. i dig out the earmuffs and stay my course. snow crunching beneath my feet.

at twenty five, i make a promise: to adventure with him, always paradise is the place where our two hearts beat in the same rhythm and time, goodness found and salvaged, like a little voice trapped in a shell, lanterns light the night where hope needs most be felt, soaring for a moment on the wind currents, stone cracking in the light of the moon - two stars together instead of one - je t'adore; je t'aime - "i do."

at twenty eight, i meet you for the first time. hold you in my arms and realize falling, is perfect. failing, is perfect. mistakes, missteps, and mistimed dances all of it perfect. there is no single thing i have done, that should you do it, i would hold you to the standard others held me to. my arms will be wide, wide wings, shelter enough for you to hide beneath.

you look at me like i am from outer space shouting at the television, teaching you to chant: "lore, lore, lore!" as though, you know what that means, unison voices rising in crescendo, we say it anyway. sipping coffee as i watch you play, telling your own stories, solving your own magical mysteries, (and, by existing in my life, solving my own.) i find myself wondering:

am i really as villainous as the world assumes i am?

So, some context: I taught Primary for 1 year, and had lots of interactions with parents with all kinds of concerns about their kids. I also remember being in high school and college/university and being too nervous to approach my teachers/tutors with any problems I had until the situation was dire.

For those who don't work in education, I can appreciate how needing to speak to your child's teacher about something can be intimidating, especially if your and/or your child are neurodivergent. And if you are a student, it can be equally as scary.

It's true many teachers are overworked and underpaid, but the vast VAST majority would move heaven and earth to help you. However, there are lots of things you can do to help them to help you, so here are my top tips.

Spouse and I told her something along the lines of (paraphrased for flow):

You are a trained medical professional. Using that lens, look at your brother and sister, look at your parents, look at my brother, look at my parents. Look at all the relatives at the last family event. How many of us are probably ADHD or autistic and just never diagnosed?