Sunday 19 July 2015

The case for the defence

The theatre where I work has some tenuous historic association with Stanley Baldwin and Rudyard Kipling and I was quite shocked when a visiting high school teacher had heard of neither.

Still huffing and puffing about it when I got home from work, I told my husband the story and asked if he'd heard of them, to which he replied: "Isn't that Mike Baldwin's brother and that chap who makes the cakes?" I give up!

It's not often that my other half provides blog fodder, it's usually the prerogative of my delightful sons, mainly Teddy.  I sometimes think that one day he'll sue me for libel and my entire blog will be read out in court and I'll get sent down for defamation and child cruelty.

So I'm going to write my defence in readiness for the hearing.

Although he's a complete dingbat at times (sorry, your Honour, but he is), my life, quite frankly, would range from dull to incomplete without him. 

Teddy born with transposed arteries and had lifesaving open heart surgery when he was seven days old and again when he was one-year-old to mend a hole in his arterial wall.

At the age of four, his parents parted and I moved him away from his birth country, his father and half of his family.  He said goodbye to friends, nursery school, bedroom and dad and coped with the emigration, change of lifestyle and language with a maturity that belied his young age.

From then onwards, three times a year he flew alone with merely a chaperone service at either airport, from the UK to Portugal and at either end was completely immersed into two vastly different families and cultures.

He adapted to his new life and accepted his step-father, step-brother and step-sister with applaudable ease, acceptance, dignity and grace.

A new brother came along just weeks after he started school and he proceeded to worship, adore and protect this child with every bone in his body.

Society bizarrely labels my boys 'half-brothers' which to me suggests incompleteness. I seem to distinctly remember them both coming out of me, pretty much intact as two entire wholes, and therefore people use the word 'half' at their peril around me and my children.

Despite his early life on the operating table, Teddy now speaks two languages fluently, runs like the wind, plays football and rugby, is the life and soul of the party and has moved from the cotton wool of primary school to chaotic corridors of a high school the size of a small town with confidence and composure.

My Facebook wall is covered with posts from mums understandably proud of their children's achievements but for me it's always nicest when accolades come from others.

Last Sunday, we had just finished a meal at a Bridlington restaurant when the couple at the next table came over as they left and the gentleman said: "We just want to congratulate you on your children, they are an absolute delight and a credit to you."

Luckily, my husband and mum were capable of speech and thanked the couple and agree with them.  I just blubbed, that's what proud mum's do.

Anyway, no edition of withdewrespect would be complete without a Teddy-ism, and I will conclude my case that I would simply give my life for him.....but he is a right dingbat!

Teddy: "There's a lad at my school that we call Gary, or Big G or sometimes even Gary the Snail."
Me: "Really love, that's nice.  What's his real name?"
Teddy: "Blake".