Coming clean....

What a weekend its been, a nice walk, 6 teenage boys for a sleepover, setting up for a charity event, participating in said charity event I took my recycled wellie shoes  (forgot to take ANY pictures - whoops we did manage to help a few folk and hopefully gave a bit of decent advice!), cinema trips and then a mega clean up session at home for Mr Flowers and his dear Mum's arrival for a holiday. Phew! Nothing focuses the mind like expecting visitors! However, like any working mum and family the chores got done and we managed a 'bit' of time together. My son swapped sleepover fodder being collected from Kirkwall (pizza fizzy juice and gummy bears) for hoovering, a fair swap in my opinion - he avoided shopping, I avoided hoovering - happy result for both of us. Perfect chore bartering - I like it! Even peedie is known to pitch in!

I then had the luxury of my daughter (the tomato guzzling cellist) natter to me during most of the cleaning. When her chores were done she also sat crossed legged on the freezer, which as every child knows is a good place to sit despite there being ample chairs around the utility room! She's reading Harry Potter VI, we're so familiar with these books (we have the audio copies of all 7 of them) that within a sentence we know exactly where we are. So as I cleaned up, she read, us both giggling about the voices she was attempting to put on for each character! What a hoot.

Visitors arrived, house cleaned, book half read, me still in my PJ's (Sunday 2pm) all in all not a bad start to the day. I thanked the cellist wholeheartedly for her reading, I love it when folk read to me. She was a bit quizzical about my enthusiastic thank you, and the huge hug she got but was happy enough. A bit daft maybe, but its one of those lovely things in life that I really appreciate. But, it got me to thinking, why do I love it so. Now I know the answer to this, but she didn't. Could I be brave I wondered? Could I come clean?

Now I'm not what you might call the bravest of people - if I'm honest I'm pretty cowardly. Fact. But, I wanted to talk to her about something which required bravery. Not your average 'fight a dragon' bravery or go to the dentist or the hairdresser bravery (both of these terrify me), I just needed a bit of courage. Its a bit daft but I was worried how she'd react if I told her my secret - not that its a bad secret, just a bit embarrassing.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door, I popped in again to say how much I'd enjoyed the reading and if we could do it again sometime that would be great. I'm a big fan of children's books, I love the imagery of the language used and often the short, simple, story. Again the quizzical look, 'Of course' she said! All the courage in the universe (well a bit of it anyway) mustered I blurted it out...............The reason I love it when other people read out loud is quite simply, I can hardly read out loud myself. Well, I can read out loud, but I'm very very bad at it and I find it hugely difficult.

Phew there it is out there - I'm 43 and a bit and I can't read out loud very well. I read, ferociously we all do, but when I read out loud I break into a sweat, I stutter, mumble and stumble over the words. I read very quickly, my eyes are three lines ahead of my mouth, I mix everything up, get very shaky and often burst into tears. I've got through school (somehow, often avoiding those 'read out' days), got through several bashes at university courses. And, post graduate study. I'm not uneducated, so why do I still feel embarrassed and stupid when I can't do something so simple as read out loud? I'm not alone in this I know and you manage, generally to avoid doing it! As my children grew, I either made up stories or we listened to audio tapes or I encouraged them to read out loud together, but I've seldom managed to read a whole story without a bit of improvisation to cover up my problem.

Why was I so scared, I guess its so rooted in childhood memories and embarrassment that I keep it pretty much to myself. When I was diagnosed with dyslexia two years ago - alot of things made sense. The hardest part of the diagnosis process was when the lady asked me to read to her. I told her 'I can't, I've never been able to' and burst into tears. She was great but coaxed me along anyway and gave me so much information after the diagnosis. It's helped me accept certain aspects of myself. For which I'm very grateful.

The cellist was great, not that she's never great, as teenage girls go, this cellist is alright let me tell you. Well, she told me, I'll just have to read to you then won't I? And a huge hug. Acceptance and love, whilst never taken for grated are truly wonderful when given. She told me not to be ashamed about it. I feel so much better now that I've come clean. I might even give reading a go with her, she'll tease me in good heart and encourage me too. I'm still wibbly about it all, but I'm happier for telling her.

Useful links to more dyslexia information and apologies if there are spelling mistakes too, I'll check them properly when home, the spell check on here isn't working!.

[Edited in - Blogger won't let me comment so I'm reading and trying to comment back to you but its not being very helpful at the moment - thank  you for popping past and I will comment when I can!]

http://www.dyslexiascotland.org.uk/

http://www.beatingdyslexia.com/index.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyslexia