Right Now

You have all been so lovely the last few days. The comments on my post about the Health Visitor’s worries about Kai have been endlessly comforting and supporting and I am so grateful for you taking the time to respond so thoughtfully. Thank you.

I had a bit of bad day with it all yesterday. Actually, I had A LOT of a bad day. There were moments there were I could genuinely have opened the front door and run as fast as my legs could carry me.

I didn’t, obviously. Instead I wrestled the ferocious ball of frustration and bad-temper that is my son till bedtime, put him to bed without a bath and went downstairs and cried. And cried. And cried some more.

I doubted everything yesterday. EVERYTHING about myself, about Kai, about my abilities and suitability as a mother, about my perception of my life and how perhaps that differs from reality.

And do you know what scared me most? That maybe there is absolutely nothing wrong with him at all. That he is just spirited, and wilful and frustrated with the world  – no different from most other toddlers.

And weirdly, this made me feel like shit.

I convinced myself that every toddler is like Kai, that all mums have to manage behaviour like his, and as such, the fact that I’m struggling to cope with it so much means I am just weak, neurotic and failing miserably. You probably have three children like Kai. Ten. And you still manage to do normal things like brush your hair, and eat, and go out.

Everyone tells me he is delightful, and fun, and charming and he IS! Maybe what I endure behind closed doors I have blown vastly out of proportion.

Maybe I am just not cut out for all this at all.

No, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want there to be anything ‘wrong’ with Kai. It’s just that the thought that it is supposed to be like this, supposed to be so impossibly hard and feel so unmanageable ALL THE TIME just made me go cold.

Luckily, I have good friends. Good, kind, honest, supportive friends who listen (and I could list hundreds of you, thank you so much).

I have a husband who has been through it all with me and keeps me grounded.

And after being told an awful lot of sense, I realised this.

Do you know what? Kai is hard work. He is really, really hard work.

I’m not saying its some kind of competition about ‘who has it the hardest’, or that other parents don’t find it hard either,but the reality of life with Kai is incredibly challenging and I don’t think anyone could question that.

He’s always been hard work – early months of constant crying and refusal to be any where but attached to me, followed by endless battles getting him to cope with transitions and change and him resisting everything. The speech delay and the near-constant tantrums and the freak outs at the slightest thing are just a continuation of something that’s been going on from the beginning.

He can be lovely of course. He is obviously bright, and can be so much fun and entertaining. He charms everyone around him and can be fabulous company. He plays beautifully, when in the mood to, and if you get it right with him you get it SO right and it is wonderful.

But this is offset by the most rigid personality I have ever come across. It is offset by moods completely dependent on things being just how he wants them to be and endless frustration and tears and anger when they are not. And I can honestly say? The hard times far outweigh the good times right now.

I am not enjoying motherhood right now. It’s not much fun to be honest.

A vast proportion of my day is spent ‘coping’ with Kai, managing his moods and single-minded determination and enduring the frequent screaming, crying, hitting, pulling, outpouring of his emotions. Every single day involves a good deal of time listening to long bouts of crying. It’s incredibly draining, exhausting. And I defy anyone to not find it hard.

And the speech thing IS worrying. The constant, weird, babbled gobbledegook? The fact that has somehow ‘forgotten’ how to say the odd word he could say a few months back? That he makes NO attempt to imitate words yet will copy the sounds he hears himself making on recordings? Of course it’s worrying. I’m not saying it won’t right itself, I’m sure it will, but obviously it’s going to be a concern to me. What kind of mother would I be if it wasn’t?

Whether he fits some kind of ‘label’ or not, whether he is like other kids or not, whether I find it harder than you or anyone else? It doesn’t really matter. Deep down I know it will be fine. I know that he will be fine, that he will grow out of most stuff, and we will survive. I know that really I am very lucky, he is healthy, so am I. I know it could all be so much worse.

But it doesn’t change how hard it is right now. It doesn’t change how much I am struggling.

What matters is I love him. I love him so much it actually hurts me to think about it. I see so much positive in him, despite all the bad stuff, and I am so enormously proud of him, of his fierce strength and passion.

I know I am doing the best I can, I know I am doing a good job, even, because I care about all this stuff and I think about it and I want to make Kai happy.

I just want to be a better mother for him.

I want to figure out what is he needs that I seem to be missing.

Mostly, I just want to see him happy.

And I want to see me happy too.

Averageness and Appropriate Worry

I’m not  a neurotic mother.

Ok, I’m a slightly neurotic mother but generally I think I have my head screwed on OK. If I’ve learnt one thing as a parent it’s that children tend to do things in their own time, in their own way and there’s not an awful lot you can do to change that.

I try not to worry about stuff. Or I try and worry an appropriate amount anyway.

But for a while now there have been some concerns about Kai’s speech. I’ve had that awful balancing act of not over-reacting and accepting his speech was developing slower than other children but that it would all happen in its own time, but at the same time not burying my head in the sand and missing the opportunity to pick up any REAL problems nice and early.

I was told a few months back to get in contact with my health visitor if Kai hadn’t shown any progression in his speech development by 18 months. And he hasn’t to be honest, at least, not in terms of recognisable words. Ironically he is the most chatty child you could ever hope meet and babble and sings in his nonsensical language all day long. But at nearly 19 months he doesn’t really say ANY proper words. And the odd ‘real’ word he used to say he’s now stopped saying at all, or says them once and twice and then not since.

So I phoned the health visitor this morning, and after a few questions she asked to come over this afternoon.

She stayed for over an hour, observing his play and our interaction and asking lots and lots of questions. And she tells me she is concerned, not so much about his speech but about his speech coupled with his behaviour, wanting to see him again in six weeks and possibly regular checks after that.

I don’t know how to feel. On one hand I think she’s probably just being very cautious, wanting to stay vigilant and ensure any problem is picked up early – that she’s doing a good job. On the other hand I think she’s hugely over-reacting, that surely 19 months is way too young to be worrying seriously about this kind of thing, and that most things can be explained by Kai’s temperament and personality and will work themselves right in time.

Either way I’m left feeling a little worried and upset.

On the positive side she thinks that Kai is very bright, and that his comprehension, imaginative play and concentration is very advanced for his age. He has an excellent internal vocabulary, understands very complex instructions and ideas, and a very good memory for detail. She suspects that he may actually be perfectly capable of talking properly if he wanted, but can’t see the need, or doesn’t want to. Despite knowing what a huge number of words mean he makes absolutely no attempt to say them and has no interest in trying to imitate word sounds. In fact, he just laughs if you try and ask him to.

She predicts he will talk when he decides to, and that he may need some help in the future but that long term he’ll be absolutely fine.

What she’s worried about his disinterest in speech coupled with his behaviour, more specifically his very obsessive and hyper-attentive nature, his complete inflexibility and fixation with things having to go a certain way and refusal to compromise or be distracted, and his general anger and frustration when things don’t go how he wants (which is most of the time!).

She’s also worried about his difficulty socialising. Admittedly he does find socialising with children very difficult, getting very easily overwhelmed and upset. He’s fine with younger babies where he feels safe and in control, but really struggles to handle and relate to older children that do their own thing. He tends to keep away from them, rarely if ever initiates play, and is usually that child at playgroup sobbing hysterically because someone else is playing on the bike that day. He barely last more than an hour before getting completely overwhelmed and asking to go.

I don’t know whether any of these are real ‘problems’.

I don’t know why this is concerning.

I thought all these things were just Kai, part of all the things that make him unique and special and wonderful. I LIKE that he’s different and quirky and strong willed.

I don’t want to change him.

I don’t want to be neurotic.

But I also want to be responsible. If there IS a problem I DO want it picked up early.

I guess we just have to do as the health visitor suggested. Watch, wait, and see. And try not to worry too much. She says we’re doing everything right, which is reassuring, and that we shouldn’t force anything. Just wait. She was lovely actually.

But I’m a little sad that already, at not even 2, my boy is being told he doesn’t ‘fit’ and that he is different. Why must we insist that all children fit a certain box? That they all be the same? Is there no room for individuality, personality, temperament? Or is everything ‘not average’ a ‘problem’?

Do I really want an average child anyway?

Writing Workshop: Mama

Welcome back to the Wednesday Writing Workshop link-up! At the bottom of this post you’ll find the widget to post the link to your workshop posts. I have a feeling it’s going to be a quieter one this week after all of last week’s enthusiasm, but that’s ok – we’re all allowed to wax and wane a little.

First of all though, it’s my turn of course. I’ve chosen prompt #4 and tried to put myself in the mind-set of the person that I understand both most and least. Sometimes I feel so connected to this person it as if I can quite literally read his thoughts. At other times though I find him completely unfathomable, infuriatingly confusing and impossible to gauge correctly. It is my boy of course, my monster, my ratbag, my heart and soul. I hope you enjoy it.

____________________________________

Hello mama. I am going to tell you some of the things I like. Ok?

I like it when my face is fitted tight into the space your neck makes.

My arm must be tightly wound so you cannot get away and my fingers must feel the shape of your face. It is like a book and I want to read it over and over. I feel the softness of your skin, you hair and it makes me happy. I breathe and the smell of you is my breath and fills me up warm and safe like my milk which is my favourite thing. I need you mummy.

I like to press my forehead against your own, noses squashed. I hear your thoughts and they are noisy.

I like it best when you talk to me with words I know. I make my mouth make the sounds of talking, I tell you so many things. The best is when you understand and if you get it right I will tell you so yeah yeah. And nod and smile. I like YES! I like it when you tell me what we are doing next and then we do it. I’m not so keen on surprises mummy. Especially if they involve medicine or brushing my teeth.

I like it when we give names to things. You show me and I bury it deep in my brain. I like the sounds they make. There are so many sounds. I wish I could make my mouth make the right sounds but it doesn’t sound the same when I try. I like to play the ‘where is the’ game. I can tell you where everything is, especially if it is on me or one of my favourite things. I like the animals that we see. They move and they do funny things. I like Grandma’s dog the best when I  feed him biscuits, but also the birds mummy when they go up so high I can’t see.

I like outside. I will fetch you my shoes and coat if it helps but we must go now because the wind and the sun and the puddles and pigeons are telling me to hurry. I like to move like you on my legs. I can make them go fast mummy. Outside is big but I want to see it all and I want to choose the way. You must come with me but do not pull me or make me go there because I want to be here and go this way. That is where my feet are going so it is tough luck. I shall tell you when I see a bus or the bin men with my excited voice – they are special mummy.

I like my toys. My cars are favourite. I like to make their sound pap pap brrmm brrmm and push them and make them go and go. Blocks go on top of more blocks and make tall towers to crash and smash. I like to make my crayons make a mark that is brand new and wasn’t there before on the white. I like the TV on please mummy, especially if there is singing so we can dance and you can sing the words. And I like splashing with water, and drinking it too, lots and lots. More water please. Yum yum delicious.

I like it when you read my books with me and we point at everything there is to see. I want this one again, and then you must read it again. And do the voices mummy because it makes me laugh. I like laughing. It bubbles out because you tickle it out of me and do funny things.

Sometimes though I do NOT like. And when I do NOT like I will tell you with all of my body and all of my sound so that you will listen.

I do not like it when I am tired. You tell me I must go to sleep but sometimes I cannot. My brain is full of things, big things and sometimes they move very fast and are scary. Sometimes I am just not ready to do sleeping. I try though mummy, I really try. Don’t be mad with me.

I do not like it when I feel not-good. I do not know what it means but it hurts in my mouth and my teeth and my tummy and makes me cry because I am frightened and I want to sleep but it makes me awake.

I do not like it when you make me be separate when what I need is to be in the same space as you are. My body feels lonely and needs to not be separate for a while. I promise I will be separate another day but not today.

I do not like it when you don’t understand. I am telling you what I want but you have got it wrong and I am angry because I tried very hard. You must listen mummy and do what I say so I can feel happy again. And it must be now because waiting is no good at all. If you don’t I will tell you NO NO NO and shake my head and arch and wriggle because I MUST NOT. It is very important.

Let’s get the duvet and make a den. You must lie down and I will put my head on your chest and we can be very still and together.

And make Night Garden come on mummy because it has that funny train on and you are very good at the singing bits.

Thank you.

I love you.

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So now it’s your turn! What prompt did you choose?

1. What are you addicted to?
- Inspired by Kat at Slugs on the Refrigerator and her yarnaholism.

2. Tell me of your proudest moment.
- Inspired by Tara at Sticky Finger’s beautiful post ‘Jumpers for Goalposts’

3. “Have you ever had an epiphany, when you realized that something you’d long believed wasn’t really true?”
- Inspired by Amber Strocel’s recent post that asked this question and made me think.

4. Put yourself in the mindset of someone else and write about the world from their perspective.
- Inspired by Heather from Notes from Lapland’s moving piece of writing based on her empathy for the victims of the Cumbrian Floods.

5. Have a good rant. Go on! You know you want to…
- Inspired by ME! and my Christmas rant this week.

Leave your name and the URL to your post in the MckLinky below (the URL should be to your post not just to your blog) andleave me a comment to let me know you’ve taken part. If you have the time it would be great if you could try and read and comment on at least two other entries. And be kind! It’s supposed to be a bit of fun – we’re not looking for the next Booker Prize winner here!

If you haven’t had chance to respond yet, then you’ve still got today! Or just wait till next week, when there’ll be five brand new prompts to get you thinking.

This Writing Workshop is brought to you in association with Mama Kat’s Losin’ It – who’s lovely author came up with the concept and runs her own workshop over in the U.S.

On giant toddlers, bum cracks and a whole lot of Pooh

It is official.

My son is some kind of giant child.

At not quite 17 months old he is now growing OUT of his 18-24 month clothes. Kai’s freakishly long body are giving his vests a rather slovingly off the shoulder look and revealing about three inches of bare chest which is probably not ideal in December. And although we’re still rolling up trouser legs, Kai’s enormous Buddha belly is putting serious strain on his waist line. And this is AFTER he’s slimmed down quite substantially since learning to walk.

This is not good news. I was hoping our huge bin bag of nearly-new clothes from the last NCT sale (in which I showed SPECTACULAR elbowing and bagsying skill) would get us right the way through winter. But no, Mr-Growth-Spurt has gone and bloody grew. So inconsiderate.

I have to admit though, I kinda love his little bod at the moment. He’s got all lanky, his legs have lost some of their chubbiness and gone all knobby and long. It’s not a baby body any more, it’s a toddler body, complete with requisite bruises, scrapes and bumps.

His toddler body matches his new toddler moves. He’s walking confidently now, even working up to a little tottering run. He still has a tendency to fall over and charge head first into door frames (hence bruises) but his body confidence is growing, as is his stamina and his desire to walk further and further. He’s learnt how to stamp his feet, which has resulted in some interesting new dance moves, and has perfected the adorable toddler squat as he plays his complicated car games, lining them and pushing them round, or two stop in the street and pick up whatever interesting twig or leaf has caught his eye. I could watch him all day. I really could.

One other change resulting from all the growing and moving around has been his nappies. A month or two back I finally had to pack Kai’s cloth nappies away, given that they were now revealing about an inch of bum-crack, cutting into his chunky legs, and having to be ridiculously padded out to cope with the shear volume of toddler wee.

It was a sad day. I shall miss his big bottom look and pegging them out on the line (I defy anyone to tell me a sight more beautiful and satisfying that clean nappies drying in the sunshine). They’ve now been washed (you’ll be glad to know) and packed away ready for the bambino #2 when we decide we’re brave enough to start this crazy journey all over again.

So, Kai’s in disposables full time. And I have to say, I kind of love them!! Scraping sticky excrement of cloth is something I don’t miss in the slightest, and given the potency of Kai’s poos these days it allows you to work fast: remove, contain, get it as far the hell away from you. Aceamundo. Yes I still get the little twinge of guilt when the (biodegradable) plastic bag goes in the wheelie bin, but I figure 15 month of clothy goodness is more than most manage, so I’m not going to beat myself up too much.

Anyway. I’m waffling.

In keeping with my new (guilty) love of Kai’s disposable-clad bee-hind, Sleep is for the Weak is taking part in a little Treasure Hunt run by the Huggies’ blog Enjoy the Ride. For the first 14 days of December they’re posting a clue to lead you to a parenting website or blog. Solve the clue and find Winnie the Pooh’s honeypot and you get given the chance to win one of 7000 prizes from free samples to a family break at Disneyland Paris.

Check out the Discovery Hunt webpage to find out how to play. All the clues so far are up for you to solve, with a new one everyday, and if you play along you may just find yourself back here in a day or two…

Bah Humbug – A Christmas Rant

Gah what is it with all you people and your determination to make Christmas last as long as possible?!

Not only have I had to suffer Christmas hitting our high street before Halloween this year, now December 1st has rolled round I’m suddenly met with endless accounts of people with their tree up, presents bought and wrapped, and Christmas cards written.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But I just start to think about it on the 1st, using the whole advent period to gently warm up to the idea. I put up Kai’s advent calendar last night and got my first little Christmas tingle filling it with various disproportionately sized plastic animals for him to find each day. By the weekend I might just start thinking about doing some Christmas shopping. In another couple of week’s we’ll put the tree up and try a think of a way that we can ensure it survives three weeks of toddler attention. I probably won’t even eat a mince pie for at least another fortnight. This way my excitement builds slowly up to an uncontrollable hysteria on Christmas Eve (where my brother will come and we will play board games and eat our body weight in buffet food), a night lying awake wondering if that sound I just heard really was Santa, not daring to move and thinking that all those unbelievers are going to feel such eejits when they don’t get a Canon SLR under their tree, and then be up at the crack of dawn for a few days of festivities and more food and mulled wine than should probably be legal.

If I started with it all too soon, my excitement would have peaked and waned by the time we gotten half way through advent and I’d be bored and disinterested with the whole thing by the time the big day rolled round. Now fair enough if you personally have the energy to maintain your Christmas Spirit for endless weeks at a time, I just don’t have it in me.

And, for me, having Christmas last a whole month, or even longer, kind of throws out my whole rhythm for the year. Christmas is a specific day, or a few days at most, which is proceeded by ADVENT. Which, if you’re of the non-religious persuasion as I am, means a time of getting ready. If you’ve already got ready then what the frick is the point? You’ve lost all the build-up, all the magic – all you’ve got to look forward to is three weeks of novelty chocolates which I swear are made up of the ground up cardboard of last year’s advent calendars.

*sigh*

I’ll stop ranting now. I don’t mean to wee on your Yule log or anything like that.

I’m just saying, let’s all calm down a bit shall we. We’ve got 24 days people, let’s enjoy them.

Just when I thought I was going to lose my mind…

Ten ways in which the Universe was kind to me today:

1. Not only did Kai only wake up ONCE last night, he slept in until, wait for it, 8am!!!!! I got up before him, got dressed, made a cuppa. It was quite possibly the best morning of my life.

2. All that sleep meant Kai was in a KILLER mood. We laughed, we nearly wee’d ourselves with excitement riding the bus, we only had a handful of minor meltdowns at Playgroup and Kai made friends with a small girl with pretty hair. Toast was eaten, toys were shared. It was legendary.

3. When we got home Kai sat happily and drunk half a cup of moo moo milk (as opposed to mama milk). This is only the second time I’ve got him to drink any with out screaming and throwing it at me. If you were in the Midlands area and heard a Ahhhh sound that would have been my boobs sighing with relief. We’re down to two feeds in 24 hours people! TWO!

4. In one of those adorable toddler moments, every sip of Kai’s milk was accompanied by a “mmmm!”, a lip smack and a big grin. I’ve been giving him milk everyday and encouraging him to drink it with lots of “yum yum” and “ooh delicious!” – looks like he’s cottoned on the fact that moo moo milk = gooooood.

5. After drinking said milk we read a story (about diggers obviously), we drew the curtains and Kai lay down in his cot and went to sleep. Just like that. That is the first nap time without tears in about a fortnight.

6. While Kai was asleep I made two cups of tea. I’m not sure who the other one was for but I drank them both. With biscuits. I may make two cups more often.

7. The powers-that-be have decided to dig up a car park in the town centre. That means DIGGERS people. Diggers for probably all this week. This afternoon Kai spent 20 ecstatic minutes watching those diggers, who happened to be driven by friendly digger men who were happy to flash their lights and spin the diggers round and drop things from high up to make a better crash all for my rapt little boy. We will be back.

8. Instead of screaming all the way home, Kai sang. Loudly. It made everyone we walked past smile – not frown and look alarmed at the thrashing hysterical toddler that has been the norm for the last week or two.

9. We got back and Kai SAT. And gave me kisses, and giggled at me talking to him in a funny voice, and played with his cars beautifully till his Dad got home. I remembered how much I love him and decided I might not run way to New Zealand after all.

10. Bed time went without a whimper. Kai chose his fire engine book, we sniggered at the instruction to “feel the Fireman’s hard helmet”, and then we said “Night Night” and he lay down and went to sleep. Again.

Thank you Universe. Now why can’t everyday be like this??!

Please Send Wine and Cake

*WARNING: In line with my honest disclosure policy and commitment to blogging with integrity, I should warn you that this a whiney post*

Kai is going through a phase.

At least, I think he is. It could be teething, it often is. I fear not, however, I fear that this is just HIM.

I never realised this about babies, before I had one that is. I figured that they grew and stuff (obviously), but I never realised THEY changed so much. Their needs, their personalities. That periodically they would become demon children from hell as they transitioned to a new stage.

Kai I think is in one such transition. After he started walking we had a month where he was absolutely delightful – everything was fun and exciting and interesting. We’d spend all day going on adventures and discovering the world from an upright position and all the many delights it had to offer – puddles, pidgeon chasing, running with wild abandon through the shopping centre and trying to steal things from shops. I loved it, and, as I always do I stupidly, rested on my laurels and thought “Ahhh this is lovely. THIS is what Kai will be like now. Life shall be good from now on”.

And then came this week.

This week where the my lovely, smiley boy was replaced with Lord of the Nazgul, complete with ear piercing shriek which he proceeded to unleash, with tears and biting and hitting and thrashing around, roughly every 7 minutes.

Here he is in all his glory:

NOTHING has pleased this boy this week. He doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to make dens on the sofa, or build things, or colour. He most certainly does not want to take a nap. All he wants to do is shout at me with nonsensical words, throw things, attempt to scale the furniture and get his mitts on every type of easily breakable thing in the house. Every trip to a public place has resulted in a prostrate, screaming child, and me trying to wrestle him, plank-like, into his pushchair by pinning him with my knee and fending off well-aimed kicks to my head. I am THAT mother, smiling wanly and embarrassingly, as the world looks on slightly pityingly obviously wondering why I seem unable to control my child and worrying that his head seems to be covered in rather nastly looking bruises (from throwing himself backwards and hitting it on every protruding edge in sight).

Our routine has gone to pot. Again. This is the other thing you don’t expect as a parent. You are told that routines are important for a child so you do your upmost to settle into a consistent rhythm of eating and sleeping. And it works, beautifully, for about 6 weeks. Two months max. Then you find they suddenly change the rules – they want to get up earlier, or aren’t ready for bed at the same time. They need less naps, or shorter naps, or more snacks. And you are left running to keep up.

I HATE these times. They never fail to make me feel incompetent, insecure, useless and doubt every single aspect of my parenting.

Of course, it will settle again, it always does. But in the meantime I am in my own personal hell and miserable with it. I’m still so tired anyway, with my blood pressure all over the place (turns out that’s why I keep falling over), and I’m having to spend my days wrestling with a small, ferocious ball of rage.

The worst thing is that he is always as good as gold when in the company of others, like his grandmas, so meaning they don’t really understand what all the fuss is about or why Ant and I periodically take on a grey, shrivelled look and look at our child slightly fearfully, worried he might ‘go off’ at any second.

God only knows what’s up with the child. I fear a lot of it is frustration – we had a similar patch just before he learnt to walk. He is obviously so desperate to communicate, babbling desperately and earnestly at every moment. Shaking his head and gesturing wildly. But what ever developmental thing that needs to ‘click’ to make talking possible just hasn’t happened yet. He struggles to formulate more than a handful of basic words although understands nearly everything you say to him. You can almost see him, trapped in this little body of his that hasn’t quite caught up to his brain. It’s no wonder he’s so angry really, I think I would be too.

Luckily time heals all ills, no doubt he WILL learn to talk eventually and this frustration will ease and all will settle again. Until the next thing of course.

And in the meantime, I’m left with this…

Please send cake. And wine. I mean it. For the love of god. Please.

I’m sure you’ve all been there. Any advice always appreciated xx