There has been lots of new milestones to face since I became a single parent. The first time he was ill, the first time I was ill, the first time we were both ill together (THAT was a fun one)… stuff like that. One I’ve been a bit nervous about facing was taking two year old Kai away somewhere on my own. I don’t have a car, so the whole getting there/what to pack/how to carry it issue was a bit, well, ARGH. But my confidence has grown exponentially over the last year, with Kai anyway – it’s had to, to be honest, so when Premier Inn kindly contacted me about sending us away for a couple of nights to review one of their hotels, I thought I’d take the plunge.

I have stayed in a few budget hotel chains and I have to say from the get-go, that Premier Inn is by far my favourite. It’s no more expensive than its competitors but you always seem to get a lot more bang for your buck, and our stay in the central Birmingham’s branch confirmed that.  Birmingham is only 40 minutes on the train from us and within walking distance of the train station, which made it a nice, doable first expedition, and with a trip to Cadbury World thrown in, we were looking forward to a bit of an adventure as Kai experienced his very first two night stay in a hotel.

Check-in was fast and friendly and soon we were up in our double room – one gorgeous big kingsize for me, and a lower single bed for Kai. Kai’s initial inspection involved a fairly suspicious look around before pronouncing his shock that the bath didn’t have any ducks in it, taking all his clothes off, and climbing into my bed to watch CBeebies on Freeview with two thumbs up, so I think we can safely say he felt at home (the fact that it was the same programmes that he watches at Mummy’s and Grandma’s house BLEW HIS TINY MIND). As for me, the room was spotless, the bed  really comfy with good quality bed linen and duvets, the bath was deep and the shower a good-un, and with the usual tea and coffee making stuff, and plenty of towels and an extra pillows, Mama was happy too.

Other things we liked

- The hotel was quiet and Premier Inn takes your peace and quiet very seriously, even promising to give you your money back if you don’t get a good night’s sleep. Now, Kai is rather famously a bad sleeper, and I can’t say he suddenly slept a 12 hour stretch, but he did actually sleep better than I thought he would, certainly no worse than he would have done at home, which felt like quite a little victory to me.

- They’re well geared towards children staying – rooms have black-out curtain linings, cots are available free, and Kai was given an activity pack on arrival which helped keep him busy in our room. Although we weren’t paying for our stay, I found out that under 16′s can stay free and get a free breakfast (2 children’s breakfasts free for every one paying adult breakfast), making it a really affordable way for families on a low budget to afford a break.

- Our hotel adjoined a lovely restaurant and bar which served really lovely food. All Premier Inns offer some kind of restaurant facility, with some having adjacent Costa Coffee shops too, and although prices vary from place to place, all appear to offer pretty reasonable value for money, with good kids menus, too.

- The breakfasts! Premier and Continental breakfasts are available in the restaurant nice and early, which meant I didn’t have a couple of hours sitting around with a hungry, grumpy Kai, who is always an early riser, and which meant I was able to plug myself into a coffee machine reassuringly quickly. There was a good range of food, with cooked breakfasts nicely cooked and not drowning in oil, and a lovely range of cereals, fruit, yoghurt, pastries, juices etc. Kai LOVED being able to eat as much as he wanted, with lots of trips back and forth for a ‘new course’. Breakfasts at home have been somewhat of a disappointment since! Staff made a real fuss of him and were really helpful.

Cadbury World

33 Digital, who had organised our stay, were lovely enough to throw in a day out for me and Kai down the road at Cadbury World as part of our stay. The Cadbury World Experience consists of a tour through the Cadbury Chocolate factory, during which you learn all about the Cadbury journey.

Now, I said tour THROUGH the factory there, not OF the factory, because if you’re expecting something Willy Wonkeresque that’s not QUITE what you’ll get here. The tour consists of a one-way¹ walk-through of fourteen ‘zones’ consisting mostly of diorama-type displays and screen shows. And they’re, ohh, sorry to say it, but they’re just alright. The bits where you can view the factory itself are far and few between, with a lot of walking in between, wearing out Kai’s little legs and his temper, and there’s nothing really to DO except look, and munch on the odd bit of free chocolate handed out as you walk round, although the ‘Purple Plant’ zon will appeal to older kids with more multi-media interaction. Kai got really frightened in most of shows and had to be taken out and the ‘educational’ type stuff was completely over his head – I’d actually say that I’d probably avoid a trip if your kids are under 4 or 5, unless they’re especially keen on museum-type environments.

¹Take note of this one if you have a kid like Kai who’s likely to decide he wants lunch half way round because the restaurant is at the beginning or the end. Pack snacks. And coffee for you.

The good bits, and the bits Kai loved, were the peeks into the workings of the factory itself. Lots of cool robots and machines whizzing round chocolate bars ready for wrapping, and the demonstration area where we got to try writing in the liquid chocolate, with little tubs to taste (SO GOOD!) and watch it being pumped into moulds and turned into chocolates by the chocolate workers (who were disappointingly NOT orange with green hair, although one did have a rather bad spray tan). Kai also loved the Cadabra Ride – a little ride-along much like Disney’s ‘It’s a Small World’ where you are transported in through a chocolatey land populated with singing, waving characters. There was a BIG queue for this, though, and we were there on a quiet day, and so the enjoyment was relatively short lived.

Once you’ve made your way round the zones and out through the enormous chocolate shop, you’re done and free to explore the factory grounds – quite beautiful actually, especially on a sunny day. Outside is an adventure playground which Kai was relieved to see and gave him a chance to work off a bit of frustration, and there’s the chance to visit ‘Essence’ – another multi-media show and a chance to have a tub of gorgeous, gooey chocolate with a choice of topping – biscuits, sweets, marshmallows, you name it.

So, a good day, but probably not ideal for a sensitive toddler. We came out clutching enough free chocolate to keep us happy though, and then it was back to the hotel to watch Thomas and Friends on my netbook, and fall very gratefully asleep in our comfy beds.

And so…

A huge thanks to Premier Inn for a really comfortable and easy stay. We’ll definitely be using you next time I’m planning time away with Kai – you really did make my first solo getaway really hassle-free and Kai’s excitement and the chance for us to have some real quality time and a change of scene was very much appreciated, and a bit special really and I really did fall in love with the little dude all over again. Dozing with his sleeping, blonde mop on arm, smelling, as little boys do of dirt and biscuits and a busy day, I honestly felt like the luckiest mum in the world. So thank you for that

Premier Inn are situated all over the country and are currently offering rooms in the Autumn from just £29, though you’ll need to book. Premier Inn have also recently announced a new partnership with TripAdvisor. Premier Inn guests will now be able to view TripAdvisor ratings of  the 600 plus hotels on the website and also read impartial feedback of other guest’s experience. This should help parents answer a few questions they might have about trips away as they can use other families’ tips and reviews to find the best hotel for them.

Thanks for reading!

It’s that time of year again when bloggers of the mother-persuasion (and a few daddies, too) start to wake up in cold sweats worrying that someone has bought the same outfit as them and whether or not there’s a spelling mistake on their business cards. Yep, folks, it’s Cybermummy 2011. Now, I had a blast last year, and was delighted to have spoken on the main panel, met some amazing people, made some useful contacts, AND managed to only accidentally flash my knickers at a handful of strangers. So although not quite in the almighty hysteria-driven hyper-excited state that most on my Twitter timeline seem to have driven themselves into, I am looking forward to it.

Now, although people seem to recognise me fairly quickly, I would like to take this opportunity to point out that one of the first things that almost every blogger that has met me in ‘real life’ points out is that I am much smaller than they expected. I’m not quite sure how I’m managing to exude this virtual aura of height, but you should probably know, in case you’ll be turning up on Saturday expecting to see me towering elegantly over other delegates, that I am a short-arse. I’m 5′ 2″ and fall over in heels so will be in flats, so perhaps look about a foot lower than you’re expecting and towards the back/cake  and there you will probably find me. Please come and say hello. I’m quite nice.

This year I’m attending thanks to the lovely people at Lego Duplo, who are paying for my ticket, travel and accommodation, along with other Lego Duplo ‘Experts’ who are lucky enough to receive occasional goodies from Duplo for our kids.

Kai’s latest treat from them was an extremely groovy Fire Truck which was pretty spot-on given my boy’s current penchant for re-enacting any kind of large-scale disaster/anything involving people falling down and/or things with sirens.

At nearly three, Kai’s heavily into role-play with his toys and pretty soon he had used the accompanying flames and bricks to ‘set fire’ to pretty much everything in the living room, roping in his other Duplo figures to help man the hoses with a slightly over-exuberant (read: saliva-fuelled) “pssssssssssss”.

Obviously the great thing about Duplo is that it means Kai can combine all his sets and pieces into one giant glorious, imaginative game, with most of the pieces coming apart and fitting back together in what ever way you like. Kai’s a bit young for Lego yet, but when he is, he’ll be able to use his Duplo with it too as the pieces all work together, which will help prolong its life a bit and help him to transition to ‘big boys Lego’, as we call it.

Kai especially loved this set as it came with 1. A flashy, noisy siren on the roof, and 2. An AXE**, which once I had told him that was what fireman use to bash doors down, had him gleefully hacking at everything in sight. A billion times better than Mega Bloks as the pieces actually STAY TOGETHER, easy for Kai to construct, and virtually indestructible as far as I can tell – Kai actually still plays with a box of Duplo that I had when I was kid, still bearing my teeth marks on a few of the pieces too, (I was an overly orally-fixated child, not that you’d tell now… *bites nails*).

**N.B. Does not contain an actual, real axe.

So, a big hit in our house, and a product we’re proud to be endorsing. Thanks Lego Duplo!

(this post mentions a product I was sent for free. If you’re not into that no worries, but it is about other stuff too…)

Spring has definitely sprung here, thank God for that. Kai and I are neither one of us are very sitting at home types and spend most of the winter with our faces pressed up against the window waiting for it to get warm enough to go outside more. Kai’s fairly hardy but at two, little hands still get cold, and wind bites and cold rain makes for miserable outings, however many dinosaur umbrellas and warm pairs of gloves we have.

April 2010

So ironic really, that the first really warm weeks are ones where Kai and then me get struck down with lurgies. No, not ironic, sorry, annoying. Wrong word. Ah well. Better now.

Still, we have managed a few forays none the less (Kai especially as I made sure to pick a nursery that turfs them outside for as much time as possible), and more than anything I have been so struck at how different the end of our winter hibernation is this year. And I don’t just mean the practical, life changes – I have a wholly different little boy! LAST Spring I had a 20 month old, who as a late walker, was just getting really confident on his feet, learning to RUN, even, in that wonderful new-toddler shuffle. We had just stopped breastfeeding and Kai was learning about how to be a separate person, as I was I. He was learning that the tether between us stretched further than he had thought, beginning to learn about exploring, about not holding hands thank you very much, and about things like balls and climbing, and I was learning too, about a new way to see the world as the mum of not a baby any more, but of a boy.

This year I have a nearly three year old, a world away from that tottering 20 month old who loved to ‘walk the line’ – now he runs along them pretending to be a steam train.  Now he can do this!

Many, many thanks to micro-scooters.co.uk for sending Kai his first ever scooter and giving us both a good smile last week. Kai’s blue mini micro scooter has been perfect for him – nice and low to the ground with three wheels so it’s nice and stable and hard to fall off. He’s soon got the hang of it scooting in a straight line, and is just learning how to steer it by leaning on the handlebar in the direction you want to go. It feels a bit more like a surf board than a scooter, super smooth, sturdy and flexible and really light to carry for when Kai’s legs get tired and it’s time to go home. It’s going to do wonders for his balance, which for a boy that’s physically a bit behind is a good thing, and is proving a very helpful way to wear him out a bit before tea-time. He loves it, and I love it too. Thanks so much.

Now, here’s to the Spring and Summer and all the other new adventures it brings my wonderful boy who seems to change and grow by the day. We have a new park nearly finished with sandpits and an adventure playground and fountains that squirt you. I can’t wait to see what he makes of that.

There’s not been much sleep in these parts lately. Have I mentioned that? You know, that I’m tired? No? Well, not for at least ten minutes anyway. Yes. Tired.

I have learnt that my ability to perceive myself as a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. Probably because my ability to BE a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. So, on both counts, I’ve been pretty crap this week.

Three or four hours of sleep a night and long days breeds a particularly snappy, shouty, emotionally fragile kind of mummy that neither me nor Kai are particularly keen on, and there has been a lot of snapping and shouting this week. Added to this, both of us have had to adjust to a new way of being around each other in the last few months. It’s just us now, you see, there’s no one else to help ease the tension. I am having to find ways of staying sane when your main source of company, and for long, solitary days and nights at a time, is two and half, and Kai is having to learn that I can’t provide the same focused attention available to him at the weekends, when he has an army playmates in the form of his Dad and family to help keep him occupied.

All of this is making for some particularly fraught weeks at the moment: lots of fallings-out, and the need for making-back-up-again. Good job we love each other, hey?

Motherhood has never come particularly naturally to me. I’m not that well suited to it, needing quiet and having a particularly fundamental need for my own space and to devote time and energy to my own projects and ideas. I have a tolerance level of about three seconds when it comes to the kind of involved, repetitive play that toddlers so enjoy, and Kai has especially intense needs in that department, being a child that never sits still, needing focused concentration to communicate with him and craving stimulation as desperately as I crave the peace to sit and snooze or read. I find I end up saying ‘no’ a lot: “no Kai, that’s enough now”, “no Kai, you’ll have to wait”, “no Kai, mummy’s busy”. We both end up frustrated and fraught, and I end up feeling guilty. It seems like he has the most fun when he’s away from me at the moment. I feel like dull mum, paling in comparison to the excitement and energy he gets from everyone else in his life. I’m not always sure what I’m really giving him most days, aside from fulfilling his basic needs.

But, BUT!

We’re getting there, on the good days at least, we really are. I’m learning to give a bit more, and Kai’s learning to take a bit less and somewhere in the middle we’re starting to find a better balance. I’m a great believer that it’s important for children to learn to play on their own, and NOT need an adult to direct them or play with them the whole time – it gives their imaginations a chance to be really unleashed without adult constraints. When I’ve had enough sleep to think about it properly, I realise that my ‘no’s don’t always have to be a source of guilt – I can view them as  something really positive. And I’m learning to include him more – we’re becoming a little team, me and Kai. We clean together and cook together and wash up together and sort laundry together. When I have errands to run, we make it an adventure. Kai helps remember what we have to buy, where we’re going, and we don’t rush home, spending time dawdling along the pavement seeing what we can see.

What I’m learning is that saying no is okay, as long as they’re are plenty of ‘yes’s too. After a morning of ‘no’s after a long night of little sleep, I’m really trying to set aside some time to say “what do you want to do Kai?” and answering “YES!”. I’m finding that even if I’ve said no a hundred other times that day, it’s the yes’s that define what kind of day we have, even if it’s just the one. It’s giving us, in between the frustration and the fallings out, some real gems of time together.

Every day this week when I’ve asked him what he wants to do he’s signed the same sign: PAINTING! And so that’s what we’ve done. Lots and lots of it. I know I tend to harp on a bit about Kai and his art work, so forgive me my indulgence again. I guess when you have a child where so much is focused around what he’s NOT doing, it becomes extra-important to celebrate the things he DOES do. And this is something that makes Kai special in my eyes just now, not because of any particular extraordinary skill, (although I think for two and half he’s got quite an eye on him), but because it’s something that he enjoys so much, and which gives me so much joy to watch.

This week we’ve been using objects around the house to copy in our paintings, toys mostly, and he’s loved it. We talk about what colours things are, what shape, we mix our paints, I watch Kai daub and splat and dot, and for half an hour I get to feel like maybe I’m doing something right for once.

So here’s Kai’s painting of his toy Noah’s Ark, done all by himself while I did my knitting and we talked about what he was doing. I’m not a believer in the religious meaning, but we like stories, me and Kai, especially ones with animals in, and when you get to a paint a rainbow, and conjour up all the hope and light that that brings with it, well, I think it was just about perfect for us yesterday.

(P.S. The pants were clean, promise – had fallen out the laundry basket. Failed to spot them till after I’d saved the photo. Oh well, cheap thrill for you there. You’re welcome.)

It’s been a while since I talked about Kai’s ‘issues’ here. That’s entirely deliberate. Kai is so much, much more than just his problems and when he’s bigger and gets to read this back the posts written about him one day, I wanted it to be his sense of fun, his imagination and his personality that shone through, not an endless chronicle of his difficulties.

As slightly contrived as it sounds, it IS the things that make Kai different that make him special, and anyone who has met the little dynamo will probably be the first to contest to that. But different is sometimes hard, there’s no getting away from that, and it’s probably time for an update.

On Friday Kai finally had his first proper assessment with his Speech and Language therapist. Kai’s communication has always been a little odd. It’s always been one of the many things that everyone was very keen to dismiss, insisting that boys are often behind and that he’d catch up in his own time, but it was never as simple as the fact that Kai wasn’t talking, it was that he was talking differently – something that was quite hard to get over to people when you talked about it. Kai is probably one of the noisiest children you will ever meet, and ‘talks’, non-stop, for a good twelve hours a day. But it is Kai-speak – a unique mixture of noises, nonsense sounds, gestures and signs. At over two and half Kai is only able to say a tiny handful of words that others could understand, but DOES have a vast, fairly sophisticated vocabulary of his own which he strings into great long sentences and which requires an awful lot of concentration to translate.

The appointment on Friday confirmed what Kai’s Dad and I had already figured out – we’re not dealing with a simple developmental delay here, Kai has something interfering with the speech process, usually called a speech processing disorder. And there we come to a full-stop for now. SOMETHING is interfering with the words going in, and the right sounds coming out, but quite what that is we don’t know. It could be lots of things. And so we go from here, beginning with  a gradual set of assessments and then moving into more longer-term formal speech therapy sessions. First of all we’ll have his hearing re-checked, although it was fine at tests 18 months ago it’s probably still worth ruling out. And secondly, we’re going to start really establishing consistent sign language as a way for him to communicate and be understood by others. Whatever the reasons for his speech difficulties, chances are communication is going to be an issue for him for quite some time and he’s going to need a back-up to support him as starts school etc. Kai knows and uses a few signs, but has a habit of insisting on his own versions that others find hard to interpret. So we’ll be doing lots and lots of work with him on that, gently trying to encourage him to use a signing system that nursery and his friends and family can use too.

There were lots more positives to come out of Friday too. Kai’s speech therapist assessed his comprehension as considerably beyond what she would expect of his age, and praised the creative ways he used to express himself. He was an absolute star, quite frankly. The most fundamentally reassuring thing of all is that Kai wants to communicate, in fact he’s desperate to. And that gives us a lot to work with.

And as for the rest of it? Well, we’re beginning to think that it’s just Kai. The ground-quivering temper tantrums are because he’s a bright kid with an intense amount of energy who has lots to say and can’t say it, and because he’s highly-strung and stubborn and with a VERY specific way of deciding How Things Should Be Done. And because he’s two and half!

He doesn’t make friends easily or socialise well in larger groups because he is sensitive and seems to react especially badly to things that he doesn’t understand, or that are out of his control, or that are a bit stimulation-heavy.

And he doesn’t sleep because, well, he never has. An expectation that he might sleep well is like an expectation he’s going to sprout feathers one day and fly.

Sometimes a + b + c + d  just equals a and b and c and d, not autism, or another composite diagnosis.

Conversely though, even without a formal diagnosis, it doesn’t make dealing with a, b, c and d any easier to deal with it. The long and short of it is that life with Kai is tough. A picture of my life that places my emotional situation within a context of endless before 6am wake-ups, and long days trying to understand a hyperactive, temperamental child while trying to carve out some space for myself, might help to explain my fragility some days. It certainly explains my tiredness.

It helps that he’s bloody brilliant, of course.

Thanks for listening.

He crouches low, with hands poised, counting down numbers in his head that he doesn’t yet know.  Pursed lips start the rumble, louder louder. Until, it’s time. And pointed fingers lead the way to blast off, up and up, with feet following to shoot their way around the room to land on Planet Sofa or Meteorite Mum for brief refuelling, until it’s time to fly again.

He’s a Rocket Man,

no, a pirate…

…climbing his was to the top of his crow’s nest chair to stand with eyes curled round an invisible telescope, reporting back to the captain that there’s a DRAGON on the horizon, the captain who stands looking on with arms crossed and a rue smile at her ignored orders to sit and eat your dinner please. But there’s no time for that when monsters lurk,

cause he’s a Rocket Man,

no, a train…

…chuffing his way along lines in the pavements with locomotive arms circling round and round, picking up speed round corners and stopping for the red man signal with a high whistle, before green green means go go and we’re off again, head down, with his driver frantically steering him out the path of approaching freight-train mobility scooters and pushchairs. But he can’t stop, he has places to be,

cause he’s a Rocket Man,

no, a ROBOT…

… stiff arms and legs marching with squeaks and peeps and whistles loud. Until, of course, his power runs out and he slowly folds himself down, arms hanging limp, in need of an engineer to replace batteries and wind the crank on his back but who will make him wait, despite whispered robot mum mum mum until she’s finished this row and put her knitting needles down with a smile, wondering what she will find next in her living room – racing car, monster, postman, shop keeper, lion, helicopter…

cause he’s a Rocket Man,

stars in his eyes and the whole world in his sights.

____________________________________________

Now it’s your turn. What song or lyric did you use to inspire your writing 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) If you have the time it would be great if you could try and read and comment on at least two other entries.

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

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.

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?