Headaches and strained necks. Not only does my son clamber into bed with me every morning (generally between 4 & 5) he also takes up a considerable amount of bed. If he is not jabbering away about washing machines (current favourite) he lays back, both arms behind his head like he is on a sun lounger. This leaves me cramped into half a foot for a couple of hours.
Sometime soon we will learn what school place, let it be sooner not later.
Worrying in the middle of the night is just one of the low points that I face as a mum.
You know if you get a thread on your clothes, you’ll get a letter? Everyone knows that, right?
There’s some lores that you just live by. This is one I have taken into my being and rewritten into my script so I really do believe it happens. As time goes on and I don’t receive post, I receive promotions (hello 20% off L’Occitaine) this lore has taken on a new level of significance. A thread means I will receive an important personal piece of mail. This week a very important and weighty letter came about A and I had been wondering what news was coming.
So do you just pay more attention to the coincidence of the event because you have seen a thread and made a connection to it? Or does little incidental magic exist? Somewhere in between probably.
We have been working double time to get everything unpacked, throwing out stuff we don’t need and panicking about the stuff we don’t have room for.
Little A has coped well with the help of WidgitOnline (such an amazing resource) and a social story. His grandparents looked after him for two days and prepped him well too.
They prewarned him what it would be like so he keeps telling me “still lots of boxes” and then last night “we need to tidy the boxes”. Everyone’s a critic!
My favourite echolalia of the moment…Bella Lasagne from original Fireman Sam “Mama Mia” offered today when I said “Mummy just going toilet”.
We have been in a whirlwind of decision-making since last Tuesday when finally finally finally we received the expected diagnosis. Apart from the few surprise tears as the paediatrician confirmed autistic spectrum disorder with sensory modulatory behaviour, I have felt relieved. Relieved to be believed, believed to be knowledgeable about our own child. Now it’s just a small matter of a new school nursery, new house and new world? Mama mia!
Somehow I end up dragged into a soft play this week and although it’s sunny, the little man is only just over his cold, and these places are like hell on earth I somehow agreed. (Mummy got played)
He loves the little ones area. It is intended for 2 and under but all the kids love it.
Little man loves pressing the button to make the balls whizz round a tube. Well, two six year old girls threw me some serious shade. He had pressed the button before they wanted. They slammed their balls to the ground and scowled at me spectacularly.
As usual he needs a few prompts to get up on the big person section . I tempt him up, sitting on the step. He has been here before but always needs to be reminded how you get around. Up I go to relieve his anxiety, he looks at me and says, “Mummy going down the stairs”. Top communication skills there; I know when I’m not wanted.
He did let me come and play in our favourite part: the lights room. Can’t beat a bit of sensory experience to make my little man happy.
I’ve been so busy being apoplectic online about the DeNiro/ Vaxxed controversy, I had forgotten I needed to book in the preschool booster. Oops. Finally today was the day.
In preparation we looked at photos of the doctors’ surgery. Little A loves it there, of course he does there’s a train track.
We also got out the doctor’s set to practice injections. A rare bit of pretend play which mainly involved banging the syringe into the table. Using the visual timetable, we were off…
We support Junior Doctors
All went pleasingly well until the first injection went in. Little A looked so very disappointed in me, “don’t like it Mummy!” He did eventually listen to “sit still” after a few tears. We did it though. Thank goodness for that.
We’re home, watching Thomas with the track out. Our new Thomas and Friends Library books arrived just in time. Think he’s just about forgiven me for the betrayal.
It always amuses me that I have to try so hard to stretch into yoga poses but I go to wake little A up and he is doing it naturally.
Once he’s out of his sleeping bag, I say “big stretch” and he grabs his legs into the perfect happy baby pose. I then stretch up to the sky and he copies me making a big groan noise. I didn’t teach him that, instinct took over. We all love to stretch out in the morning.