An Unfolding

 

Being a parent of a child with special needs is many things, but dull it isn’t. Well at least not for me! I am constantly having mini-awakenings – small aha moments as the meaning of my child’s diagnosis unfolds a little more day by day.

                One such unfolding occurred this morning when I realised that while we have spent Malakai’s life so far doing everything we can to afford him a ‘typical’ development and will we will continue to do so, the opposite of this is also coming into play now. Like a yin and yang or push and pull, I have realised that there are some things we simply cannot improve on.

                We can (and have) helped Malakai to develop in amazing ways – and I believe this is because I have never placed a ceiling on what he’s capable of. I have never thought he was incapable of something simply because of his Down syndrome.

                But – and this is a new but… I have realised that there are some things we simply cannot push him to be or do. There are some things we simply have to accept. And I know I am sounding rather cryptic here, so let me give an example.

                Walking into school…

                Something that most kids just do. Maybe a tear or two, even a bit of minor manipulation. I know because I’ve been there with Harlan. But eventually your kid just walks into school right? Well not if they’re Malakai.

                He simply refuses to walk into school like the rest of the kids. He cries, screams, performs and is genuinely and desperately unhappy by walking into school. And together with his teachers we tried everything – nothing short of a welcoming party! The only thing that was missing was a marching band and streamers… And yet? Not having it.

                Last week after a particularly difficult drop off where Malakai even tried to bite me I stumbled back to my car after he’d been dragged off into school and I wept. Big hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I just couldn’t believe that after all we had been through with Malakai, after all his hard work and our immigration to another hemisphere, it could all fall down on walking into school. Seriously? It would be this that would undo us?

                Then it dawned on me – step back and take the pressure off. Think of another way – walk him to his desk myself. Give it a bash because really, it couldn’t get much worse… And it worked. He goes in happily now when I take him. Problem solved right? Yes! But this is what I mean about a yin and yang – not accepting and accepting. It’s a fine line and a funky dance…

                I realised today that there are just some ways that Malakai is different. He will never be the same as other kids. And nothing we do can change that. We need to accept that and meet him where he is.

                The challenge is deciding when to accept and when to push him to achieve more, do more and be more… that’s an aha moment for another day obviously.

1+1 = 4 x C to the Square root of Chaos

 

I never was the most gifted student of mathematics, and as someone who loves language as much as I do I was shocked to recently discover that mathematics is a bit like another 'language' and that I should in fact like it if I like language so much...

Nah...

Not my thing.

I was so happy when I wrote my matric maths final paper way back when (let's not mention how many years ago that was!) and I think I closed my paper and myself on maths. Beyond the most rudimentary of addition and subtraction when I need it most, I steer clear of sums of any kind. I just don't have it in me...

So I was understandably excited the other day when I met another dad who agreed with my suspicions on additions to the family - that is to say that one child is one child, of course, but adding another child to the equation does not equal two... well not in terms of work involved, the attention forcibly demanded, and the overall effort needed to get from morning to night without needing to crack open a bottle of scotch.

No.

1+1 simply doesn't = 2

Why is this simple act of adding another child to a family such an upheaval? Why does it feel like we now have 22 children instead of two, like we missed something along the way that we were supposed to read or know or learn? I had to start to think, and because I'm just not that good at mathematics, I couldn't use figures to well... figure it out.

This is my theory though - and I think I've kind proved it when I happen to have just one of the boys with me instead of both, which by the way is a total breeze and makes me feel almost like a good mom again - but I digress... The reason that two kids equals the effort of having 22 kids is because they are boys (yes, this matters... and no, all you moms to girls only... girls simply don't get anywhere near the chaos of boys), and because they wired to do several things seemingly simultaneously and with such agility that I sometimes feel like I'm in the middle of a guerrilla warfare, not sure of which way to turn...

I like to call my theory the 1+1 = 4 x C to the Square root of Chaos

Compete
Two kids like to compete for space. For attention. For who gets what first. For more attention. For who spoke first. For more attention. For who broke what and when. For more attention... and... ummmm... for more attention (I think that about covers it).

Compare
Yes, they want everything that they other one has... all. the. time. It can be a completely useless broken clothes hanger (this is not a word of a lie) and the other one will want the exact same thing, in the same colour, broken in the identical way. And you're like, "oh no, I would never give into my children in that way..." but I do, and you will too. Just wait.

Conspire
Just when you think your children will never stop competing and comparing, they do something even worse... conspire. The team up like a crazy little two-pack and just attack; hanging off my arms and legs, jumping all over, giggling as I trip all over the place and try to get them into the car without having one of them land under oncoming traffic. I have had mornings dropping the boys at creche where I just hang my head I leave and exhale... seriously. And then conspiracy usually leads to the last 'c'...

Crash
You just know it... this is going to end in tears. Someone is going to have a meltdown. There will be snot, and maybe even blood, and definitely screams and accusations and a total drama...You're just not sure exactly how it will happen, but it's coming and that's no lie...

So, that it exactly why 1+1 does not equal 2! Because with two (or more) invokes the  4 x C to the Square root of Chaos. But I've learned a few things in my last almost-four years of rearing 22 children, and there are a few antidotes - the two most popular being smiles (your childrens', which will just make you instantly forget everything a bit like the zapper thing on Men in Black) and naps (please refer to my very important post about this) which give you time to recharge and regroup, ready for the next round...

Someone please report me!

I am probably going to come to regret writing this post, but hey... what is blogging if it isn't an honest look at a person's life? And, in the interests of letting other mothers know that they are certainly not alone, it is my obligation to be as open as possible - not only about the good, but about the bad as well...

This morning was one such day. You know the days when you feel like you've simply lost any and all control over your children? That you've failed miserably and you're up the proverbial discipline creek without a paddle?

What started off as a good day - and by that I mean I managed to dress Harlan without a temper tantrum (10 stars for mommy!), and off to Speech Therapy we went (our usual Thursday morning appointment for the past... oh I dunno... 4 years!).

All the therapist wants from me is five uninterrupted minutes at the end of the session to discuss Malakai's progress and our work for the week ahead, but no. The boys will not let me have 5 minutes, or even 15 seconds for that matter! They run around her room, screaming, unpacking her handbag under her desk (gasp!), trying to escape out the door, the window, climbing the ceiling... whatever they can manage to achieve.

And I try everything (as I do... every Thursday) to keep them quiet. But no. There is nothing like two children who for all intents and purposes seem to have been raised by wolves, running around a therapy room totally oblivious to their mother's pleas for them to sit for. just. a. minute.

Eventually I am dragged out of the place, waving a hasty goodbye to the therapist, and we hop in the car for the 3 minute drive to creche. There the boys run off into the playground (the opposite direction of the classes) and I am left to chase after them in my very unflattering way...

I can carry on but whatever - I am sure you get the picture.

It is on days like these that I wonder if I'm the worst mother alive, totally incapable of rendering to the world well-behaved children? I wonder if I should report myself to child services for the obviously terrible job I'm doing?

There are days like these for every mother I suppose - and today happens to be my turn. I wonder if all my hard work and hours of negotiating, time outs, and putting boundaries into place has made any difference? Do my boys actually care? Not today quite obviously.

So I sit and wonder and think and plan... how am I going to do this differently? How on earth will I get my children to listen? Will I ever feel like a good mom again? And I know I will, I am sure I will, but for now I want to weep a bit into my extra-strong cup of coffee and wallow happily in the silence while my boys are at creche.

No witty solutions. No happy endings. The end (for today).