What I know for sure

  

When I was younger I thought I knew a lot of things for sure, and such is the natural and inevitable bravado and confidence of youth. Failure is almost never an option, or even a reality, as our lives are held up and supported by those who come before us - parents, grandparents, teachers and anyone else who has a vested interest in giving us the belief we need in ourselves to take on the big wide world with a fighting chance one day.

 

As I've grown older there are many things I am not so sure of anymore, and I've realised that some of the most difficult things to do as an adult are those which you are not guaranteed the outcome of. You just do it because you must, or because you think it might work, or because you are trying your best. The result you want is not promised, and sometimes your heart is broken. Plain and simple. Life happens, as they say.

So when we decided to immigrate our family from one hemisphere to another based on the belief that both our sons' deserved the opportunity to attend mainstream schools, that it was within our reach to drop our children off at the same school gate each morning, that Malakai belongs with his peers because he's a little boy just like any other little boy - or that he at least deserved the chance to mainstream... all these beliefs that we held onto (and that South Africa couldn't offer us) led the biggest decision we've made for our young family. A move that cost us our life savings, not to mention the priceless loss of leaving our family, our friends, and the home town we've known all our life. Even though we thought we knew what we were doing, we weren't exactly sure how this move would change our lives and if we would end up getting what we so wanted for Malakai and Harlan.

Until we did.

Because we sure did, and I now I know for sure. We made the right move. We did the right thing. Our choice gave us the result we so dreamed of, and even more.

To give you an idea - the letter below is from the Special Education Needs Coordinator (SENCO) at Malakai's new school. This letter followed our first visit to the school once we arrived, where we were shown around and had a meeting with the principle and SENCO.


Dear Loren,

I hope you and your family are settling in well and looking forward to Christmas in Surrey.

Since we were last in touch, we've been advertising for extra special needs assistant support with the view to Malakai having full time 1:1 support. Malakai will be in a Year 1 class with his peers but also have the support he will need to help him access the curriculum at his level and the flexibility to use resources from the Reception classrooms (if you remember how excited he was to try out the bike on the playground!). We feel he will also need some support in the first instance due to his toileting needs and to ensure his safety as he appeared a little flighty on his visit. The advert states that the support is for a Year 1 child with Down syndrome (but does not name Malakai) this is in order to attract people with either experience of working with Down syndrome or people who are willing to learn about working with a child with Malakai's needs. We hope to make an appointment in the first week back after Christmas and aim to start Malakai in the school week of the 13th of January.

The educational psychologist would prefer to see Malakai in our school environment and would like to come in during the first week. No date/time is fixed yet but I will let you know when it is. She will start to assess Malakai's needs and this will feed into the satutory  assessment process which Lauren has sent you a leaflet about. Initially Malakai's support will be paid for from our school funds and once he hopefully gets a Statement of Special Needs additional funding will become available from County.

If you are available then Malakai's class teacher (Mrs Kernot) would like to see you at school next Tuesday. This will be an opportunity for Malakai to look around again and take any photos you might like (Mrs Kernot is also hoping to take photos and put a book together for Malakai). During the visit, we hope Malakai will be able to interact with some of his new class friends and Mrs Kernot is planning some playbased activities. Mrs Kernot is looking forward to meeting you both.

I imagine you've learned so much about Down syndrome as Malakai has grown up and for most of our staff we are at the beginning of the journey. If you have any resources you feel are helpful please let us know. I've been in touch with the Down Syndrome Association who have a great website and give support to schools and families. We also have two special schools locally who have outreach teams who work with us mainstream schools to develop our knowledge on different special needs. There are also some training opportunities coming up in the spring term from the Down Syndrome Association which we hope to attend. The educational psychologist will also provide us with support tailored to meet Malakai's individual needs.

We are a dedicated staff and will do everything we can to ensure Malakai is happy and safe, in a stimulating learning environment.  We look forward to your visit. Many thanks and best wishes.


When I got this email I was left speechless - literally. I didn't know how to respond, what to say, where to even start. I was dumbfounded at the level of interest, care and attention they had given my son. MY son!

We did visit, and it was yet another example of their sincerest hopes to give Malakai the best. We were welcomed by Mrs Kernot (who's wonderful by the way!) and two little ones from Malakai's class. They gave us a school tour (again) and took photos all along the way. Malakai was totally smitten by everyone and wherever we went in the school the teachers and support staff seemed to know who Malakai was, greeting him with warm smiles.

As promised, Mrs Kernot did make a book for malakai and she and the SENCO actually dropped it off at our home and came in to say hi to Malakai and meet Harlan. Dropped it off!!! Seriously...

So, what I know for sure is that we did the right thing. We made a good choice and the promises are like big warm arms enfolding us and saying 'you did good, well done'.

Super soggy days

Thank goodness Harlan loves his wellies (he even wore them right through summer in South Africa), because we landed in the UK and just as I remembered, this place is seriously soggy. And cold. And soggy.

Despite my excitement to finally be getting out of 'limbo' and to be reunited with my husband after 6 weeks apart, I was overwhelmingly distressed at the thought of our upcoming flight to the UK - all 11 hours of it - with two small boys who have their own Life Equation now (check last week's post for the long explanation)...

Good grief was I worried!

But thankfully the flight was overnight and so it actually was simply smashing (see, I'm practicing my Proper English) - other than the fact that Harlan kept asking when we were going to get in the plane and he still refuses to believe that we flew anywhere at all, never mind to the other side of the world...

"But sweetie look," I gesture around the plane, "this is the plane. We are sitting in it."

"But where is it?" Sulky face. "Where?"

"Here... right here. Like all around us," Ummmm, and now?

So, despite the fact that Harlan doesn't believe we went on a plane and flew anywhere we are all doing splendidly (see, Proper English again) in one of the most beautiful parts of the English countryside where there must be about a gajillion trees (all very very pretty) and even then there still aren't enough of them to drink up all the water in the ground, so wellies are a must!

I think we are kinda like Vaalies at the beach in Cape Town, running into the freezing water simply because it's a beach, but all the locals know its crazy freezing? Well, we are kind like that - bundling the boys in warm jackets, gloves and hats and kinda pushing them out of the toasty house and into the freezing cold to 'explore' and 'get out' and other ridikilus things!

Here is a little taster in pictures :)

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).

The sanctity of naptime

 

With two small boys born a very short 18 months apart I am often asked by strangers in shops, at sporting events, or in restaurants if they are twins – to which I respond with a little snort and a single raised eyebrow, “No they aren’t… but they may as well be!” I can’t see why people think they’re twins because they’re quite obviously different sizes, perhaps it’s their matching fair hair and startling blue eyes that does it.

 

The point of the matter is that although they are 18 months apart, they may as well be twins because whatever the one does the other one wants to do, it really is a case of Monkey See Monkey Do in our house. And while this is terribly cute and terribly sweet, it is also terribly challenging and terribly tiring most of the time!

 

Our days are never quiet and they typically start at 5:30am when Malakai’s body clock goes off, and there is no snooze button on that, let me tell you! We never sit still. We are always on the move and when we’re not in the safety of our own home (which has been Stow-Boy-Proofed), I have to be on high alert and watch the two boys constantly. Of course this is getting easier as Harlan gets older, but Malakai is still in the developmental phase that is strongly characterised by unmitigated, fearless, crazy-as-hell exploration!

 

And now they are both realising just how much fun life can be when they team up and attempt a Great Escape. I often have to wonder what a fly on the wall would think when I drop the boys off at crèche in the morning – I won’t lie, some mornings I’ve aged by 5 years in about 15 excruciating minutes… From Harlan hanging off my pants (I know to always wear a belt now) to Malakai’s ritual lick up the side of my face, I am less bothered these days and have thankfully slowed my aging process a bit.

 

But I am still often caught in a split second decision to run after Malakai who’s aimed himself like a speeding bullet at traffic, or a body of water, or whatever other death-defying situation is facing him and Harlan… Mostly I pray like hell that Harlan will stand completely still and heed my calls to ‘Stay there Harlan! Don’t move! Mommy is coming! Stay ok!’ as I do a very unflattering sprint – my cheeks flapping up and down, my not-so-firm-mommy-boobs pushing my hold-it-together-mommy-bra to its limits – to catch Malakai who at this point is laughing his head off at the sight of his mother…

 

So, back to the point of this post…

 

Nap time. That beautiful time of day where all is silent and my children are guaranteed to be safe and sound for at least 2 hours. It is sacred in our house, and as such we treat it with great respect…

 

Thou shalt not venture out between the hours of 12:00 and 14:00

Thou shalt not book any activities or agree to any socialising in the middle of a day

Thou shalt not open the door to any visitors between the very same hours

Thou shalt not mess with our nap time, ever, unless you want to a can of whip opened on your ass

 

And friends always say, “Oh I wish my little one still napped in the day!” to which I respond with another snort and single raised eyebrow, “Do you think my children want to sleep? Re-eeeaaaaa-lllyyy?” Of course they don’t! My children don’t calmly walk up to me and request a little shut-eye… never gonna happen!

 

Instead we beg, threaten and bribe our children to close their sweet little eyes and let mommy and daddy sit for a little bit. Yip – nap time is our saving grace, our little window of sanity, our ‘happy-hour’ and I don’t even want to think of the day that we actually do have to give it up… Hopefully its far, far, far in the future!

Finally! An app for when my kid wees!

Luckily for us moms, Huggies Brazil has just launched an app that can tell you when your baby's made a wee, because the last 6 million years of child-rearing has obviously left mothers still mock-fainting in frustration on a daily basis - oh my word! if only I could get this nappy-thing right! thank you from the bottom of my heart!

*Ahem*

Whatever happened to simply using... well... I don't know... your eyes? Surely I am not the only mother in the world who is blessed with the super-power of vision-detection? When my baby's nappy is hanging between their knees, they probably need a change, no? Another amazing skill mothers acquire is a sense of time passing... if it's been hours and hours, well then baby probably needs a change, no? And then, there is good old fashioned common sense - if it is stinky, saggy or dripping down the baby's leg, it might be a good idea to change their nappy. 

But lets for one moment suspend all notion that mothers are skilled enough to figure out their baby needs a change... let's pretend that we have actually eaten our porridge-brains in a misguided and totally famished moment...

This app, called TweetPee (very innovative), supposes that you put a little thingy on the front of your baby's nappy which measures 'moisture levels' and tweets you when your baby's made a wee. What isn't clear is if it can discern a big wee from a small wee, and perhaps a very runny poo from a wee? Perhaps it has a pee-to-poo ratio measure-rometer? The app also lets you punch in when you've started a new bag of nappies and lets you know when you should put your next order in (of Huggies, no doubt). Because, simply peering at your nappy-stash is never enough of an indication that you're about to run out...

For those of you who are interested in yet another product aimed at making parenting non-existent easier, this app is only available in Brazil at the moment - sorry for you! For the rest of us, we will have to slog through the mental-minefield of our babies' bodily functions.In all honesty, tell me when they've made an app that actually changes a baby's bum in the middle of a cold winter's night for me and I might just be interested. Otherwise, don't insult my intelligence.

BY Loren Stow