Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Archive for April 2011

Memories

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Pudding has an awesome memory.  We’ve never had it tested, but every once in a while she’ll say something that tales my breath away.  She has been able to recite entire books from the age of two.  She remembers what dress she wore on her 2nd birthday.  She remembers almost everything that everyone has ever said to her, indeed this appears to be the way she learns language.  I have dark fantasies about abusing this gift by taking her to Vegas for some card-counting, but have managed not to exploit it yet, even though the chips are down (ha ha).

I don’t intend to imply that Pudding has any savant skills.  She is no Rain Man, and is way cuter than Dustin Hoffman or Tom Cruise anyway.  I suspect rather that her memory skills have been sharpened because when the world gives you unpredictable and unreliable information, you have to use what you can to make sense of it all.  Her memory muscles simply work harder than ours do.  As she continues to develop, I’m hopeful that she will be able to use these skills effectively, and they’ll enable her to navigate the social world a little easier.  For now though, that memory can prove equal parts useful and problematic.

Take Wednesday.  Pudding has a half-day at school.  Every other week she has an OT session, but this was our week off.  Pudding was reluctant to go to school.  She is going through a phase of separation anxiety, and wanted to stay with me.  I promised her we’d do something later that she would enjoy.  Immediately she requested that we go to the mall.  Not a problem.  I promised, and she happily left on the bus.

I still had some chores to do, so decided to get them done in the morning so we’d have plenty of time to fulfill my promise.  At the store, Cubby went through his usual routine of taking off his shoes.  Rather than putting them back on for him to remove again, I placed them on the handy shelf below the shopping trolley/cart.  To distract him and keep his hands busy, I bought a warm soy milk from the “Mermaid Cafe”, which Cubby proudly told me was coffee.  We carried on shopping without incident, his shoes still riding below.  Even though I noticed as I put him back in his car seat, in the 20 seconds I took to return the trolley, I forgot them, and subsequently drove home without them.  Obviously, I do not have Pudding’s mad memory skills.

There was no time to go back before I had to get Pudding from the school bus, so I called to ask them to keep them for me until I could collect them.  Cubby wears custom-made orthopedic inserts due to problems with his legs turning in, so there was no question wearing different shoes- we only have the one pair.  By this time, Cubby was screaming tired, so I put him down for a nap.  I decided to be proactive and make dinner in the slow cooker.  I opted for Maple Dijon Chicken, but erm, forgot the Dijon.  Yes.  I swear I had a decent memory until I developed pregnesia carrying Pudding. I turned it up high, and added some rice.

Pudding’s greeting to me as I met the bus was, “I want to go to the mall now.”

Right.  The little glimmer of hope that she’d forgotten about that fizzled out.  I explained that we couldn’t go to the mall as I’d lost Cubby’s shoes, and we needed to collect them.  Cue unhappy Pudding.

When Cubby woke up, I bundled them both into the car, and we collected the shoes.  All the while, Pudding demanding we go to the mall.  To appease them both, I suggested that we went to the book store nearby.  Pudding ran to the Abby dolls again, Cubby went right for the trains.  Around 45 minutes later, I realized in my haste to leave, I’d forgotten to turn down the heat of the slow cooker.  I told the kids we had to leave again.  Evidently, this was a cue for the kids to pitch why I should buy them their favourite items.  Pudding was in no way appeased by my assertion that she had her own Abby doll at home.  She wanted that one.

Likewise Cubby didn’t care that he has a bunch of brand new trains at home from his birthday.  He needed Salty, an obscure diesel dockyard engine.  He doesn’t even watch the Thomas the Tank Engine show, but has a catalogue of engines that he studies.  Oh yes, I’m not even going to open that can of spectrummy worms right now!  He screamed that he wanted Salty, as I put him in a fireman’s lift on one shoulder, my backpack on the other, and shepherded a whining Pudding out of the store.

On the way to the car, Pudding remembers that she still wants to go to the mall, and begins her plaintive petition to go there.  Meanwhile, a still screaming Cubby recognizes the mermaid logo, and changes his yells for Salty to “I WANT COFFEE!  MUMMY, I NEED COFFFFFEEEE.”  Pudding decided to join in, only she wanted her coffee at the mall, as four year-old do.  My off-kilter sense of humour kind of relished the looks from everyone in the car park, as I looked exactly like the kind of flustered woman who does, in fact, pump double espressos into her high as kites young children.  Wonderful timing there, kids!

I drove home to find that the only useful thing I’d achieved all day- cooking dinner- looked and tasted exactly like vomit.  I served it up anyway, and amazingly the kids ate it.  I wonder how long it will take them to forget this particular act of motherly malevolence.

Try getting this image out of your mind!

Another day in our life.  Memories are made of these.  At least mine is goldfish short these days!

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 15, 2011 at 7:44 am

Sensory Integration and the Autism Spectrum: One Woman’s Experience

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Regular readers know that I tend to stick to telling stories about my kids, and my experience raising them.  Our situation differs greatly to those of other families touched by autism, though of course, there are some strong similarities too.  One thing I’m always conscious of is that these are my own words, and not Pudding’s.  She may interpret this whole experience quite differently as she grows.  And sweet little kids with autism spectrum disorders grow up to be adults with autism spectrum disorders.  It is the lifelong part that we sometimes forget in our rush for early intervention.  I don’t want this month of Autism Awareness to pass without acknowledging that fact.

I can’t predict how she’ll be as an adult, but I do know that I’m incredibly fortunate in knowing some remarkable women on the spectrum, like Lisa and Laura.  When Pudding can’t tell me how strange and uncomfortable the world seems to her, I have the benefit of listening to their voices.  It is a gift.  One I’d like to share with you today as I invite Laura to take the stage to talk about sensory integration.  It is an honour to have her here today.  Please give her a warm welcome.
4 Aspies, 1 house, that's...Life in the house that Asperger built

Sensory Integration and the Autism Spectrum: One Woman’s Experience

:walks up to the lectern…shuffles papers…taps microphone:

“Is this thing on?  Oh it is! Ok…ahem… Hello, my name is Laura, and I have Asperger Syndrome.”

:audience responds:

“Hi, Laura.”

“There are a lot of things I could tell you about what it’s like to be an Aspie, the difficulty navigating social interactions, the communication struggles, and the intense focus on special interests.  Today, however, I’m going to talk about the problems with sensory integration.  Scientists are just now coming to understand, and measure the extent to which people with Autism Spectrum Disorders have difficulty properly processing sensory information.  We complain about things that most others don’t even notice.  For many, these things will just be bothersome, or uncomfortable.  For others, however, they can even be painful.  Each of us is affected differently by this.  My problem areas are primarily sound and touch.

I am extremely sensitive to the way things feel on my skin.  I don’t like the feel of flannel for example.  Believe it or not, it feels rough and gritty.  I can sleep on flannel sheets, but only in long sleeved pajamas with pants (made of either cotton jersey or fleece), and the pillow case has to be regular cotton.  I cannot put my face on a flannel pillow case.   Not only is it rough, but it’s too hot.  Also, regardless of the time of year, I must have a heavy blanket or comforter.  I need the pressure in order to get to sleep.  Otherwise, the sheets feel wispy and light.  They brush lightly on my skin, and that gives me the willies.

Light touch on my skin, generates in me the same reaction others have to hearing nails on a chalkboard.  And while we’re discussing chalkboards, I really can’t stand the feel of chalk.  It makes all of the hair on my body stand straight on end, just thinking about it.  My list of tactilely disturbing things is actually somewhat long.  In addition to what I’ve already mentioned there is:

  • The feel of someone softly stroking my hair, arms or back
  • Anything, except for shoes and the ground, touching the soles of my feet
  • Crisp, tight cotton blouses, specifically the sleeves
  • Limp handshakes
  • Someone resting their hand or arm on my shoulder
  • A light breeze against my skin.  On this one, I will actually put on a sweater even if it’s a hot, light breeze just because I don’t like the feel of the air moving across my skin.

There’s more but I think you get the idea.  Essentially, I’m super sensitive to light touch, and things that are tight or rough.

Sound is another area of sensitivity for me, but it is harder to quantify.  I definitely have a problem with things that are too loud, except sometimes “too loud” varies.  I’m always upset by sudden loud noises, and for some reason all of my sound sensitivities are magnified 10 times or more when I’m inside a car.  I can sometimes be affected by pitches that are too high, but I am more frequently disturbed by pitches that are too low.  Some men speak in very baritone, gravelly voices, and it just sends me through the roof!  Just like with touch, my reaction to these is just like that “nails on the chalkboard” feeling.  But that’s not really so bad, is it?  It’s just a momentary flash of the willies, after all, right?  No.  The real problems start after that.

All of my sensitivities, once triggered, lead directly to incredible feelings of physical discomfort, and increased stress and anxiety.  In some cases, this can be resolved as easily as taking off the offending article of clothing, or leaving the room.  Other times, however, it begins a cycle that can be difficult to stop.  Once my anxiety starts to rise, I become more sensitive.  That leads to more reactions, which is followed by more stress and anxiety.  As this continues, I get increasingly cranky, which then leads to increased difficulties in some of those areas I’m not talking about today, navigating social interactions, and communication struggles.  It’s this spiral, caused by my hypersensitivities, that causes me the most trouble.

Not all sensory integration problems involve hypersensitivity, however.  Some involve being less sensitive than average.  In my case, I’m hyposensitive to taste.  It’s not that I can’t taste, it’s just that I don’t taste as well as everyone else.  For example, it’s been determined that I can’t taste bitter at all.  This actually proved to be a good thing for my mother who had her hands full with everything else going on with me.  Unlike, many on the Spectrum, my lack of tasting ability meant that I wasn’t ever a picky eater.  My mom put the food in front of me, and I ate it.  Not all hyposensitivities however, work toward the greater good.  There are some, like my daughter, who don’t feel pain as acutely as they should.  This can lead to dangerous consequences that require an incredible level of diligence on the part of caregivers and loved ones to prevent.

Issues like these are dealt with daily by people on the Spectrum, and those who love and care for them.  It is my sincerest hope that sharing this with you here today might help someone better understand a loved one, or feel less isolated in their own experience.  Thank you.”

:takes papers…leaves stage:

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 14, 2011 at 6:55 am

Wordless Wednesday 13 Apr 11

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Keeping it blue.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 13, 2011 at 6:42 am

Tangled

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Before Abby Cadabby, Ernie, around the time of Bashful, but after Upsy-Daisy, there was Sleeping Beauty and all the Disney Princesses.  She still likes Disney Princesses to this day.  So do we.  Having a 4 year-old girl in the house means we have an excuse to indulge ourselves by watching Disney movies.  We have been waiting to add another title to the collection of Pudding approved movies, though popcorn lends an appeal to certain non-Disney choices.

We didn’t get to see Tangled at the cinema, as there was no sensory showing for it, but it looked good from all the clips I saw.  I resolved to buy it when it came out.

I’d read another FS blogger’s post about her daughter being inspired by Tangled to draw a Rapunzel mural on her bedroom wall.  What struck me the most is a comment she made later about Rapunzel dealing with her isolation with art.  The Small Bits family are posted to a Mexican border town, a place that is dangerous and isolating.  I hadn’t thought until that point about what Pudding’s artwork is telling us.  She is in her own way isolated.  Her drawings focus on human faces, particularly the eyes.

I loved it.  Pudding seemed to enjoy it too.  She still cantered away when the popcorn ran out, but every once in a while she would return to check it out.  When I sat down to watch Tangled, I was thinking about it in these terms, and watching it through a lens of Foreign Service isolation.

But not for long.

Rapunzel strokes her hair when she is nervous.  She goes barefoot the entire time.  She yearns to be with other people, but is scared of them.  She is (said to be) clumsy and naive.  There is a whole montage of her swinging, rolling around, and generally sensory-seeking.  Even though she has lived in a tower her entire life, she is not at all afraid of being in water.  She has special talents too.

I’m not saying that Rapunzel is on the spectrum (though if Arthur can do it, I don’t see why Disney can’t go that little bit further).  I’m saying that I viewed Tangled through a spectrummy eye.  Even though I was predisposed to interpret it differently.

It is more than seeing my child in a different way, it is seeing life through an entirely different lens.  The world is altered with my spectrummy eyes.

So if it looks this different to me now, how does Pudding look at the world?  I still don’t know.  But I can tell you that she asked for a Rapunzel doll as her next reward.  Maybe she is starting to see herself through these eyes.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 12, 2011 at 7:42 am

The Flow of Awareness

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It starts with a drop, which turns into a trickle, which becomes a stream, and then a flood of awareness.

My own journey to awareness started like that.  With a drop of realizing that Pudding communicating differently to her friend, to a flood of life-changing diagnosis.  But that was just my awareness.  That was never going to be enough.  I’m just a drop.  I talked here about how I’d tentatively, nervously updated my Facebook status.  A trickle of people knew about Pudding’s autism.  Then I began a blog, and it turned into a stream.  I talked to everyone I know, and everyone who reads here about autism.  But it doesn’t go far enough.

This is the month for awareness.  Everybody is sick of April already.  You all know autism.  Some of you know Pudding.  You wouldn’t be reading this without awareness.  Bloggers are sick of raising awareness.  They write about it ad nauseum.  They live autism.  They’ve raised awareness in everyone they know.  The stream stops there.  It stops flowing, it becomes stagnant.

When everyone we know has awareness, we need to keep flowing out to everyone we don’t know.  Because once upon a time, we were just a drop, and we were sustained by that same current.  It is hard to imagine there was a time when we weren’t aware, but for me this wasn’t even a long time ago.  This was why it was so important for our voices to be heard by Parents magazine.  Today, my post was published on their site.  All month long we are taking our stories to a new audience, displaying both the diversity of the autism spectrum, and the experiences of the families living with autism.  Spreading awareness, reaching out.  We still need to go further.

We need a flood.

That is where you come in, dear reader.

If you are a blogger, get out of your stream.  Write a post aimed at readers not personally touched by autism, and share it.  Parents Magazine is still accepting submissions.  I know many of you have reservations about that, so find another outlet.  Write a letter to a local newspaper, or post on  a non-autism site.  Link up a photo that encapsulates your life with autism, and link up for a Wordless Wednesday.  Here is the tough part.  Tell everyone you know to share it.

If you are not a blogger, or a writer, or even not personally touched by autism: share it.  Take one of the Voices of Autism posts, or any other blog post about autism that you like and “like it”, tweet it, email it.  Tell your friends and colleagues to read it, for Autism Awareness Month.  You’ll become a trickle of your own.

How do I know?  This isn’t my idea.  My friend S. who I knew from Luxembourg asked if she could email one of my posts to her colleagues.  I’d just been waiting here for people to come to me to read my story, content enough with floating where I am.  She inspired me to keep up the flow by beginning her own trickle.  For the rest of this month, I’m going to get out of my comfort zone.  I’m going to ask everyone I know to do this for me.  I personally find that more difficult than standing in front of The White House wearing blue.

To keep the flow of awareness going this month, we need a flood.  It starts with you.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 10, 2011 at 8:19 pm

Eye Tracking

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Yesterday was the second portion of Cubby’s 24 months data point in the sibling study.  We’ve been involved since Cubby was 10 months old.  Each time he is subjected to several hours of testing, and it is intense for both of us, but definitely for a good cause.  The work by the team at Kennedy Krieger is making huge strides in early detection of autism spectrum disorders.  Though exhausting to go through, it is exciting to be part of such worthwhile research that will ultimately benefit countless families.  There are many different developmental assessments.  Some of them are widely in use, such as the ADOS or Peabody tests, but others are still experimental.

This time Cubby took part in a fascinating new study assessing eye tracking in infants and toddlers at risk for autism.  He sat on a chair with me, with special cameras trained on his eyes which followed every movement as he watched a monitor.  To get him comfortable, we initially watched puppets and animals, then the testing began.  We were shown images of geometric shapes with slowly moving patterns, interspersed with clips of faces.  In addition, extra targets popped up to see how well the eyes would saccade between the images.  In between there was a video clip of a baby putting blocks in a container.

Cubby was very opinionated about what he saw, and felt the need to comment on everything.  I don’t know where he gets that from!  He was much more interested in the toys on the foreground of the video clip of the baby- trains and trucks.  When that part was over he demanded to see more!  He also was a bit creeped out by some of the faces he was shown.  He repeatedly announced that he didn’t like one man’s face in particular.  Oh yes, he was very vocal about that.

After the testing was complete, the research assistant came around to explain the results to us.  (Just initial findings, like all the testing it is reviewed and scrutinized at length).  Only at that point did I realize that the man’s face which Cubby found so objectionable bore a striking resemblance to that of the one conducting the experiment!  Oh dear.

I was shown the targets of Cubby’s eye gazes throughout the testing, so I could see which images he looked at the most.  He showed a strong preference for faces over the patterned shapes, and particularly the eyes and mouth areas.  A very positive result.  And of course, he had a strong preference for looking at the trains and trucks, which hardly surprises me at all (special interests!).  In spite of that, this particular experiment gives me no real concern.  So far Cubby has excellent eye contact, even with strangers.

Though it isn’t possible, I’d love to have seen what the results would have been for Pudding.  She is very interested in faces, choosing to draw them over and over, and look at photos on her iPad or in albums.  I wonder how well she’d have been able to shift from one image to another. This test may be able to find eye tracking difficulties in young infants.  The question now is if it is consistently reliable in detecting an issue in children who are subsequently diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder.  This is where the siblings come in.    The study we are involved in recruits children under the age of 18 months, but there are others looking for pregnant women who already have a child with autism.  The earlier the detection, the earlier the intervention.

Ultimately, this could be an excellent non-invasive screening tool for the general population.  The difficulty with many current assessments is that there is a considerable amount of researcher bias.  Some children may be found to meet the criteria with one diagnostician, but not with another.  A screening tool that would measure in a more objective way would be incredibly useful.  I could see such apparatus in a pediatrician’s office, being used to screen every infant who comes into the clinic, deciding which ones require further assessment.

They just might want to find different faces for the more…selective participants.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 8, 2011 at 7:01 am

Behaviour Is Communication

with 22 comments

I didn’t come up with this idea.  It was….ooh, can’t find it.  Probably Skinner though, sounds like one of his.  Feel free to let me know in the comments, I don’t have time to find out this week.  Anyway, behaviour is communication.  I know that.  I’m a Spectrummy Mummy.  I know these things because we get a nice little manual explaining everything with the diagnosis.  No, I’m just messing with you.  I know this through learning the hard way.  There never is an easy way, now is there?

So just to be clear, I know that behavior is communication.  Right?

I also know that my girl has a pragmatic language delay, and that her senses create a bunch of mixed signals, which cause her to be disconnected from her body.  Yep, I know that.  I know things, see.

On top of this, I know my girl.  I know my girl.  I don’t claim to always understand her, but I do know her.

Still, on Monday, all I saw was a terrible day.  I knew her sensory issues were driving her behavior, but that seemed to be all I could see.  She was more impulsive, compulsive, destructive than I’d seen her in a very long time.  I asked myself why, but I guess the part of my brain that figure out these things was too busy trying to deal with the chaos.  Because unregulated Pudding is chaos.  Impulsive, compulsive, destructive chaos.

She was ill.  She felt wrong, and was compelled to make herself feel right, with her sensory-seeking ways.  When they didn’t work, she didn’t stop, she just kept going.  Desperately trying to make it better, angry with me and herself for not being able to fix the problem.  She can’t tell me she is ill, in fact, she says the reverse when I ask her.  Experience has given us clues.  If she talks about wanting to clean her mouth- get a bucket, she is less than 10 seconds away from vomiting.  If she wants to lie down, or needs a blanket, or tells you to clean it up, she is ill.  She’ll tell you she is not sick if you ask her, but she is.  You just have to read her behaviour.

So I can’t tell you why I didn’t think she was ill on Monday.  That I didn’t interpret all that behavior as communicating that basic fact.  If I’d known, we’d definitely have skipped speech therapy.  Who needs that when they are ill?

Yet, aside from that, I wouldn’t have done anything different.  When she got into the fridge and began smearing food everywhere, I found some tactile activities for her.  When she jumped on the sofa and the bed,  I directed her to the trampoline.  When she asked for hugs, I gave them.  When she pushed me away angrily, I let her.  When she screamed, I was calm.  Not a natural calm, but a learned, forced, necessary calm.  A calm almost two years in the making.

I’m not a saint, I was ready for a drink when Daddy walked through the door, I whined to him about all the gory details of the day.  But I’m also a little wiser than I used to be.  I know that behaviour is communication.  And even when, especially when, I can’t understand hers, I need to make sure I’m communicating the right thing.  That I’m here, even when she pushes me away.  That I can’t always make it better, but I will always try.  That when her world feels terrible and different, I will be constant.

You know though, if I could go back two years ago to that Mummy who didn’t know, I’d whisper in her ear what I know now.  Behaviour is communication.  Somebody (damn it, who?) very important came up with that, but before you even try to understand Pudding, you’d better look at your behaviour first.  You can read all about it in this manual.  Nope, just kidding!  Still no manual, sorry.  I keep finding there is still so much I just don’t know, even when I know it.

_______

Today you’ll also find me at The SPD Blogger Network.  Come over and read and share.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 7, 2011 at 6:43 am

Wordless Wednesday 06 Apr 11

with 8 comments

April is Autism Awareness Month.  For more information, read here, or click anywhere.

 

Lighting It Up Blue

Asking The President to do the same

Playing It Up Blue

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 6, 2011 at 6:48 am

Mother’s Day

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Sunday was UK Mother’s Day.  Five years ago on UK Mother’s Day, I learned I was pregnant.  I called my mum that day to tell her she was going to be a grandmother, she was almost as surprised as I was.  Anyone who knows my mum knows that she can’t be called by that word.  She is all life and energy and there is nothing granny about her.  Pudding would call her Nanny.  That was our first Mother’s Day with Pudding.  Not that I knew she was Pudding then.  Not that I was really a mother then.  I had no idea what was in store.  I felt at the time that I’d never beat giving my mother that phone call that day.  I was wrong.

I’ve subsequently had a few Mother’s Days.  More than you’d think, actually.  I claimed the UK one, as that is the one I’ve always done.  I also got the American one, because the kids are…you know, Americans, and Luxembourg had a different one, and given that my kids were born there, it felt only right that I should get that one too.  This mothering is hard work, you know…you get a perk, you take it.  I took all three, wouldn’t you?  Spectrummy Daddy worked out that he still only got the one day, so when we left Luxembourg I had to give that one up.  I still keep two though.  I have Cubby, so I’m mothering twice as hard as I was before!

The one thing I haven’t managed in the last five years is to spend a Mother’s Day with my mum.  We have to make do with a call.  We usually do a skype video call so that she can see Pudding and Cubby.  Or at least so that she can see Cubby, because Pudding tends to canter out of the room as soon as she hears the dial tone.  The more we try to draw her close, the more she backs away.  She needs to be in just the right frame of mind to talk, but guessing when that is, and accommodating time zones is not the easiest.  Trying to create and maintain relationships with loved ones at a distance is a hard enough endeavour, you throw an ASD into the mix and it becomes impossible hopeless insurmountable a challenge.  I tried the tactic of calling while the kids ate lunch, in the hopes that she would stay in her chair and be seen in the background at least.

Instead, all the stars aligned in the sky.  She came up and crawled into my lap.  She gave her grandparents five minutes of social Pudding, the one who adores the limelight.  She had a conversation, blew kisses, she told her grandparents that she loved them, and then made up an impromptu song about Mother’s Day for her Nanny (to the tune of Happy Birthday).  It was everything I’d hoped for since Florida.  It was everything I’d hoped for since that phone call five years previously.  Later her other grandmother called- it was her birthday.  We couldn’t really hope for two such rare performances on the same day, but that was what she delivered.

In fact, the whole day she was just a golden child.  She was incredibly well-behaved, and a delight to be around.  It was a day when I could really see the beautiful fruits of my labour, and relish in the pleasure of motherhood.  A Mother’s Day.  A gift to her grandmothers, and a gift to me too.  I hoped it would last.

It didn’t.

Yesterday was a lousy one.  One day she was perfectly in sync, the next she was out of it again.  One day she was so incredibly present, the next distant.  One day she sought affection and connection, the next she was aggressive and withdrawn.  Nothing I did helped, I just had to let her be.  The contrast of one day to the next was sobering.  The real mothering happens when it isn’t so easy, trying to be close when I’m pushed away.  It doesn’t matter, I’ll still be here every day.  I’ll wait to be pulled back into her orbit, ready for that next magical alignment.

Even if it turns out I only get a day like that on Mother’s Day, at least I have another one to come this year.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 5, 2011 at 7:32 am

Can we count this?

with 10 comments

 

Blue Fountain, White House

A friend sent me this yesterday.  The south side of The White House is currently boasting a blue fountain.  Can we count it?

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

April 4, 2011 at 8:19 am