Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Posts Tagged ‘hopeful parents

Harmony (at Hopeful Parents)

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Hopeful Parents

This post was originally published >here< at Hopeful Parents.

Some days, it is really hard to write.  There are thoughts swirling around my head that I can’t seem to encourage down to my typing fingers.  Is this what it is for Pudding?  Having thoughts that you can’t express?

I think perhaps I have writer’s block.  So much is happening, but I can’t write at all.  It plays over and over in mind.  I lack imagination.

After a year of blogging, the same themes crop up.  I type a post, then delete it entirely.  I’ve said it before; there is nothing new to put down.  But there is comfort in the familiar.  Those little captured moments that are nothing, but mean everything.

Today we went out for breakfast, and Pudding finished first.  Unprompted she told the waitress she had finished and to “take away the plate please.”  That has never happened before, yet it has happened all along.

Old bits of new.  I’ve written it before.  Singing the same tune.  My version of echolalia.

I’m busy now, wearing a few different hats.  Feeling like I can’t dedicate to anything all that I should because there are other pressing deadlines.  I flit from one thing to another, never quite doing anything.  My play is not purposeful.  I’m hyperactive.

At social gatherings, my mind is elsewhere.  I should be making small talk, but remain silent.  It gets too fast-paced for me and I want to shut out the world. Aloof.  Uncommunicative.

When I do snap out of my reverie.  When I do enter into a conversation, how long before I manage to bring it around to my topic of interest?  Not long.  I’m perseverating.
I’ve spent all this time trying to understand her, completely missing the fact that she is just like me.  I find so many similarities between Pudding and the little girl I used to be.  Not so different after all.

She is here at my side as I type, so I hurry to finish.  Just as I find myself in so many ways entering her world, she wants to enter mine.  She is engaging me.  So I’ll leave this post unfinished, because everything that I’ve ever written about is happening right now, and I don’t want to miss any of it.

I ask her what she wants to do.  Sing!

So the two of us will leave our respective little worlds, and join together in our off-key harmony.

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

November 19, 2011 at 11:55 am

The Fix (at Hopeful Parents)

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This post was originally published at Hopeful Parents.  You can find it by clicking here.

On August 16th 2011, Pudding asked me a why question. She was wearing a Hello Kitty top, blue leggings, and Disney Princess socks. I was drinking tea, attempting to warm up after a cool day in Johannesburg proved it really is winter here after all.

As she bounced into the room and her fingers explored every surface, they found the switch of the lamp. She flicked it on and off, as she has done every day since we arrived, but this time it didn’t turn on, and for the first time ever she asked me why.

Just like that. So naturally and spontaneously that a stranger observing might take it for granted. But not me. Every detail is forever etched into my memory. The pounding of my heart and the giddy, elated feeling.

I can’t tell you the day she first smiled, sat by herself, spoke her first word, stood alone, or even took her first steps. I have the memories, but they are pinned down to weeks, not days. Though I’ve been asked countless times on countless forms documenting her development, I give vague answers. 4 weeks, 5 months, 10 months, 12 months.

Those answers satisfy the professionals, looking to pinpoint when her development went awry.  But they don’t satisfy me.

I have replayed those milestones over and over for the last two years, but I can’t get more specific. The truth is that I didn’t accord them the attention they deserved. I was the stranger observing who took them for granted.

Moments after she asked and I even managed to answer her question, I shared this milestone on Facebook. A friend commented that this would herald an exciting new phase of development- the why question being a “gateway milestone”.

I had to applaud her choice of words. No longer the stranger taking milestones for granted, I am now a developmental junkie. I’m addicted to observing the miracle of development, not just in my own children, but in every child I encounter. I can’t get enough, even when I have to be patient with a small stash. I knew that it was a year ago (and four days) since I’d written that Pudding doesn’t ask why. I knew, because I’ve been waiting for this fix ever since.

When I first held Pudding and Cubby, I remember the sudden burst of love I felt for them. Already I was taking for granted so many things: their health, their strength, even their just begun lives. Never again, for either child. I take nothing for granted, appreciating just how fortunate we are.

Likewise with development. Whether milestones are hit strongly and surely (if a little tardily) in Cubby’s case, or later and sporadically as with Pudding, I marvel at them, and the high that they bring.

At times I think of that stranger who soberly observed the milestones in her children. She never knew the intoxicating feeling that rushes through this addict as I witness the many miraculous milestones of everyday life.

After a few hours of riding this high came the inevitable comedown. Was this just appropriate echolalia? And just how long will it be until I hear the next why? I tried to shake my way out of withdrawal by focusing on how huge that milestone was.

Then yesterday at 8.47 am still wearing her nightgown she brought something to me. It was my GPS that I’d removed from the car for my husband to look at. Driving around unfamiliar streets in a new country, I’d been unnerved as it kept dropping the signal, or turning itself off inexplicably.

“Mummy, why is it not working? Is it broken, Mummy?”

Not broken, it just works in it’s own way, on it’s own time. I’m just going to have to be patient about it. But you, my sweet, you are the fix.


Written by Spectrummy Mummy

August 19, 2011 at 1:30 am