nature/ nature

yesterday, r. took the opportunity to avail himself of several episodes of the clone wars. it being quite a cosy sort of day, he fell asleep. because i knew that if i attempted to rouse him i would have to spend the rest of the afternoon with him on my hip, engaging him brightly in my every passing thought just to ensure that he remained conscious, i let him sleep. until 5.30pm. oops.

so by last night, the boy child was in a chatty sort of mood. i put him to bed, and he kept wondering back down again, to talk. i'd take him straight back up again, and then be plead with to stay.

"let's talk about... pistons?" he might say.

"oh, okay," i might respond. what can i say, he sells it well.

so, off he went about pistons, and because i am not particularly technically minded, my contribution to the conversation might have been disappointing but for the fact that rudy sometimes needs his own questions repeated to him before he can be quite sure about things.

i threw him one such question. i can't remember what it was. but in response i got a

"yyyyeargh. and then..."

but he'd lost me. because by that point i was sitting with my mouth hanging open. rudy had just, for a split second, for the duration of that 'yyyyeargh', and for some waving arm movements that followed it, turned into his father.

seeing as the last time rudy saw his father he was only weeks old, it is highly unlikely that he learned those mannerisms from him. and, naturally, his father does not have the monopoly on a protracted 'yeah' and gesticulative communication. but it was more than that. it was, for want of a better word, weird.

and it occurs to me that i, and everyone else in our lives, tend, quite naturally and without affectation, to think of my children as just mine- the product of my family's collective gene pool and no one else's. our faces are fairgrounds of recessive genetic traits. despite the fact that he is incredible with them, it's fairly obvious they are not montana's. they are my kids.

i eventually managed to wrap up the machinery chat and went downstairs. i had company, and soon forgot about it.

but later, on my own, an unspoken "he did that thing that you do" hung in the air, competing with my relief at not being in a situation to say it to him.





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ephemera

being on my own is fine until i have a glimpse of an alternative.

being alone is one thing; loneliness is quite another.




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miss brightside

yesterday, i posted on a little bit autistic that if the autistic spectrum can be likened to a colour wheel, a diagnosis of DCD, or dyspraxia, can be likened to a "diagnosis" of "blue-ish".

is a "blue-ish" diagnosis helpful? well, when a kid is four, definately- especially if you thought he was "green-ish", and was just hulking out all over the place. he probably won't become truly navy, or sky, or cerullion, until he is in his mid twenties anyway when he knows himself and can effectively communicate who he is... but it can be infuriatingly vague. don't most parents like to have a handle, however fantastical, on their children's future? faced with any possible impediment to a happy, secure and fulfilling life don't you want, especially when first faced with a diagnosis, that impediment to be brought into much sharper focus? you want to know what you' re up against- every heartbreaking detail, every worst possible scenario. but it goes away, and you are left with your calmingly "blue-ish" child, and a fresh sense of perspective; better equipped.

the comparison i immediately draw with this sadistic foray into the unknown is the demands for detail someone makes when told their loved one has commited an infidelity, when for some reason you seem to draw a twisted strength from any sickening detail you can glean- for any handle on the extent of your betrayal.

and this, rather clumsily, brings me to my point. it seems this colour wheel theory can be applied to many things that were previously thought to be either "black" or "white". today, on a single mother forum, i read a description of angelina jolie as a single mother. i sat bolt upright- has brad left? or, more likely, has she left brad? but no. it would seem that this forum describes anyone who is not formally married to the father of their children as a single mother. this forum believes that a woman that cohabits with the father of her children is a single mother. this forum even believes that a woman that is married to a man with whom she has children, but who is not the father of all of her children is a single mother... and i couldn't quite believe what i was reading. i sometimes struggle with the term single mother for myself because i am not technically single, being in a long distance relationship, and that's out of deference for the millions of women that don't have someone to talk to on the phone at the end of a hard day. but i sure as hell parent alone. no maintenence, no contact, no birthday cards... just a whole heap of guilt, and i'm not even the one that left.

so, let's say, on the single mother spectrum, i used to be "purple-ish" (co-habiting with the father of my children), then i was "gold-ish" (completely on my own), and then i was "gold-ish green" (completely on my own, but in a 3 year long distance relationship with someone who has a great relationship with my children, and who knows in the future). i am mainly gold, because my story still elicits empathy and exclamations to do with my perceived heroism when i relate it to people i haven't seen for a while, or people i am just getting to know, even if i dress it up in blase, cheery "everything's great now!" clothing. i don't like it. i'm no hero. if i could, i would tell these people i discoved these beautiful cherubs under a bridge in upminster. and that's not because i can't take responsibility for the fact that i had the bad judgement to procreate with someone who turned out to have the moral and ethical fibre of a ball bearing, it's because i hate for people to feel sorry for me. i don't feel sorry for me so why should anyone else?

what surprised me perhaps most of all about this expansion of the categories that are now covered by the "single mother" label was the extremity of my reaction to it. i was raised by a single mother ("rose gold"- no other relationship, but received maintenence and she worked hard to maintain that we still had contact with our father) and, obviously, am one myself, so i take any negative use of the term "single mother" (and most of the uses are, with a sweeping disregard for why these mothers might be single in the first place) particularly hard. so i never thought i would be defending the term, that i would be so keen to preserve it for the relatively martyred few- i mean couldn't it be in someway helpful to our blighted reputation that nigella lawson is now counted amongst our number?

and what colour are these women that do it completely by themselves- no help whatsoever from anyone?

well, i'll tell you. they are "platignum".








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