aside

when the kids were little, i did a lot of distracting whenever they were upset or wanted something they weren't allowed... i manipulated their attention so that they were more disposed to do things in a parent led, safe way. i got a lot of good feedback about this when other more experienced parents witnessed me doing it, so i kept doing it. i was after all making it up as i went along, like we all do to a greater or lesser extent.

i was just watching rudy playing with a little toy in my room. engrossed for a minute, it then whizzed under the bed, and his attention then jackknifed onto the subject of what is under my bed- poppy's birthday present. we had a brief conversation about that and secret keeping and reassurances that he too would have another birthday one day, and i instinctively redirected his attention to a book. in the space of a minute, he went from the book, to some makeup brushes, to a bust of the virgin mary (long story), to rubbing this french sort of plush bunny (my daughter's) across his face and naming it linda, to turning the lamp on and off, to pressing his wrists against a mirror, to squirting from a perfume bottle, back to the book, found the toy, dismissed it, to putting an emery board in his mouth, to starting a conversation about transformers whilst running the entirety of his arm up and down my duvet, to running out of the door muttering. as the paediatrician says, he's a busy boy.

might my technique of distraction have something to do with it? or am i making it all about me again?





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processing...

every time we meet with a new professional, the outlook looks bleaker. this week it was a very long occupational therapy assessment; educational psychology and speech and language coming soon. as i've said before, i don't quite understand why this is happening when previously we were all satisfied moving forward i.e.p.-wise with a list of "differences" rather than a solid diagnosis. actually i do, but it seems a little inconsistent. the thing i am attempting to focus upon is how "charming" and "delightful" all these new people profess to find my little boy.

so i've retreated somewhat, as i am apt to do. it can be quite tiring being how i normally am socially, and at the moment i don't really have it in me. i can't really string a sentence together. the phone rings and i can't always pick it up. i'd rather not speak at all than have people be all nice and understanding because that's when i can't keep it together anymore. it's just how i am. i can pull off my usual cheerfulness with the kids (to a point), the school run, and the required amount of interaction involved in day to day living, but no more. the closer someone is to me the more less i have to say to them at times like this. i feel like i'm letting people down and am not very good at articulating what's going on with me.

anyway, being all kinds of done with the "characterful throw", i am cheering myself up looking at ryan reynolds, and suggest that anyone else with a severe predilection for snidely funny bearded beefcake follows suit. here's ryan with multiple ow-ies having suffered some sort of run in with a marvel character. that might be code for something; i'm beyond caring.





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turning it up to 11

about 20 times in any given day the inhabitants of or random visitors to my home experience noise so alarming that they have cause to throw their hands up over their ears, and run in fear for any kind of availible underground cover.

the reason for this is not some kind of time loophole which means that accessing the bathroom immediately transports one back to the second world war (although i might start saying it is), but my daughter experiencing any sort of difficulty. this might include grazing herself against a door handle, being unable to use exactly the right shade of purple felt tip (because she left the lid off earlier), or, just now, being unable to satisfactorily fashion a mermaid's tail out of a 6ft square bright pink fleece blanket. any of these, or indeed myriad other inconveniences make her bellow like a harpooned bloodhound. or twelve harpooned bloodhounds. through an amp. turned up to 11.

the volume that she manages to project is staggering. as both her brother and i are sensitive to noise, we can sometimes spend the day in a state of perpetual aural anxiety, which of course is nothing to the state my little girl gets into at every tiny little injustice of life. her outbursts and the verbal attacks on me, her brother, or any inanimate object in the vicinity that inevitably follow, contrast sharply with her usual sweet, witty and heartbreakingly cute demeanour. this routine is often followed by an attack on herself in which she regrets her actions and chastises herself harshly. calming intervention is inneffective at curbing this ritual bashing of self.

and then- snap- back to normal. her confidence and normal sense of entitlement seems entirely unnaffected, and she takes nothing from what just went down, which is relief in terms of her self esteem but frustrating in that she has learnt nothing about careful deportment around door furniture and/ or stationery care. the same things trigger the same bellows, over and over. its all compulsive, all the time. she has zero physical boundaries and is often jumping on or wrestling others in affection, causing further problems. fortunately, her brother has an incredibly high pain threshhold and an indulgent streak.

beyond my concern for her, i struggle with how much responsibility i need to take. how much is down to her environment and untraditional upbringing, and how much is neuroligical. i know she picks up on my mood when at her most anxious, so i work hard at remaining calm, which is hard at 4am when she is screaming because her duvet has moved 3 inches. i need to know how much guilt i should rightfully claim, because at present i'm overloaded.