Search for a missing "Hamster" :(

What a traumatic evening.... I always knew it could happen, it was a potential trauma all parents face but I had somehow managed to avoid for the past twelve years...  but this afternoon it actually happened. A has lost his "hamster". 

I should point out the reason for the inverted commas. This is not a real hamster, in fact it isn't a hamster at all, but a much-loved and long treasured beanie toy. And it really isn't a hamster (or "hampster" as A calls it) it's a panda. 

A has had this precious cuddly for years, they are given to children who attend the Portland Hospital and whom therefore become members of the "Portly Panda Club". All the children receive these bean bag toy pandas and both twins had them. Like everything else which has been duplicated by accident or necessity his had an "A" on the label and K's had a "K" on. They have been wrapped in muslins, like babies, carried around everywhere possible and I have been so careful to keep tabs on both of them. Finally it happened, the inevitable I guess - one was left behind in town this afternoon. A has been quite stoical. I've phoned everywhere we went, driven back after collecting J from his bus and hunted all over the place. On failing to find it this evening we headed home about 6pm. K was so sweet and offered him her "hamster" - which I was so touched about. We arrived home and he started to cry. Obviously I comforted him and he pointed out the one he held didn't have an "A" on the label. 

However what amazed me most was when he said:- "But Mummy, I'm sad because hamster is missing, and you will cry if we don't find him." !!! Bless. Empathy in bucketloads (thank goodness) and hopefully not emotionally scarred for life! He's in bed asleep now... and I'm off to check ebay for alternative pandas! (sorry, hamsters!)

UPDATE

Three trips to town later.... and countless calls to all the shops we visited and we found him!! One happy small boy :) It would appear "Hamster" became engrossed in the children's magazines at WHSmith and got left behind. The Wonderpets saved the day (and Mummy!) and he is safely home on A's bed. Thank goodness, Mum was at least as worried as A was!

School Nativity Plays

Christmas just wouldn't be the same without a school Nativity play - complete with plastic baby Jesus, shepherd's in dressing gowns and tea-towels and fake angels covered in silver tinsel. The sweet simplicity of a nursery production of fifteen minutes which (I know) has taken the teachers and assistants weeks of careful preparation is the essence of its success. 

More complicated productions with older children have something different to offer in their frequent attempt to convert the traditional Nativity into something more current and acceptable to today's youth - but I love seeing 3 and 4 year olds stumble on stage in their too-long costumes whilst looking for Mummy and Daddy in the audience!

This year we are in for a treat. A has been chosen to play "Joseph" and K is an angel. (Of course!) However my current difficulty is explaining to her that angels are different from fairies and although they do indeed have wings her wand will have to stay at home. (This didn't go down well but I'm working on it.) A on the other hand is chuffed to bits to have been chosen to stand over Baby Jesus and fortunately doesn't have to say his name during the production, since I think a lisped "Jofish" is very cute but may be a little confusing for the audience! I must admit to being stupidly proud and am anticipating the big day eagerly. Of course, he will most probably see me and run off the stage on the Big Day for a cuddle!!

H's Christmas Production is a closely guarded secret at his school, but he is participating this year which is great. I did hear that someone had make the mistake of referring to Christmas as "Jesus' Birthday" though, which they hastily regretted when H proceeded to explain how Jesus was most probably born in July and Christmas couldn't be called his birthday since it just wasn't "right".

Note to self - Must keep the theological philosophising to myself in future.......

Ice-Cream Meltdown on a Cold Sunday afternoon

There is a God. I have proof.

Today we visited my husband's parents in rural Cambridgeshire. (Well, fairly rural and certainly not in town. You'll see the relevance later... ) H was in a really twitchy mood, everything was bothering him and he was not happy to be fobbed off with his world of Pokemon on the DSi, needing instead to point out at every available opportunity how distressed he was. He even resorted to some echolalia and stimming, which I find rather unnerving since we are definitely seeing some regressive Autistic behaviour which I hadn't been prepared for.

My in-laws live a quiet life and an invasion of a large family must be a challenge for them at the best of times, but H was not built with any type of volume control and tries the patience of most older people on a good day. Today was not one of those days.

At lunchtime he decided he needed ice cream for dessert. In fact, skip the main course and forget the cutlery, he just needed ice cream. Now.

After realising there was no way of explaining the reality he chose to ignore (that there was none) and the implausibility of his preferred parallel universe (where we magically produced or made some) we tried ignoring him. But anyone who has a child with an ASD will know the odds of this tactic succeeding are about as good as winning the Lottery! Some chemistry experiments and playing yo-yos with spiders (don't ask) with Granddad helped buy us some time (Granddad is now recovering with a stiff drink in a horizontal position no doubt) but by 4pm we were running out of ideas and H was NOT running out of steam. 

And that's when we heard the most bizarre of sounds in a smart Cambs village cul de sac full of retired people and very few children. On a rather chilly Sunday afternoon. It was an ice cream van.....

So there you have it. Irrefutable proof that there is a benevolent God. One who realised the desperate nature of our situation and came to the rescue. Perhaps this God has an appreciation of life on the Autistic Spectrum or at least some experience of dealing with those on it. Pity then that I don't have his number for next time....

What was it Jerry Springer said? "I know of nobody who is purely Autistic or purely neurotypical. Even God had some Autistic moments, which is why the planets all spin."

Coffee Shops and Clinics - A magical mystery tour of London via "Underground Ernie" with a princess and her wand!

"So that's a tall, skinny, sugar-free vanilla Macchiato...." the Starbucks barista repeated back to me trying to suppress a grin. Well, it had been a long day, I *shouldn't* be drinking that much milk but a black, brewed house blend just wasn't going to cut it this time....

K and I had travelled into London (sorry, "Town", with the important capital "T") for two appointments with two different Speech and Language therapists and a Video Fluoroscopy (real time swallow X-Ray) in an attempt to make further progress and future decisions on her reflux and the impact her gut symptoms were having on her pro-motor development. The day started well, we left the house before H had woken up, K had chosen matching skinny jeans and her Next imitation Uggs to "match Mummy" and was surprisingly excited given the previous trip last month for more invasive tests.

We travelled light - one child, no buggy and gratifyingly normal adrenaline levels since I had avoided the pre-Ritalin nightmare back home. (I cannot describe the enormous positive impact that has on the rest of the day.) We ate breakfast at Liverpool Station, a necessity rather than a luxury since by 9am I was in dire need of caffeine after far too little sleep over the past week month year.

Today I saw a different London. Our first appointment was in Sloane Square and it was my first ever visit to this part of London. I found myself in a delicious time warp of duffel coats and Startrite T bar shoes, feeling oddly unique in up to date fashion myself. There wasn't a child there without a cashmere cardigan, tweed shorts and beautifully tailored shirts or blouses. I found myself pondering whether I should be growing out K's fringe and clipping it to one side, but quickly snapped out of my reverie.

We were drawn to "Peter Jones" and after the princess had been supplied with a magic wand to compliment this fairytale idyll we window-shopped, finally purchasing some of the ubiquitous shoes for school described above.

 Having never before been to Kensington/Chelsea I'm not sure we did it justice since the shoes were required and we paid no more than at home, but they DID come from "Trotter's Children's Outfitters" and we have the bag to prove it.

Our experience was complete as we passed Dame Maggie Smith as we headed back to the tube!
K sang "Underground Ernie" much of the way to the hospital, then back to Liverpool Street as we hurtled round the entire Circle Line during our trip.

It was, in actual fact, the single most useful and enlightening trip of its kind for us (obviously helped by the magical powers of K's new wand!!!) and we will be returning to my (newly) favourite part of London for Speech Therapy sessions in the not too distant future. Next time though I might leave the skinnies and Uggs at home and make sure K has her Startrite Mary Jane's on. It wouldn't do to let the side down.

"Under the radar" and when to worry!

I had an interesting chat with A and K's nursery teacher yesterday. Apparently she hadn't realised how competent/able A was because he often "slips under the radar". She's realised he has his own agenda and likes to (quite cunningly I might add) complete tasks and move on. He makes little fuss, is always busy and has no interest in being star pupil like his sister. K can recognise all her letters and knows the sounds and willingly demonstrates this in school; so came home with a letter book. A was most indignant, not that he hadn't got a book, but that Mrs W hadn't realised he knew at least as much as his sister. His teacher was actually concerned that she might have "caused me some trouble" by sending one home with a book but not the other, but we treat them as individuals so I wasn't bothered in the slightest. She spoke to me and commented that A often "slipped beneath the radar" and had his own plans for each session but he was happy, socialising and doing well. 

Now, in actual fact the time to worry with A is when you can't hear him. When you are not aware of him, when he is "below the radar" he is most likely decorating the walls with lip-salve because he likes the oily texture......, signing his name everywhere "to practice", re-wiring the Wii (yes it WAS him) or downloading the entire "I can cook" recipe book from the CBeebies website and printing each page. He has also been known to link everywhere in the house with sellotape! 

Granted this is difficult for his teacher to grasp. After all, four yeas ago she had H in her class. Now with H, the only time you do not have to worry or think about what he is up to is when he is quiet. Which let's face it isn't very often. So Mrs W might be rather pleased to have a quiet boy from our household who has his own agenda, completes everything required with minimal fuss and slips away to do his own thing. 

However, I hope she's got that interactive whiteboard insured, has locked away the lip-salve and sellotape.... and the computer isn't connected to the internet...... 

A's take on things was pretty amusing actually. I asked him if he was going to be bringing a book home soon. He replied "No Mummy, I don't need the practice!!!!

An Ode to the concept of "Special"

Humour me, it's been a bad day...

"Special" is the child who wakes you up screaming like a banshee before 6am

"Special" is the cat who needs a premium on the cost of spaying to avoid those pretty spots...

"Special" is the glitter on the masterpiece created ON the kitchen table and signed underneath, ON the table, in biro

"Special" is the medication which can only be collected from the main surgery - but it was closed due to a "Special" type of day

"Special" is the Leave your son's Consultant has been granted which is so "Special" you can't be told why and no one saw fit to let you know why the June appointment has yet to be realised

"Special"is the permission needed for Harry to attend wrap around care....but it's so "Special" everyone forgot to book him in on the "Special" form

"Special" is the Statement which took YEARS to fight for and win, only to be used as extra crowd control in the class

"Special" is the permission needed for the extension which you thought was the same as everyone else's

"Special" is the time in the bath when everyone is in bed

"Special" are the cuddles in front of the TV with everyone together

"Special" is the reality, not the pretence. The underneath, hiding behind the "Special" facade

"Special" is the glass of wine after a very long day. ;)

To Mel - who shares my type of "Special" life ;)

So How do you know when you're "done"?

A friend on an online forum posed this question about feeling your family was complete. Someone replied "I do wonder about people who get caught in the baby cycle without stopping and taking a step back from their comfort zone". 

I've been thinking a lot about this lately. More isn't an option for us anyway, we would need fertility treatment and with H's needs I couldn't cope with more. (AND another would most definitely have even more severe Reflux, probably ADHD and Asperger's so it's a no brainer deciding that we are done!!)

  

That, however is different from "knowing" you're done. I do really miss the tiny baby thing, wish like hell that I could do the early months again with any of them without reflux. I feel really cheated on that score. The constant screaming was a bit wearing when everyone else seemed to get at least 10 minutes a day cuddling their new babies! (jealous, moi?!) As I have now parted with the buggy, and I packed the slings away at the end of last year I have really felt the pain. (How many of us wish we had discovered things like slings years before so we had really had plenty of chance to put our new knowledge to good use?!) I feel really sad that I'm "moving on" but there is some excitement too. I'm tired, (5am starts for nearly 12 years has definitely taken their toll lol!!) I'm feeling "old" and quite enthusiastic to spread my wings outside of the home. 

The older ones are exciting too, I LOVE watching J's cricket success, sharing in his triumphs, watching H's slow steps towards greater independence and spending time helping fuel the twins' incredible excitement as they learn about their world. What I'm trying to say I think is that I do *know*. I'm ready to move on, share the next stage with my family looking forward not back. Being part of online forums definitely makes it harder at times (seeing the scrummy newborns! ) because I think in real life when you are ready you move on, you rarely see newborns as your children's friends grow up too. However, these online communities are a lifesaver for many for whom wider socialisation is impossible or contact with others dealing with similar issues is facilitated across geographical, social and economic barriers. 

I'm ready to leap out of the comfort zone and join the next stage - without prams, cots, nappies, dummies and total dependence. Don't underestimate how VERY scary that is when it's what I aimed for my whole life, obsessed about for 24 years before #1 arrived without a single thought for what lay beyond. But you know what? It's quite exciting too, So yes, I think you do *know*!