Somewhere Over The Rainbow...

So some of you may (or most likely not!) have noticed I've been very quiet this year. There is a reason for this.  My Jo went awol and my Mo couldn't cope without her. Upon reflection I've realised just as I thought I'd overcome one major test of endurance involving either one or both of my children, slightly bruised but undefeated, there was another one poking it's nose around a corner trying to hide from me until it chose the right moment to jump out and say Boo! I climbed that mountain slowly but surely reaching the top and sucking in that fresh air for dear life and each time thought righto! I can start my descent now and carry on.  I honestly thought I was up there for longer breathing in that pure air but in fact, I actually didn't have much more than a few seconds. I now know I started to climb back down to solid ground but no sooner had I started, up popped several peaks in front of me. 

I've been a mountaineer for over six years now and I never realised before just how long I've had my backpack continuously on. And as anyone will surely appreciate, all this mountain climbing is bloody exhausting!  No one mountain has been the same. The climbs are usually because of a child or on behalf of a child, but a new one took me by surprise this year, one involving me. My view of things such as 'we've overcome the anxiety episode' or 'the sensory overload months' was skewing with my perception of things. I honestly thought things were going good and I couldn't understand what my problem was until a few months ago when I lost the plot. Big style.  Then a ping went off above my head.

Things this year haven't been peachy, they have been better than last year or the year before, but they were undoubtedly made so much worse because I was well and truly out of puff. Only I didn't know it. However, the mind gremlins did and in the relative calm, spying an easy target, they joined forces with the body police who decided 'grab her now boys whilst she's not looking!' The oxygen tank was pulled out at the first chance it's had to really pump some air back into my deflated body in years and I was thrown into a little cave where it was really dark and I hid with my Mo but no Jo.

Luckily with the aide of my light-bulb I didn't just sit there, I became a fan of all things Chinese; medicinally and proverbally (is that a word??). My son's new psychologist (who is Chinese) gave me a great Chinese proverb 'A rest allows us to travel further'. Doesn't that make so much sense? But how many of us do it? I know I haven't been doing it but if I keep slogging up those mountains without putting up a tent more than once a year, it is inevitable that I will just slide down those icy outcrops on my butt, too tired to grab a passing rock and put up a fight.

It is only now I have climbed this peak singing Valder-ree Valder-raa completely out of tune that I can stand at the top of yet another summit with the sun shining down on my head, naturally beaming a light onto my head allowing me to see clearly - light-bulb you are dismissed. I have learnt you can't go hiking without provisions and if you go summit climbing, you can't do much else.  I have joined a gym giving me the muscles to climb these sodding rock faces and the mental space to just be.  I've also recently done the Triple P Parenting Course for parents of children with special needs and I have a bag full of new strategies helping me up these hills. By golly it works! 

It also encourages positive parenting which involves spending a lot of quality time with your children, something I have not been doing fearing the World will end – I suspected an explosion of a Clothes Volcano created in my house being the ultimate Armageddon. So I send the washing down to base camp where the husband dutifully irons on a Sunday afternoon after we have spent the day together.  It allows me time to be with the boys after school instead of trying to do everything before the weekend.  Of course nothing is as simple as doing more for yourself and less for others.  You will feel guilt.  So I take comfort from the fact we as a family are having the best time and because Jo has returned to Mumma and Mo, I am able to appreciate how truly awesome my boys are.  

I've really only been stopping for tea-breaks though and am yet to decide where to have my first official camp out - guilt is preventing me booking a night away or even an afternoon - but I'll get there.  Honest!  But indulge me if you will, come and meet me up the mountain.  I can't promise a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and the skies may not be blue afterwards but bring a sleeping bag and we'll lay for a while to look at the rainbow the storm has created.  Imagine it now, aren't the colours pretty?

Authors note: No Chinese Prozac were hurt in the making of this post :)

 

Thinking, Fighting and Being Angelina Jolie!

Most parents with ASD children will tell you that what they do most is think.  You will hear the cry around the World from any ASD parent, 'I'm so tired of thinking all the time'!  And we're not just talking about thinking what to have for dinner, or did I remember to pack the children's library books.  Looking after an ASD child involves strategic planning, every second of every hour of every day.  If MI6 ever want to replace Judi Dench or NATO need a new Head of Defence, they need to find an ASD parent.  More often than not this will be the Mum.  Apart from running a diary in our heads scheduling medical appointments and therapy sessions which occur on a regular basis, we plan our children's day with military precision.  Tactics are plotted to ensure we are ready to outwit our child's every move.  We must be prepared for all eventualities and have an escape route at all times.  Because if we get it wrong, at best, there will be a mild explosion of some sort.  At worst, any famous historic battle would look like a Scoody Doo cartoon by comparison. 

Second to the thinking is the fighting.  We have our battles with our children the same as other parents, although our arguments are carefully worded and calmly delivered as prescribed by our psychologists!  What our battles are about can also be different.  I personally have a daily struggle getting Harry to take his medicine.  The scene in our house every morning is akin to a hostage situation with me gently coaxing him to take one more sip, whilst remaining firm that I will not give in to his demands for a helicopter to a tropical island, a 12 year old blonde and to let him off his medicine.  Every second is a tense one until the cup has been drained, knowing one false move on my part could end disastrously.  We used to mix his medicine into Milo (a chocolate drink).  On one occasion when I detonated the bomb, my living room and brand new carpet were redecorated and, therefore, Milo is no more!   

Disputes with our partners are a regular theme I hear spoken about amongst my friends, usually when the Mum is bearing the brunt of the responsibility and needs a little back-up.  Not that I want Dads to think I am picking on them here, this is all based on my research, honest.  And who hasn't had a battle with a medical professional, a school, a teacher, a politician or saddest of all, another parent?  All in all, it's very exhausting and I, for one, have gin on an IV after the children have gone to bed!

Despite teaching our children to walk away from a fight, this is not often an option in our situation.   If our battle involves getting the right educational support for our child or best medical assistance, we would be failing our children to accept anything less than they deserve and need.  When it comes to a fallout with another parent, the decision on whether to walk away or not can be a hard one if the other parent is a friend.  We want other parents to understand our child but there has to be willingness to want to understand.  Therefore, we adopt the role of peace envoy, trying to find a peaceful resolution to a situation.  Again, if the UN want a new peace ambassador they know where to look - move over Angelina Jolie, you're so last year!

Consequently, looking after ourselves is so important when we lead the lives we do, but how do we do it?  Personally, writing for me is my escape, although ironically it's on the topic of my ASD child.  I also find getting back to nature helps, by that I do not mean I streak around the garden naked calling all the wild animals to come hither!  I like to potter in the garden, growing veggies and looking after our chicken who clearly thinks we are running a luxury retirement home for chickens, and so doesn't lay eggs any more!  The sooner we get some new ones who show the old girl how it's done, the better.  In the meantime, she does fulfil a purpose as Long Legs' stress relief.  I shouldn't complain about her lack of egg production as providing ASD children with a form of stress relief is vital.  They are very easily frustrated and their stress levels are usually very high.  Up until recently Long Legs' mode of stress release was to thrown furniture and put his feet through walls, which sounds worse than it is if you take into account houses in Australia are made with paper mache!

So back to this chicken, using the chicken to relieve Long Legs' stress is normally fine, expect when he ignores my instructions to not get the chicken out for a cuddle in school uniform.  Nothing more likely to test the 'at all times you must try to stay calm with your ASD child', than said child appearing before you covered in chicken poop ten minutes before school!  At these times, if I wasn't a vegetarian, I'm sure I could find some useful ways to expel my stress using the chicken too!  But as this is not an option, perhaps the idea of running around naked in my garden calling all the wild animals to come hither is not a bad one after all...