One fine day...

This month, I began to do my first early shifts in over four years (Early Shifts start at 0700 and finish at 1515) and they went well...  I do not know if it was the summery haze, gentle breeze or the bright sunshine, but it definitely helped lift my mood as I cycled home in the afternoon.. There was the prospect of  a nice lunch n dinner for B (my husband), and a walk in the park with my two daughters featuring on my 'yet to-do' list. Returning home, I found the kids upstairs with B, enjoying a 'scary' movie. On the kitchen table, Rani, my youngest,  had left a couple of pictures she drew that morning, one for her Dad,  (image below) who she adores and obeys without question.

R's drawing for her Daddy dearest!

B has a way with them, which I try to observe, now that we have more time together as a foursome. Earlier, he would return from work exhausted, and find the kids in bed already. He would have to restrict his cuddles and loving kisses so as to not wake them up (S is a really light sleeper; R is so much better) But now that he's temporarily off work and in-between jobs, he is finally getting to spend a lot more time with the girls. B's love for them manifests in the way he looks after them, looks AT them and understands and disciplines them. (Case in point- as he cleans up/hoovers/organizes things around our home he has an army of 2 'foot-soldiers'  dusting, cleaning or helping him in his DIY activities etc.)
Now, he even has them wiping down their table after a kiddie meal/treat, much to my amazement!! As I cycled to TESCO to buy some Lunch and picnic treats (for later in the week), I thought about whether the kids really cared about 'going out and doing things' as a family, or, like B himself, they are simply content to play and stay at home?? Was it me who needed to get out, and if so, shouldn't I just go ride my bike for as long as I was tired, rather than persuade all my family to get up and get going when they'd rather not? The difficulty of the decision lies in the varying attitudes of my kids. S, like B is content to do whatever it is he's doing. If he lays down on the bed, munching crisps and watching an old film, she will be more than happy to. R, on the other hand, has inherited my restless spirit... She likes to go out to the park, meet her girlfriends for a few hours (where they hug each other gleefully as if they haven't seen each other in years while us Mums make small talk.)
I cooked, cleared the battle-zone a.k.a kitchen and summoned the girls to dinner. After dinner, I got the kids ready to go to the park. Easy enough, when it comes to R, who is compliant and 'understands' when I say, " Baby, you'll need a sun-hat and can I comb your hair ( more like a 'hornet's nest')  please??!" She sits patiently as I attempt to tame her hip-length tresses using tangle-free (which, incidentally was a great discovery, as it helps overcome the morning school-rush-time tantrums by S), a wide-toothed comb and bands...
S, on the other hand, my delightfully notorious, challenge of a daughter, predictably enough, screamed at the sight of the comb. Okay, I told myself, I can do this! I tried to reason, cajole and persuade her- following it up by an ultimatum "we're NOT going until you let me sort out your hair, dear" and "Please let me, at least, comb it out and give you a hair-band". WRONG MOVE, Ruchita, I told myself... Still, nothing worked. She dug her heels in, and I planted my feet firmly. Face-Off. big time, if you ask me. Inwardly, I was not sure she would comply, outwardly, I put on a brave face- my 'I-know-how-you-feel-but-this-is-non negotiable' face. Minutes ticked by....then she, defiantly, took her wheelie-scooter thing outside the door, and I followed her out and said "we're not going if you don't help me". some of you may be thinking, 'why all the fuss, let her go as she is' but it's not that easy to watch my beautiful, energetic autistic daughter get more than her share of 'looks' from others in the park- (kids, parents etc) simply because she looked like she'd been dragged through the hedge. Backwards.
The last straw came when she lashed out at me, verbally, shouting at me and using the f-word. I told her to go inside and wait for me to get back. I made it clear to her that she was to go "inside and stay with Daddy", who I rang up, half-a-minute later, appraising him of the new situation. He said he was fine, and did talk to her and asked her what she had done wrong? She told him she'd said the 'F' word to me.... They talked about it, and she promised him she would not do that again. After an hour and a half in the park, Rani and I came back home. S had, I hope, learned her lesson. R had a good time. I was totally miserable....  but then, that's life!

Velodrome Victories.

Yesterday was a fantastic day for Team GB. The shower of Olympic gold was impressive, heady and tipped us fans of British Cycling over the edge of ecstasy. (I was at work yesterday evening, and realised the days events ' schedule was CYCLING, when I was with Mr H, one of my patients who loves to follow the Olympics on the bedside telly, and has become a harbinger of Good News for us, as we nurses often ask him about the latest Team GB victories!!) With poorly controlled enthusiasm after a peek at the nail -biting events unfolding on my patients' Hospedia screens, I bantered and chatted with the lovely people- my patients, their families, young kids visiting their Dad, granddad or uncles, as the historic events unfolded! Many of them shared my grins and agreed that this was the most amazing day- with  Sir Chris Hoy, Victoria Pendleton  and the Fab Four boys taking the podium. Here's to many more victories, personal and national, and many many more people who can, potentially discover the joys of bicycling!!!
 As the band played 'God save the Queen...' and the crowds sang as one voice, their voices clear, patriotic and emotionally charged with boundless fervour and joy I felt optimistic, happy and a bit nostalgic myself! Memories of a childhood spent roaming carefree and joyous, along deserted summer streets in India came to my mind. Riding on a bike exploring the neighbourhood with my brother and sister for company in the early 1980s, I had forgotten the freedom and peace just being on a noiseless piece of engineering gives a person! All this happened as I went about my duties, on the ward, but part of me was also proud and thankful to TEAM GB in general and Victoria Pendleton in particular, for encouraging and inspiring me, a mother of 2, to take up cycling again, here in GB. Having participated in two Cycletta events myself, and with increasing confidence as I now cycle on the roads, I feel Cycletta has inspired not only me, but also many thousands of mums, grannies and teenagers alike to join the women's cycling revolution!
Why am I waxing eloquent about my love and passion of cycling, when I'm blogging about my daughter, you ask? The reason is simple, if a bit unusual. When S was four, her Granny (my MiL) brought her a little bicycle for her birthday. S loved a good set of wheels. As a four-year-old, she thought it unfair that her toddler sis gota ride while she walked alongside me. To her great frustration, she had grown too tall for the 'buggy board' I'd used on the back of her baby sister's stroller, to ferry her to nursery and back.
S had enjoyed bumming along on the trikes at her nursery the previous term, and we had hoped she would learn to love riding her bike. All kids do, I figured, and it would give her a bit of gentle exercise, which I often craved myself, owing to our unpredictable TBW: Typical British Weather. If this worked out, I reasoned, it would scatter her daredevil sense of bravado over a wider area of the neighbourhood as she took her energetic self outdoors with me on my own bike...
But it was a case of 'Man proposes, God disposes...'. Mind you, this was before her SN were formally acknowledged via a statement and well before B and MiL even began to comprehend there COULD be some truth to her Nursery School SENCO's recommendation that her School Placement works closely with us parents and investigates her Social Communication, Language & Gross and Fine Motor Skill Difficulties... It was simply too much to expect and dream on my part, I guess. Harder still for her,too. In spite of hours of careful and patient demos from me, and the training wheels still attached, she pedalled, furiously, backwards, rendering herself immobile and immensely frustrated. At our 'attempted rides' she sat on the bike, rigid with anger or pound her feet on the ground and bang her small, sensitive palms viciously on the handlebars yet refuse to get off the bike. In all, the agony I went through watching her helplessly locked in that state of extreme frustration was what put me off kids' bikes altogether.  In S' case, there is something to be said for consistency of behaviour. A pattern has emerged, which I can now clearly see, but at the time, it made me go numb with helpless worry and turned her into a chopper whose blades whirred furiously fast and dangerously close to my sanity. S has always gone from a difficult task=frustration=meltdown. any help proffered is often unwelcome and boy! does she tell me that!  She'll scream, cry and shout at me (or my husband) launching herself into a tizzy of frustration and a cesspool of deep anger...
But today is four-years-later... today is gloriously sunny, and I feel particularly optimistic! I will try today to take my (now) 8 year old (who has always had a love-hate relationships with all tasks involving balancing owing to her motor skills' difficulties) and attempt to get her and her little sister to start riding their little bike. At an appointment last month,her OT (Occupational Therapist) mentioned that if I was keen for her to balance on a bicycle and slowly get used to the idea of stability, (before she even learns to pedal,) I should take the pedals off the bike... something I'm going to try today!
So, whilst they eat their breakfast and change, I'd better get stuck in an sort out their bike, testing its road worthiness, and giving it some TLC via a can of WD 40!
Wish us luck!!