The Little Magpie

Ever wonder how hard it is to follow the thought process of a child like mine!? I mean, if its about following the trail of destruction and messiness that she leaves in her wake, I can reconstruct her damage-inflicting spree of bored disdain with a great deal of accuracy. Chocolate, cheese, drinks and soap, water, washing-up liquid, cushions and clothes... nothing is safe from her when she gets into that mood.
It's almost as if I can see what, when and how she feels a certain way, but the WHY escapes me... Invariably, it is the subtle, quiet workings of her mind that flummox me. How do I 'train' myself to re-wind from an unexpected situation and conclude that she had a hand in the cookie-jar, so to speak??! Simply put, my approach to mayhem is no evidence, no blame.... I always blame the stress factor in my own life on my inability to find things, and I have an appalling sense of recall. I put things in the same place for years, and if I change that place to render the article safe from my ever-evolving, curious child, I can never find it when I need things the most!

Last week, as I rushed around like a numbskull, after two 12-hour night shifts and trips to the School, shopping for groceries and trying to stay awake, I suddenly noticed (only when I needed them, to be honest) that somehow I'd managed to misplace or absently put away my house keys, bicycle keys and ALL the other keys that stayed in one loop...!  After nine hours of agonizingly going over every square inch of the house, retracing my steps hundreds of times and asking my 7 year old  (who had held them last of all), I was confused, upset and overwhelmed at my own incompetence. I blamed my absent mindedness and buried my disappointment under a frantic hunt for the lost item. Oblivious to the fact that S had simply left my home n bicycle keys on Thursday, behind her School-grown pot of coriander on the window sill, I hunted all over the damned house. I had to cancel an appointment I had volunteered to attend, and searched everywhere, muttering with barely-contained anger and a startled disbelief at the microscopic capabilities of my brain to short-circuit out of order at the slightest opportunity.

I am so well-versed with her nature and little habits to hold/ hoard stuff in her room that I meticulously searched it from wall to wall. Then,hoping she must have taken them to school, safe in her coat pocket I even rang them on the chance that they may be found by her Teacher but that was not the case. At the end of it all, after a whole day of searching till I'd exhausted myself mentally, they miraculously materialized when she was at the kitchen table having her tea with Dad n sis. It turned out that she had left them on the sill when she watched her bus pull up outside that morning.

Today, it was my wallet that went missing. I was frantic and had to cancel my Debit cards, and all that- only to come home at five and be told by R that ,"Mummy, I KNOW where your wallet is- S had it under her bed (!!??) " .I had been at work last night, and was unaware that she had sneaked it upstairs and hidden in the kids' toy box under the bed. R was searching for things to play with in the early morning when she found it. Being 7 yrs old herself, she forgot to mention S's hiding place as I readied them for School! I have a feeling my little Miss S was a MAGPIE in her previous incarnation!! 

The "NO!!" answer.

Whenever I despair about my child's behaviour or worry about her 'reason' for behaving as she sometimes does, I feel totally lost for answers.... Her Special Needs are  like a vein, thin but impermeable. They sometimes keep me from understanding a lot of what goes on in that mind and heart of hers, so I feel inadequate as a mother. Some days are good; she will give me an angelic smile, maybe even a hug if I'm lucky, and say, "I love you, Mummy". On others, for a seemingly inexplicable reason, she will shout, scream and push me away if I try to pacify her when she gets herself worked-up, which is about ten times a day.

It starts from the time I try to wake her up and ends (if we're lucky) when she finally falls asleep at night. She will sometimes wake up two or three times a night, and is restless and fidgety even in her sleep. She may be asleep or awake when I quietly make my way to her room in the morning, but I'm mostly scared of her shouting out "NOOO"... " I DON'T want to wake up!!" or simply shouting because it's me she sees rather than her Dad. On lucky-break days, the preliminaries (such as brushing her teeth, breakfast etc) dealt with, I offer to help her dress when she screams with frustration. It could be her T-shirt sleeves she's struggling with, or the state of her hitherto shoulder-length hair) She sometimes shouts and screams angrily, on the brink of a meltdown (pushing me dangerously close to one myself) at being asked to swap her shoes over when they are on the wrong feet.

She hates being told to do anything and only takes directions from her Daddy dearest, who is by then, on his way to work. Sometimes, as we go through the motions of our daily power-struggle, the School Bus arrives and R runs to open the door, which makes S become even more agitated at realising (or being told) she is keeping someone waiting. I reach out to iron her jumper or comb her hair and get a high-pitched screech that makes me cringe.  I have asked many professionals, friends, parents of other girls with SN, what could be making her upset- The dreaded, horrid question resurfaces unbidden, "Is it ME!!??" ...."Am I doing something wrong that is setting her 'off' like this!??"

All I know is it is painful and heartbreaking to live through it everyday...Especially because I am the only parent/adult/person she is so volatile towards. Sometimes she gives me an unexpected, crushing hug and I meld into her arms, mentally thanking God for His infinite love an kindness and at times, she will push me away as if I am invading her very being... I was greatly helped by a friend and her two hour experience of my interaction with my daughter, and her suggestion was spot-on. I googled- oppositional defiance disorder and was shocked by how incredible it was that none of the so-called professionals had ever seen what a mother of another child with struggles and trials, worries and anxieties somewhat similar to my own could see.

Asking he if she wants something which I suspect she does (food, clean socks, lump of cheese, juice, water, etc) brings about a 'hmmm' response, or if prompted into politeness, a "yes please, mummy" but it depends on her mood. She will challenge or shout, ignore of simply defy all my directions, instructions, 'routine charts' and timer-monitored tasks. Things will roll smoothly at School where, I am told, she is sometimes defiant but easy to manage with 'tokens' and stickers, praise and encouragement. While I offer her lots of verbal praise and make it a point to tell her Daddy dearest about her good behaviour, (conveniently forgetting the bad!), use sticker charts and prize tokens etc, her approach to me is one of nonchalance and ill-disguised indifference. The only emotion she displays is if I crack up and run away upstairs, and burst into tears, and she laughs her head off at the sight. Her little sister scolds her, saying" Shame on you, S, you've made poor mummy so sad, can't you see she's crying because she loves you??!".

I have learned to control my own feelings; they serve no purpose and are merely wasted on my child who is often unable to vocalize her own. I refrain from talking in anything but the simplest of sentences. I give only the briefest of instructions. I have to constantly remind myself that a word count of over five per sentence is a NO NO. The best times are when I keep my wits and hang on to my patience and optimism. I tap into my reserves of faith and Hope in His love for us all....I do not pray in the conventional Hindu sense, but my bond with Him is as strong, if not stronger, than  my bond with my own children.

Sleep Wars...and other stories.

Sleep. That one restful, peaceful, quiet place that the body needs to go, to rejuvenate and refresh itself. If I speak for myself, sleep had never been an issue, until I became a mother, that is... As a kid, I used to sleep fitfully, from the moment my Ba's (Granny's) stories began to weave a wonderful blanket of images, draping her stories over my psyche, lulling me to a dreamy, secure safe place. Sleep came wafting in, riding the waves of tiredness mingled with excitement..Of listening to another one of Ba's stories and breathing in the smell of her cotton saree as I snuggled close to her, my face pressed into her warm embrace....She had a loving, sweet way of caressing my hair which actually felt like something between a tickle and a scratch, but put me to a peaceful, heavenly sleep! The summer holidays brought us cousins together, and excitement banished all sleep from our eyes! We would spend hours, talking, telling stories and playing games like UNO... (tales-of-a-bedtime-story).
Many moons later, as a young adult at University, I realised another universal truth: Sleep was good, but, no sleep was even better! I revelled in the drawings and inking I accomplished after the rest of the family was asleep, surviving on an unhealthy dose of caffeine, crisps and rock music. Ba would worry, sometimes dropping in on me through the night, to see if I was actually awake, or had nodded-off...

 As a mother, I tried (in vain) to do the whole "Sleep , my little angel, I'll watch over you, awake.." kind of thing- as glorified in Indian films over the ages. Only too soon, I realized that a sleepy, cranky mother is no good to a toddler and promptly took some steps towards a routine, regular bedtime.After the kids came along, however, sleep has been snatchy, elusive and rather too sonorous for my own liking!  As maternal instincts kicked in, exhaustion was relegated to second place as my duties as a mother came first. As I tried to wake up and focus, I'd be telling myself- 'get up, you blob, S is crying... she's probably hungry/wet/cold or bored'.
Even as a baby, S had a way of snuggling-nuzzling a bare arm, and fell asleep holding on to us. It was all very well for as long as she were little, settling in our bed next to us, and my husband was happy as can be... Things became rather complicated when my second Daughter was born 19 months after S. So we finally got the Cot hitched up in our room, and got the little baby into it. S was 20 months old by then and slept with her grandma till we moved into our own home , a few weeks before S turned two. S hated the new-fangled idea I had about them both sleeping in one room. MiL bought a lovely bunk bed for the girls, and S could sleep in it whilst the baby slept in a cot adjacent to the bed. To us, it was obvious she was beyond tired and needed to sleep.  But S had other ideas... she was ANGRY. Soon, to my surprise (although the predominant emotion was dismay and heartache at the state she was in...) she pulled herself up to stand and cried and cried in protest. Did I mention that she never stood up before, with or without support!?
Sleep and S have always had a love-hate relationship. although she loves her sleep and hates getting up in the morning. School mornings are a real pain. as is getting her to wake up. It may be about her (She's definitely NOT a morning kiddo), or may be due to her behaviour difficulties but she equally strongly dislikes being put to sleep.
At six years old, she had progressed from sleeping only next to me/my husband/ MiL, to persuading R, her little sis, to sleep with her in the bunk-bed. Sometimes, as kids often do, R uses this leverage to get S to toe her line and do things she wants S to do for her... Now, after a few years' struggles and discipline, S manages to sleep throughout the night, on most nights, and only appears at my bedside if she is awake in the wee hours of the morning, when she has been woken up by a full bladder, or worse, a wet bed...Or, like yesterday night, finds me awake in bed, and asks me, "Mummy, can you sleep with me??!"

Rather hard to say no, if you ask me, for two reasons:
If I were to say NO, S would have a meltdown/cry/scream then and there, waking up her father in the process.
If that didn't happen, she would climb into bed with us and slowly nudge me away, thereby taking up my whole bed-space till I was forced to get up and sleep in her room, while she happily snuggled up to her Daddy.

See what I mean!!?? S is cleverer beyond my comprehension, but also stubborn beyond endurance...
Either way, I now sleep less and less, from the sheer stress of it all, only managing to nod-off properly:
A) In the early hours of the morning,
B) While I'm watching T.V,
or C) When my husband decides to give me a peaceful night, putting up with the girls in our bed, and letting me get some sleep in theirs.

Sleep, for our lot at least, is elusive, ever-new and gratefully received! If the body is tired, it will sleep. Period. So, my aim these holidays, on the days I am not working, is to get the girls as tired as possible! We walk to the park, or they ride their scooties, and I let them loose, keeping a hawk-like eye on S so other innocent, unsuspecting kids are not put at risk by her swinging hand and swinging mood... This is not to say that she will attack random kids but with her blurring the lines of acceptable social interactions, she sometimes makes other kids feel threatened. Typically, she will pat a kid on the head, or touch their cheek, face or smile right in front of their noses. They react by telling her to leave them alone. She gets upset and takes a swipe or turns away. I always look out for her so I can help her keep social interaction as open-ended as possible... Difficult, but not impossible. Especially in the play-area is close to home. Disputes can be resolved by ultimately walking off homewards, and she follows, screaming and shouting abuses, but calms down once there is no negative reaction from my side. I just tell myself it must be 10 times harder, if not more, for her than it is for me. Keeps things in perspective, if you ask me....But, that's another story...!

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!!

Cakes, Bakes and summer Birthdays- Vol 2

B's birthday was aglow with the beauty of the summer sun, and made me smile as soon as I pulled back the curtains.  Actually, it was R who woke me up with her excited cry of " Mummyyy, we have to finish Dade's cake (she says Daddy and writes it as Dade, and, so did I.)!! So, I got up and we all wished B a very happy birthday.He was sorry he had to go to work (little knowing the surprise I had in store for him later!) and promised to try to get home soon that evening.
After the girls had their lunch, I fried some samosas added squashes for the journey and a packet of Doritos to our backpack and set off with the girls beside me in their summer hats and jumpsuits. We walked to a bus stop nearby and waited for our bus to arrive. After half-an-hour of waiting (by which time the girls had counted cars, trucks and trailers, smiled at babies in buggies and women on bicycles and swigged from their drink bottles a few times) the bus drew up level and we got inside, thankful to have escaped the heat for a bit! Then, S started her favourite 'journey' game, loudly commenting on why the bus made her fall back into her seat (at which I tried to recollect my vaguely remembered knowledge of Physics- momentum and the inertia of motion) She seemed satisfied by my answer but the answer itself, gave rise to more questions. I promised to google it later on, and show her the results. So, once more, peace prevailed in the bus! On public transport, S constantly observes people, things and views out of the window, and occasionally says, "Are we there, yet!!?" a-la- donkey in SHREK. She is fidgety, affectionate and sometimes gets upset when I tell her off for smacking her little sister out in public places. At home, she is always pushing, punching, poking or shoving her sister, which makes me sad and angry.
When we reached Hemel Hempstead, where B works as a store manager in the Town Centre, we thanked the bus driver, got down at the stop and made our way down the high street.
Inside B's store, his staff, who were in on the surprise, tried to help smuggle us upstairs to B's office. S, however, had different plans, and had started giggling, and grinned at her Dad when she caught his eye! So, we all came out of hiding, and it was so worthwhile just to see the delighted surprise on B's face as he said, "Hi!! What are you all doing here!!!?" and scooped the squealing, smiling girls up into a big, high hug!
Later, after an office-room birthday celebration with his good colleagues AB and NG, we headed home after the tills had been balanced and the store closed for the day. The ride home, in B's car was special too, as we felt part of his daily commute; something I had only imagined him doing everyday for the last few years.  the kids chatted excitedly in the back, and nibbled on the Doritos. The wind whipped through my hair as I gazed contentedly at the orange ball of fire that was the setting sun, dipping down gracefully, low on the horizon...It had been a good day!
We chatted about the loveliness of the countryside, his face and eyes bathed in the glow of the sunset. Inside, I smiled and thanked the Lord for having given me the idea and will to do this for us all. In more ways than one, it was a truly beautiful birthday!! Happy Birthday, honey! You are the sun, glowing on my horizon, guiding me home, making me fly... you are the laughter of our children, the naughty twinkle in their eyes, the gentle touch of their fingers and the trusting clasp of their tiny hands... You, my dear, are my life.
Thank you for being mine!
xxx

Celebrating her smiles...

My eight-year-old never ceases to amaze me. With her vivid memory, her zest for life and her absolute, unadulterated love for people she likes and cares for! She often reaches out and caress little children tenderly, or holds her TA's hand and says something so totally, disarmingly simple and heartfelt, it makes my hear clench with joy. She strikes up a conversation as I wait in line at the tills at the shops, sayying "Hello," to perfect strangers with such a genuine, cheery smile on her face that even the most spectacularly serious sort of folk break into a grin and say 'Hello' back! S is very straightforward. She says things like, "This is my mummy...I am shopping with my mummy...", making those of us who are with her or talking to her, smile widely.

Lately, S has been going through what I can only describe as a 'dark phase of the moon'. she would scream and shout at me and other adults at school if she was asked to do something. She has recently resorted to punches and abuse directed at me when I say something to her. On one occassion, we were walking home together, and as usual, I ran through the drill, " let's look left, then right and then wait until it is ok to cross over the road." I was holding my younger daughter's hand and bent down to ask her if she agreed it was 'ok' to cross or not, suddenly, over her head I watched a white van approaching, and noticed the driver hesitate, as if unsure... Instinctively, I whipped my head around, and was horrified to see S prancing into the middle of the road, her naughty, defiant eyes teasing me...daring me. I rushed forward and tried to hold her hand and bring her back, but she kicked-off right there and then, making me feel as small as an ant..... When incidents like this occur, I try to put myself in her place and think of how she would need her mum to react... It takes a few deep breaths and a good deal of self-control (which I, sadly, somehow lack) to refrain from shouting at her and giving her a royal 'talking- to'... Its a constant process of learning to invoke my reserves of empathy and patience and unlearning expectations, rational thought and "Oh, she's just trying to spite me" kind of thoughts...
Today, after nearly a year of watching her temperament gradually change from sunny to surly, I was ecstatic to see the obvious change in her demeanour. She smiled and greeted her Paediatric Occupational Therapists- Kirstie and Sharon at her O T review this afternoon and giving Sharon a big hug, happily settled down to do the activities she was meant to do. K observed, assessed and for some activities, timed her making observations and chatting with me about how I feel things are getting along. We had this review nearly  4 months too late because of other events in our lives and I was secretly thankful they even considered seeing her today. 
K said she has made great progress, which, although not quite in line with S's age-expectations, is progress all the same..."you should be really happy" K told me as she finalised the discharge paperwork and shared her observations with me. I was! Ultimately, what made my day was the big hug and kisses she gave me, and the realisation that, for the day atleast, I would be there to pick her up from school!