Well, it feels like a slight case of deja vu, but this morning I took B (Small Boy) to see the community paediatrician in the first step of looking for some answers.
After various chats with a couple of very good friends, and a meeting with the Head Teacher of his school, we are all agreed that the most likely scenario is that B is also on the autism spectrum. There are only so many times you can hear the words “he’s so like his brother at that age” before you realise you’ve been so caught up in dealing with everyday life in a neuro-diverse household that you might possibly have overlooked one of the members.
Actually, that’s not true. We’ve not overlooked him – there is no way anyone could ignore our Small Boy – too loud and in your face bless him, but we have probably been guilty of thinking him badly behaved rather than autistically behaved, and there is a world of difference between the two.
So, with the backing of school, and the accepted knowledge that we do generally know what we’re talking about, the paediatrician is sending us the colossal booklet of questions that I remember filling in about Teen Boy when he was younger, and the whole process starts up again.
I’m sure if in the future we walk away from a meeting with a diagnosis, there will be a period of adjustment and possibly even anger or disappointment, but I’m wise enough to know that it won’t last and our beautiful boy will revert to being “just B” , but with a little more support and understanding in this confusing and anxiety-inducing neuro-typical world he’s forced to live in.
The Bank Holiday was quiet, really quiet. Hubby had to work and Teen Boy was at his boarding school, so I had Teen Girl asleep half of the day and the small people playing nicely almost all day.
Yes, I did say that – almost all day. I know, miracle, right? There was a wobble when I *persuaded* them to play outside for half an hour and B protested, loudly, but it happened. And then it all went a bit pear-shaped in the evening, but basically it was a good day.
Last night however. Urgh. Poor M was visited by the Anxiety Fairy, repeatedly. Which meant I kept getting woken up too, to reassure her that her tummy pains were most likely because she was anxious about school after a three day weekend, and not because she was likely to be sick. It’s not easy being awake enough at 3 am to talk through breathing exercises with an uptight eight year old but I think I managed it, as finally after three attempts she was back in her bed and stayed there.
This morning, naturally, she was very tired so the school run was anything but cheerful. I am staggering through the day and trying not to take a nap in case it prevents me sleeping tonight, but I wanted to buck myself up a bit as when I’m tired I tend to mope and it can become a downward spiral.
So, I went for a short walk. I always have my phone in my pocket, it’s like my security blanket I suppose, and I snapped a few pictures that made me smile. The quality is rubbish as it’s not a great phone, but I’ll put them up in case you like them too.
They reminded me that even when I’m feeling particularly crap, there is beauty in the world, and if I literally take the time to stop and smell the flowers, then just perhaps, I can tip the balance in favour of a happy day.