I don't know.

This week has been wearying.
Rye's initial assessment was frustrating, distressing, illuminating.  Frustrating that yet another expert seems to believe home education means keeping one's child in a bubble, and refused to listen to anything that contridicted the belief.  Distressing because my fears were realised and it does appear that Rye may be Aspergers and also have a condition called Pathalogicial Demand Avoidance Syndrome; that contrariness I've on ocassion ranted about, well it's not just a 4yr old phase, it is a symptom of Rye feeling out of control and anxious.    He has been referred for a thorough assessment, which should happen in the next 6 months.  And there's the illumination too. 

PDA.  I'm not interested in the politics surrounding this condition; whether it is or not a part of Aspergers, whether one can have PDA and Aspergers together etc.  I don't care really, I just want to know how best to help my son - that other stuff is the politics of these conditions and let the experts argue it out.  All I want to know is how do we progress now, and then there's also that nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.

I am struggling with some of it; the biggy being love.  Does Rye understand love?  Is he capable of it or is it simply a tool for manipulation, for controlling his enviroment, me? 

The mind whirls, even when asleep it dream ponders; nothing is resolved. 
Don't be silly of course he loves you, and we all use "love" to manipulate to some degree.
Is Rye's degree so encompassing he doesn't feel love?
Doesn't change your love for him; he learns about love from you.
"superficial, superficial, superficial, superficial"  A word that means with no substance or meaning, of no emotional depth; and this is the word that is constantly used in reference to PDA.  My heart breaks a little bit more.  What will the future hold for my boy if he is incapable of love?

Is he incapable? All those hugs, "I love you mummmeeeee", the delight on his face when he sees me, racing into my arms, wanting to be so close to me he prefers to sleep in my bed, his delight he takes in showing me something he's acheived/done.... turning to me when he's hurt himself.  Trusting me to make it better.   His shinning eyes, his laughter and joy.  If those things are not a part of love, then what is? 

Want to run away.

Today has not been a good day.
Rye has alwasy been a very active little boy; as he gets older I'm beginning to wonder if its something more.  Rye is not overly great at empathy either - actually that's an under statement, it's not that he doeesn't see when someone is upet or happy, he just doesn't seem to care.  I am constantly intervening between  him and the little girl I mind.  Now, ok, he ignores her crying in large part because she's a wee bit of a drama queen and will cry at the slightest thing, so when he does actually hurt her, he doesn't take any notice of her crying.  Still, he ignores when she tells him she doesn't like something he's doing, or asks him to stop.  He just keeps on, so it becomes pestering and tormenting.  Frankly it's driving me batty and the only time he stops is if I get really angry and shout.

I don't want to spend my life shouting at him though, there has got to be a better way.  I've read how to talk to kids.... and I try to use it as much as possible, but he just doesn't listen.  Having a simply conversation is hard enough, having to keep pulling him back on topic as he randomly starts talking about other things........ so when trying to talk to him about his behaviour is neigh on impossible.

I am wondering if maybe nicking an idea from the Sonlight programme, might help him?  I'm tired so I can't think what it's called at the moment; basically it's a ring binder with lots of pictures in it.  Rye is a visual learner and while he can follow fairly complex instructions, it can take repeating a few times before he's successful.  I wonder if making up a ring binder with different pictures of emotions, our rhythm etc will help him to listen effectively.

Shouting and being angry is just not helping; sure in the short term I get his cooperation, or the very least a temproary respite of whichever behaviour is beginning to really piss me off.  But he is coping my tone when angry..and hearing it parroted back to me.. well its cringeworthy and very shaming.  So long term I'm simply adding to the problem of his behaviour.

Rhythm, again this helps so I need to be more mindful of keeping our rhythm a bit more in place... I'm a lackadaisical type of person, and while Rye can be adaptable.. I am beginning to wonder if some of his manic behaviour is a response to that.

Although to be fair too, the past few days has been sugar fest of the highest order... and yes I know, I've always said I have never noticed much of a difference in his behaviour in relation to what he's eaten....... but he has been so awful today that maybe it does.  Worth investigating anyway.

I wrote on a forum I use earlier that there's time I don't like him, that I worry he's turning into a bully, or will end up being abusive like his dad has been in the past.....I love him, absolute no doubt about that...... but oh my, I do have such fears for him.  However, he's now sat on my bedroom floor, looking at some Cars cards, chattering away to himself and I can't help but smile and chide myself... how can I not like and love this boy; he's delightful............. but wow he's hard work and wow he really makes me examine myself and how I parent him... and at the moment, I loathe the way I'm parenting him, it's not often I feel tearful, but tonight I could cry my heart out.    Tonight single parenthood seems the pits. 

But lets try and end with some positivity; a few things to implement that hopefully will help me to parent in a much more "gentle" way:

1. change diet
2. use rhythm much more
3. create pictorial folder of emotions, actions, behaviours etc.

And I sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo need to meditate more!  I find it helps enormously with controlling my temper!

This week.

An odd week.
I've been not ill really, just abit under the weather.  Delicate tum which always hits in the night and means I end with very little sleep owing to excessive bloating and, er, shall we just say the passage of wind; seems a bit of an after effect of the D&V bug from the other week.  Indeed friends keep having problems with the vomitting returning - seems this bug leaves one very susceptible to re-infection; while also being incredibly random.  My mindie, has not had the illness at all, inspite of Rye and myself being ill, although of course I did quarantine us and closed the setting; but she has been around children who then started puking mere hours later.  So yeah, a very random bug this year, which is keeping us all on our toes and feeling very wary!

Thus our letterland day on Wednesday was cancelled, as the family that hosts were not feeling too bright.  So a fair bit of home time this week; well with trips over the road to the park, or popping out to do some shopping, bit of tidying, attempting to visit friends, and then cancelling because of under the weatherness.  Add in the very distinct nip of winter, never mind autumn and well I am very pleased indeed I finished my granny square blanket; it is a very snuggly warm blanket!

Thursday was a day of both highs and lows.  Rye had is paeditrician appointment; which began with me suddenly leaping out of bed at 10.11am (another dodgy night with wind), and yelling at Rye to find his shoes and that we had to go NOW!  Considering that included  me getting dressed, having a wash, finding car keys, house keys, mobile, purse etc... I am astounded we arrived at the hospital at 10.35am.  Our appointment was for 10.25am, very relieved that the doctor still saw us, indeed no issue was made of our lateness at all.

The appointment, well mix bag.  On the one hand the nurse that weighted and measured Rye was fabulous at helping me to overcome his reluctance to let her neear him; and by the time we left he was smiling happily at her and engaging...and oh my gosh, my boy is 117cm tall!  I'm 167.5cm apparently... he's 50 cm shorter than I am at four years old!  That is just scary.

But anyway, I don't really want to go in too much depth about the appointment on here, suffice to say, Rye has been referred for assessment by the ASD team; however there could be complications because of his educational provision... I will tackle that as and when/ if and when it becomes an issue... I am however expecting to have to fight for my son's right to assessment.  But we'll see.

The highlight of the day though, was in the afternoon going over to a fellow home educators home for our home ed group meet up to make halloween decorations for the upcoming Halloween Party on the 3rd Nov (yes I know but we have Forest School on the 27th Oct).  The kids did me proud.  I showed them how to make spiders using egg boxes, black paint, googly eyes and pipe cleaners - which they had a marvellous time doing and gosh the mess was spectactular.  Then I showed the children how to make spider webs cutting into  paper - I learned how to do it from here:  and because I was so busy being involved in all this, I'venot been able to take photos.  We didn't spray the webs; I felt adding spray paint into the mixture was perhaps a wee bit tooooooooo risky; excited children and spray paint..hmmm, no.  LOL.

After that I cut out pumpkin shapes on orange card and the children decorated them with glitter and googly eyes.  One boy who had begun to loose interest found his forte making gruesome eyeballs out of tissue paper, glitter and large googly eyes.  And we also made some ghosts too.  A very, very simple craft designed with our very youngest members in mind... essentially some tissue paper is pushed up between thumb and fore finger and then twisted around to create the neck and head.  Then decorate with yet more glitter and googly eyes etc.

They really did do a grand job and we have losts of lovely decorations now for the party.  And as a seperate, do at home, craft I've suggested that some of the kids could make spider nests.  I saw that on a blog too; sadly I can't remember which one to link to it; so if anyone knows which it is, let me know please.  Very simple craft, blow up a balloon, wet strands of white yarn/string in pva/water mixture and then drape over the balloon neest fashion.  Leave to dry - pop the balloon and hey presto, a spider's nest.  I'll be doing this with Rye before the party, but not this weekend as he's at his dad's.

And I need the distraction too so I didn't brood too much on the earlier appointment at the hospital.
Today, bit of tidy up, and then a friend came over and the kids played for a bit, needed a fair bit of referring today; not really sure what got into Rye; he was very manic, and I spent a lot of time having to remind him to be gentle etc and indeed I had to remove him a few times and make him go upstairs just to cut through the fog he seemed to be in, so he'd actually hear me that his behaviour was not appropriate.Mind seemed epidemic too, my mindie was a tad challenging to day too; well no not challenging; just very dramatical and tinkerish, which I found challenging from a being patient stance.

So that's been the week so far.  A mixed bag for sure.

Tomorrow, Rye goes to his dad's for the weekend; I will attempt to plumb in a lent to me dishwasher... well, actually I'm hoping my friend's husband comes up tomorrow and does it for me... yeah, yeah I know I COULD do it myself, but why when there's a man willing?  That's about as far as I've got with weekend planning at the mo.

Have a good one :-)

C-Section.

Recently it struck me that I have no feeling one way or t'other toward Rye's birth.  I suppose in part because I was so drugged up on gas, air and pain that I was half way to being delirious.

Labour began when my waters broke at home on New Years Eve, 2007.  There was meconium in them, so naturally I called the midwives at the hospital and went in.  No sign of labour actually starting, so after an hour I was hooked up to the drip, thus began 11 hours of agony - much of which I do not remember.  I do remember the wonderful midwife that stayed with me much of the night, massaging my back - my gawd, her hands were the equivilient to ambrosia!  I remember begging her not to put the trace on Ryes head back in, after once again coming off, because I was so sore and tender, and bless her, she left me without for a while and let me move around, whereas the midwives after her wouldn't allow me off the bed.  And to be fair, I believe it was more to do with any difficulties I might get into and my weight.

I remember swearing gratefully, rather unlady like, when told I was at 7cms, and then sobbing when the doctor examined me and demurred and suggested 5cm.  I remember begging for an epidural when the pain and frequency became too much and I felt I couldn't breath - I know now I was starting to panic, hence the feeling of not being able to breath; and sadly my partner of the time was not especially supportive - in fact I do not actually remember him being there; except for one moment, in which, if I'd not being in too much pain to respond, I would have probably battered him around the head repeatedly with the gas and air cannister.
I remember the epidural failing, I remember doctors cramming into the room, I vaguely remember being told rye was in distress and that they wanted to use a ventrouse and would do everythign possible to avoid c-section.  I remember scrawling on a piece of paper, (permission slip), I remember being wheeled to the theatre and screaming, screaming so loudly and a midwive, couldn't see her, just hear, telling me to calm down and stop screaming and just to listen to her voice.  I remember the lights in the ceiling of the corridor flashing past, on the way to theatre.  I have vague memories of being prepped for surgery, a man with cold hands spraying me and asking me if I could feel that, and me, in true northern style replied, "Of course I can, you daft bugger". 

I don't remember the ventrouse I can only assume the spinal block had taken effect by that time, I remember being asked to push and wondering in my dazed state, how the hell I was suppose to push when I couldn't feel a damn thing.  And then suddenly, everyone seemed to get even more urgent and someone told me Rye wasn't breathing and they had to get him out now.  I know my ex was with me, but I don't recall if he said or did anything... not until after Rye was cut out of me.  I do remember turning my head to look out of a window, I think I was hallucinating at this point, because in my head, when I think about this, I see grasslands and cows.. I was in a hospital surrounded by houses!  So, actually, I don't know if this is a memory or something my mind conjoured up to protect me from the fear that I would feel them cutting into me and not be able to say anything.

I have vague memories of my ex, or perhaps the guy who sprayed me with water, telling me Rye was born, and I know I asked why he wasn't crying, (I didn't know that not all babies cry at birth), and no one answered, and I kept asking, and then I stared out of the window again - in my heart I was waiting to be told my baby had died, and I do remember tears falling - but in a dazed regret.

Then I don't know, I'm in the recovery room, holding Rye, smiling like a looney and the nurse trying to convert his weight into pounds for me.

Why am I dwelling on this after almost 3 and half years? 

It has just hit me, after reading on the GP forum about a lady who plans to have an elective c-section, (for medical reasons, but even if it wasn't, not for me to judge.. she is simply the catalyst for this post), that I have no real feelings toward the birth of Rye.  Neither traumatic, or positive.  Just blank, it was, what it was - a medical procedure to save the life of my son.

I wonder tho if it should mean more to me?  I laboured, afterall, for 11 hours - I joke sometimes, for nothing?  Was it?  I don't know really.  I have no idea how it feels to vaginally give birth to one's child.  I've read beautiful stories of women having vaginal childbirths, be it in hospital, or at home.  They talk of how beautiful it was, how breathtaking and amazing.  I feel none of that, I can in an abstract way understand - but I don't really know , you know?  

So, I'm left with a sense I've missed out on something; not necessarily the birth; but a feeling, for that momentous occasion.  And that, does make me feel sad.


Hmmm, Rye is at his dad's and I have too much time on my hands to think.
Bed methinks.

Musings.

I've been musing about boys and attitudes towards boys.  In part this is prompted by a few daft groups that have been set up on Facebook and common phrases like, "that's men for you".  I remember being told too that I have a great responsibility to ensure my boy grew up to be a decent man because there are so few in the world.

I laughingly told a dear friend a few nights ago that men aren't great at communication.  Afterwards I felt annoyed with myself.  Utter tosh, men can communicate, they can express themselves, otherwise we wouldn't have the fantastic artists, writers, inventors etc that we do have, and have had. I began to wonder if its the expectation that they can't that stunts the ability in some men?  Or, perhaps we haven't learned to listen in the way men need to be listened to.  I think one of the greatest inequalities of the ideal of equal opportunities is that it's taboo to admit there are differences between the sexes.  Although when it comes to expressing emotions and expressing needs culture has a lot to answer for; "big boys don't cry,", I've found this phrase nearly parting my lips occasionally and had to bite it back. 

Having a son for a child, is forcing me to look at this cultural influence and sterotypes and challenging my own biases, perhaps even arrogance?  Rye as a 3yr old is emotional, loving, energetic and he expresses his joy and love physically.  He is a big into cuddles, he liks to give and receive kisses, he loves to cuddle in bed nad to sleep with his head resting on my arm.  I think the lady who told me my challenge is to ensure I teach Rye to be decent, was wrong, I think my challenge is provide an environment where he can safely continue to express those emotions, that joy, along with the tears, the shouting, the scowling and huffing.  Where his hugs are received with joy, his kisses with appreciation and his tears, his expressed needs with understanding and love.  And also to combat to some degree the culture influence that "big boys don't cry".