I'm Not Crying...No, Really!

Tyger had a home visit from his key worker and the SENCO (special educational needs coordinator) early this week in preparation for him starting preschool.  It was just a quick visit to see him in his home environment and to let him meet them again before the induction.  It went well.  Tyger even agreed to wear clothes...although he removed all of said clothes in order to change into a Gruffalo onesie part-way through the visit because...it...was...essential...or something.  Also, the 't-shirt' he was wearing was actually a pyjama top because that's what he wanted to wear and he didn't have pants on under his trousers but he agreed to wear clothes, however briefly.

The next day he had his induction.  I had to take Baby Bear along because my mum - who lets us all live with her/my dad/my sisters rent free while we're saving up a deposit, cooks dinner most nights, often watches the cubs whilst I shower/make their dinner etc., and generally leads a pretty selfless existence - had the audacity to be unavailable to babysit Bear due to acting as taxi to my sister.  I know, the absolute cheek of some people!  So, I didn't really get to watch Tyger much because I spent the first half hour trying to stop Bear from scooping sand from the sand tray onto the floor and the second half hour trying to stop Bear from scooping soapy water from the water tray into his mouth (actually, that's a lie; I spent about two minutes trying to stop him and then let him get on with it since it's no different to drinking bath water and both boys have consumed litres of that with no ill effect (I'm pretty sure there's no link between drinking bath water and autism)).

All that's left is for Tyger to start.

And I'm not upset by that.

I've read a lot of very good blog posts in the last few weeks about children starting preschool/nursery/school and the consensus seems to be this is something upsetting.  When I was at the induction, one of the other mums made a joke about trying not to cry on Tyger's first day.

Once again (like in my blog post Babies Don't Care About Birthdays) I'm left feeling like I'm missing something.  I'm not upset about Tyger starting preschool.  At all.  In fact, I'm looking forward to the peace and the opportunity to spend some one-to-one time with Bear.

There are several reasons I can think of for this disparity between other people's emotions on the subject and my own.

It may well be in part because unlike school or some nursery places, he won't be going every day.  He will start off doing only two mornings a week with a view to working up to two mornings plus a full day.  However, the mum who told me to try not to cry knew how often Tyger was going to be attending and her own daughter is doing similar hours.  I also don't think I'll feel any different when it comes time for Tyger to start school.

Perhaps I'm just more heartless?  Or - maybe at least - more practical.  This is simply the next step in parenting.  It should be good for Tyger and learning some independence is a positive step for a child.

It might also be Tyger.  Of course I feel the same unconditional, totally staggering love for the cubs most parents feel for their children...but Tyger is hard work.  Really, really hard work.  Tyger's ASD makes simply being near him completely overwhelming at times.  Whilst he's loving and intelligent and funny and thoughtful he's also a violent, unreasonable, unpredictable wall of sound.  Spending all day, every day, with him is exhausting and I am more than looking forward to having a couple of breaks a week from him.

I think his ASD also highlights something for me that parents of neurotypical children might not get.  The health care professionals who have been assessing Tyger have used words and phrases like 'subtle' and 'end of the spectrum' to describe his ASD and I think it likely he'll end up with a diagnosis of Asperger's (since this is still used in parts of the UK).  So, Tyger's chances of leading a relatively 'normal' life and going on to live independently are reasonably high.

High.  But by no means guaranteed.  I don't know how Tyger will cope with school in a year's time.  I don't know if he'll make it through secondary school with much in the way of qualifications and how often he'll even manage to attend.  I certainly don't know whether he'll be able to hold down a job and move away from me and the Wolf.  So, the fact he's excited about going to preschool and the staff have been so amazingly understanding and proactive about his autism - even without yet having a formal diagnosis - is something I can only see as a good thing.

Or maybe I'll be in floods of tears tomorrow after dropping him off.  I guess we'll find out!

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I Have a Confession

I have a confession to make.

I'm not a baby person.

I know, I know, that doesn't seem like a big deal and it goes without saying (except this is the internet so I'll say it anyway to ensure there's no misunderstanding (except this is the internet so there's always a chance of a misunderstanding)) I love my boys.  I'd do all the usual clichés parents would do for their kids: I'd die for them, I'd kill for them, I'd fly to Paris to rescue them from human traffickers and murder a load of gangstas on the way.  You know, all the usual parenty stuff.

But - and this is where I feel I deviate from the norm - I don't 'miss' the baby days with Tyger and I don't think Baby Bear is 'growing up too fast'.  All I seem to read in baby groups and from friends with babies is how upset they are their nine-month-olds aren't tiny babies anymore, how they're in tears over the thought of a first birthday, how nostalgic they are about teeny tiny sleepsuits and how morose they are at their baby moving up a nappy size.  I feel bad for them but I'm left wondering if I'm the only person in the world who just doesn't really like the baby stage.

I'm not saying I spend/spent the whole 'baby' part of parenting resenting my children or being indifferent towards them.  Of course, like any mum, I felt an overwhelming sense of love when they fell asleep on me whilst I fed them.  I felt all gooey inside when they started smiling.  I was convinced they were the smartest babies on the planet when they learned how to clap or sit up unaided or move around.  I was elated when they stopped pooping in the house and started doing it in the garden...or was that one the dogs - it's all run into a bit of a blur?  I even thought they looked cute and not like weird bulbous headed, purple, wrinkly aliens.

However, breastfeeding was excruciatingly painful to start with (and for months and months with Tyger) and every time one of the boys fell asleep on me I desperately needed to pee.  The smiling was lovely but the crying happened far more often.  They learned how to do things like clap and move around but got horribly frustrated before they managed (which resulted in more crying).  They may have tricked my hormonal, sleep dprived mind into thinking they were cute but looking back at photos I'm not convinced and they certainly look better once their heads aren't all squishy and bald.  And there's the crying.  Plus: the lack of sleep (oh, God, the lack of sleep), having to carry around a dead weight all day, the crying, the lack of sleep, the stress of starting solids, the crying, the lack of sleep, the crying...

Yeah, I know toddlers cry too.  I know sometimes they cry a lot, too.  Tyger tends to cry at least five times before 8am so I get it.  He can, however, generally let me know why he's crying, even if the reason is all the breadsticks left in the box are broken or one of his toys won't fit in another one or I won't hoover or I take too long hoovering and he wants his 'turn' or he wants to help me with the laundry but I'm making lunch or he wants lunch at 9am.  And, yes, it may be the case that most of my responses to his crying are met with, 'but why??' and more crying but at least I can respond and at least I know what's distressing him, no matter how baffling or bemusing I may find it.

With Baby Bear I have to guess.  Unless I see him fall or see Tyger smack him over the head with a ukulele (yes, that happened and the jury's still out on whether it was an accident or not) I have to assume it's tiredness or trapped wind or teething or...something.  It's incredibly frustrating.  I admit Tyger inexplicably spitting on all his toys/himself/the floor/the sofa/other people is also frustrating.  Tyger asking - several hundred times a day - if I'm going to do the hoovering and trying to dictate to me which hoover I use is frustrating.  Tyger refusing to let anything resembling a vegetable or a full meal or just...food pass his lips is frustrating.  Yeah, the tantrums, throwing things, hitting other people and himself, shouting all time are all really frustrating but not in the same way as Baby Bear's crying.  He cries when you pick him up as if he wants to be down and then cries when you put him down like he wants to be held.  And I can't ask him why or...bribe him with a biscuit (well, I'm sure I could but I'm not quite at the point of giving a baby biscuits to shut him up yet).

Baby Bear has recently started crawling, after weeks of almost but not quite part-crawling-part-rolling-part-commando-crawling-part-flailing where he'd just get himself worked up into a rage because he couldn't quite manage what he wanted.  Far from feeling sad he's now crawling - and by extension growing up - I'm soooo relieved he can finally do it because it's meant he's a little happier and easier to deal with.

The other thing that makes Tyger's behaviour easier to cope with is the fact he may pinch me one minute but he sweetly tells me he loves me the next.  Or I know five minutes before he throws himself on the floor in a rage over his Duplo 'castle' breaking he went around the room pointing at every one of his toys saying 'thank you' (or 'gankoo') for them.  He gives me hugs and kisses, he makes me pretend cups of tea, he says some of the funniest things I've ever heard.  As lovely as it is when Baby Bear gives me a high five or smiles or giggles, I can't wait for him to start talking (more than his current ability to say 'again' and 'Dad').

I guess what I'm trying to say is: whilst I love my baby, I don't look longingly at tiny babies in the supermarket, I don't sniff babies' heads (I think my two must have been faulty because I still don't get that whole thing), I don't well up over little blankets.  I'm not a baby person.