Somewhere along the line I have a suspicion there might be some photos taken but not yet uploaded. I have to be honest, I do NOT have to force myself to TAKE a picture but getting them on to the computer and run through editing is another story. For that I REALLY have to be in the mood. It’s probably partly why I find something like Instagram or some of the other iPhone apps so appealing. Take the pic, edit the pic, upload the pic, all on the one device – job done.
Yesterday was quite a stressful day. 13 was unsettled most of the day, unhappy and showing it. We all know how children with Autism, practically no language and behavioural issues show unhappiness. By the end of the day I was deeply hoping today would be better.
This morning we heard that Hub’s uncle had died last night. His mother’s youngest brother, as you can imagine we are all pretty upset.
Before I go on, someone who read a link to an earlier post commented elsewhere that I should show compassion to my daughter’s expressions of upset, confusion and hurt at the changes she saw around her. This upset me. I wondered if they had actually read the post or just the link. I wondered if the fact I don’t write in every post, “I love my daughter” meant they couldn’t see that – I love my daughter. Of course, I know her expressions or distress are because she is distressed. That’s why they are called that. So, in case someone new is coming to this and they like everything spelled out, I love my daughter, I love ALL my kids. Those two things stand and are not diminished by this next thing – I use my online space to let out some of MY feelings of being a mother and of being a mother to a young person with extra needs and demands.
I use this space to, amongst other things, express my stress, angst and frustrations. I appreciate I can do that as well as appreciate that my daughter can’t and that a great deal of her behavioural issues would not exist if she could communicate more. I know this because I am her mother and have been for almost 14 years and also because I am not an idiot. I really do not need to be told. I humbly suggest to anyone who reads this and does not like my writing, my style or my way of expressing myself, you may well be happier to find your online reading elsewhere.
How’s this for balancing the picture?
I appreciate my daughter loves me so much that while she woke and wanted to get up, once she had her medicine and her breakfast she wanted to come back upstairs and get in to bed with me. I appreciate that she was deeply hurt and distressed when her father would not allow her to do so in order to let me have a lie-in, as he had yesterday morning. I appreciate it was her pain that made her scream and her love for me that made her stop as soon as I heard her, woke and came down.
I would have liked to have had a lie-in.
I had some tea instead.
Then I sat and looked out the in-laws’ upstairs window after lunch while playing the same five songs on the CD player because that is what she likes. And I sang with her, because that is also what she likes.
Then I was given a bowl of strawberries and took their picture, then I gave the strawberries to 13, because that is what she likes. 17 came in and helped 13 eat them, this is not a euphemism for scoffing half of them herself, she helped 13 eat them because 13 can’t always feed herself. Usually her father or I do it. Because we love her and try to see to her needs. You know, when we are not lacking in compassion.
Then we went in to another bedroom, because 13 wanted to and we watched the first two minutes of a DVD, because 13 wanted to. And I jumped up on top of my mother-in-law’s chest of drawers to take a pic out of the window to try to not have an enormous great cable right in the most prominent line of view. And I thought, “oh heck, if some smart alec saw me they would say I was giving 13 ideas”, because I never give my own head peace.
And that was today.
Looking after 13 until she went to bed, and then keeping an ear open to make sure she doesn’t get up or cry out or anything else.
This was last night, but it is pretty, I think, so I’m putting it here.
All images ©penbleth / L. McG.-E. All rights reserved.
© 2012, Penbleth / L. McG.-E.. All rights reserved.