Kicks up the bum from the universe

Ever felt like the universe is constantly giving you little kicks up the bum in the direction you’re supposed to go? It happens to me sometimes. Sometimes it’s playful and other times it really, really hurts.

I notice I get little kicks whenever I think seriously about giving up blogging here. On two occasions now – the most recent being last week – when I’ve been on the verge of giving up this space, I get an email from a parent just like me, coming to terms with having a baby with facial palsy, thanking me for writing about my experiences. The emails are always just so lovely and the tinge of worry, yet glowing love they have for their babies, takes me hurtling back to the time I spent googling for answers with my own special boy feeding away, oblivious to the tears that dropped onto his little head.

In that moment, I know that my almost four years of blogging here is worth it and it inspires me to keep telling my stories of parenting a child with a difference. So, I begin this year with a new resolve to keep telling my stories, the big and the small, the joyous and the painful in the hope that we can all revel in our own differences and that of our children.

This year will be a momentous one here in our household as we prepare J for hopefully beginning big school next year. One of the reasons I haven’t been blogging as regularly is that a lot of my energy has been focused on being completely and utterly present with him and working on his speech, language and physical movement. At the end of last year we went through the process of gaining entry into our local Early Childhood Development Program (ECDP), which prepares kids with special needs for Prep. We had been warned that getting in is sometimes hard for kids with speech/language delay, but when we met with the staff they couldn’t be more accommodating. We started to attend playgroup there while we did all the mountains of paperwork to get in. In the end, they suggested we try to get him in under ‘physical impairment’ due to his facial palsy. Which worked and J started at his ‘new kindy’ this week.

Accessing the ECDP and its services constituted a big kick up the bum from the universe. What I found there was so much support and understanding for Jarvis and for me as his mum. Until this point, the idea that J had ‘special needs’ was something I wasn’t comfortable admitting to even myself. His differences were just him, the challenges we met along the way – the appointments, the tests, the therapy –  was just part of our journey. However, standing in a room with a group of kids, all with different needs, and their parents who were there to help them, I realised that I’d found a place where there was no ‘normal’ and I felt a sense of peace. At that moment, I knew that for four years as I struggled to learn how to be his parent and to show the world how brilliantly I was coping (cough, cough!) that I constantly compared him to other kids his age without his problems, instead of comparing him to his own potential – which although endless, just takes a little longer to shine out of him.

I can’t dwell on the fact that it took me four years to come to this realisation, but I sometimes wonder if I would have cut myself a bit more slack a bit earlier had I known it to be true. The upshot is, I know in my heart of hearts that I never could have loved my boy more if I tried and that I continue to be his advocate and his guide on this sometimes rocky road, despite my personal feelings of inadequacy.

Having said all that, I know that as a family we are up for the challenges this year brings and J is over the moon excited about his ‘new kindy’. And me? I’ll be here, blogging a bit more regularly about our journey thanks to the all the little kicks up the bum that have landed me back here in front of this screen. Where it seems like I belong, after all.

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And you call yourself a blogger? Lacking consistency

Last week’s ‘And you call yourself a blogger?’ post detailed how my uncanny ability to consistently suck at selfies may be holding me back from blogging success, which was a fun way to get the ball rolling.

But while my selfies consistently suck, my efforts at posting consistently kinda sucks too. In the early days I was a pretty consistent three to four posts a week kind of girl. I had a lot to say and the time to do it. I was enthusiastic and joined in all the linkys. But then life got in the way. I went back to work. I got all caught up in my head and lost my blojo. Sometimes weeks went by without post. Hardly the foundation for blogging success. Continue reading

One post wonder

The post was becoming a thing of beauty – well to me anyway – juxtaposing the imagined thoughts of 80s one hit wonders Dexy’s Midnight Runners after C’mon Eileen became an international smash hit with my current emotional state – fearing a similar fate; that of a one post wonder.

And then technical glitch hit, the post was gone, replaced instead with a solitary letter r.

At first I tried resurrecting the post – but this only frustrated me. The train of thought nuances were now lost to me having spilt out on the page previously.

So now all that remained was an emotion, the reason I started writing the post in the first place. Behind all the witty references to dungarees I was scared. Scared of being a one-post wonder.

As My boy with the Crooked Smile became one of this week’s feature posts on Aussie Mummy Bloggers I was both happy and fearful – what if I never write a post that resonates with as many people as that one?

What if? What if? It’s the ifs in life that hold us back.

What if I never write anything that resonates with people as much? It really doesn’t matter. What matters is what I do now. Do I believe its a foregone conclusion that I don’t have anything else worthwhile to share and stop now? Or do I feel the fear and do it anyway?

Feeling the fear and writing about it, I feel the pressure valve release. Which reminds me why I’m doing this anyway.

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Dear Internet: A note of love and gratitude

Photo by rachel titiriga on flikr.com

Dear Internet/Cyberspace

I want to send you a short note of thanks and gratitude for helping me in times of need. I pondered whether I should send this message to Google, but seeing you are the great overseer of all things, the ‘CEO’, I thought you’d be the best bet, please feel free to copy this message to the relevant department.

I have long been a fan of your work, but never more so than in the last nine months or so. My husband feels that my fan status has gone past a level deemed healthy and that I’ve now slipped into the realms of obsession. But how can something so wrong bring me so much? I just can’t quit you.

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