Sunday: A Little Freedom
Two days into half-term and I’m already tired, not sure how much more I can take.
The weekend went well though, largely because I took myself to the cinema on my own, one of my favourite things to do.
I sat right at the back, arms buried in my big coat, beanie on (I get unusually cold in the cinema), bag of snacks ready to watch all the trailers.
I chose a film called I Swear. It was brilliant, amazing performances and a very touching story.
But perhaps not the best choice for someone living my life right now. A film about a man’s struggle with acceptance after being diagnosed with Tourette’s.
By the end, I was emotionally wrecked. Awkward laughing one minute and ugly crying the next.
As the lights came up, I turned to the ladies next to me and said, “Well that was a lot, wasn’t it.”
They nodded.
Still, I’d recommend it. It reminded me exactly why I fight so hard for River.
Monday: Resistance Is the Theme
I’d offered to help a friend by walking her girls to the same drama group Summer was attending.
The night before, I panicked remembering how upset River was the last time we dropped Summer off during the holidays as he couldn’t go in.
Kike said he’d work from home, which calmed me.
6.30 a.m: Both kids awake. How? I have to drag Summer up at 7.45am usually!
I tidied the house, the extra children arrived, we played, and I walked them up to the Theatre and came home.
Kike had tried to do some activities with River but as it turned out, resistance would be the theme of the day.
When I got home, River was beside himself, no clear reason. TV on, settle him down.
I must’ve been tired because I fell asleep.
After lunch I knew Kike had calls, so I took River out.
We’ve been trialling time out of the pushchair. I chose a quieter route with fewer distractions.
He did pretty well. He’s walking less on his toes now, preferring skipping, which is obviously adorable.
He stopped at the first three roads: “STOP! Hand!” and we did a dramatic look left, look right and left again.
Small side note: apparently the kids are now taught right, left and right again.
Mind blown, I’ve been teaching it the American way this whole time.
By the fourth crossing, the novelty had worn off. No stopping, no hand holding, just running.
Back in the pushchair.
The Capri-Sun Incident
We went to our little shopping centre, picked up two Halloween toys, drinks and snacks.
Sat down for our drinks; River had a Capri-Sun.
Those lids! Tricky to open and always overfilled. I opened it, took a quick sip to stop it spilling,
big mistake.
“MINE!! MINE!! GET OFF!”
Eight minutes of screaming, thrashing, tears.
I sat still. Waited.
When he paused, I handed it back. He tried to drink, spilled a drop on his trousers.
Round two.
Three more minutes.
Then quiet.
He whispered “Thank you,” drank it all and wiped his eyes.
It was quite a sight to behold.
The Theatre Meltdown
We met Summer after her drama group. I’d forgotten my previous feelings of anxiety about taking him near a theatre and not entering it.
“No River, the theatre is closed, we’re going home.”
“NOOO! I WANT THEATRE!”
The full meltdown. Floor. Screaming. Kicking.
After fifteen minutes I strapped him into the pushchair and started walking home.
Then he slammed his foot in the wheel.
“Movie theatre!”
He knows where our local cinema is and we were walking past it.
I shrugged. Maybe we could let him walk around, calm down? There’s a lego playstation bit, he’ll be alright once he’s just wandered round.
Ten minutes later:
“Three tickets to Gabby’s Dollhouse, please.”
He sat for about ten per cent of it, ran around, climbed seats, shouted when I touched his popcorn box but he was happy.
It’s Gabby’s Dollhouse, for goodness’ sake, if you can’t enjoy yourself there where can you?!
Tuesday: The Planned Theatre Trip
Today’s fun!
The real theatre. A spooky adventure show.
He was meant to go this time.
Summer dropped off at ten, show at eleven. One hour to fill.
Apparently I can’t.
So much crying. Not understanding why he can’t go in.
Took him for a walk which helped until he lost his new Frankenstein toy, luckily we were doing a repetitive loop so it was still there on the 2nd round.
We went back and just sat till they opened the door. Sadie arrived just in time.
He was very excited.
We were all given glow sticks which confused him and wasn’t a fan at first. (even less later when he bit one)
We settled. Snacks at the ready and the show began.
He loved it!
I won’t do a blow by blow, just a few points that I need to think about.
About 30 minutes in, he put his hands over his ears and refused to take them off.
I have offered ear defenders before but he’s not liked them, I should keep them in the bag just in case.
I had to tackle him once because he went to go into the performance area.
Sadie and I reflected on this and there was a toddler who kept doing this as their mum was preoccupied with a newborn.
River took this as a reason to go but I need him to learn that he can’t go on stage when he wants.
Luckily the tantrum was short and after quick hugs and rocks he was back to his seat, happy again.
He danced at the end with all the other children, which made my heart happy.
Sadie and I watched from our seats as he had two of his ‘seizures’ just standing completely still, not moving, not blinking.
We decided to let it ride out and after about 45 seconds he ‘came back in the room’ and continued to jump with the other children. They are fascinating to watch, again I’ll keep a record.
He stood and said goodbye to the performers and went back to his seat.
This is the reason I continue to take him.
He is learning how the theatre works.
He loves being involved, and he can now listen to instructions.
The Run and the Plug
Outside, he bolted straight into the road.
I threw the pushchair, ran after him, grabbed him, shouted and we both cried.
“No running in the road. Danger. Cars. You’re too important. Mummy can’t let anything happen to you.”
Afterwards, forehead to forehead, we both calmed down.
“Blue one with plug,” he said.
But of course, I don’t have a plug, do I. Nor my earphones to trick him.
Quick trip to Robert Dyas to buy a lead.
Helpful cashier: “Do you need the plug part?”
No, of course I don’t.
I’m just tricking my autistic child into thinking his iPad is plugged in.
I’m sure you get this all the time?!
Afternoon: Quiet Thoughts
Lead bought, we manage a quick catch-up lunch.
Spent mainly with me standing up trying to convince River that his food isn’t hot and that he’d much prefer not to sit on me but it was nice to see a friend.
Even if I was very jealous she was heading to one of her famous bottomless brunches. Which did explain why she came looking far too glamorous for a spooky Halloween show for kids.
It left River and I, what would we do? Only 1.15 p.m.
I suggested park: “NO!”
Shops: “NO!”
We even walked past the cinema:“NO MOVIE THEATRE!”
Honestly, River, that wasn’t an option again.
I took him to the park anyway but not to the playground.
We wandered through the park. River chased squirrels, climbed logs, edged too close to the pond for my liking.
He was happy.
It made me think about forest schools, maybe they hold the key to what mainstream education can’t. (That’s for another day.)
Later, I met an old colleague she now has a two-and-a-half-year-old and a five-year-old.
We attempted a catch-up drink. River was okay; he had his “blue one with the plug,” so only screamed when his chicken nugget was warm.
The two boys were fascinating to watch; clever, boisterous and curious.
The youngest, although demanding, listened, answered questions, followed instructions.
He even answered mine.
The oldest, the one I sometimes teach played a challenging maths game and chatted politely.
My friend had her hands full but it was so different to River.
And that’s the part that always catches me.
I know, ‘comparison is the thief of joy’ but sometimes it’s hard when the differences are right in front of you.
Maybe this is River’s version of the terrible twos, just arriving a few years later.
The tantrums, the shouting, the sudden switches, the need for control. All the things neurotypical children eventually grow out of, we’re still living through.
It’s not that he’s being difficult; he’s just on a different timeline.
Most days I understand that.
But every now and then, especially when surrounded by children the same age, I feel that gap widen and that’s when I have to take a breath and remind myself: progress looks different here.
Evening
Kike collected Summer and took her to get sushi.
Together we started walking home. At the last point River refused to go down the stairs.
I tried waiting, reasoning, bribing, nothing.
Kike, ever the stricter one, decided not to wait. He took River the long way round, leaving Summer and
I to walk the shorter distance home.
We could hear his screams echoing down the street.
When he came through the door, he was sobbing, gasping:
“I want to go down the stairs!”
Too late now.
Big hugs. Soothing.
It feels like I spend most of my life doing that lately.
The TV goes on, he stops and calms.
Kike tells me to go for a walk.
So I do. I stop and I write this.
Home for bedtime.
Last night I got kicked in the stomach (by accident) because I chose the wrong story.
Hopefully tonight, I’ll pick the right one.
Tomorrow morning, I’m walking the three girls and River to the theatre again.
My positivity is low.
It’s only Tuesday.
50 days of River 
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