It’s almost 2025 Part 2

It’s the last week of kindy. 4 days left, assuming she doesn’t come down with some last minute bug as children do. She is going to truly miss one particular teacher that she has connected with, and who takes such good care of her. I have tried to speak to her about the fact that she needs to say goodbye to Miss Trish, but she assures me that she has invited Miss Trish to her birthday party (in April) and that she’s coming. (She’s not.)

This is going to break her heart as much as leaving Miss Charlotte at daycare last year did. E does not connect with many people - and indeed we have been told by her teachers that she doesn’t have specific friends at kindy - but when she does, it’s intense.

We have been given our class for Prep next year, and the two kids we were hoping for are not in her class, so that’s going to be rough too. But hopefully they have thought it through and put her with kids that will be good for her. She has had multiple transition days at big school for the staff to observe the children’s interactions.

Our biggest challenge that we see for school in 2025 is demand avoidance. E is incredibly smart and driven when it is something that she wants to do, or her idea. The moment you add your opinion, even just a suggestion, she refuses. She has even flat out said “I don’t want to do this because it was YOUR idea.” It makes it difficult even when it comes to things like getting dressed or teeth brushing. We have to be careful what language we use when making requests. For instance if I need to stop at Bunnings on the way home I will say “on the way home, we are stopping at Bunnings to buy X.” Which makes it a simple definitive statement of what is happening. The moment I say “can we stop at Bunnings” or “is it ok if we stop at Bunnings” she will categorically shut down and refuse.

So that’s fun…

next year I will be returning to part time work so that I can be more present and reduce the amount of time that E has to attend before and after school care. Watch this space…

It’s almost 2025 Part 1

 It’s almost 2025 and here we are.  One week of kindy left before the summer holidays arrive and then before we know it, Big School (or “Prep” as we say in QLD) will be upon us.

I have a lot of words and a lot of thoughts tumbling through my head, and need somewhere to write some of it down, so here I am.  Whether that lasts is yet to be seen.

I just read through one of my most “recent” blog posts if you can call it that, and it’s amazing how distant the terrible twos are, when you’re in the tumultuous fours.  As David wisely told me once or twice “it doesn’t get better, it just gets different”. 

Little Miss E continues to amaze, and continues to challenge and amuse us.  She is a bright and busy child and loves to be active, climbing and riding her bike, or playing with her toy Schleich animals or mouse dollhouse.  She is not particularly a girly girl although she does love makeup (a full body experience), jewellery and dresses.  At the same time, she does not play with dolls, but does occasionally dress-up.

She also strongly objects categorically to do anything somebody else wants her to do, whether or not she was already doing it in the first place.  Unsurprisingly, most people notice this, and I wonder what opinions this gives them about us, about our parenting.  It’s a wild ride, this whole being a parent in 2024, under a social media microscope.  Back “in my day”, I doubt my parents had much idea of what we were doing with our time, as long as we turned up for dinner. 

To add: it doesn’t actually MATTER what others think about our parenting, but it does sometimes hurt.  And it’s made harder by the fact that I don’t want to carry around a flag that says “my child has autism” because I want to protect her too.

There, I said it.  It’s a thing, it’s out there in the great unknown, perhaps for no one to read, or are you?  For four years and almost 8 months we have known and loved this girl child.  She is ours, she is undeniably the result of David and myself - and our genetics.  Some of him with some of me thrown in there, muddled around and spat out into this wild haired bright eyed wildling who puts people in their places without the blink of an eye.

Would you be you, if you weren’t the you that you are?  Would I change any part of you?  No… but I would change how the world sees you.  I would change the perspective behind the eyes that observe you, that observe us.  When you melt down with such big emotions because I made a choice for you, I can see.  When you speak your mind so boldly, it’s funny now because you’re four, but I can see.  When you run, and climb, and twirl, while the others are actually listening, I can see.  I can see you when it’s not funny anymore because you’re not four anymore, and it hurts because I want to protect you.  

It’s also very hard to talk to anyone about any of it.  A comment about what we’re struggling with right now (food, extreme pickiness, refusing even safe foods she enjoyed before) is met with “well all children are fussy” or “X won’t eat vegetables either, it doesn’t mean she’s autistic.”  Or even knowing what to say to a fellow kindy parent when your child screeches like a banshee and runs away in tears because the other child gets on the seesaw at the same time as them.  

I have so much to learn… and right now, I have no one to teach me.