Let's see, where to start. Well, new house, new school, new baby. It's been a busy couple of years. My days are spent making to-do lists that never get completed. I'm always working towards some goal or other, rarely just being in the moment. Over the summer, I find myself driving more than I ever have, from one activity to another. Always rushing, of course. Let's not even talk about what I do while I'm driving. Suffice it to say that I am the queen of multi-tasking. Recently, when I picked my son up from camp, I longed for an hour or two to just sit or walk in the woods. It felt so peaceful and slow in there. Next week we go away for a week to family camp. Hopefully, when I'm not following my wobbly 20-month around to make sure he doesn't kill himself, I'll find a moment or two of peace.
Next up, expectations. They're a bitch, aren't they? I expected my 9-year old would have best buddies, ride a bike, read for pleasure like I did as a child, ask lots of precocious questions I wouldn't always be comfortable answering, grow up and away in a good way. Well, he is funny (often too much) and kids like him, but he has trouble with real social engagement. He still can't ride a bike, but at least he rides his Razor scooter now, instead of the 3-wheeled one he clung to forever. He loves books, but even though he is finally learning to read, it's more work than play, so he'd rather play Nintendo or Wii. He's never asked many learning questions, and when he does ask a question, it's often one he's asked before. He is growing up, learning and maturing, at his own rate, but while some things have gotten easier for him, others have gotten harder. I think he's more aware of his differences now, and this creates more anxiety. Is it all doom and gloom? No. But is it what I'd expected it to be, either? No.
Second chances. What are the odds that you'll get one? In my case, not good. Second child, same situation. More pronounced, in fact. Whereas I spent the first five years with my first child in blissful ignorance (oh, he's just shy), with my second it only took a little over a year to realize that he was different. Sweet, loving, sociable, totally adorable. But different. The silver lining is that he is getting help sooner, rather than later. Let's hope this neuroplasticity thing is for real.
How to make peace with the unexpected? I'm not sure yet, but I'm working on it.
On a final, tasty note, I start nearly every day with a cup of PG Tips tea and a well-buttered english muffin, often spread with the best jam in the world. I've never made my own english muffins - Trader Joe's are pretty darn good - but were I to, I'd start with this recipe from pinchmysalt. Just looking at them makes me drool.
