Friday, 9 September 2011
A #Special Saturday Post - How Having a Special Needs Child has Changed My Life
I've already written extensively on here, & in my book & parent's perspective chapter about the bigger picture of how having a special needs child has changed my life. Here I'll just give you a snapshot....
As soon as she walked through the door yesterday afternoon Chrissy demanded 'mummy's computer.' She then took over my office & nicked my reading glasses. In the photo she's watching Andy Pandy, which she loves. 'Bye mummy!' she called, no doubt hoping I'd go away so she could hack into my laptop. Left to her own devices, she manages to delete programmes and generally cause cyber mayhem.
Cranky spells peppered Chrissy's stay but, just as I thought she was going to kick off, the mood passed & she became jolly & talkative. Yesterday evening, she sat on the settee, sandwiched between Ian & I, with her catalogues & cookery books spread out around her. She nagged us to 'find the girls' in her catalogues. We found pages of them. 'No GIRLS,' Chrissy pressed on querulously, bending her fingers back & twisting her hands together - a bad sign & an ideal time to try out her new big fat weighted blanket.
It did the trick (but we still don't know what sort of 'girls' she wanted).
'Tuck it my knees,' demanded The Diva (our new nickname for Chrissy). 'Make it square.' Then, when she was swaddled in it up to her chest she ordered us: 'Hold my hands.' Remembering how she likes pressure on the outside of her hands, I gripped one of them tightly.
Peace reigned at last. We even caught the last 10 minutes of Outnumbered, which kept Chrissy amused. She smiles with benign indulgence when we laugh & sometimes joins in - but I suspect she finds the sight of us funnier than the object of our mirth. She's very inquisitive & sometimes appears to be as intrigued by our behaviour as we are by hers.
Today, Chrissy kicked off because I wouldn't let her back on my laptop. She had switched it off & done something to our anti-virus software, which Ian had to reload. I videoed her screaming on the floor with one leg up in the air then replayed it to her after she'd calmed down. She watched, transfixed, but without expression. 'What's Chrissy doing?' I asked her. 'Crying,' she said matter-of-factly. So what did I learn from this exercise? Bugger all but it was worth a try. It might have made her realise how silly it was for a grown woman to have a toddler-like paddy....