Frustration

Generally, I have made my peace with oral aversion and it's place in our lives. I have accepted that we are in for the long haul and that one day some years down the line, I will look back with relief and wonder how myself and Wriggles kept our sanity in tact. I understand that there is no magic cure or divine intervention, no magical point where suddenly it is gone. And then, there are the increasingly rare days like today where I want to wail and stamp my feet and scream that it's not fair and got and hide in a huff. I hate feeling cross with something I have no control over and something I don't want to show Wriggles that it affects me, lest I make it worse. I save my frustration for nap times and bed times and cross walks home, where I can breathe and seethe. I'm not annoyed at my daughter, I'm annoyed at the universe and that some people will have to struggle while others don't. I hate that I get annoyed and snappy with people I care about who try and make helpful suggestions, that have long been tried. Very few people understand that it's not that we haven't hit on the perfect way of eating or the perfect food, but that the problem is the entire process itself. It is part behavioural, part sensory and part psychological; and all in an essentially very young child who is not equipped to deal with reason.

10/52 Wriggles 1-Oral Aversion 0

 

Mixed Feelings

This week several things happened which I have very mixed emotions about. None of them are huge things and were all things I either half-expected or knew was going to happen.

Following a letter from the council telling me that in line with new government regulations my rent would be going up nearly £10 a week which is quite a lot in my budget, I have caved in and applied for some housing benefit. Although my flat is privately owned, it is council managed. The rent between two people would be quite reasonable, but as I am only one and not on a huge wage, any increases are more than usually unwelcome. I have thought about it on and off since Wriggles was born and I knew I would be a single parent, but with working part-time and topping up with tax credits, I have been proud that so far I have been able to manage and cover it all. It made me feel more independent and that I was doing something good for my family. With an increase though and none in my wages, it is just too tight and I need some help until Wriggles is older and I can work more. At present even if I took on extra hours, the cost of childcare will render these useless especially with no local family to soak up babysitting duties. Plus I would be (more) shattered. Although I'm relieved to have such a system available when people do just need a helping hand, I wish it wasn't me having to use it. I know it's not forever, it just feels like falling into another stereotype.

When I got back from doing this at the library, I found a letter I have been expecting since October. It is Wriggles' referral to Speech and Language, announcing a home visit in just under a fortnight.

Help

Suspiciously similar to above

MISSING: One sweet natured placid curly topped giggler. Aged eighteen months but pocket sized. Four and three quarters teeth and a very cheeky face. Likes pulling books apart, cuddles and Christmas Hedgehog's nose. Dislikes food, getting out the bath and sand. Often found with only one sock on.

FOUND: One pint-sized monster causing havoc among anyone with a handbag, wearing shoes and/or socks and a Houdini like ability to vanish in a puff of smoke. Threatens to bite anything near it's face and eat bubblewrap and cardboard boxes by the shedload.



I don't know when it happened. Somewhere in the last few weeks since the crawling began and independence loomed onto the horizon, Wriggles, at least I assume it is still Wriggles, has left behind the calm and laid back loony baby stage behind, and with no warning whatsoever has become a vandal. Not just a vandal but a thieving vandal with the attention span of an attention deficient hyperactive gnat on drugs.

"Normal"

Yesterday morning I was idly listening to the...gulp...Archers omnibus, whilst chasing a newly crawling Wriggles around when I heard the storyline about a heart attack. Bloody Archers, first they have the premature baby storyline (reduced me to hysterical tears over the dinner table at Christmas just weeks after Wriggles reached 'term') and now one about hearts! A lump rose to my throat and I was transported back to the Intensive Care waiting rooms of my father and beautiful daughter within seconds, scared and tired in an empty clinical world.

I also fittingly read a discussion on "normality" after trauma and if you ever return to your former state or feel like you fit back in with the world. Can you, and are you, 'normal' again?

9/52 Break for Freedom

 

Tweet

I love birds.They both symbolise freedom and time; the turning of seasons and the growing up process. It is curious that their real life habits are quite far removed from the genteel qualities we have associated with them through anthropomorphism. I am far from being a 'twitcher' type but I have learnt to recognise their names and songs, and can happily watch them for hours flying backwards and forwards and practising their songs. They seem so full of character and it is easy to see how humans attributed symbolism and personalities to them.

Star Patient

A proud moment today as Wriggles crawled onto the trampoline at our rebound therapy session and her physio Jemma exclaimed she was her "star patient". This is brilliant news and such a boost, after more weeks of food refusal and a bug creeping in. Although Wriggles is the most able member of the group, it is still lovely to hear that other people are just as proud as me and see ever little change as a huge cause for celebration. The extent that the hydrotherapy lessons have helped Wriggles explore her legs and strengthen her torso and core muscles has surprised everyone.

World Book Day

Today, 1st March is World Book Day, encouraging children to fall in love with reading and adults to share their favourite books and pass on this passion which many take through with them to old age and pass on to their children in turn. I remember as a child that getting a book token or World Book Day voucher was incredibly exciting; a bookshop was like a land of possibilities and each crisp new book was a world to fall into, a little package of escapism you could hold in your hand. As I grew older and read more complex stories, books took on a new meaning offering an empathic view and banishing insecurities as I met characters that could have been written for me alone. Books are unique in that they evoke a wealth of emotions, experiences, imagination and memories. Stories from fact or fiction can stay with you a lifetime and a love of words opens up both education and opportunities and enriches the soul.