Finding Balance

It is hard juggling two children.  I can only imagine how hard it must be to maneuver more than two.  But it isn't the day to day stuff that is all that hard.  It is exhausting changing so many diapers and running after more than one toddler.  That part is tiresome but not hard.

What is hard is finding balance.  Giving both children what they need emotionally, educationally, spiritually.  That part gets to be a little more tricky.

The main reason for our recent big move was to find services for the eldest Whirlwind.  Where we were staying we seemed to have to jump through so many hoops to find appropriate services and then still end up with nothing to show for it and it was going to eat up the Autism funding we get for the year way before the year is even close to being over.  So many closed doors.  And to be fair, it's not that there weren't options, there were just too many needy children who required all the services.  Our son is one of the needy kids but with a more recent diagnosis, he is way at the bottom of the pile.  Waiting lists are evil.

We decided to make the move and enrolled him in an amazing program where they specialize in Applied Behaviour Analysis but also have speech, occupational therapy and Supported Child Development all under one roof.  It was amazing.  But for the last six months we have had to drive the 60 kilometers in three times a week.  And that meant that the little brother had to tag along.

At first it wasn't a problem, he was only 18 months at the time and napped all the way there and most of the ride back again.  When Whirlwind is at the center, we would go grocery shopping or visit grandma who lives close by.  We were doing great and I told myself I can do this, no problem.  The driving is a piece of cake.  But then the baby became a running, playing, still not talking toddler who only took one nap a day and it wasn't all that long.  Still, we tried.  We went to the park to burn of some energy, still visited grandma where he could play and build puzzles and every so often we just went for a walk and played around the center until the whirlwind was done.

One evening, however, a certain little teething toddler wasn't doing so well.  He was upset and hurting.  Sleep was not an option.  I stayed up with him until the early morning hours when he finally passed out.  He slept and slept and slept.  Such amazing peaceful sleep after such a hard night.  But it was therapy day.  He woke right before we were to leave.  It was a hard day.  He spent the whole day driving there and back again with us.  My heart broke at the thought that he finally got a chance to move and play at 3 that afternoon for the first time.  Just because of one rough night.

We tried to find him a daycare but it seems daycares here are as rare as autism intervention services where we used to live.  I felt guilty.  Every time I strap him into his car seat I felt the pangs of guild.  This is not where a two year old should be.  He should be playing and exploring.  We have this great fenced backyard with a large sandpit, vegetable plants and even a playhouse with swings and a tube slide.  He should be learning about the world.  Not learning how to sit and look at the trees and the lake as it zooms by.  It is gorgeous, but not very stimulating.

It hit my like a ton of bricks that everything we have done the last few years have been around what the whirlwind needs.  We moved because that is what he needed and even though it has done the whole family good, the whole family wasn't the motivation.  We plan our days around his brother's therapy sessions and bedtime (or lack thereof) and it had to stop.

It is time we change focus.  The boys need equal from us.  One can't always just bring in the rear because his brother has a little paper that says "Autism Spectrum Disorder" on it.  He is also not talking yet and even though he is on the waiting list for services and we are working on getting him all the appropriate help and resources, I can't ignore my gut telling me the main reason for his delay is because he has been bringing in the rear around here.  He is an absolute cuddle monster and spends most days on my hip and nights in my bed but lots of cuddling isn't going to get him talking.  It isn't going to stop him from lashing out and slapping me or others because he is so frustrated.  Being able to cuddle with my baby-not-a-baby is amazing and I treasure every moment, but it is not substitution for playing, reading or singing.

We are changing centers for the Whirlwind's intervention services.  Whether he will be better off there or not, I don't know.  But his brother need the chance.  He has to be given a fair shot where he can spend time with me and possibly other children where I can guide him and share the world with him without running after his brother who is determined to scale every wall, every fence and break every lock. You see?  Even when my thought are about him, they still run back to the whirlwind. It has to stop.

This is neither fair nor easy.  Finding the balance between two kids is hard.  Where one kid needs more than the other we sometimes tend to skew the balance.  Not taking away from other kids when one needs so much more is sometimes impossible, but we have to try.

My words

So much has happened in the last few months and blogging had to take a backseat.  I'll be honest, I've been in a love-hate relationship with blogging lately.  I often thought of just deleting it all and pretending it never happened.  I didn't want to admit defeat and most definitely felt as if I had been beaten.  I couldn't manage writing a single post for months and months.  As a matter of fact, I couldn't even think about the effort it would take or so much as a single topic that I wanted to write about badly enough.

But then I woke up this morning and decided not to get out of bed just yet.  My head was throbbing and having had very little sleep in the last week, my comfy king sized bed seemed to be the best place for me.  The kids are awake and running around the house (and watching Frozen for the millionth time) which meant for me that sleep is not an option.  Sleep will have to wait.  However, I can just lie here with the curtains drawn, and listen to "Let it Go" one more time.  But as not even Elsa can keep my attention for long and lets be clear on one thing: I can out-watch any little girl where Frozen is concerned.  So I turned to browsing news websites and give Facebook my due diligence and came upon this article: Harold Bloom: Preposterous 'Isms' Are Destroying Literature.

It is the first article in possibly weeks I have read from beginning to end.  I found it interesting even thought my knowledge of literature is minuscule to say the very least, it stirred a certain part of my brain and dare I say, my soul.  The part that loves words.  Beautiful words.  The part of me who loved 'God of Small Things' by Arundhati Roy not for the story or the social criticism, but for the beautiful words.  The words that moves your soul and makes you read a line over and over again.  Words that will stay with you for a lifetime.  They carve out a special place in your heart and sit there, waiting to be remembered, reread, quoted and most of all... waiting to change you.

Now here I am, back behind the keyboard.  Ready to face my own words again and share my life, my world and my thoughts with those of you who want to read about it.  I'm not a great writer, I didn't make literature my profession even though I did teach English for a few years.  But middle school English and my terrible English as a second language isn't the stuff legends are made of.  I can't remember basic grammar rules and spelling will kill me one day.  But I love words.  And I am willing to share the words I have with you, for the good or the bad.