A Jonah Day.

I confess I have been listening to Anne of Green Gables a bit and this phrase has stuck with me to describe a Bad Day. I have a serious case of the New Year Blues.

Firstly I am exhausted after 2 weeks of full time children. One of whom has been whizzy from day 1 of the holiday until they went back to school. She needs so much management at the moment to keep her on an even keel, especially alongside all the Christmas Excitement which disrupts her sense of normalcy. I don't think she has actually stopped talking for more than 10 minutes at a time and, of course, everything she says is of the utmost importance. We are still, well I guess the word is grieving too. We knew she was Autistic but it is a whole different ball game with other people telling you so. Now instead of thinking "are we imagining it" we are thinking "I wish it wasn't her". I love Phoebe with all my heart but it is horrible to think that she is always going to be a bit odd. It is horrible to think that she will have to fight that little bit harder to walk the same path as everyone else. I have heard a lot of "but it doesn't change her" since the diagnosis and no, it doesn't but it doesn't make it any less of a bitter pill for us to swallow.

Secondly I accidentally upset a friend when I wouldn't have done it intentionally for the world. I am so unable to let this go that I have been berating myself for my stupidity. Because of previous friendships my brain automatically goes to the worst case scenario in which I am culled forever. Plus all this beating myself up is more exhaustion.

One of the Dad's at the school drop off was rude to me this morning over something stupid. I bolted back to my car and cried. I am glad that I made it back to the car before the tears because that would have been mortifying.

Then this evening I accidentally parked in front of a garage. I really truly didn't see it (and they didn't have a dropped curb) but I got back to my car to a delightful passive agressive note. More yay.

I am just waiting now for the sausages to defrost so I can cook a fry up for my beloved as it is his birthday and then I am going to go to bed and hope things are better in the morning.

New Year. Same Old Me.

2012 was shit. There were a few good moments but it feels like the whole year was tainted by the wait over Phoebe's Autism. But now that is done I feel we can move forward as a family.

2013 has a lot to offer us now. We have a trip to South Africa to plan for and it's a family wedding so of course there are outfits to plot. Moving forward with the girl's education and hopefully getting the balance right for Phoebe so she can continue to excel. Trips to take. Walks to take Jasper on. Expanding my working capabilities if possible. Brownies to start!

Mostly I am looking forward to seeing both my girls develop and learn. They amaze me every day and I am an unashamedly proud mother. I am sure they will continue to do so.

So. That is that.

One week ago we had Phoebe's diagnostic assessment. It was horrible, we were asked to stay silent during it so they could artificially create all the situations possible to test her. At first she was reasonably ok with this but after almost 30 minutes she started to get upset and cross. Finally after about 50 minutes they went away for a 10 min deliberation. 45 minutes later they returned and confirmed that yes, Phoebe does indeed have an ASD. They broke things down into understandable chunks for us and we are waiting on the more detailed report.

At least now we know and we can all move forward. In that vein we had parents evening on Wednesday and had our first look at Phoebe's IEP (independent education plan) so we can work on lots of ways to help her manage her behaviours and issues at school. Hopefully this will start to help really soon as she is struggling to manage how she feels with other people currently. She hates to hurt anyones feelings so puts herself at the bottom of the pile but by doing that her self esteem suffers and we end in a vicious cycle of her worrying about being bad. One of the worst things I have ever heard from her is that we should just starve her to death, this isn't something you should ever hear from your 6 yr old and it breaks my heart each time I hear it.

Anyway, onwards and sideways we have Phoebe's birthday next week so we are all getting ready for that and all the fun that will bring. Then Yule which we all look forward to as we enjoy making the house beautiful and our Yule treat (Circus this year!) and finally Christmas. We have a cunning plan involving the Portable North Pole videoes we have bought and the girl's favourite movies....

BAM.... well, actually it would be more accurate to say SLAM.

So after the saga of FifIII and having Paul back to help with the morning. I was delighted to take the girls to school on Friday to end the Egg Traumas. Phoebe ran on ahead with FifIII whilst I got Clara out of the car and collecting all the various bags required for a day at school. All was going so well until I closed the back door.... alas my little finger was still in it.

Now I am not a wuss, I have had 2 children with minimum of pain relief and can cope with stubbing a toe without requiring copious amounts of swearing. But I screamed... loudly. Probably not helped by Clara's one and only comment on the situation of:

"You shouldn't have done that Mummy."

No shit sherlock.... I think that wins the prize for understatement! Anyway, naturally no bugger came to help me and so I got my finger out and cradling my hand Clara and I headed in through the gates. As we walked past the teacher outside I literally couldn't hold in the tears any longer and burst into floods on poor Ms H! They were awesome though, took over getting Clara to class for me and got me an ice pack for my hand (which was rather impressively swollen by this point!) then went to make sure the girls had settled ok for me. I managed to drive home one handed and took myself up to the walk in centre where the nurse looked at it, checked I could bend it and declared it Not Broken. Phew. Of course they had no plasters to dress the cuts for me so I staggered back home to dress it myself and gobble many many painkillers. Currently I have splinted it to my ring finger to help support it as it is still flipping painful!

The upside was that the mahoosive amount of pain I was (am still) in allowed me to let out all the emotions from the week. Poor Mum got to field a sobbing phone call from me. The fact that Phoebe's ASD has been confirmed really hit home and the sore finger was just the straw that broke the camel's back I guess. Whilst it is what I wanted, I think a part of me would have liked to have been proved wrong. Having to admit something isn't right with your child is a really really hard thing to do and having a Doctor confirm that something isn't right always comes as a shock.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to change anything and I am still relieved things have been confirmed. It is going to make Phoebe's life so much easier in the long run. But she is still my baby and always will be and I want life to be as fab as it can be and this is a hurdle she will have to manage all her life. People will try and judge her on her problems and I know that some people won't be able to see past the quirks to see the awesome child she really is!

Oh. And adding insult to (did I mention painful) injury Fifi has come home from the weekend.... hmph!

FifIII

After last nights squish-a-rama drama I confessed to Phoebe this morning. Well I say confessed... I mean of course I blamed the dog (ha, like you wouldn't?!). So after school Phoebe, Clara, Jasper and I walked down to the market and purchased 18 eggs. 1 new Fifi and 17 "just in case".

We got home and whilst the girls had tea I hardboiled and decorated (in exactly the same way as the last ones...) Fifi the third. Seal of approval was made and when it was bed time she was lovingly placed in her handbag bed whilst we read the last chapter of Treasure Island to Jasper. Jasper got bored and vanished half way through but we kept going and were relieved to find out that all ended well and Jim got home safe and sound.

Then we noticed.... No FifIII. She wasn't in her bed, she wasn't on the floor.... where could she be? Where was Jasper... he was very quiet and not nicknamed Klepto the wonderdog for nothing. A quick investigation of his bed revealed a, thankfully still intact, FifIII.

Thankfully Phoebe found this all very funny and FifIII was tucked back into her handbag bed and put in the drawer!

I am sure the Yr 2 teachers thought this would be a nice, easy, fun project and not one that would cause a large amount of stress to all the poor parents!

More adventures of Fifi.

Today Fifi2 survived going to school. Then she had a nap and then she went swimming with Phoebe. Where she witnessed Clara swim at least 10M for the first time. Then she had a little ride home in my handbag and over the course of the evening going squished.

Shit.

I am out of eggs and the shops are now closed.

Double Shit.

I am a bad bad bad bad Mummy.

The Egg-citing adventures of Fifi.

I pick Phoebe & Clara up from school last night and Phoebe presents me with a letter and shows me an egg with a face on it:

Said egg is called Fifi. And Phoebe has to look after it and write a diary for a week. Hmmmm.

Last night it got caught in the rain and it's face washed off. We couldn't go home for emergency repairs alas as we had to go to Ballet much to Phoebe's distress. I told her that Fifi must have gotten car sick and that is why she was so pale (nothing like parenting to teach you to think on your feet!). Fifi then watches as Phoebe plays "adventures" with her two buddies R & J while Clara has her ballet lesson. When it is time for Phoebe to go to her lesson she takes Fifi with her and Miss Penny very kindly gives Fifi a bit of a make over. All well and good tra la la la la. Then... Oh My Gods... then Phoebe tells Clara she can carry Fifi out to the car. Hands up if you can guess what happened next:

SPLAT!

Thankfully Phoebe is skipping ahead with Jasper so I swear Clara to secrecy on pain of removal of all things pink from her universe and scoop up the remains of Fifi and stash her in the boot so she can be "safe" in my coat. We then swing by Fat Rons for their tea (oh shoot me, it's once a week and after at least 45 mins of dancing!). I ring Paul and ask him to hard boil me an egg whilst I run in and grab the food. The girls stay waiting with the dog and I then stash the food with Fifi in the boot.

When we get home the girls are allowed a Big Treat of eating in the living room and we shut ourselves, the dog, the broken egg I have secreted back into the house, the newly hard boiled egg and my entire art box. I then set about putting Fifi back together so I can copy Miss Penny's beautiful handiwork onto the new blank egg. I succeed with reasonable success and then when the new improved Fifi2 is bought up to bed Phoebe is none the wiser (and I am in need of a stiff drink!).

Fifi2 spent the night in a mock retro clip handbag lined with a flannel and a hankie as a sheet and went off to school with Phoebe today. Tonight we will be walking the dog, watching Willy Fog (the cartoon from the 80s) and then going to our swimming lesson with Fifi2. I don't want to think about having to make Fifi3. Mostly as I am on my own tonight and we are out of eggs....