I guess that, when feeling distressed by all of your everyday tasks and doings, you could often find yourself in a situation where you focus solely on the negative aspects of having children. I know I often do. If your children in addition act out, it can be difficult to rise emotionally up from the ashes after a day that has gone completely wrong. It’s therefore easy to spill out some words on how terrible everything is in a blog, but I will try not to. This will not be a place for which I use to spread negative stories about parenting (some frustration is ok though). I will, as best as I can, try to prevent myself from writing only about my frustrations in this blog. It’s not fair against my children, and it wouldn’t be fair due to the fact that there are so many days that are memorable and fantastic. Therefore I have decided that a certain amount of my posts should be solely positively directed. I will start today! My last post, Bedtime Struggles where a statement of frustration where I ask for advice from other parents that have experienced something similar. This post will be about a boy, my eldest by the age of 11, that’s in the middle of realising that he needs to admit to himself that he has got Tourette’s Syndrome. He has been in denial for a couple of years, but the last six months has been tough on him. His brother steels all of the attention and us parents try our best to give him all the attention he needs and deserves. I feel sorry for him, but at the same time it’s important for him as an individual that he learns to cope. It’s very much possible to live a good life with Tourette’s, but I guess the transition from being a young boy, to growing up becoming a man, is difficult. I know he will get through, because I know he is tough, and that he has so many things to offer.
He’s the kind of kid that doesn’t have the slightest bit of hurry. I mean that as a positive ability. He calculates and considers his every move, and when he moves, he moves like an expert. I remember when he started walking. A milestone for any little person, and a memory we parents keep with us forever. Our son was a little bit late walking, not of-the-charts, but he was 16,5 months old, and we had tried it all (as parents you worry about everything). But I guess he just wasn’t ready to start walking at an earlier stage. The night it happened we were visiting his grandparents, I believe it was sometime before christmas. He was (as he had been the last 3-4 months) walking around holding his hands to the table, or whatever artifact/person that could support him. Not interested in releasing his hands in any way. I remember he was standing beside me as I sat on the couch. Not anything unusual at the time, and us adults were discussing and talking about “this and that”. As I sat there, I suddenly felt him letting me go and he walked away like he had been doing it his entire life. He walked through the living room with all of us grownups staring like crazy, and trying our best to cheer with control. No one wanted to stop him or disturb him as he was walking, we didn’t want to remind him that he actually had let go of his lifeline. We could cheer afterwards. As he walked out of the living room all of the adults stared at each other. “What should we do? Just wait?” We just sat there. We heard the kitchen cabinet opening, so grandma ran out to stop him from touching any dangerous kitchen stuff. The rest of us didn’t hear anything at first. We waited, and suddenly we heard the sound of small baby steps leaving the kitchen and entering the living room. And to our surprise he stopped in the living room doorway, steady as a rock, with his hands spread out. And in his hands he held two giant chocolate bars, one in each hand. He strutted towards me and placed the two bars on my lap and started to open them up. I didn’t find the right words so I jus let him have a go at them. Of course we now cuddled him and bragged to him. I guess that in the end he had calculated and considered enough, and evaluated the risk of falling to be very small compared to the price of getting the chocolate bars in his hands.
This is a moment I won’t ever forget. A moment that defines how I still see him. If he sometimes seems afraid of leaping, it’s just because he hasn’t decided yet. He will come around. He has shown this again and again over the years. He manage whatever his mind decides to manage. I will always try to remember, that for him, the first leap always requires some evaluation.