Worry

So last night as I lay awake worrying, worrying , worrying about my five year old and how he is managing at school. I heard gentle dazed footsteps, slam of the soft close toilet seat and then flush and then the same dazed footsteps went back to his own bed.

I felt a little redundant, it wasn’t too long ago that every time he woke in the night he would creep into my bed and snuggle in for warmth, reassurance and love (as well as sideways sleeping and elbow bashing of course!). He doesn’t need to now, not every time, of course some nightmares, portliness and worries still warrant finding Mum and that is how it should be....... that didn’t stop me wishing he’d come for a cuddle last night because frankly, I could have done with one.

Yesterday we received yet another report from yet another education team who have observed my beautiful, funny and clever boy.

It was grim reading.

You didn’t need to have an honours degree in psychology, a post grad certificate in education or a post graduate diploma in complex needs specialising in ASD to understand what it meant (although ironically, I do have all those things)

Amongst the upsetting news was that he never smiles or laughs at school, that he has cried only once and that he displays a neutral expression even when asked about his favourite things...

(Personally I find answering anything on ‘favourite’ things extremely difficult it feels so definitive, it put’s tremendous pressure on the answer to be exact. I hated being asked, ‘Who’s your favourite band?’ when a gawky teenager)

That he is unable to adapt his games at playtime and prefers to look at his reflection in the window.......

(He did tell once he sat on the ‘Buddy Bench’ all play time waiting for someone to play with, a little girl came but didn’t want to play with him so they both sat there waiting.....)

This on top of him being, ‘the poorest ever seen’ by the reading recovery teacher.......

(Yes folks ever! That’s what the report says!)

I occasionally find myself having day dreams where my boy a famous author of the J.K. standing accepts another award, ‘I could never have been here’ he chokes, ‘Without the love, help and support of my mum, the reading recovery teacher at school said I was the worst she’d ever seen!’ Guffaws from the literary audience, standing ovation from the crowd, OBE from the Queen for all the charity work he does with underachieving boys.......

The problem is he presents so differently at home and at school. The team at school think he has an ASD......  I don’t.

I see an extremely shy, anxious boy with speech and language difficulties who a year ago would rather soil himself than ask someone unfamiliar where the toilet was...... he’s come a long way since then!

A boy scared of being laughed at, of making mistakes, of not being understood....

A boy so self conscious he visibly freezes and malfunctions when in the school jungle.

I also see an imaginative, playful, cheeky, fun kid.

It rips out my heart.

So tomorrow morning at 8.30, I’m off for another meeting, to try to get my boy the support he needs to show himself as the funny, clever, beautiful and alright sometimes quirky kid he really is.