Some lighter moments...

The last few posts have been a bit raw, a bit too real, perhaps, and definitely quite serious. It's time to get silly again. This week is another Absolute Doozy, but I'm going to choose to focus on the fun rather than the freakstorm that it's become. 

So, I may have mentioned this before, but I KNOW I am a hot mess. I know it. I never know where my keys/bag/shoes/laptop etc are. Not one time. And I can hear my mum and dad in my head saying that if I just put things in the same place all the time, then there they would be. Actually, that's my dad. My mum never knows where her stuff is either. But here! The thing is! We KNOW we haven't lost the stuff, it's just that they are temporarily not in the place we thought they were. Anyway. All of the days I wake up and run around looking for said stuff, I'm fine with. But now I have Maria Poppins in my life. She is now witnessing the absolute HOT MESS that I am before I leave for work. She chuckles along, 'Lo que falta?', 'Que esta buscando?'... I'm ALWAYS missing something and I'm ALWAYS looking for something, OK, Santa Maria Poppins, just let me get on with it?! Man, do I want to feel judged at 6.55am? Though, she's not. She's just trying to help. And often she knows where my *insert whatever is lost here* is! 

So that is one fairly amusing daily occurance. 

Another was last Friday when I've had the best Single shame to date. So, there I was, out with the kids who were being picked up late, solely because one of those kids was a friend's and she had asked me to hang out with him until he was collected. Somehow, that resulted in me looking after 8 children from another class for 40 minutes. Luckily, I really like kids and we were having a lot of fun. So I said to this little girl, all of 6 years old, 'Can you just stay here a minute, I have to go and get my son from outside.'

'You have a son?' says she. 

'I do!' say I. 

'I think something is missing!' says she. 

*ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!!!*

'What's that, sweetheart?' say I, patiently.

'A ring!' 

*WTF?* 

'A ring?'

'Yes, you don't have one.'

Observant little monkey. 

'Correct, I don't. Do you mean you think I need to have an esposo because I have a little boy?'

'Well, don't you?'

'No, I don't. I'm just on my own with my son. I'm not married.'

'Aaaaaaah. That's why.'

And off she went. She was not remotely bothered that I had no husband. Just that I had no ring. I resisted the urge to start Single Ladies-ing on her...she's 6, she don't need my history. 

And then on to the bureaucratic NIGHTMARE our lives have become. I am now in possession of my baby's ID card AND his passport. OH YES I AM. We got the ID card last week, thanks to Santa Maria Poppins knowing stuff like I can get someone round to the house because Emilio is Autistic. They came. They were not clever. They made a mistake. We had to redo a thing. It got Delayed. But now we have it! 

Then the passport. You get that in a day. We went prepared with fruit and toys and hoping that we would get preferencial - which we did. The girl taking the photo had some issues. 'Can you get him to shut his mouth so we can't see all his teeth?'. 

I mean. Have I explained this situation? Do YOU want to try and get him to shut his mouth? TAKE THE PHOTO, YOU SILLY GIRL! He's not allowed to smile. We have Peppa on, above the camera so that you can get your stupid photo with his eyes looking at the camera. Do you know how difficult that is???? Anyway. We did it. She said it would be ready in one hour. And if not, before 4pm. Which was 7 hours later. So not much difference. 

Then I got a text to say it was ready! Yay! So I went to collect it. It was not ready. It was exactly the opposite of ready. As in, not ready. Apparently, when you get the text to say it's ready, that's not what it means. It means you need to wait another 20 minutes because that's 40 minutes and 20 minutes which make 1 hour. Whit? Aye, awrite. Anyway, I sat for one more hour and then left with it in my hand. 

Every little bit of officialdom that I have to do in Peru makes me either see red or laugh. I try to laugh now, because what's the point in being angry. Getting a passport on the self same day is brilliant so credit where credit is due. Getting a text to say it's ready when it's not ready is exactly the type of thing I expect. I love this country and its chaotic, yet strictly strict ways. And seeing my son's name on another official document just sends me giddy. 

Thank you, Peru. You are beautiful, chaotic, disorganised yet insist on somewhat ridiculous rules being followed to the T. And you gave me the most incredible boy. Viva, Peru!

Working 9 til 5 (except not)

When they say the honeymoon period is over...

The boy who brought joy to my life has been home 20 and a bit weeks now and the time came, after our 4 months together, for this New Mummy to go back to being Another Marianne. The 'Miss' variety. I'm not going to lie, I did go back kicking and screaming. People kept saying that I would be 'glad of the break,' and 'it will be good to be around grown ups again,' and that my brain might just curl up and die if I didn't start using it again (not convinced this is a thing!). After having my week of depressed hell and loneliness recently, where I thought it was horrific, I did wonder...but no. No, that is not me. I would MUCH rather be at home with my little hedgehog (who is sporting Action Man haircut again this week 👦) than be away from him. However, the lure of a classroom is just too great.

It's so crazy thinking back on the first weeks and months until now. He used to sleep in his own bed; there's not a shot of that happening any time soon or ever again. For either of us. He used to scream merry Hell for all kinds of stuff, none of which I knew the reason for or how to help. Now I know some of it. Food remains a major source of joy and torment. Where to draw the line? Do I always just give him the fruit because it IS healthy and I love that he has the freedom to demand food when he wants it? As opposed to his previous life. Or do I deal with the absolute hissy fit when he isn't allowed? It's just (another) banana, for crying out loud!

Waiting. My baby HATES waiting. He wants to cross that road right this second. Cars? What cars? Who cares about the cars? Let us just run right into the cars and why not? He HATES going back on himself. I find it hilarious and I empathise. When I used to live in Edinburgh, there was a bus stop about a 2 minute walk from the flat. But you had to go out and turn right and essentially go back the way you came in order to move forward to the next destination. Even in the frizziest of rains, I couldn't do it. I always, ALWAYS went the extra few minutes to the next bus stop along the way. Along the route. Further towards my destination. I just couldn't bear the walking backwards in order to go forwards. Seems Emilio has the same thing; it's just that he's got neither the words nor the spatial freedom to express these choices. But I learned quickly and now we just don't. Makes both of us happy. 

He responds more to Maria Poppins than to me at times. Man, does that hurt. Is there a pain like your child interacting more with another person than with you? When they run and cuddle her as she arrives in the morning but they ACTIVELY ignore you when you come home from work? Is there? I thought I knew what pain felt like...this is a new level! 

I know it's the language. This is something I didn't place enough weight on at the beginning. Because he doesn't use language to communicate, I thought that it wouldn't be too much of an intrusion to introduce English into his life. But, my brain which has studied the education and the pedagogy, my brain which has studied the Inclusion and the Special Educational Needs and Disability? That brain? It knew that language is acquired and only by exposure can it make sense. And that just because there aren't any words coming out of his mouth yet doesn't mean that there isn't a whole galaxy of understanding bubbling underneath. The way children make sense of their world is both exquisite and fascinating. I failed to place importance on Emilio's mother tongue because he wasn't speaking and that was a rookie error; the boy knows a lot! And I will choose to believe that's why he responds more to Maria Poppins at times...

The last few days have been extra, extra difficult. You know when you know that something is just right? That no other thing would have been even half as right as what this right feels like? But even though that's the case, my GOOOODDDD would it be nice if someone was there to help... That's where we are at the moment. I am struggling as a full time working, single mum to a baby with special needs and managing to walk my dogs. Which sounds ridiculous. But it's really not. Mondays are horrific. An actual horror show. But does my needy dog care that my child with Autism can't cope with the fact that it's Monday and the buggy is broken therefore he'll have to walk to the park and he won't walk to the park and the dogs are pulling in different directions and he just lies down on the pavement and has a massive meltdown?? Do you think Bella gives a flying filangie about that? Nope. She does not. He doesn't care that it is Monday and he's struggling. She doesn't care that I'm struggling because he's struggling and it's raining and the pavements are slippy and everyone is just needing something from me that I don't have to give!! 

Welcome to the absolute shitstorm of single parenting, people. It can only get better!