benevolent dictatorship

I am the oppressed masses in the Bear's (and occasionally the Gig's) dictatorship.


The laws of this dictatorship are many, varied, and ever-changing.  They are phoenix-like in their ability to rise from the ashes of my attempts to overthrow them.  They are like a hydra - cut of one head, and two more grow.  (The laws, not my children.  I have never even attempted to lop off a child's head, I promise!)


If you could all just bear with me, I'd like to share some of the Bear's laws with you. 

1. Mummy, you work for me.  Never forget that.  If I want you, you must, repeat must, be at my beck and call.  Instantly.  No selfish unpacking of the dishwasher, or making of beds.  I'm in charge here, Mummy, and I call the shots.
2. Climbing is fun, Mummy, and I, Pu Yi Last Emperor, have a God-given right to climb wheresover and whensoever I choose.  If that's onto the kitchen bench, so be it.
3. Water is fun.  Running water is more fun.  I may, at any time, turn on any tap I like.  I do not have to tell you about this.  In fact, it's an awful lot more fun if I don't.  The sensation of running water can and will be reproduced by the judicious or otherwise tipping out of any and all beverages.  I'm aware that I may dehydrate if I don't drink said beverages, but that is not my concern.  You are the mother; this worry is yours alone.
4. Daytime sleeps are the preserve of the weak and feeble.  I will retire to my cot during the day for the sole purpose of playing with my toy phone, reading a couple of books, throwing said phone and books out of my cot when I've had enough (3 minutes will usually suffice), rocking the cot until you are sure it will fall over, screaming and doing a poo.  When you get me up, I will be cranky through lack of sleep.  Again, Mummy, not my concern. 
5. Sitting at the table is boring and pointless.  In my dictatorship, food is to be eaten either a) whilst on the move, or, and preferably b) from someone else's - ie your, Mummy - plate.
6. The TV should always be on.  I will ask for Bob, because it's the only one I can say, but you should be aware that Bob can also mean Tweenies, Wiggles or RazzleDazzle.  Bob can also, and I do think this is self-explanatory, mean the text-bar on Fox Sport News.  You will know immediately which programme I want to watch.  You are, after all, the Mummy.
7. Books are ok, but they are to be read my way.  I shall hold your pointer finger tightly, touch each object in the picture, and you shall tell me what it is.  If it is a banana, I may tell you what it is.  But don't count on it.
8. Toys are for throwing.  Enough said.
9. Unless they are for sliding down the TV screen.
10. Your arms are always to be free for carrying me.  I won't want to be carried, of course, but I must know that, should I wish it, your arms are free.
11. I will behave perfectly for my therapists.  For you, Mummy, not so much.
12. My right shoe must always be put on first, or I think my feet might fall off.  Or the sky might fall in.  Or something, but it's important, Mummy, so make sure you remember.
13. When taking the Gig to school, we must always go the same way, even if the road is closed for 8 weeks due to roadworks.  Ignore this law at your peril: my scream is even more shrill in the car.
14. Running is my preferred method of transport.  And I run fast, and I have no sense of danger.  Just be aware of this, Mummy.
15. Holding hands is outlawed.  Don't even try it.  It is my right to lie down in the middle of the road should any and all hand-holding be attempted.
16. Kissing is tolerated, but my preferred way of communicating affection is to press my forehead very hard against yours.  It may hurt you, but I like it, and I'm the dictator here.
17. You may not hug Daddy or the Gig.  At all, ever.
18. Last (for now), but most important of all, you will love me so much that you feel like your heart will break from it.

So there you have the laws under which I live; the Bear's, anyway.  The Gig's I'll save for another day.


These laws may be harsh and draconian, but you know what?  The Dictator is so very, very worth it.



PS, sorry about the lack of photos recently, but there's a gremlin in my pictures folder, and I don't know how to get it out.  I tried showing it "Bright lights!  Bright lights!" but it didn't work.

raindrops on roses...

It's a cold and foggy Monday morning, and my children slept in.  The Bear woke at 7.05am, and the Gig at 7.30am.  A sleep-in is an extremely rare thing in my house, so I made the most of it...sort of.  Pacino had to go to work (why, oh why, can the Bear never sleep in like this on weekends?) so I got up and had a cup of tea with him, then went back to bed for half an hour before the Bear woke.  It felt so decadent to lie in bed at that hour on a Monday morning!

Which leads nicely into today's topic.  More of the little things in life that make a day special, or keep you going, or give you a laugh when you most need it. So here, in no particular order, are ten little things that have brightened my day lately.

1. Taking the Gig clothes shopping so that she can spend her very hard-earned cash, and, what's more, liking what she chose!
2. Buying a new handbag (purse) that has everything I need in a bag, including lots of little inside pockets that I'm still exploring.  Rearranging a new bag has to be one of life's greatest pleasures!
3. Reading a book that I would never have picked up if not for my on-line book club, and loving it.  (It's The City and the City, by China Mieville, if you're interested)
4. Listening to the Bear sing a scale in almost perfect pitch.  Not bad for a nearly  three year old!
5. Walking into the kitchen to do the dishes and realising that the Gig has done them already, and very well too!
6. Savouring a glass of lovely port with Pacino at the end of a long day.
7. Sneaking away from my children to blog Waiting till my children are happily amusing themselves and popping into the study to blog.
8. Watching Dr Who and fantasising that if I shout "Raggedy Man, I remember you!" the Dr will appear.  (Not working thus far, sad to say.)
9. Having the Gig ask to have a friend over - she's been anti-social all holidays, so I was thrilled to oblige.
10.  This boy, in this hat.

slow train coming

I just wanted to drop by my cob-web-ridden blog and say Hi!  I'm still alive!  I've not really been in the mood for blogging or playing on the computer generally for the past few days.  (What's wrong with me?)  But, I'm in the middle of a long post that's taking me forever to write, so I promise there'll be more news very soon.  Stay tuned.

In the meantime, just to keep you going, here's a photo that I looooove!  The very first brother/sister cuddle.  It seems like yesterday but it's nearly three years ago.  Time flies by way too quickly.

flashback friday: a christening

It's been a while since I've done a Flashback Friday.

The Bear's Christening was such a special day, complete with senile, possibly slightly sloshed stand-in priest, who, despite the Bear's three very masculine, traditional names, still thought he was a girl.  Maybe it was the dress!

my girl

This girl is amazing. She's strong, intelligent, kind, loving, caring, funny, artistic, creative, musical, compassionate, friendly and cheeky.  Oh, and did I mention that she's incredibly beautiful?

She loves Selena Gomez, Camp Rock, Twilight, Harry Potter, Dr Who and so much more.

She takes great care of her dogs. 

She adores her little brother.  He is so lucky to have her for a big sister, always watching his back and protecting him.  It's not easy to be the sibling of a special needs child, but this gorgeous girl displays such love and understanding that it humbles us every day.

She's our Gig, and we love her so very, very much.

flashback friday: pop art family

We had a brilliant day at the Warhol exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art a couple of yers ago. The Bear was about 5 or 6 months old (why do I never date photos?), so the Gig would have been nearly 9.

We try to go to a few exhibitions every year, and this was one of the Gig's favourites. Notice my little button-pushing baby, even then trying to reach a button to push. Some things never change, they just turn into developmental issues ;)

flashback friday: could you be the most beautiful girl in the world?

The Gig, aged 7 and a half (nearly). Would you believe this photo wasn't posed? We were on our way to a work Christmas party and I said, "Hey, Gig, turn around", and this was the result. How beautiful is she?

And this was about 9 months later, just before her baby brother was born. We had such a great day watching her aunty sing in a performance, then ice-creams for all. It was still winter, just. Sometimes I love the sub-tropics.

how i really feel...putting it into perspective

Where should I start?

Upset, mad, devastated, worried, panicky, scared, angry, sad, overwhelmed, disappointed...the list could go on and on.

I'm talking about the Bear's (formerly known as the Toddler) speech issues. We are at the beginning of what I know is going to be a long and arduous road for all our family, especially the Bear. I'm usually pretty much okay with his diagnosis (not that it's official yet, but it will be), but every now and then, like right now, I get really angry and upset about the whole thing. It's so unfair on my poor little man. I worry that he'll never talk properly, never have any friends, he won't manage at school, if he even goes to mainstream school, he won't be able to hold down a job...and so on.

It doesn't help when people point out other children who have overcome their speech issues. That is not my child, and they don't have the same condition. However, when I hear about a child with the same condition, who is now speaking well, it brings me great hope.



So, I thought, as I'm feeling so negative, maybe I should take a look at where we are at in reality rather than Mummy-freakout-zone.






Okay. The Bear has (almost certainly) Verbal Dyspraxia. Also known as Childhood Apraxia of Speech.
(But he's still my Bear)



He is having Speech Therapy.
(And making good progress)



Tomorrow he starts Occupational Therapy.
(This will help the speech therapy as well)



He is under the care of a Developmental Paediatrician.
(Who is really caring and compassionate. We were lucky to get onto his books)



He has failed an early screening test for Autism.
(A tough, non-prescriptive test with a high false positive rate)



He may not have Autism, but probably has PDD (Pervasive Developmental Delay).
(This diagnosis can be lifted, and will allow us access to funding and services for the Bear)

He will start attending a special needs kindy soon. It's attached to a local Special School.
(He will get extra therapy from qualified and dedicated teachers)

There are no guarantees that he will attend the same school as his sister. He may well end up at the special school for a shorter or longer time.
(If so, that's where he'll thrive the most)



But you know what?



He's still my precious, funny, happy, cuddly, laughing boy. How lucky we are.

photo flashback

Back when the Toddler still had blue/grey eyes...


The Tween's were always brown...

I told you they were gorgeous!

The difficult second post

Having opened to rave reviews, I now have early onset writer's block.

So how about I tell you about my gorgeous children?

The Tween is 10, and she's just started year 6 at school. She's a funny, friendly, caring person with some serious mess issues. She's extremely talented at art, so maybe that's why? I tell you, her room is an absolute pigsty 90% of the time. But she's so sweet and helpful that as long as her door's closed and no food ever enters her room, I'm willing to overlook it. Until I have a ranting hissy fit and tell her if it's not clean she's never doing anything fun ever again, and don't think I don't mean it, young lady!

The Tween loves her ipod and her Nintendo ds, and adores Selena Gomez, Demi Lovato and Robert Pattinson. She's a really good reader, but has very different tastes from me, so I struggle to find books that she'll read. The MOTH (Man of the house) usually has more luck there.

As for the Toddler, he's a typical two year old in most ways. He's loving, affectionate, hilarious, stubborn, and very, very cute. He loves drawing, Maisy Mouse, eating and his comfort toy, Mousie. He also has a significant speech/language delay. His speech therapist is sure it's verbal dyspraxia, which is where messages sent from the brain to the mouth for speech get garbled, thereby making planned speech extremely difficult. His Paediatrician is yet to make a formal diagnosis, but doesn't disagree with this view. He has also failed the mchat test, which is an early screening test for autism. This is not to say that he has autism; this test is designed to catch ALL children on the Autism Spectrum, so there are a lot of false positives. We're hoping desperately that he's one of them. This is all fairly recent news, so I'm not yet a mine of Mummy info, but I'm working on it ;). So, for the interim, lots of speech and occupational therapy, a special needs playgroup and a lot of hard work for Mummy. He sees the Paediatrician again in April, so we might have some more answers then.

Anyway, my kids are easily the most beautiful and amazing creatures on earth. Don't you agree?