At Littlest Wombat’s last swimming lesson, I bumped into a lady I’d met when Train Wombat was playing local basketball. Her son was on Train Wombat’s team, and as I had all the Wombats with me whenever we were at basketball, she had some idea of what Wombat World was like.
Christina was lovely, and from our conversations, I knew that she had a few challenges with her boy – just as I did with Train Wombat. Anyway, we hadn’t seen each other for months until the other day. And we got chatting, as you do, about what our boys had been up to in the interim. It was great to hear that her son had passions (swimming and cycling) that were keeping him active and fit.
Sharing experiences is important. That’s why I write this blog. You gain strength from knowing that you’re not alone in dealing with difficulties. In wondering how you get your child – who is bigger, heavier, stronger than you – to respect what you ask. In wondering how you get your child – whose brain is wired completely differently from yours – to try and see your perspective, and give you some help in understanding his or hers! In wondering what challenges the next day will bring.
Sometimes it takes the perspective of a friend we haven’t seen for a while to help us realise how much they’ve changed. We laughed about this constant shifting of the goal posts! It’s good, though, to stop, reflect and celebrate the achievements before moving on again.
Years ago, before Dancing Wombat started talking, well before Littlest Wombat was born, I started keeping a diary about these successes. Life seemed full of doctors’ appointments and therapists’ visits as we came to grips with her delayed development and other medical issues. It was all too easy to get caught up in the difficulties and not notice the small successes along the way. Until I started writing them down, they just faded into the background – a brief flicker of light, quickly extinguished and forgotten. Like the diary itself, which was left in limbo once Littlest Wombat arrived (!). But over those early years, it was a really effective way of keeping track of those small, magnificent achievements.
I recall wondering whether Dancing Wombat would ever have the strength to switch on a light, then to flush the toilet, then to do up a clip, then to strap on her seat-belt. Now she can do up zips and buttons, and almost open a ring-pull can. Safety pins still scare her and she’s nowhere near being able to put a hair band in. But she can do up shoe laces (not tightly, but again – that’s coming). And I know that if I just put enough time into it, consistently, she will master these and other skills also. The goal posts keep being moved.
Sometimes our children’s successes are like fungi. A strange analogy, I know, but bear with me. You don’t necessarily know or even believe that the skills are there or could ever develop. It feels like you’re working in the dark – putting lots in and getting nothing out. Then – pop – all of a sudden, something wonderful appears. And from that success, others grow. But you need to be ready to look in unexpected places, for like a beautiful outcrop of toadstools, these skills might be growing in a dark, shady place, hidden from view.
My mum recently suggested that I give Dancing Wombat the task of filling in the forms that come home from school. Brilliant! Why on earth didn’t I think of that? D’oh! That would be a great way of getting her to take responsibility in another area of her life. To develop her independence skills. And practise her handwriting at the same time!
So, a couple of days ago, I asked Dancing Wombat to fill in a Mothers’ Day breakfast form and a local council notice about the social group she attends. She took them to her bedroom and reappeared shortly afterwards with the forms completed.
I was astonished at her speed. There wasn’t a lot of writing needed – just her name and a number on the Mother’s Day breakfast form, but the Council notice required some thinking, in order to prioritise which activities she wanted to attend.
Dancing Wombat had to number her preferences from 1 to 15. I was worried that she’d just number from 1 to 15, straight down the line. She had to consider which options she preferred, and she typically finds expressing preferences difficult. If asked what she’d like to do, what the best part of her day was, or something similar, her usual response would be “I don’t know.” I looked at the notice to see what she’d done.
To my surprise and pleasure, she had not simply numbered the activities in order. In fact, I couldn’t work out any sort of pattern to her numbering. Clearly, she had thought about the things she most wanted to do and prioritised her favourites. Yay!
Like a delicate crop of toadstools pushing their way through the earth when conditions were right, Dancing Wombat had been developing her skills in identifying and prioritising (at least in one area!) Thank you Mum, for your suggestion. This created an opportunity for my girl to show this skill, an opportunity which might otherwise not have presented itself for some time. Consequently, her ability would have remained unrecognised and – more importantly – unused and not extended. We can build on this now.
My advice is: don’t just look for the big picture achievements. Take a step back and consider where you’ve come from. For actually, when everything is a struggle, you value the small successes so much more. So be on the lookout. You never know what you might discover.
Happy wombatting!
