I am interrupting the smooth flow of our story to be spontaneous and capture the moment. I warned you at the beginning we were on a roller coaster ! This isn't the post I have been working on, it's one of those dips
Today has been a ... day. As soon as I clapped eyes on Moglet #2 today I knew. Dyspraxia was doing it's level best to take charge. He was ultra jumpy, ultra sensitive and in a very difficult mood.
"What's up?" I ask.
He spins his arms like a windmill and stamps his feet. "I dunno. It's rubbish."
No need to ask what's rubbish, we both know and I know that from this moment I am thinking on my feet. They call Dyspraxia the hidden disability. Well, trust me it wasn't very hidden this morning. It was written in neon letters 9 feet high and tap dancing around our cottage.
We are away on holiday. Two days ago we had a long journey South. We had frequent breaks but still, it was about 7 hours in the car deadening all those receptors. I thought we had got away with it but clearly not. This holiday will be worth it, we will build some fantastic memories but today will have to be got through.
We had planned a trip into the local town this morning, having a mooch and buying supplies for a trip to the beach this afternoon. I am not sure Moglet # 2 is in a 'mooching' mood, so I leap into action.
"A bath!" I cry. "You eat your breakfast and I'll run you a warm bath."
Water, an old favourite, this might just work.
In truth, he does seem slightly calmer but then it comes to getting dressed. I walk into his room to find a pile of discarded clothes and a face like thunder.
"None of these fit!!!" He points to the heap of trousers that have fitted perfectly over the past few weeks.
What he means is, "None of these feel right!" It's the sensory processing thing. I am still not clear if it's part of the dyspraxia or an added extra. Irrelevant really; today it's very much here and making its presence felt.
I don't remember how we negotiate this one but we do. We are in the car, and without looking I can feel the vibes. We arrive and park the car. Moglet number 3 announces he needs the loo. No toilet in sight, we head to a cafe and grab a drink so we can use the bathroom. Probably the last thing Moglet #2 needs but we are a family and part of that is juggling needs.
The promise of a milkshake smooths the way and we get settled in. Moglet #2 decides to jam himself in a corner and start tapping away on his phone. My brain screams "Screens! Small spaces! Noooo!" But at that moment I am powerless.
Actually it turns out ok. No spilt drinks, no broken cups. Result!
Time to go, and dyspraxia reigns again, as Moglet number 2 tries to leave by squeezing through a invisible gap. His brother protests, loudly! The man at the next table glares, and I may, I confess glare back.
We head out into the street and Moglet number 2 announces "Can I buy a spade? I NEED to dig a BIG hole!!"
His body is telling him he needs to wake it up. Some heavy work is required.
So we buy a spade! Which, with 4 Moglets to service, ends up being 3 spades, 3 buckets and one crabbing kit!!
The rest of the trip is without incident and we head home for some lunch. Not long after we have eaten Moglet #2 is restless.
"We NEED to go to the beach!"
So, we go. We are distracted when we arrive by the water sports shack. We are talked into hiring body boards and wetsuits for all four Moglets. We are thinking fun, but dyspraxia Mummy is thinking waking up the body, gross motor, sensory seeking. She thinks it can only be good!!
And it is... For a while...
But some how, and I don't know how it goes a bit pear shaped for Moglet number 2.
The sea is very calm, he wants it rough. Clearly those receptors are really sleepy and water ain't cutting it today. So he starts to dig. And I mean dig. The hole is soon a trench and the sand is flying. He has actually reached the water table and is stamping around in the sludge at the bottom. It's like quick sand and his feet get stuck! As he pulls them out he loses his balance and topples over. Now he is covered in sand and his sensory receptors, which are clearly now OVERACTIVE are screaming. He rushes into the sea to wash off, just missing a small child shell searching at the edge.
"Careful!" I shout. I am trying to stay calm but I know I am in the middle of a nightmare chain reaction I just can't stop.
Probably the best thing would be to pack up and go home, but Moglets 1,3 and 4 are in their elements, and besides the hours hire is no where near up. Bloody, bloody dyspraxia. At this moment I hate it.
He is back to digging. A bit calmer. He calls me over to show me something.I wander over, on egg shells, I make admiring noises. Moglet Daddy went for a wander along the beach when all was calm, so when Moglet tips into the narrow trench and becomes wedged things take a turn for the worse. He is angry, stuck and embarrassed. I am apologising, I had rested my hand on his back and made a joke about falling in, completely misjudging how out his balance is today.
A very kind man hears and sees our plight and lifts him out. His wife makes admiring noises about the beautiful hole. Moglet #2 is sort of gracious until they are gone , but then he is way beyond his limits. More furious digging and, finally, horribly and perhaps predictably he gets sand in his eye.
With his senses in over drive this just more than he can bear. I won't describe the scene in detail but safe to say it wasn't pretty and it ended with me telling him to put his face in the sea in a desperate attempt to wash the sand away.
Poor Moglet Daddy arrived back at this point and stood open mouthed. The family next to us, well who knows, what they thought, probably best not to dwell!
The calm down was slow and once again not linear. Another warm bath, right up to his neck music playing seems to have helped, but I am not sure we are out of the woods yet!
Today was just one of those days, it wasn't the first and it won't be the last. But we got through it...