Thursday is turning into my least favourite day of the week. Not that it was ever my most favourite, but you know what I mean. If Thursday is the new Friday for you then that’s super. For me it’s sucks right about now.
Thursday’s are when go on my Early Bird course. Early Bird is a course for the parents of preschoolers with a diagnosis of autism, run by the National Autistic Society. I was told to put our names on the waiting list for it the day he was diagnosed. It’s basically Autism 101 for beginners, or as we call it in our house Autism School. I don’t know, I’ve only done three sessions and had one home visit and while it’s giving me stuff to think about and suggesting reasons why some of Oscar’s behaviour may be happening etc, it’s not (and it’s not meant to be) giving me all the answers. But sometimes answers are all I want. The ‘whys’ are coming but not the ‘how’s’ and that can be frustrating. I’ll get there I know that.
The other thing that’s hard about it, is having to spend two full hours with Oscar’s Autism up in my face. I’m not saying I usually live in denial, I promise I don’t, but having to look at it in such sharp relief is exhausting. I feel sick every week. It’s just so intense.
But one of the most stressful thing about Thursdays are the logistics of it. The course is being held over on the other side of Guildford and as you know I don’t drive. Originally when I got the offer of a place I was going to turn it down. It was so far away. But children’s services were so keen for me to do it, they found a little bit of funding, to cover just some of the cost of getting a cab. Which was very sweet of them. But transport wasn’t the only reason I was going to turn the course down. Who was going to look after Oscar?
To be fair, Oscar was already down to go to nursery on a Thursday but I may have explained before that to avoid the morning rush we usually arrive a little later and leave a little earlier. Meaning he was due to go to nursery over the exact hours the course runs. Half an hours drive away. So the lovely children’s services lady (seriously I have never met anyone so good at their job!) talked the preschool into agreeing they’d take him 9.30-1 instead, leaving me half an hour either side to drop off and pick up. Cutting it fine, but needs must.
So far he’s been awesome at waiting in the morning. Only he doesn’t queue. He won’t and I can’t make him. It’s the reason we haven’t done it before now. And that’s fine, the nursery don’t expect him to and are happy for him to just run in when the doors open, no handshake, no queuing. And the other children don’t seem to care either. The other parents however. Ahhhh. The good British parent. Who loves a queue. Well…
I can’t blame them really, they don’t know me and few of them know the reasons I have agreed to drop him and run on a Thursday. But what do I do? Stand up in front of them all and explain? Should I really need to do that? I don’t want to. But when people start physically blocking you from passing and your child’s already run in the room and you have to give your child’s bag to a friend to give to the teachers? Well maybe I need to.
Thursday’s are stressful at the moment. Pissy looks and childish behaviour I’d normally brush off or laugh at I find I can’t. Instead, I end up running out with tears pricking my eyes, while they get to queue. Orderly and beautifully.
Yeah, Thursday’s suck right now.