Today my anxiety levels are high. I am stressed and tired and teary.
Our morning was rushed because I couldn’t drag myself out of bed which meant I shouted at the (deaf) kids. Then at breakfast William said to me ‘Mummy? Mummy. No shouting. No shouting Mummy’.
You know what that means? That means someone at school has said that to him. That means he’s been shouting at school. That means I really, really, really have to stop shouting. Cue more unbearable pressure on daily life.
He has cried so hard on the bus every morning this week. We have started every day in tears, both of us. The guilt, the pressure, the anxiety. All. Too. Much.
Harriet and I went to deaf playgroup. I LOVE deaf playgroup. There was a time when I hated it, hated having to be there at all. But it has become somewhat of a sanctuary for me. It’s calm and friendly and everyone there is the same as me. I don’t stand out. My kids don’t stand out.
It was quiet today, only three kids and we had plenty of time to talk. The staff gushed some more over our wedding, we talked more about Harriet’s impending operation, about William getting on a school.
All of it. All. Of. It. Was in sign language.
The teacher of the deaf said to me “I’ve never seen you sign before, you’re a natural. Have you had proper lessons? (I haven’t) Do you have qualifications? (I don’t) You flow so smoothly”.
The speech and language therapist said to me “you’re such an inspiration. It’s so good for all these Mums of newly diagnosed children to see you. You’re such a positive role model”. She even shed a tear!
And there, all of a sudden, I was winning.
I’m still an anxious, guilt ridden, shouty Mum. But, I’m one that’s pretty good at sign language. And that has pretty much made my week.