The Kindness of Strangers

This blog is inspired by the odd combination of two free circus tickets and a pending plane flight, the timing of which both of course coincide.

One of the most interesting lessons the Dancing Queen has taught me is about the kindness of strangers.  At one point in time I used to get more than mildly annoyed at society's incessant need to judge my apparent lack of parenting skills when dealing with a meltdown in the public arena.  In more than one instance, I was flabbergasted by complete strangers who felt the need to pass comment while I was dealing with an over distraught child in melt down mode after suffering a sensory overload burnout. 

On the plus side however, she has opened the door to allow the entry of guardian angels in many different disguises and human forms.  Having reduced me to a quivering, shaking bowl of jelly on more occasions than I would care to remember, I was suddenly struck by the fact that the public meltdowns were also a poignant reminder about the warmer, softer side of mankind.  Had I not been put at the mercy of other complete strangers who would silently come to my aid unasked for, I would have forgotten about the kinder side of mankind and possibly (and sadly) gone into full shutdown mode to protect myself from the judgemental strangers.

Why this is pertinent at this precise point in time is that I am about to fly with the Dancing Queen and her elder sister.  Once a upon a time just the mere thought of that would have reduced me to that jelly bowl again - previous scenarios have included a 3 year old version of the Dancing Queen making a mad dash off a busy plane at full speed, safe in the knowledge that I am at least 20 metres behind, struggling with the bags, my laptop and a sibling either asleep or covered in vomit.  In those instances, again the silent kind strangers have stepped in to help but I must admit I was always slightly confused as to what to hand over - the bags with the passports or my other child so I could make a similar frantic dash to find my child in a busy airport or to let a stranger capture the AWOL child.   As an aside, at least these days the captain won't refuse us entry onto the plane, because the Dancing Queen will keep her shoes on until we at least get on it - apparently airline regulations forbid bare footed children tippy toeing down the aisles.

So fingers crossed, Wednesday’s flight will be delightfully boring with no major mishaps.  Though I have yet to tell the Dancing Queen she actually has free tickets to the opening night of the local circus.  Again one of those instances where she flashed her dazzling smile and managed to score two circus tickets with her ice cream cone from a complete stranger, as only she would!

Manners, memories and meltdowns

The other night I overheard the Dancing Queen tell her best friend that "when she was little she was very bad and naughty but that was before she learnt what manners were". That comment intrigued me for a number of reasons, partly because that was the first time ever she had given me any inkling that she also remembered those early troubled days outside of the typical early childhood memories.  She then went onto elaborate what naughty meant which in her definition included biting, hitting and kicking amongst other activities. I did not know whether to be almost pleased that she now realises that her previous behaviour falls into the anti-social category or slightly saddened that she remembers it.  Does that mean she also remembers the almost frightening head banging sessions against her cot bars or hurling things against the wall in an uncontrollable rage if I was not quick enough to remove everything from throwing distance.  I have yet to find the courage to ask what my eldest daughter remembers of those days.  I am hoping that like the array of bruises I seemed to carry at that particular time, those memories too have faded.

On the plus side however it is her manners that are one of her more endearing features as she exists today.  Most people express pleasure at coming across such a well mannered child even if a little prompting is still required every so often. And I am hoping that it is those manners that will help her get through life and somehow become ingrained to the point of almost becoming instinctive coping tactics; that she will be able to fall back on those as opposed to previous meltdown behavioural traits.Or is that just wishful thinking on my part?  Maybe a please and thank you during a meltdown is a bit incongruous to say the least!

A second chance

I think one of the most soul destroying days of my life was the Dancing Queen's first day of school. I had co-enrolled her to do two days in the mainstream school that her elder sibling attended and three days in a special education development unit.  At the end of that very first day at mainstream school I was taken aside by the teacher and asked why she was not able to attend the second school full time (a question I was repeatedly and very pointedly asked on a number of occasions in those first few weeks).  She had not even given a 5 year old child a chance. She could not see past the label and promptly sought to wash her hands of her.  The same teacher was also responsible for one of the worst insults I have been given as a mother; that she had 24 students in her class and then my child. At the time I was outraged, believing that my child was not being given the same chances as her peers.

However I soon learnt that fate plays strange hands.  At the SEDU, my daughter for the first time ever was not left in the corner to her own devices or simply filed in the too hard basket.  She found her feet and as it also happens her voice.  They gave her a chance there and she seized it.  The tears slowly abated and as they did, so did the separation anxiety to a significant degree.  By the end of six months, I could almost leave a smiling child which after three years of walking away to the deafening sounds of a flailing child being held down while she sobbed her heart out was a major achievement on both hers and their parts.

The other thing about chance that recently struck me was the second chance she has given me to view life from an entirely different angle.  The sheer and absolute delight with which she now sees the world never ceases to amaze me.  She has opened my eyes to so many things I was previously blind to.  Plus she has this amazing ability to open doors I had previously assumed were firmly shut as well as the hearts of people I would have erroneously assumed to be closed. So to everyone that sees past my daughter's idiosyncrasies and gives her that chance I thank you.  And I thank my dancing queen for also giving me that second chance.

Blankies, Beethoven and Starry Nights

One recent development has been the reappearance of the Dancing Queen's blankie at night time.  Despite the still cold nights, she has taken to sleeping with just a "blankie" over her head and half of her body (they don't cover her like they used to in her smaller days). Now I don't know whether to be worried by this or whether it is just a short term (albeit reoccurring) phase. 

At one point in time, "blankies" were THE essential item.  She was never one for teddies or even really toys with the exception of a whole family of care bears.  The only real thing she showed any strong attachment to was her "blankies".  I think I quickly lost count of the number of large size muslin squares I purchased through the years but we would be talking dozens of them. The wonderful thing about these muslin squares were that they appeared to possess magical powers to block out the rest of the world.  We would never leave home without them and at the first sign of stress, the blankie would come out and she would cover herself from head to toe, almost as if she using them to form an invisible shield to protect herself from the world.

On good days, they would be used in conjunction with the care bear family to whisk them off to magical lands where they would have all sorts of adventures, courtesy of a simple muslin square.  I also lost count of the number of times she, the blankies and the care bears watched the Elmo in Grouchland DVD which again was all about the adventures associated with a "blankie".

The blankies lasted up until the start of her school days when I slowly began to withdraw them from circulation.  However for sentimental reasons, I kept a few stashed away.  They still make good blankets for various kids games and in some instances have been used to make beds for the ever growing beanie kid family (the successors to the care bear family). 

But for some unknown reason, they appear to be making a comeback for comfort purposes. One thing that struck me last night however, was again how far she has come since those early days when the blankies formed that all essential block to a world we could not enter.  Last night's muffled conversation from under the blankie as she was falling asleep was all about Vincent van Gogh, which included the date he died, how he died and which bit of his left ear was missing. Oh and her favourite pictures of his which unsurprisingly include the Starry Night and the Cafe Terrace on the Place du Forum (which again has the night sky with the stars).  Either way I was impressed at how much she is learning/absorbing and how much interest she is taking in the world around her.  The fact that it was artwork she was talking about too was equally amazing. This is from a child that can supposedly only deal with concrete facts and absolutes.  But here she is enthralled by the abstract and post impressionism art at that! At this point in time I am assuming she does not realise what a troubled soul he was. Interestingly enough though, the other historical figure for whom she has an abiding fascination is Beethoven (she falls asleep to his music every night), but again I would hate to read too much into that.