Your first…

Do you remember your first library? Mine was in a strip mall, had paperback racks filled with stories. Bean bag chairs to slip into and read to my hearts content.

Then I started going into different areas of the library. Formula racing, I remember pulling those and checking them out. Dreaming of driving fast fast fast. Then it was rally car racing, spurred on by a movie my sister took me to see.

Ohhh, but in fourth or fifth grade the librarian called my mom on me. I was going for “adult” fiction– romances and Sci-Fi and Fantasy. That poor librarian thought when my mom said she’d be right there, I’d be getting a tongue lashing.

Well, someone got chewed out.

It wasn’t me.

When Mom was younger, she was with foster families. She wasn’t allowed anything of her own, and was not allowed to read what she wanted. She told me of taking a copy of an approved book (hardback), and cutting out enough pages that the real book she was reading could slip in. Those idiots probably thought she was a slow reader.

I don’t remember Mom ever going into the library to check out books. Which is odd because she was a voracious reader.  She had floor to ceiling bookcases in the house, my dad built them on the wall just for her. But library books? Not so much.

The library is about more than books now. Maybe it always has been, but I didn’t see it because I wasn’t looking for it when I was younger.  When my son was super small and I was unemployed, I took him for storytime. It was so needed for me, got me out of the house to a place where he would be entertained and it was free. And there were other grownups there going through the same thing.

As he’s grown, he’s gone to the library for crafts and classes on coding and just to look for books. For people without wifi there is access to computers– and for people who need help with them, there are classes. The local library in California had several classes, for adults, teens and kids. Gardening. Taking care of elderly parents. Diabetes control. Coding. So many classes.

The library has become a true community center and it makes my heart hurt that so many are fighting to stay open. And I think of myself, that little library kid loving all the books.

And I’m thankful.

I think I might need to go to my new library tomorrow.  Find out about my new community. I’ve only been once (twice if you count the returning of books lol). Hope you visit yours as well.

To the Woman Dating My Ex….

Please know that what I have to say has little to do with jealousy. The man I left is not the man you are dating. That being said, there’s a history between he and I. And when it comes to our son, it informs my decisions. I try to make all my decisions be the best for my son. That’s why I have never bad talked his father to him, or allowed people to do so in The Princeling’s presence. I have always tried to keep that door wide open, so he could have a positive relationship with his father.

However.

You might be the sweetest person in the whole world, the re-incarnation of Mother Teresa, and still I would say: I should have been consulted before my son met you. Period. That should be the end of the story, because really. It’s a fact. But I’ll let you in on a few secrets.

When most people see my son, they see a bright, happy friendly kid. The Princeling can make friends no matter where he goes. He is not shy, my son.

I get to witness the tempest, try to navigate its waters. You see, the Princeling has a neurological condition called Dyspraxia. And while many people look at him and see the surface, or only the bobbles of the motor skills… I get to deal with all of it.

Like the fact that he sobs uncontrollably for twenty minutes after his dad leaves. Don’t believe me? Ask his family. It’s happened over there. He feels, deeply and profoundly… but those feelings are not tempered by a normal neuro child. He has chased after his dad’s car. He has started to jump out of my car when his dad passed us. Poor impulse control, coupled with an emotional base that is not on par with his years. Welcome to dyspraxia.

Then there’s the sensory processing disorder. When things get too loud, he shuts down. He has gone to the ER with what was essentially a panic attack from a movie that was too much for him. I have held him to me, one ear pressed into my chest and the other ear covered by my hand. This is not something that happened to him, something that he learned. A semi-truck or motorcycle going past the house was enough to make him scream as a baby. We’ve learned ways to cope. He also has a weird reaction to pain: sometimes he doesn’t even feel it. And sometimes, no one knows because he will power through and save it for when he gets home. For me to take care of. His safe place. Which is why when he falls, and he will fall, you need to check him over.

Princeling is smart as a whip. I’ve had him tested, so I know. But he has problems getting it out, and doesn’t learn the way most do. Coupled with short term memory loss (please don’t ask him to remember your name), it makes learning a challenge for him. He’s also at the stage where being in that class is making him feel vulnerable, less than other kids. Add to that the fact that his speech is getting sloppy again, and he’s drooling just a bit again. Which leads to more teasing, which he has a hard time coping with. He keeps it all inside.

Yah. It isn’t easy being a dyspraxic.

Go to http://www.dyspraxiausa.org and poke around. Warren has a lot of great information on the site. Because dyspraxia is a great big grab bag full of wonderful chaos. If you’re going to be around my son, he deserves nothing but your very best effort at understanding him.

It isn’t easy. Even some family members don’t get it.

But that’s ok, with them. Because he has me, and other advocates in the family that have taken the time to learn about dyspraxia and deal with him

But when it’s just the four of you?

You’d better be on board. For his sake.

Because he’s worth it.