Have you ever tried moving home with a three-year old and an eight-month old? Oh -and a bonkers hyperactive dog? Well I really wouldn’t advise it ha-ha.
We moved from a small starter home back to near where I was born, Mum and Dad lived in the next street along and I was hoping and praying things might become a little easier.
‘J’ was now going to start pre-school for three hours a day. I was so excited having a regular break to be with just ‘N’. ‘J’ started the pre-school and within days at collection time I’d notice all the other children being let out and I’d stand there thinking why are they not letting ‘J’ out? Then he would be the last one, sat there on the floor, and the teacher would say “Mrs F can I have a word?” This was to become an almost daily occurrence,
‘J’ would have lashed-out at one of the other children, or worse, he would had bitten them. Sometimes ‘J’ would spend the day in a tent refusing to come out. The list of issues went on and on. What was I doing wrong? Why would he not act like every other child? I sat down in floods of tears with the play leader and health visitor and told them my worries. I was told not to worry – some children struggle more so than others. I was told to keep reinforcing positive behaviour at home.
Back at pre-school and none of the other Mums would speak to be anymore, ‘J’ would be the only child not to be invited to birthday parties. It was very lonely, and I felt very isolated. People I had been friends with for years we’re drifting further and further away, and we would only seem to meet when it was just us without the children.
Eventually ‘J’ started school – a school none of the pre-school children were going to. Maybe this would be a new chance for ‘J’ to shine and hopefully things would work out for all of us with the strictness of school and less free play. So off we went to the first day of school with ‘J’ happy as Larry, arms flapping about in excitement, and we all drop our children into their new class. The other Mums spoke to me general chit chat – it was heaven not to be ignored for a change.
‘N’ was now getting a little older and starting to talk and play with toys. He was so different to ‘J’ and I just couldn’t help but to compare them. There was definitely something different with ‘J’ – I just knew that there was. Mentioning this to my Mum, she agreed. She had worked in a school we would joke that ‘J’ was like a Duracell bunny – on the go all the time and never needing to stop. I wondered if he had something like ADHD? I knew very little about it apart from the idea that “naughty” kids got labelled with that term. I turned to Google (good old Dr Google ha-ha) and all the symptoms seemed to match ‘J’ 100%.
I mentioned this to my husband and other family members. But when I did, I was greeted with nothing but negativity. I was told I needed to be stricter with him – I let him get away with too much. I should stop pandering to his every need. I was told I should not get this investigated – absolutely not – because this would label him and would ruin his future life. He wouldn’t be able to get a job and so on. So, I did nothing. I regret that so, so, so much now. I knew something wasn’t right – I knew that ‘J’ was somehow different, but what if everyone else was right? What if I were to mess up his life?
This was to become one of the biggest regrets of my life.