We went from the therapist's office straight to pick up the children from their respective schools. When I went in to get Maya, her teacher told me she'd been more distant than usual (big surprise there) and had needed a lot more intervention to get her out of herself and involved with what the others were doing. Sigh. Expected, but up until this point she'd been holding it together reasonable well in preschool, so this was another punch to the gut. I hadn't gotten as far as the doorway when the school director cornered me to ask whether Maya had been having playdates with the other children. Sometimes, I answered. She then proceeded to tell me that that wasn't good enough and that I had to make this a priority. I somehow managed not to tell her to go f* herself and stated coolly that right now we were inundated with various therapy sessions and that playdates would have to remain something that we fit in when we can. Take that lady and be grateful I didn't shove your head through a plate glass window.
By the time we finished up at the greengrocers next door and get everyone bundled into the car I was in a fine state. Jay offered to take the kids to the store while I went home. Excellent. I could really have used a bit of space to collect myself. We pull up to the front door and Maya, who has barely strung two coherent words together in the last week says "I don't want to go to the store with Daddy, I want to go home with Mommy." Ok, if she's finally speaking again we need to encourage her. Home it is. Of course at that point her brother decides to join her but I decide to breathe deeply and accept the fact that I am now on my own again with the kids and hope for the best. (Yes, my week has been that bad.)
After a very long delay where I stood on the sidewalk holding 8 different bags while Maya went to go pick
I don't know what happened, what switch was flipped, but suddenly Maya was here again, and stayed right here and in the moment for HOURS. This has NEVER happened before. We played with her animals together and my heart swelled as she started incorporating all sorts of imaginative elements, we played playdough and she started making me pretend food, we read books, we had a snack. All the while stayed right here. We had two very minor and very limited echolalia incidents towards evening, but that was it. No screaming. No grunting. No pacing the room while reciting cartoons. No hysterical tantrums over nothing at all. We talked. I asked questions, and for the most part she answered. We played games that needed a high level of interaction, and she managed it. She stayed right there with me all damn day.
And the incredibly sweet icing on the cake? She got into her pajamas with no fussing, chose two new books for me to read her (incredible in and of itself, since she tends towards ritual repetition), listened me read them in their entirety, even commenting on some of the scenes, and then rolled over and closed her eyes. I kissed her goodnight, told her I loved her and how very very proud I was of her, and said I'd see her in the morning. And she let me go. And then quietly went to sleep, without me. Did you hear that? I didn't have to stay in there and play policeman for the next two hours.
I don't know what miracle/angel/fairy/sprite/fate/dumb luck/sheer chance came over her today, and I don't know if we'll see it again, but I have had this day, and for that I am grateful. So profoundly grateful. It gives me hope that one day we will have another one again, or if I dare to dream, even two.
Be grateful for the little things. They mean a great deal more than you may know.
I know this wasn't a typical Sunday Scribblings offering, but when I read the "now and then" prompt I realized that nothing would fit this prompt better for me than this "then and now" moment of my own.