Giving self-recognition when it’s running smoothly – why it’s important for parents to pat themselves on the back

It’s been a while since I posted something about parenting, so busy have I been ranting about politics and other personal bugbears. Perhaps this is because things have been pootling along rather nicely on the kid front that I haven’t felt the need. But the very fact that it has been so calm, contented and otherwise on an even keel means it’s important to recognise it. Things have got better, and for those still trapped in the mires of the early years, especially with a child, diagnosed or otherwise on the spectrum, this is a message of hope.

It’s not been an easy journey, but at nine and six my children are not only great company, amusing companions, polite-ish dinner guests and relatively obedient, when it comes to emptying the dishwasher without fuss, or being taken to someone else’s house and not showing me up too much. My son has also been singled out as a talented climber and has started guitar lessons, while my daughter is starting to play the piano and is reading beautifully.

It’s important to recognise these everyday achievements. Especially when they represent a massive leap from where we were even a year ago, when I would struggle to get Jonah, diagnosed ASD, out the house; struggle to get him to try new activities, and who was still having regular, spectacular meltdowns – and who was also struggling socially at school.

I felt that some of my parenting methods –  being relaxed about letting him choose what he wants to do at home, like Minecraft or Clash of Clans – which has vastly improved his relationships at school now he has common ground with his peers – are starting to pay real dividends; while being firm about ensuring he does his share round the house – making his bed, tidying up, pairing socks and so on, has made it clear what my expectations are on a daily basis without pushing him into a corner.

This week, I was proud of him, at a posh garden party-type event, held by one of Tom’s banking colleagues, when Jonah not only joined in with a bunch of older kids playing football, but actually impressed them with his skills, and when things got a bit too much after an ice cream and cookie overload, he took himself off to bounce for an hour on their massive garden trampoline (oh,how the other half live) rather than take it out on himself and others. He was a delight. And more generally our relationship has gone from strength to strength, from sitting and watching science videos together to chatting about politics, to jumping around on the sofa doing robot dancing to Daft Punk. I feel really like we’ve moved to a new era where we can have fun together, discuss important stuff rationally, and he is much more aware of his own power to make people feel good and bad, such as asking how my day has been and understanding and showing concern if I’m not feeling very well.

This is not to say his ASD has gone away. It really hasn’t, and I firmly believe what he eats makes a real difference to his behaviour, so we’re still cutting gluten, he chooses not to eat much dairy, and I supplement with probiotics and fish oils. The day after the successful garden party-barbeque, we met up with friends of ours who are having a baby soon, and given the previous night’s lateness, and the Travelodge breakfast of croissant and muffin, Jonah regressed to a withdrawn and tetchy pre-tween, preferring to play games on my phone than engage with the adults; but even so, he remained calm. But it was perhaps more obvious to my friends, who’ve not seen him for a while, or all that frequently for that matter, that I’ve not been overstating his condition or that he’s grown out of it, given how well I’ve tried to regulate him in the past.

In fact, if anything, habitually sweet Ava is more of a concern these days. Her hearing problems have resulted in the need for speech therapy, and this has elucidated a concern that I have had about her for a while too. I think she is also on the spectrum, but because she doesn’t have so many characteristic meltdowns (or walk on her tiptoes for that matter) I’ve not been fussed to pursue it. But she does have some characteristics – notably, preferring to miaow than talk, a quiet self containment, fear of new people, and staunch loyalty to the two boys she plays with at school – as well as the odd head spinning tantrum about what she’s wearing. I am less concerned by her behaviour, although as she gets older I can foresee challenges ahead, although her determination to do things her way is to be celebrated, and her general awareness of other people’s feelings means a diagnosis probably won’t get us very far.

And yet is their symbiotic relationship I admire the most. Yes occasionally it can blow up – particularly where we’ve paid attention to their shrieks in the past – notably in the car over the arm rest, where it’s all but impossible to ignore their bickering. But in general, they are so lovely together, that I know whatever else happens, they will always have each other’s back. In fact, their good relationship, and how proud they have made me at times over the past two weeks is a good moment  to celebrate – when I genuinely feel I can pat myself on the back, and say “well done me” for all the trials and tribulations we’ve gone through as a family over the past ten years since I first discovered, after my last exam for my journalism diploma, aged 24, that I was having a baby.