Everything bar the kitchen sink

As many parents of disabled children are aware, going on holiday is not easy. After working out where to go (will there be things my chjld can access? will they be overwhelmed? will they be bored?) and how to get there (it's not the 3 hour plane flight that's the problem, it's the 2 hour check-in and then passport control at the other end), you arrive at the issue of What To Take.

In some respects it would be easier to fly abroad - with maximum luggage allowances, you have to make the right decisions. When three of you are travelling down a motorway in a seven-seater car, the question is not so much what you take, more what do you leave behind.

And so, here I am, four days before departure, making lists ... and piles. Clean clothing, not to be worn before we go (admittedly that is aimed more at t'other half than our son). Swimming gear. Summer shoes (optimistically, seeing as summer has yet to grace our shores). Technology .. oh, the cables and plugs and adapters ... gone are the days of taking one camera and a stack of 10p's for the phone.

But we have to add other not-so-routine piles. The week's supply of his favourite food, in case the local supermarkets don't have that flavour. The reins, harness, a raincover for the disability buggy in case he refuses to walk if - sorry - when the heavens open. Medicines that we know he'll swallow. Familiar toys, especially the musical ones. New toys so that he gets a treat. Batteries and batteries and batteries and a screwdriver to get in to change them. Nappies, wipes, bibs, cloths.

Still, thar Blue Badge will mean we can park close by our accommodation to unload it all, right? Only if we leave home at stupid o'clock to arrive before all the other parents of disabled children who had the same idea of holidaying in term-time to beat the rush.

Maybe next year we'll just stay home!

Fun ... and not such fun

Last weekend, we went to the Geronimo Festival at Tatton Park. We pre-booked the tickets, getting them at the very low super-early-bird price ... and typically it was the worst day for weather. It didn't rain, but nor did the forecast sun break through the heavy grey clouds.

Still, it was good fun. Would have been better if our names had been on the Carer Access list as promised; and if the BB car parking had been on hard-standing as described on the access form. But these are small annoyances (though the latter would have been a greater annoyance if it rained!). We went early and fortunately didn't have to queue too much for the activities that our son could enjoy - bouncy castles, the practice cargo net by the monkey climb, the donkey rides.

It seemed quite a popular event for families with disabled children, and so much more could have been provided to accommodate them - two cycling arenas, but no sign of any bikes for disabled children; a chill-out zone for under-threes, but no equivalent for older children. I'll be letting the organiser Simon know my ideas so if you have any more to add, please comment!

We are lucky that we live so close to Clayton Vale, a huge green space that combines formal parks, woodland walks, mountain bike trails, and the odd pylon ...We'd go there more often if I weren't a lazy Mum!

Andrew seems to like it though, this photo was taken yesterday of him running off into the distance. I have no idea whether he would have stopped of his own accord, or kept going until he reached the end. As it was, he suddenly veered off to the left and, by the time I caught up, was banging on a gate that led to a small children's playpark that we didn't know existed.
 

Two things have been circulating on my Facebook newsfeed this week that have left me wanting a Dislike button ...

First was a questionnaire - "Ask your children these questions, post their genuine responses" - about what children think of their Mums. I did actually c&p this one with my son's first few answers, which were "be be beh beh" to every question. He's non-verbal. He's not going to be able to answer. But thanks everybody for reminding me of that again.

The second was a meme that said "How about putting that screaming kid on vibrate". How about not. How about thinking that there might be a reason why that kid is screaming that isn't simply 'bad parenting'. How about understanding that some children can be affected by sensory changes, and screaming is their only form of communication. How about considering that their parents might have been listening to their screams for the last six hours and need a break. How about having a little understanding.

That is all.

Jumping around or not as the case may be

Take one warehouse, and fill it from wall to wall with trampolines - and you get Jump Nation in Manchester. It's huuuuuuuuuge. And for a child who likes (1) running and (2) bouncing, it's perfect.

But like many parents of disabled children, I was very wary of taking Andrew to such a venue - whilst the general public can be forgiving of children the first time they get in their way, by the sixth time their patience is wearing thin.

Which is why I was delighted to find out in March via another blog that Jump Nation were holding a special event just for autistic children (and their siblings) (and any parents with enough energy to join in). The session was great - children running amok from one jump-bed to the next, but annoying nobody because everybody's children were doing the same thing. I even heard a few meltdowns that received very little attention from others.

Since then the sessions have been held monthly, 9am on a Saturday morning - the next is on 13th June. (Booking link) We've booked on them all! We missed April due to illness, but were back there again this Saturday for the May event. I'm not sure why it wears me out more than our son, it's probably an age thing as I haven't been on a trampoline for over 30 years !

The best moment though was in the cafe when we were taking a refreshment break - water and, for Andrew, the obligatory packet of cheesy puffs. One child decided to climb onto the sofa next to me. Their mother was apologetic and commented:

"We brought him all this way and he's bouncing on the sofa."

My response?

"Heck, I brought him all this way and he's sitting here eating wotsits ..."

Autistic children. You just roll with them.