My baby is struggling with impulsive behaviour. This means we are back to the buddy system. It means she has to be within eye sight, and preferably within arm’s reach of me throughout the day. I have to be her self control for her because she doesn’t have it right now.

I’m not going to list the ways she is acting out. I don’t particularly want to hold on to that ranting list. Her behaviour is all within developmental/PDA norms. She’s 7. She is acting like a 7 year old who has lost her primary parent. She’s in deep distress.

It’s been weird coming to terms with the fact that Noah literally was her primary parent for most of her first 6 years. He tied her to his body while working so I could do stuff. He let her come in and play piano while he was doing stuff. She played under his desk. Even though the third baby was “for me” so I could have the family that felt complete to me, due to the age gap I told Noah he had to step up. I couldn’t do what I did with the first two kids.

Looking back I both feel like it was smart that I gave myself space to rest and put spoons in my drawer while I could and also that I was stupid. Now my baby is suffering so deeply because of Noah’s loss. I can see it in her all the time. The big kids are suffering too, but it’s different. They are both much more strongly bonded to me. Now my daughter and I don’t have a choice. We need to make our bond a lot stronger and part of how we will do this is to spend a freakish amount of time together.

I think this girl would need a 1-1 aide in a classroom setting to keep her from doing things that would disrupt the learning environment for everyone else. She is just as high needs as my son was but the kinds of destructive behaviour are slightly different. I feel so exhausted thinking about going through this again. She has the destructive behaviour of my first child and the explosiveness of my second child plus her PDA traits are turned up to 11. She is going to be a truly radical and amazing adult. I can’t fucking wait to hang out with her when she is in her late 20’s and 30’s. Getting there is going to be a bit rough.

I tell myself a lot that I am paying Future Me by doing this work. I will get to have the adult peer relationships I want if I nail their childhoods.

Part of it is realising which of the methods I used with the older kids do not work for Shortie. She has a different life. I will now admit that I probably was using ABA tactics with the older kids. I took away fun things when they couldn’t meet my demands. I can’t do this to my youngest. Her life doesn’t have the massive amount of over-weight in the “fun” department. She hasn’t spent 2 weeks a year at Disneyland. She’s not traveling around the country. She’s not been to a bunch of exciting cultural events. She didn’t grow up with parties every 6 weeks and dozens of families she had constant contact with. She has had a fairly isolated and lonely life.

This girl needs different support and different raising. For one thing, I would be doing her a massive disservice if I encouraged her into being as bold as the older ones. The older kids and I are constantly having to navigate the challenge of being as weird as we are in this town. I hope that Shortie feels more like she belongs here when she is grown. It will always be different because she didn’t grow up in school culture. I don’t know.

I’m scared.

I keep making little steps of progress towards settling Noah’s estate. It freaks me out. I wish this process was over. A week until it has been 9 months. How naive I was to think I could be done in March or April. I couldn’t bear to think about how long it would drag out. I bat things back as quick as I can then someone in the chain is on holiday and it takes a week or two to get a response. It’s challenging. It means a lot of executive functioning from me to track stuff. I’m not doing very well at that.

I’m having a lot of brain fog. My pain levels are high. I’m getting back to exercise but it is a constant struggle.

The kids really need me to be on my A game. I feel like I’m barely squeaking out a C.

I am clearly flailing with a lot of my grief. I desperately wish that I could spend a whole year only keeping my body alive and not taking care of anyone else. Oh well. Keep moving. Instead I am going to experience a grueling several years. These babies need a lot of support. They are high needs people. I brought them into this world.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, “I understand why I was hit so much.” I acted out even more impressively than my kids do. I struggle with not hitting anyone some days. I don’t do it! I didn’t do it long before I lived in a country where it is illegal. It’s not like I’m refraining because “it’s the law”. I don’t hit my kids because if you have to hit your kids to control them then you don’t have any control.

I am dreading the fuck out of this trip to Disneyland Paris. My 3rd time there. Shortie’s probable one and only Disney trip of her childhood. My last two times there weren’t great. Maybe it is going to go better now that my expectations are below the toilet and in the sewer? No one will be nice. People will be hostile. Expect it and get on with it. They use the name Disney but it has nothing to do with Disneyland in Anaheim and it’s not useful to expect that.

I wish Disneyland wasn’t such a poisoned experience for me. 9 days till we get on the sleeper train. 12 days until we enter the park. These countdowns used to feel more fun. Now I feel a creeping funk hitting my brain and I want to cry. Who am I kidding? I’ve been crying.

I wish I could stop crying.