So you may have gathered that the last few weeks haven’t been the easiest – sickness bugs, half term, surgery, virtual house arrest after surgery (and don’t even mention politics!). But I’ve been carried through by the kindness of … well, almost everyone.
Of course, there will always be the exceptions, the ones who judge or who don’t make the effort to consider that not all children come from the same mould. We had one of those in half term when we visited a cathedral. I approached the information desk to ask for the disabled exit (because yes, Pudding was not happy, and yes, he was making sure everyone knew about it). The lady turned round from a conversation with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and told him to ‘Shush. Please!’ before waving us to a lift which wasn’t what we wanted.
But I won’t waste my ire on people like her. This post is about the good ones, the people who show their kindness through everyday actions. Like the other staff there who went out of their way to try and engage Pudding in activities despite his difficult behaviour. Maybe a job to them but welcome inclusion to me.
The very next day the boys and I were in the playground at a stately home. After spending ten minutes trying to escape, of course Pudding didn’t want to leave when the transport came. When he decides against something it is becoming more and more difficult for me to manage him physically. He is now half my weight and very strong. I was rescued by a complete stranger who offered to take the buggy while I persuaded /coerced Pudding to move. Such a little thing for someone to do, but such a help to me.
We met another friend there and while we followed a trail around the gardens, she said to me, ‘I’ll push the buggy for a bit’. Such a little thing for someone to do, but a welcome rest for me. (He’s heavy!)
One of the added problems about Pudding’s appointments in Manchester is having to work out what happens with T while we’re away. The day of surgery, a friend offered to pick him up from school, take him to the earlier gym class her son goes to, and then wait around until T’s class had finished. Yet another friend picked him up from school the next day and held onto him for an extra hour when we were delayed getting back. A short(ish) time for them, but a release from worry for me.
MPS has brought us so many trials and tribulations, and a world that I wish I had never heard about. But it has also brought the ability to see a side of people that I might not really have been aware of otherwise. My everyday heroes. Not just family or long-term friends who are bound to us with ties of blood and years of shared experience, but people who’ve got to know us since Pudding’s diagnosis and who haven’t run a mile at the sight of an unconventional set-up. Not forgetting the kindness of strangers.
Kindness matters. It really does make a difference. Next time you see someone struggling and wonder whether you should intervene, just offer that help. It might be a small inconvenience to you, but could mean the world to them.