Technology is still kicking my butt this week, albeit in a different way. Most of you whose blogs I read, you manage your site on the blog platform’s server – i.e., WordPress.com or blogger, etc. I opted to put my site on my own server, for a number of reasons. However, this week that’s become a royal pain in my butt.
The site has opted not to save anything. Nada. Changes? Not happening. Updates? Not even. New post? Nope. I’m hoping this one saves, but not holding my breath either.
I went to WordPress for help, and several days later unfortunately help has not been forthcoming. What’s more, it’s not just this site. Apparently with the latest iteration of WordPress updates, this has become a problem for a lot of people, and nobody’s getting any answers on how to fix it. It’s not the end of the world, but most definitely annoying as heck. If push comes to shove I can kill, reinstall and reload my posts and pictures; however since this seems to be related more to the WordPress update itself, I’m not sure how much help it will be to jump through those hoops. I already tried simply disabling everything custom, which did zilch. Ugh.
This week’s been a challenge. My older daughter and her son moved in with us. Unlike my younger daughter, this one’s not convinced the world revolves around her – far from it. That’s not to say she doesn’t have issues of her own, and this grandson is autistic, which is a whole ‘nother level of challenges. Overall he’s fairly quiet and surprisingly well behaved, but because of the autism there are problems you simply wouldn’t encounter with other children. He doesn’t cope well with change of ANY kind – including clothing, showers, going to bed. Those kinds of changes result in complete meltdowns, not just the typical complaints of a toddler. We’re talking genuine distress and panic. He’s only marginally verbal now. He didn’t speak his first word until he was 4. Now, thanks to some intervention from specialists, he has a vocabulary of maybe 50 words or so. Interestingly enough, he picked up “Grandma” right away, and knows that I’m Grandma. That’s a good thing, if unusual.
Also atypical for an autistic child, he’ll come running for hugs. Not all the time, not consistently, but every now and then he simply seeks out that affirmation. During our yard sale run today we found him a rocking chair (HUGE hit) and a teddy bear (also a happy find.) The rocker has been pulled up to the coffee table for him to eat his meals – his doing – and to the kitchen window so he could watch Grandpa working out on the front porch (also little boy’s doing.)
He’s been here a few days and there have been meltdowns, which is going to happen with this child. Since autistic children don’t process change well, for him to move to a new house and away from his daddy is theoretically pretty traumatic. However, when my daughter drove to her ex’s house to get clothing and other necessities, the little one had one mother of a meltdown. He didn’t want to get out of the car, then once he got out of the car he didn’t want to go into his old house. He had no qualms about coming back in here when they returned, though. I’d call that encouraging.
My daughter knows we can’t babysit. In fact, she told us we couldn’t, precisely because he’s a special needs child. He’s reasonably happy with us, but now and then when he can’t see his mommy he has a panic attack and just loses it. Those will taper off over time, once he feels more secure with us. He’s currently okay lying next to me on the sofa and watching cartoons on TV. (Yay for PBS kids channel!) He’s fallen asleep that way more than once.
There’s a lot more to it. There always is. Despite the challenges (and there are plenty of them) I’m glad my daughter and grandson are here. There were some cascading safety issues in their previous living conditions.
My older son and his family moved and now live about two miles from us, give or take. That’s another challenging situation. Heck, that’s a perfect storm of challenges. At one point we thought they might end up moving in with us. Thank God that didn’t happen. I have a feeling I’d end up killing them all. The MIL (who lives with them) borrowed my bed pillow the first night after they moved in, on the proviso that I’d be getting it back as soon as she got her own unpacked. In reality, pretty sure I can kiss it good-bye. Which sucks, because I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since it took a hike.
I keep taking deep breaths and reminding myself that everything happens for a reason. I’m still reasonably Zen despite the insanity, but losing sleep most definitely screws with my emotional balance, particularly when you add in pain and all the other stuff swirling around me. I feel a little like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, caught up in a tornado with no idea where I’ll land when I’m done. Despite an overall level of comfort that things will work out, I’m working to keep stress under control.
A few months of sleep and I’ll be good as new.
Edited: yay, it published!