Post by LeMira
This morning was another reminder of how out of tune I am sometimes with my son. This morning we had to go back to the school (he's been out for a week) for post-assessment with his Kindergarten teacher, his special ed. teachers, and the school counselor. After breakfast he went to his room for a few minutes, and then emerged and announced to me, "Mom, I can't get dressed."
I looked at him and told him, "You can do this. Go pick out some clothes."
A few minutes later the same thing happened, but this time, he was more frustrated. "Mom, I can't get dressed! I need you to do it for me. I opened the dresser."
At this point, I was confused, but also frustrated. I tried to be in tune to him, and I started asking him what to do first, second, etc. He responded, "Mom, I know that, but I can't do it. You need to come to my room."
I responded, "Yes you can; you're seven. Just go get dressed. Tell yourself, 'I can do it.'" Ten more minutes passed, and he came and sat next to me on the couch in his underwear. This time he was sobbing, "Mom, I can't get dressed."
I exhaled and followed him to his room. "I can't understand what's going on this morning." When I got to his room, the bells finally went off in my head. There it was. He had found a red polo shirt -- a school uniform shirt -- but couldn't find any school uniform pants. I had taken the pants and turned them in for the uniform exchange since he'll outgrow them by the end of the summer. He knew he had to go to school, but he didn't understand that he didn't need his uniform. He was confused at what to do. I was upset with myself for not catching on earlier and for dismissing his frustration. This entire episode took 40 minutes. I should have gone in earlier.
This dilemma reminded me that I have a good kid. If he says he "can't" do something, sometimes it's because he doesn't understand or something's confusing, and he doesn't have the words to tell me. Once in a while it's that he won't do something, or that the task is overwhelming, but a lot of times it's that he doesn't understand. Today was a reminder that I need to check out a situation before I just push him.
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frustration. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Biscuit is a FOOD, not a DOG!
The thing with PDD-NOS is that it is easy to forget that my child has a disability. Then he does something and fixates on something so trivial or odd (to me, anyway) that I'm reminded that yes, he sees the world very differently than I do.
This morning we were doing homework before school. This morning's load was more than normal because he was kept home sick the last two days. Don't worry, I didn't overload him, it was just one more page than normal. When it was time to do his reading, he sat on the couch and pouted for five minutes. "I'm not going to school. My head hurts. I'm sick." The thing is, he's probably right, but he's not sick enough to stay home another day. Besides, he'll only be there for 2 1/2 hours before I check him out again for a routine doctor's appointment.
Anywaaaaay, it was time to do his daily reading. A very short book (he's only on a first grade level, so not very difficult). The problem this morning was that the character, a dog, has the name "Biscuit." Yesterday, when he knew he didn't have to go to school, he wasn't so grumpy and just sort of shrugged off the name, although he mentioned that "Biscuit" isn't the name of the dog, it's the name of a food. Can you see where this is going? Yeah, this morning, he couldn't get past the "Biscuit-is-a-food-not-a-dog" issue. I mean, really, he couldn't get past it. So, I couldn't get past it. I put the book down and finished getting him ready for school. Some days he just gets so fixated on a little thing that it gets in the way of the big things, and then we take a break. Does that happen to anyone else?
This morning we were doing homework before school. This morning's load was more than normal because he was kept home sick the last two days. Don't worry, I didn't overload him, it was just one more page than normal. When it was time to do his reading, he sat on the couch and pouted for five minutes. "I'm not going to school. My head hurts. I'm sick." The thing is, he's probably right, but he's not sick enough to stay home another day. Besides, he'll only be there for 2 1/2 hours before I check him out again for a routine doctor's appointment.
Anywaaaaay, it was time to do his daily reading. A very short book (he's only on a first grade level, so not very difficult). The problem this morning was that the character, a dog, has the name "Biscuit." Yesterday, when he knew he didn't have to go to school, he wasn't so grumpy and just sort of shrugged off the name, although he mentioned that "Biscuit" isn't the name of the dog, it's the name of a food. Can you see where this is going? Yeah, this morning, he couldn't get past the "Biscuit-is-a-food-not-a-dog" issue. I mean, really, he couldn't get past it. So, I couldn't get past it. I put the book down and finished getting him ready for school. Some days he just gets so fixated on a little thing that it gets in the way of the big things, and then we take a break. Does that happen to anyone else?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Just Like Mom
(Post by LeMira)
At some point, we all look at our kids and start comparing their attributes to ours and to the people around us. It's natural. "He bounces his leg just like his dad," or "his mom bites her tongue in concentration, too." For my son, it's obvious just by looking at him who his father is, especially when they're together. My mom thinks we should have named him after his dad because they look so similar. He even has some of his dad's personality traits, but not as many. When it comes to many of his more noticeable traits, he's just like me.
As a child, I cried whenever someone raised her voice or if my parents started arguing. I tense up when voices start rising and opinions start conflicting. I just want everyone to get along.
I'm a people-pleaser. I want to like everyone, and I want everyone to like me. You tell me that I did something wrong, I cry -- not because I'm offended, but because I'm affected, deeply. My son is exactly the same way. When I raise my voice, he cries. He's very fearful of getting in trouble. He's a rule follower (I was, too). You don't break the rules, you just don't.
It takes some time to feel comfortable in a big crowd of people. We wait a minute or two to volunteer, if we volunteer at all. If we are black sheep at home, in public, we're white, like everyone else. We obey all the rules, follow the crowd.
We're both very passionate. Although we are affected when others begin disagreeing, we are not afraid to be right. We are not afraid to voice our opinions at home or with those whom we are close and do not feel stranger to. We want to be right, we are afraid of being wrong.
Not good.
I have this uncanny ability to come "un-glued" very easily and very quickly without warning. When I'm frustrated, deep breaths don't usually do it for me. I'm someone who needs to break dishes, punch a wall, throw a chair, cry uncontrollably, or scream. My son is the same way. Yes, a lot of it is inherent behavior, I've learned that just by watching him, but I know that much of it is because it's how we handle things in our house. It hasn't been easy to watch this lately, knowing that he has the prime example in his mother.
I'm working on a longer fuse, or getting rid of the fuse all together (meaning I never blow, not that I blow every time), but it's so hard. I'm hypocritical when I yell at my son to not yell every time he's frustrated. Yeah, nice one. Anyway, I've been trying to find ways to help us let off steam immediately; here are some of the things we've tried:
1. Deep breaths.
2. Count to 10 (never works for either one of us)
3. Screaming into pillows
4. Tarzan yell while beating your chest
5. Screaming matches while plugging our ears
6. Clasping hands and squeezing the life out of them -- either squeezing your own together or a partner's.
7. Raiding the pantry (I don't recommend this one)
What are ways that you blow off your steam to help you cope with your power struggles and frustrations?
At some point, we all look at our kids and start comparing their attributes to ours and to the people around us. It's natural. "He bounces his leg just like his dad," or "his mom bites her tongue in concentration, too." For my son, it's obvious just by looking at him who his father is, especially when they're together. My mom thinks we should have named him after his dad because they look so similar. He even has some of his dad's personality traits, but not as many. When it comes to many of his more noticeable traits, he's just like me.
As a child, I cried whenever someone raised her voice or if my parents started arguing. I tense up when voices start rising and opinions start conflicting. I just want everyone to get along.
I'm a people-pleaser. I want to like everyone, and I want everyone to like me. You tell me that I did something wrong, I cry -- not because I'm offended, but because I'm affected, deeply. My son is exactly the same way. When I raise my voice, he cries. He's very fearful of getting in trouble. He's a rule follower (I was, too). You don't break the rules, you just don't.
It takes some time to feel comfortable in a big crowd of people. We wait a minute or two to volunteer, if we volunteer at all. If we are black sheep at home, in public, we're white, like everyone else. We obey all the rules, follow the crowd.
We're both very passionate. Although we are affected when others begin disagreeing, we are not afraid to be right. We are not afraid to voice our opinions at home or with those whom we are close and do not feel stranger to. We want to be right, we are afraid of being wrong.
Not good.
I have this uncanny ability to come "un-glued" very easily and very quickly without warning. When I'm frustrated, deep breaths don't usually do it for me. I'm someone who needs to break dishes, punch a wall, throw a chair, cry uncontrollably, or scream. My son is the same way. Yes, a lot of it is inherent behavior, I've learned that just by watching him, but I know that much of it is because it's how we handle things in our house. It hasn't been easy to watch this lately, knowing that he has the prime example in his mother.
I'm working on a longer fuse, or getting rid of the fuse all together (meaning I never blow, not that I blow every time), but it's so hard. I'm hypocritical when I yell at my son to not yell every time he's frustrated. Yeah, nice one. Anyway, I've been trying to find ways to help us let off steam immediately; here are some of the things we've tried:
1. Deep breaths.
2. Count to 10 (never works for either one of us)
3. Screaming into pillows
4. Tarzan yell while beating your chest
5. Screaming matches while plugging our ears
6. Clasping hands and squeezing the life out of them -- either squeezing your own together or a partner's.
7. Raiding the pantry (I don't recommend this one)
What are ways that you blow off your steam to help you cope with your power struggles and frustrations?
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Transition and Incentive
A post by LeMira
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Vacuum Therapy and Trust (by LeMira)
I swear it seems that any time a person (usually another parent or friend) tells me that they just can't tell that J.R. has any sort of social delays or signs of PDD-NOS, he is sure to have not one, but several reaffirming PDD moments. It's like they happen to remind me that yes, it's real. Yes, I'm not just making up these stories.
When my son was young, it seemed like he loved the vacuum. He'd crawl around the house, find the vacuum, pull up and stand next to it, and just stare. He wasn't scared of it, it seemed, for so long. In fact, he seemed infatuated with it. It was a little odd, I admit, but cute, nonetheless. It was nice that I didn't have a screaming toddler when I vacuumed. Today, I realized that those days are gone. Honestly, I think they disappeared after our last vacuum broke and we threw it out. With that vacuum when J.R.'s comfort; this is the first vacuum change in his life.
The best thing I ever did was make a weekly chore list for J.R. that doesn't change. He's very good at doing his chores as long as it's routine. Recently, we had to change his Wednesday chore from vacuuming his room to sweeping the kitchen (you'll understand why as you keep reading, I hope). J.R. asks every week about this, "We don't have to vacuum, right?" He knows, but he wants and needs reassurance. Today I, being the wonderful mother I am, said, "Oh, why don't I vacuum the living room while you sweep the kitchen?" Sounds reasonable, right?
J.R. responded immediately by plugging his ears and hysterically trying to clamber to his room. Remember how wonderful of a mom I am? I grabbed him, trying to be a tease, and forced him into the living room. Seeing the sheer terror on his face and the tears brimming, I decided the force had to go and the understanding had to come. I calmly asked what, why, and how the vacuum terrified him. He couldn't really answer me definitively, although he tried.
I decided to try something. I let him hold the plug and touch the vacuum. I encouraged him to push the on/off switch; and touch all over the vacuum. I wanted him to get to know the vacuum. When I could see he was still completely terrified after plugging it in, I led him to his bedroom. While sitting on his bed, we practiced plugging his ears for three counts, then not plugging his ears for three counts. Then we took turns being the vacuum while the other person counted and plugged. When he felt comfortable enough, I went and vacuumed the living room while he plugged and counted. No screaming, running, slamming doors, or tears ensued. It was a small success. I then asked him to unplug the vacuum for me. He asked me to go with him, and so I did.
This is not the only irrational fear that my son has. This is only ONE of them. Dealing with these fears has been very difficult and yet educational for me. The biggest breakthrough for me was when I finally admitted that I didn't understand them, and then asked myself how could I understand. That's when I realized that I have fears that seem irrational to others. My irrational fears usually have to do with reptiles, amphibians, and the dark.
We seem to think that dealing with our fears head on and jumping in to them is the way to "get over them," or that doing these pranks (like me pulling my son into the living room) will help us; that it will be therapeutic. The truth is, I think it's actually more detrimental. How would I feel if someone stuck a snake around my neck, or even worse, a frog down my shirt? I'd probably scream! (Now, don't get any ideas.) And then, I would never trust that person near me again with anything moving. EVER.
How did my son feel today when I was carrying him to the vacuum? How did he feel when I turned it on, even just for three seconds, without his permission? I daresay he felt violated. I took the trust and stomped on it. That's why we did the "vacuum therapy." I had to regain his trust.
I find that I have to constantly rebuild trust with him. It pains me that I have to do this because it means that I keep breaking that trust. It's hard. I don't fully understand, and I never will. The one thing I want, though, is for my child to feel like he can always come back to me. I need to figure this one out.
How do you deal with your child's irrational fears?
When my son was young, it seemed like he loved the vacuum. He'd crawl around the house, find the vacuum, pull up and stand next to it, and just stare. He wasn't scared of it, it seemed, for so long. In fact, he seemed infatuated with it. It was a little odd, I admit, but cute, nonetheless. It was nice that I didn't have a screaming toddler when I vacuumed. Today, I realized that those days are gone. Honestly, I think they disappeared after our last vacuum broke and we threw it out. With that vacuum when J.R.'s comfort; this is the first vacuum change in his life.
The best thing I ever did was make a weekly chore list for J.R. that doesn't change. He's very good at doing his chores as long as it's routine. Recently, we had to change his Wednesday chore from vacuuming his room to sweeping the kitchen (you'll understand why as you keep reading, I hope). J.R. asks every week about this, "We don't have to vacuum, right?" He knows, but he wants and needs reassurance. Today I, being the wonderful mother I am, said, "Oh, why don't I vacuum the living room while you sweep the kitchen?" Sounds reasonable, right?
J.R. responded immediately by plugging his ears and hysterically trying to clamber to his room. Remember how wonderful of a mom I am? I grabbed him, trying to be a tease, and forced him into the living room. Seeing the sheer terror on his face and the tears brimming, I decided the force had to go and the understanding had to come. I calmly asked what, why, and how the vacuum terrified him. He couldn't really answer me definitively, although he tried.
I decided to try something. I let him hold the plug and touch the vacuum. I encouraged him to push the on/off switch; and touch all over the vacuum. I wanted him to get to know the vacuum. When I could see he was still completely terrified after plugging it in, I led him to his bedroom. While sitting on his bed, we practiced plugging his ears for three counts, then not plugging his ears for three counts. Then we took turns being the vacuum while the other person counted and plugged. When he felt comfortable enough, I went and vacuumed the living room while he plugged and counted. No screaming, running, slamming doors, or tears ensued. It was a small success. I then asked him to unplug the vacuum for me. He asked me to go with him, and so I did.
This is not the only irrational fear that my son has. This is only ONE of them. Dealing with these fears has been very difficult and yet educational for me. The biggest breakthrough for me was when I finally admitted that I didn't understand them, and then asked myself how could I understand. That's when I realized that I have fears that seem irrational to others. My irrational fears usually have to do with reptiles, amphibians, and the dark.
We seem to think that dealing with our fears head on and jumping in to them is the way to "get over them," or that doing these pranks (like me pulling my son into the living room) will help us; that it will be therapeutic. The truth is, I think it's actually more detrimental. How would I feel if someone stuck a snake around my neck, or even worse, a frog down my shirt? I'd probably scream! (Now, don't get any ideas.) And then, I would never trust that person near me again with anything moving. EVER.
How did my son feel today when I was carrying him to the vacuum? How did he feel when I turned it on, even just for three seconds, without his permission? I daresay he felt violated. I took the trust and stomped on it. That's why we did the "vacuum therapy." I had to regain his trust.
I find that I have to constantly rebuild trust with him. It pains me that I have to do this because it means that I keep breaking that trust. It's hard. I don't fully understand, and I never will. The one thing I want, though, is for my child to feel like he can always come back to me. I need to figure this one out.
How do you deal with your child's irrational fears?
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Today's Fear
Today's the day. Today my little guy sees the child psychologist for his multi-disciplinary assessment. Basically, J.R. is being tested for anything and everything (ADD, ADHD, Autism, etc.). I admit, I'm nervous, scared, anxious, and worried. What if the doctor doesn't see what I'm seeing? What if I forget to tell him something? What if the tests come back negative?
Okay, so I'm sure it's not going to be black or white/positive or negative, I mean, we're seeing a psychologist; but what if there aren't any "abnormalities" other than just the tentative diagnosis* (Cerebral Palsy) the neurologist gave us a month ago? A million questions are running circles in my head, and you can imagine that for someone who gets motion sickness like me, that it's quite sickening. Here are just a few that keep making laps around my brain:
If J.R.'s behaviors are normal, does that mean I'm just too impatient with him?
Is it just my fault?
Will he not get the help he needs in school?
Is there nothing I can do?
Sure, some of these sound selfish, but I don't mean them to be. I'm really worried that what I'm doing as a parent is HURTING my child, enabling him to continue these poor behaviors. Seriously, my biggest fear today is not that J.R. will throw a fit, get angry, or do nothing; my biggest fear is that the doctor will tell me that it was a waste of time and that there is nothing we can do to help my child.
*It's a tentative diagnosis because it will only be definite if we decide to give J.R. an MRI to determine if there's brain damage. We're still deciding what to do with that one.
Okay, so I'm sure it's not going to be black or white/positive or negative, I mean, we're seeing a psychologist; but what if there aren't any "abnormalities" other than just the tentative diagnosis* (Cerebral Palsy) the neurologist gave us a month ago? A million questions are running circles in my head, and you can imagine that for someone who gets motion sickness like me, that it's quite sickening. Here are just a few that keep making laps around my brain:
If J.R.'s behaviors are normal, does that mean I'm just too impatient with him?
Is it just my fault?
Will he not get the help he needs in school?
Is there nothing I can do?
Sure, some of these sound selfish, but I don't mean them to be. I'm really worried that what I'm doing as a parent is HURTING my child, enabling him to continue these poor behaviors. Seriously, my biggest fear today is not that J.R. will throw a fit, get angry, or do nothing; my biggest fear is that the doctor will tell me that it was a waste of time and that there is nothing we can do to help my child.
*It's a tentative diagnosis because it will only be definite if we decide to give J.R. an MRI to determine if there's brain damage. We're still deciding what to do with that one.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
School is Almost in Session
Last spring, as the end of school approached, I started to dread the summer. For a while, I counted down the days until school. Until today, I thought I was the only one in my household doing that.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
- I'm going to call the school next week after it's started for the other grades and ask to take him around the school to see everything.
- Go to the bathroom and flush the toilet; let him practice going by himself.
- Teach him what he needs to do if he has to go to the bathroom, get a drink, etc.
- Remind him to take deep breaths when he's frustrated and perhaps teach him to squeeze the table or his feet if he is frustrated (usually he squeezes my hand hard to get the deep sensory stimulation that he needs).
- Tell him that I love him and that he will be okay, and that it will be fun!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Emotional Sunday
For a child with Sensory Processing Disorder social situations can be tough. This was brought home once again for me on Sunday. Isaac has been struggling with going to primary at Church. He has a hard time sitting and concentrating on what is going on. He has become attached to a little boy in the class just above him. This little boy also likes Thomas the tank engine and brings a bag full of Thomas books and coloring pages. Yesterday this boy decided that he didn't want Isaac to sit next to him because Isaac kept bothering him. I quietly stood to the side and watched the interaction. The little boy was trying to tell Isaac kindly that he wanted to sit by someone else today because he didn't want Isaac to get into his bag. Immediately the two boys sitting next to this little boy started telling Isaac that he didn't get to sit by his friend all the time and that he wasn't even in their class and shouldn't be sitting by them anyways. I watched to see how Isaac handled this and was surprised when he turned to the little boy and promised he wouldn't get into his bag if he could sit next to him. This was big for Isaac. He comprehended what that little boy was telling him and tried to problem solve the situation. The situation unfortunately wasn't solved because one of the boys sitting next to Isaac's friend started yelling at Isaac that he needed to leave them alone and go back to his class. Isaac collapsed to the floor and started to cry and say "I'm not taking this anymore" his normal frustrated dialogue. At this point the boy started pushing Isaac with his shoe to get him to go away and move. I had had enough. I tried to calmly tell the boy that pushing people with their shoes was inappropriate and that he needn't yell at Isaac so meanly. The boys father was sitting right behind him as this was all going on. So now to the point. I know that it is hard to understand my child or even to put up with his abnormal behavior. The little friend that didn't want Isaac to sit by him had every right to ask to sit by someone else. Unfortunately for Isaac he doesn't understand this. He doesn't know why kids don't want to be around or do things with him. It is enough to break a mothers heart. To watch it over and over again is painful. The hard part is being able to educate everyone he comes in contact with about what is going on. It is also frustrating when parents don't step in when other children are not patient enough with him. But again how can I expect people to understand when I don't fully understand myself what is going on?
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