Post by LeMira
The signs were there from the beginning, but I just assumed they were quirks.
When he was a baby, he never looked at lights. I was a little confused why he was not so memorized with lights like so many other babies. Then, I found out he had cataracts due to being born prematurely. This problem warranted surgery, but I still found it odd that he would stare at his mobile and "yell" and "talk" at it. After he had surgery, he began to notice lights more, but never like others. Instead, he was mesmerized by the fan, but that wasn't so unusual, a lot of babies, if not most, are intrigued by a ceiling fan.
What was odd, though, was that he was mesmerized by all things spinning. He would stare at our stroller and the wheels. If something would spin, he would spin it. If he could spin in it, he would, and he never seemed to get dizzy.
Another quirk was that he began to bang his head or inflict pain on himself by biting his hands. I remember disciplining him and getting upset and trying to teach him not to do those things when he was only nine months old. Sometimes I felt like I was yelling at him trying to get him to stop. I figured the head banging was due to teething pain. It wasn't.
Numbers. Anything with numbers: clocks, CD players, timers, calculators, thermometers, calendars. It has numbers, he's there. This obsession began at age two when we bought him his first CD player. He would blast the volume, but most of all, he would open the lid, spin the disc, and then continuously change the track number. Songs were named not by title or turn, but by track number.
Rocking and/or swinging. When he first came home from the hospital, he loathed the swing. I originally thought it was because the nurses used it all the time to calm him during his stay, however, I now realize that the type of swing I had (a take-along) with all of it's lights, annoying music and fish swinging in the face were too much for him to handle. When he discovered our glider ottoman, he would glide and listen to music for a long time. He used it until it broke when he was five or six. Then he discovered swings. At the park, that's where he would stay the entire time. I've since learned that the rocking/swinging seems to be his stimming, and it is a good way to help him relax and wind down. Too bad his tree swing broke over the holiday break.
Music and buttons. If a toy has music, it's his favorite. He's always responded to music, and he loves to make up his own songs. He's distinguished between beat and rhythm since was at least 18 months old.
Someone, I believe it was Natalie, first mentioned the "a" word (autism) when I mentioned how entranced my son was with spinning things, and she told me that it reminded her of a child she new with autism. I quickly dismissed this as my son definitely loved social contact and people.
When he was tested for preschool, the examiner was a former colleague of mine when I worked as an elementary school teacher. When I told him about some of the "quirky" things that my son did, he mentioned "autistic tendencies." I immediately spouted off why my son did not have autism, and I again dismissed the suggestion.
It was a family trip to Disneyland that I started to get really worried. My husband's dear aunt introduced us to Sensory Processing Disorder and the book the Out of Sync Child. Many of the symptoms seemed to fit my son, but as he progressed to transitional Kindergarten and did not qualify for Occupational Therapy, I knew that there must be more. I wondered about ADD.
That's when Natalie began teaching me about PDD-NOS.
It took me until my son was six years old to get him diagnosed and with services. It really is better to get services started before age five, or so I've heard (I can't give an exact source on this at the moment). However, we were lucky. Since my son was born severely premature, he had all the advantages of therapy from the very beginning. Once he came home, he had speech, vision, and occupational therapy. When he turned three, he was tested for preschool; and when he was five, he moved into transitional kindergarten -- all due to "developmental delay due to prematurity." He's had services from the very beginning. We are lucky for that, for the therapy he's received has helped him more.
Yes, I've had the "what-ifs," but I'm happy that we are where we are. My advice, if you have a question, ask. If you wonder, research. If you have the nagging feeling that something is "off," listen to it. It's okay. It's not your fault. It just is. Parental Instinct, especially Mother's Instinct, is right more often than not. Trust it. Remember a diagnosis doesn't define you, it explains some things, but most importantly, it's meant to get your child and you the help you both need.
My son has come a long way, and so have I. Sometimes it seems like these quirks are too much and too much like road-blocks, but to be honest, they are a huge part of who my son is, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
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.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Communication Error (by LeMira)
Think of the last conversation you had that made you frustrated. What made you frustrated about that conversation? Were you trying to make a point, teach someone a concept, or give someone instructions? Were they just not getting it? Or did you just feel like the other person wasn't listening? Did you feel like you were talking to a brick wall? Did you get a blank stare in return? When the person did respond, did he make sense?
Communication continually is a problem, a road block. Most of my frustrations are because I feel like I'm being ignored. I lose my temper because I feel like my son responds in slow motion or that I have to repeat myself five times, if not more, to be understood or heeded. I hang my head in shame at the times that I've yelled because he just didn't move fast enough.
It's so easy to get caught up in how something affects me, that my life is being disrupted or put in slow motion, but what about him? I've been thinking about his side of things, and maybe this is how he sees it.
Scenario 1: Imagine you're working on a project. You're so engrossed that you've blocked out the world. Vaguely, you hear background noise, but it isn't related to what you're doing, so you push it out. You're shaken out of your world as you hear your name screamed at you. Your mom says, "I've called you three times, you need to listen when I'm talking to you!" You hang your head in shame and apologize for not hearing her, but you're more frustrated that you were expected to respond when you had no idea you were wanted.
Scenario 2: You climb into the car after school, and you know what mom is going to ask, and so you say, "I had a good day at school today. I had fun." You expect this to deflect her questions because you offered it first. Mom then asks, "What did you learn in math?" Immediately you think of your teacher and the classroom. You think about the worksheet and that your aide helped you with the guided practice. Mom tries to prompt you with questions about adding and subtracting, but you're confused. What is she asking? You might even remember your teacher working problems on the board, but you can't remember what she called it. Your mom asks again, and you realize she needs an answer now. "I don't know," you say. The words are jumbled in your head.
When you try to tell her about recess and what you played, you can't remember the name of the friends you played with or that one thing you did. You can see it in your mind, but you can't remember what it's called. Instead you say, "We had three recesses today."
Homework is a nightmare. You read the words, but you don't know what they mean, and you don't know how to ask what it means. Your mom is reading it to you, but you don't understand that one word. She doesn't explain it the same way the teacher does. In class, you had to use a green crayon, but your homework says to use a yellow crayon; it's not the same. Mom is trying to explain it, but she's going too fast and her voice is getting louder. There are so many problems on the page. It's now 4:15, you'll never get done by 4:30. "I can't do this!" you shout.
As his mom, I'm realizing more and more that I have to slow down, be patient. He is trying, he really is. Some days I'm worn out from saying things five different ways until he understands. I want him to understand me the first time. The more I lose my temper, the more he does. He reacts the way I do based on his observations of me -- because that's the way he learns his social interactions. Some days, I'm looking into a mirror and listening to a recording of myself. It's not pretty.
However, there is hope. He is getting better, and so am I. Instead of rushing him or getting angry when he can't recall a word, I try to prompt him or wait patiently. He gets frustrated easily because he knows he's not fast enough, but I'm learning to give him time and not make him panic. The words are there, and I know how frustrating it is for him to have blank spots for simple words like "car" or "party." These are words he knows, but somehow he blanks out. If I'm always getting angry, he'll never have the confidence that he can do it, and he'll always think that he can't do it or that it's too hard.
As in everything with my son, I have to give him time, and not my timetable, but his. And that is the hardest part for me.
Communication continually is a problem, a road block. Most of my frustrations are because I feel like I'm being ignored. I lose my temper because I feel like my son responds in slow motion or that I have to repeat myself five times, if not more, to be understood or heeded. I hang my head in shame at the times that I've yelled because he just didn't move fast enough.
It's so easy to get caught up in how something affects me, that my life is being disrupted or put in slow motion, but what about him? I've been thinking about his side of things, and maybe this is how he sees it.
Scenario 1: Imagine you're working on a project. You're so engrossed that you've blocked out the world. Vaguely, you hear background noise, but it isn't related to what you're doing, so you push it out. You're shaken out of your world as you hear your name screamed at you. Your mom says, "I've called you three times, you need to listen when I'm talking to you!" You hang your head in shame and apologize for not hearing her, but you're more frustrated that you were expected to respond when you had no idea you were wanted.
Scenario 2: You climb into the car after school, and you know what mom is going to ask, and so you say, "I had a good day at school today. I had fun." You expect this to deflect her questions because you offered it first. Mom then asks, "What did you learn in math?" Immediately you think of your teacher and the classroom. You think about the worksheet and that your aide helped you with the guided practice. Mom tries to prompt you with questions about adding and subtracting, but you're confused. What is she asking? You might even remember your teacher working problems on the board, but you can't remember what she called it. Your mom asks again, and you realize she needs an answer now. "I don't know," you say. The words are jumbled in your head.
When you try to tell her about recess and what you played, you can't remember the name of the friends you played with or that one thing you did. You can see it in your mind, but you can't remember what it's called. Instead you say, "We had three recesses today."
Homework is a nightmare. You read the words, but you don't know what they mean, and you don't know how to ask what it means. Your mom is reading it to you, but you don't understand that one word. She doesn't explain it the same way the teacher does. In class, you had to use a green crayon, but your homework says to use a yellow crayon; it's not the same. Mom is trying to explain it, but she's going too fast and her voice is getting louder. There are so many problems on the page. It's now 4:15, you'll never get done by 4:30. "I can't do this!" you shout.
As his mom, I'm realizing more and more that I have to slow down, be patient. He is trying, he really is. Some days I'm worn out from saying things five different ways until he understands. I want him to understand me the first time. The more I lose my temper, the more he does. He reacts the way I do based on his observations of me -- because that's the way he learns his social interactions. Some days, I'm looking into a mirror and listening to a recording of myself. It's not pretty.
However, there is hope. He is getting better, and so am I. Instead of rushing him or getting angry when he can't recall a word, I try to prompt him or wait patiently. He gets frustrated easily because he knows he's not fast enough, but I'm learning to give him time and not make him panic. The words are there, and I know how frustrating it is for him to have blank spots for simple words like "car" or "party." These are words he knows, but somehow he blanks out. If I'm always getting angry, he'll never have the confidence that he can do it, and he'll always think that he can't do it or that it's too hard.
As in everything with my son, I have to give him time, and not my timetable, but his. And that is the hardest part for me.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Homework
A Post By LeMira
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
I decided to keep J.R. in Kindergarten this year due to his social and language delays. So far, I feel very good about it. I also chose to put him in a charter school. Overall, I'm happy with that decision, although there are some major disadvantages there (i.e., the lack of speech therapy that he really needs). The biggest advantages are that he is able to go to first grade for math, and his Kindergarten teacher tries really hard to help him with his math page each day afterward. She really makes an effort to help him out and give him individualized attention. J.R. was doing Kindergarten math, but it was too easy for him. Homework lasted five minutes, which I think isn't bad for Kindergarten; however, he was getting nothing out of it. First Grade math seems to be on his instructional level, which all teachers know is exactly where you want them to be.
(Quick lesson in teacher lingo. There are three basic levels when it comes to a student's learning.
Too Hard= Frustration Level. At this level, you know you need to take a step back. The child is so frustrated and confused that absolutely no learning is happening.
Just Right = Instructional Level. The Instructional Level is the one where the child is learning and it may seem a little hard, but with some practice it becomes easy. Homework and classroom work should be at the instructional level.
Easy= Independent Level. Kids should be reading books at home at the Independent Level. Kids are who being taught too much at this level are bored with school, usually. You find most of your "troublemakers" at school are the ones stuck in the frustration and independent levels.)
Sooo. . . back to J.R. Once he started bringing home First Grade work, there was a huge jump in how long it took him to do homework. We spend at least 30 minutes, four days a week, doing homework. As a teacher, I might think this means it's at a frustration level because a First Grader or Kindergartner should be spending roughly 10-15 minutes a night on homework, not 30. The thing is, as his parent, I know this is just right for him. Why does it take so long? He doesn't understand the instructions or what the problem is asking. It's his language delay. It takes me three to five attempts to explain the problem/instructions just the right way so he will understand. Perhaps one day I will find that "one way," but I don't think I'm catching on.
When I first told J.R.'s teacher about his homework, she was surprised at how long we were spending. . . until I explained why. She understood completely because she experiences the same type of thing with him in class. The biggest difference is that he doesn't fight her. He always fights me. Always. Every day I hear, "I can't do this. It's frustrating." Without fail, I will hear that phrase at least once (if I'm lucky it's only once.) I admit that I'm glad that he chooses to fight me and not his teachers, but some days I can't hold back, and I join the fight; which only makes it worse. The thing is, I know that I get to look forward to this for the next twelve years.
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?
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Decoding Autism
Last night I (Natalie) found the information that PBS in New Jersey was doing a documentary on Autism and I knew I needed to watch it. LeMira and I simultaneously watched it together. We IM'd back and forth the things we found interesting. There were a few things that I took away from it that I wanted to share. I am sure that LeMira might have a few more that she will want to share.
1. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it or detect it before birth.
2. I am not alone in this. There are so many other parents out there struggling with the same things.
3. Research is being done in order to give me more answers.
4. I am already doing the best thing that can be done, being an advocate for my children.
So if you have an hour free, please watch this video. We aren't anywhere close to understanding Autism but with more and more information and Research it is only a matter of time!
Decoding Autism
1. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it or detect it before birth.
2. I am not alone in this. There are so many other parents out there struggling with the same things.
3. Research is being done in order to give me more answers.
4. I am already doing the best thing that can be done, being an advocate for my children.
So if you have an hour free, please watch this video. We aren't anywhere close to understanding Autism but with more and more information and Research it is only a matter of time!
Decoding Autism
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