First grade is a learning process for me and will be for J.R. Here are my random thoughts about it all.
He has a desk -- oi! It's only the third day, and I've had to clean it out for him. He had four or five papers jammed in the corners of the desk all with different drawings on them.
He has three folders, one notebook (for spelling), one binder, one grammar notebook, and a pencil box shoved into his little desk. I sense confusion and disorganization this year.
So far, I've already had to thin out his materials in his pencil box. The simpler, the better.
We had to drive back to the school to get his homework folder, and then I had to tell him to turn in his homework from last night because he didn't do that this morning.
If you were to walk into his classroom, you might think he is out of control as he rolls around on his exercise ball/seat. However, if you know him, you realize that he is over-stimulated, and this is his way of calming down. This is how he puts the world back in order. I'm grateful his teacher is willing to let this happen in class.
I think all Kindergarten and First Grade teachers deserve an all-paid vacation just for surviving the first week.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Soldiers in combat
Today I went to the playground with Ike and Mike, where we met some school friends from Mike's PDD classroom. These two kids love Mike and Mike loves them. I have come to know their mothers very well as we have hashed out our battles with our children.
We have different backgrounds, different lives, we are different ages. But we feel like soldiers fighting a war that we are unsure of the outcome. It is amazing the bond that is formed when you find people who are bleeding through the same experiences as you. The euphoria of someone UNDERSTANDING the feelings and desires you have. I guess this is why people with cancer tend to cling to one another. There is a level of strength when people come together in their struggles.
I can complain about trying to teach my children spontaneity while still keeping a structured routine so they can function. I can bemoan the tantrums, the tears, the heartache and they get it. I don't have to explain how huge the little victories are, they know.
While our children may not die from having Autism it is still a battle we fight. And while there is no cure, there is the hope that our children will be able to live a life full of love, laughter and acceptance. That is why we fight and why we will keep on fighting. It sure is nice to know it's not an army of one.
We have different backgrounds, different lives, we are different ages. But we feel like soldiers fighting a war that we are unsure of the outcome. It is amazing the bond that is formed when you find people who are bleeding through the same experiences as you. The euphoria of someone UNDERSTANDING the feelings and desires you have. I guess this is why people with cancer tend to cling to one another. There is a level of strength when people come together in their struggles.
I can complain about trying to teach my children spontaneity while still keeping a structured routine so they can function. I can bemoan the tantrums, the tears, the heartache and they get it. I don't have to explain how huge the little victories are, they know.
While our children may not die from having Autism it is still a battle we fight. And while there is no cure, there is the hope that our children will be able to live a life full of love, laughter and acceptance. That is why we fight and why we will keep on fighting. It sure is nice to know it's not an army of one.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Water on the Head
There's something about water being on his head that JR just hates. Showers make him nervous, and being dunked is traumatic. I'm sure some of it could come from the fact that he has slipped under water a couple of times and had that drowning sensation. I don't blame him for that.
Splash parks are fantastic, aren't they? Most of the time they're free (if you don't count your property taxes as the entrance fee), and it's really a glorified sprinkler park. I know I would have LOVED one as a kid!
Today I decided to take JR to the splash park without telling him beforehand. I knew it would be a gamble if he would like it, but I also knew that I have plans to take him with friends in two days. So, I had to acclimate him. After about 15 minutes, of running in, dipping his toes or his hands and running back to the towel, he was getting more and more wet and didn't worry as much. I can't say "didn't look back" or "didn't think twice," because I know my son by now. He thinks about it very much and what he's going to do. He lasted for about 25 minutes. I was so proud of him.
Is it bad to say that I'm proud of myself, too? I didn't push him to hard. I kept encouraging him and nudging him along, but I tried very hard not to force it. I didn't give him the option of going home -- I didn't give him an out -- but I didn't make him run in the water. I pointed out different children and how they were playing and what they were doing. I didn't say, "Oh, see, now that kid is doing it right." It was more like, "Oh, see that girl stuck her hand in the water, you could try that."
I'm learning that I need to not be afraid to introduce new things to JR. I'm worried about how he will react and that I will regret trying something new. I'm working on it, and I think I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to look for opportunities that will push him because I'm almost ready for him to push back.
Splash parks are fantastic, aren't they? Most of the time they're free (if you don't count your property taxes as the entrance fee), and it's really a glorified sprinkler park. I know I would have LOVED one as a kid!
Today I decided to take JR to the splash park without telling him beforehand. I knew it would be a gamble if he would like it, but I also knew that I have plans to take him with friends in two days. So, I had to acclimate him. After about 15 minutes, of running in, dipping his toes or his hands and running back to the towel, he was getting more and more wet and didn't worry as much. I can't say "didn't look back" or "didn't think twice," because I know my son by now. He thinks about it very much and what he's going to do. He lasted for about 25 minutes. I was so proud of him.
Is it bad to say that I'm proud of myself, too? I didn't push him to hard. I kept encouraging him and nudging him along, but I tried very hard not to force it. I didn't give him the option of going home -- I didn't give him an out -- but I didn't make him run in the water. I pointed out different children and how they were playing and what they were doing. I didn't say, "Oh, see, now that kid is doing it right." It was more like, "Oh, see that girl stuck her hand in the water, you could try that."
I'm learning that I need to not be afraid to introduce new things to JR. I'm worried about how he will react and that I will regret trying something new. I'm working on it, and I think I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to look for opportunities that will push him because I'm almost ready for him to push back.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Celebrate a Moment!
J.R. vacuumed his room today!!!!
Okay, it took a bit of coaxing and encouragement, but he did it. Good job, Bud!
Okay, it took a bit of coaxing and encouragement, but he did it. Good job, Bud!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Dressing Dilemma
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Pain
A post by LeMira
Today my son reminded me of something. He's afraid of pain. He has a very high tolerance for pain because of his elongated stay in the NICU as a baby, but he's also very afraid of it. Telling him to "be brave" or "buckle up" makes him run for cover. When he is in pain, he gets irrational. Mainly because he's afraid of what the remedy might be.
Almost every kid I meet has a love for band-aids. Bandages provide a much-needed placebo affect for their "owies," and they tend to disappear quickly with little ones because of that. I remember one of the first times that I asked my son if he wanted a band-aid (hoping it would calm him down). He was okay with it until I had to pull it off. It was then that I realized his hypersensitivity to touch. Yes, I'd noticed it before, but it was then that it really hit me. Ever since that time, he dreads the band-aid. When he falls and cries, yes, it hurts, but he usually calms quickly when I tell him that he doesn't need a band-aid. If the opposite is true, he screams.
Today's hurtful moment was not bloody, thank goodness. I had just gotten the shampoo lathered into my hair when I heard him crying and wailing. He came in, pointed to his eye and told me that it was hurting. This is where the language barrier came in. I tried to get him to tell me if he'd scratched it, poked it, fallen down, or what. When I finally was able to get out of the shower, put on a robe, and sit and look at it, it was apparent that he had some eyelashes turned in and scratching his eye. Yeah, that hurts!
The problem came when I told him I wanted to help him. He would look at me and ask, "Is it going to hurt?" It took a lot of cajoling to let him know that if he'd let me take care of it, then it wouldn't hurt anymore. I'm happy to say that I didn't lose my temper like I've done so much in the past. It's so hard to stay in control when your child is out of control and not listening. The louder he gets, the louder I get.
I finally asked, "Would you rather let it hurt or let Mommy take care of it?" I still had to get him to clasp his hands so he wouldn't push mine away (a defensive reaction), and I had to hold his head so he wouldn't jerk away. It took a good five minutes for this process. In the meantime, I'm wiping dripping shampoo off my face so it doesn't sting my eyes!
When I was done, the pain was gone for him, and the eyelashes released. Thank heavens I didn't have to use the words "doctor," "medicine," or "band-aid." Who knows what would have happened then?
Today my son reminded me of something. He's afraid of pain. He has a very high tolerance for pain because of his elongated stay in the NICU as a baby, but he's also very afraid of it. Telling him to "be brave" or "buckle up" makes him run for cover. When he is in pain, he gets irrational. Mainly because he's afraid of what the remedy might be.
Today's hurtful moment was not bloody, thank goodness. I had just gotten the shampoo lathered into my hair when I heard him crying and wailing. He came in, pointed to his eye and told me that it was hurting. This is where the language barrier came in. I tried to get him to tell me if he'd scratched it, poked it, fallen down, or what. When I finally was able to get out of the shower, put on a robe, and sit and look at it, it was apparent that he had some eyelashes turned in and scratching his eye. Yeah, that hurts!
The problem came when I told him I wanted to help him. He would look at me and ask, "Is it going to hurt?" It took a lot of cajoling to let him know that if he'd let me take care of it, then it wouldn't hurt anymore. I'm happy to say that I didn't lose my temper like I've done so much in the past. It's so hard to stay in control when your child is out of control and not listening. The louder he gets, the louder I get.
I finally asked, "Would you rather let it hurt or let Mommy take care of it?" I still had to get him to clasp his hands so he wouldn't push mine away (a defensive reaction), and I had to hold his head so he wouldn't jerk away. It took a good five minutes for this process. In the meantime, I'm wiping dripping shampoo off my face so it doesn't sting my eyes!
When I was done, the pain was gone for him, and the eyelashes released. Thank heavens I didn't have to use the words "doctor," "medicine," or "band-aid." Who knows what would have happened then?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
A milestone
Tonight my Ike was playing school. It has taken us almost 7 years to get to this point. My husband and I looked at each other as he directed Mike to sit down and listen to the story he was going to read him. What started this?
We adopted a dog about a month ago and Ike has been so attentive to her needs. On the first night we had her, she started to shake and whimper and Ike was so upset that she was scared. He decided that he would read and sing to her to make her feel better. Since then I have found him sitting down reading her books several times. I can only assume that this is what brought us to this amazing imaginative play. It was spontaneous, no prompting from an adult. Needless to say his parents didn't have dry eyes. It may have taken awhile, but it was so worth the wait!
We adopted a dog about a month ago and Ike has been so attentive to her needs. On the first night we had her, she started to shake and whimper and Ike was so upset that she was scared. He decided that he would read and sing to her to make her feel better. Since then I have found him sitting down reading her books several times. I can only assume that this is what brought us to this amazing imaginative play. It was spontaneous, no prompting from an adult. Needless to say his parents didn't have dry eyes. It may have taken awhile, but it was so worth the wait!
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