London played great independently during quiet time today and was focused and attentive when we went on family outings (WIN). I got in some knitting time today (WIN). Scott cleaned most of the kitchen (WIN for me). Dinner with Scott's family at my sister-in-laws (WIN). Bodhi had diarrhea that spilled out onto his pants while at family dinner at my sister-in-laws (LOSS). Right before bed London was all revved up and not responding or listening very well. The climax was when he (I kid you not) wiped his pee then shoved the soiled toilet paper IN MY FACE (BIG LOSS). Yes I cried. It was more than this germa-phobe could handle. London reminded me to get a drink of water to help me calm down-so at least I know the things he's learning in OT are sinking in (WIN). Somehow, despite that traumatizing incident, the night ended with a hug (WIN). We talked about how London's body was having a rough time and was all revved up and how his heart was racing. I hope that he will grow up to be aware of his body and know what he can do to help his body calm down when it revs up.
Sunday, October 1, 2017
Saturday, August 19, 2017
"Normal"
"So, like will he be normal when he grows up?" she asks.
"Yeah...I mean some things will require some accommodations...but he'll eventually learn to cope in acceptable ways," I respond. That's my hope anyways. But, sometimes, in the thick of it, I worry.
Mornings like today. London wanted to all go grocery shopping as a family. Scott groaned.
We haven't taken him grocery shopping in at least a month. The last time we went together, he got nervous, bolted, ran OUT of the store, then luckily ran back in the other entrance, but it still took several minutes of chasing to finally catch him.
Within the past month, we've put London on several different supplements, and he's been handling things so much better. His meltdowns are shorter, he is more attentive, and a sweet, calm, well-adjusted, happy kid shines through. I was optimistic. So we went. Rookie mistake. (And yet, I'm not really a rookie. He is four after all.)
Just getting ready to leave was rough. He tried on 6/8 pairs of socks in his drawer and none of them felt right. He was very emotional about it all. Finally, we found a pair of dirty socks that were acceptable. With sandals. On the wrong feet. With plaid shorts and an un-matching Jake and the Neverland Pirates shirt. Complemented by a pair of bright blue sunglasses. Picking my battles.
We survived the first store...barely. He started to run off at the beginning, but I caught him, put him in the cart and gave him my stretchy nursing cover that he likes to wrap up in and shut out the world.
Store #2 started out okay. I let him play with toys in the toy section while Scott did the shopping, then we met up at the end. London wanted to help by handing me the groceries. Okay. As I waited for him to hand me the heavy bag of rice, I started putting other groceries on the conveyor belt. There were other people behind us and I didn't want to hold them all up.
London lost it. "I WANTED TO HAND YOU ALL THE GROCERIES!!!" I had Scott finish loading up the conveyor belt as I took a screaming and crying London away from the scene to cool down. The kid goes from 0 to 50 in seconds. Screaming. Flailing about. Punching me in the face. Pulling my hair. I found a bench by the front of the store where we sat and I tried to calm him down. "I WANTED TO HELPPP!!!!" he screamed. I asked him to take some belly-breaths to calm down so he could try again. He took two big breaths, then calmed enough to try again.
We walked back to Scott in the checkout line. I asked if London wanted to help bag groceries. When he realized that Scott was already done putting all the groceries on the conveyer belt, the screaming and crying ensued. "I WANTED TO HAND YOU ALL THE GROCERIES!!!!!"
I took him outside as he screamed, cried hysterically, punched me in the face over and over, and pulled my hair. Embarrassing. We sat on a curb outside. I worked on calming him down. "1, 2, 3..." This week in OT we talked about counting as a way to calm our anger. "4, 5, 6..." he counted along.
At that moment, Scott walked out with all the groceries and as London realized no grocery help was needed, the hysteria resumed. Screaming bloody murder, crying, picking up anything within his reach to throw at me. A hard rubber ball made contact. Somehow I managed to buckle him and get him to stay buckled. Desperate, I think I threatened to throw away his favorite treat.
The whole 15 minute drive home, London screamed a terrifying, intense battle cry, over and over again as his body writhed to rip out of his seatbelt. More crying. Kicking Scott. Then kicking my arm, as I blocked his kicks from making contact with Scott who was driving. Punching. Biting me over and over again. I tried to distract him. I tried to soothe him. I tried to be firm. And still his inexplicable rage continued.
And finally the climax. He turned and punched sweet little Bodhi in the face-who had been cowering and covering his ears this entire time in his seat. I lost it: "DON'T YOU EVER HURT YOUR LITTLE BRO...THER!" I yelled, my voice breaking into sobs. Poor little Bodhi.
Luckily at this point, we were finally pulling into the garage. London's screams melted to sobs. "Mama Hold Me." And I held him. And we laid in his bed as he returned to "normal" and Bodhi joined us. And I held them both, feeling emotionally bruised and exhausted.
"This is my life." I think about twenty times a day. Where insignificant tasks become insurmountable obstacles. And I feel so bad for him. Life is so hard for him. Where little things like the bumpy, pebble-tec bottom of a pool prevents him from wanting to swim though he's been looking forward to swimming with cousins all day, or where small noises like the unexpected jiggle of a door knob fills him with enough terror to run and hide. It's got to be so hard to live in his world.
"Normal?" I hope this isn't normal. I hope someday his world eases up on him and he can handle a simple shopping trip without a grand mal meltdown and no longer has to even think about the bumps in his socks or the "crumbs" on the pool floor.
"Yeah...I mean some things will require some accommodations...but he'll eventually learn to cope in acceptable ways," I respond. That's my hope anyways. But, sometimes, in the thick of it, I worry.
Mornings like today. London wanted to all go grocery shopping as a family. Scott groaned.
We haven't taken him grocery shopping in at least a month. The last time we went together, he got nervous, bolted, ran OUT of the store, then luckily ran back in the other entrance, but it still took several minutes of chasing to finally catch him.
Within the past month, we've put London on several different supplements, and he's been handling things so much better. His meltdowns are shorter, he is more attentive, and a sweet, calm, well-adjusted, happy kid shines through. I was optimistic. So we went. Rookie mistake. (And yet, I'm not really a rookie. He is four after all.)
Just getting ready to leave was rough. He tried on 6/8 pairs of socks in his drawer and none of them felt right. He was very emotional about it all. Finally, we found a pair of dirty socks that were acceptable. With sandals. On the wrong feet. With plaid shorts and an un-matching Jake and the Neverland Pirates shirt. Complemented by a pair of bright blue sunglasses. Picking my battles.
We survived the first store...barely. He started to run off at the beginning, but I caught him, put him in the cart and gave him my stretchy nursing cover that he likes to wrap up in and shut out the world.
Store #2 started out okay. I let him play with toys in the toy section while Scott did the shopping, then we met up at the end. London wanted to help by handing me the groceries. Okay. As I waited for him to hand me the heavy bag of rice, I started putting other groceries on the conveyor belt. There were other people behind us and I didn't want to hold them all up.
London lost it. "I WANTED TO HAND YOU ALL THE GROCERIES!!!" I had Scott finish loading up the conveyor belt as I took a screaming and crying London away from the scene to cool down. The kid goes from 0 to 50 in seconds. Screaming. Flailing about. Punching me in the face. Pulling my hair. I found a bench by the front of the store where we sat and I tried to calm him down. "I WANTED TO HELPPP!!!!" he screamed. I asked him to take some belly-breaths to calm down so he could try again. He took two big breaths, then calmed enough to try again.
We walked back to Scott in the checkout line. I asked if London wanted to help bag groceries. When he realized that Scott was already done putting all the groceries on the conveyer belt, the screaming and crying ensued. "I WANTED TO HAND YOU ALL THE GROCERIES!!!!!"
I took him outside as he screamed, cried hysterically, punched me in the face over and over, and pulled my hair. Embarrassing. We sat on a curb outside. I worked on calming him down. "1, 2, 3..." This week in OT we talked about counting as a way to calm our anger. "4, 5, 6..." he counted along.
At that moment, Scott walked out with all the groceries and as London realized no grocery help was needed, the hysteria resumed. Screaming bloody murder, crying, picking up anything within his reach to throw at me. A hard rubber ball made contact. Somehow I managed to buckle him and get him to stay buckled. Desperate, I think I threatened to throw away his favorite treat.
The whole 15 minute drive home, London screamed a terrifying, intense battle cry, over and over again as his body writhed to rip out of his seatbelt. More crying. Kicking Scott. Then kicking my arm, as I blocked his kicks from making contact with Scott who was driving. Punching. Biting me over and over again. I tried to distract him. I tried to soothe him. I tried to be firm. And still his inexplicable rage continued.
And finally the climax. He turned and punched sweet little Bodhi in the face-who had been cowering and covering his ears this entire time in his seat. I lost it: "DON'T YOU EVER HURT YOUR LITTLE BRO...THER!" I yelled, my voice breaking into sobs. Poor little Bodhi.
Luckily at this point, we were finally pulling into the garage. London's screams melted to sobs. "Mama Hold Me." And I held him. And we laid in his bed as he returned to "normal" and Bodhi joined us. And I held them both, feeling emotionally bruised and exhausted.
"This is my life." I think about twenty times a day. Where insignificant tasks become insurmountable obstacles. And I feel so bad for him. Life is so hard for him. Where little things like the bumpy, pebble-tec bottom of a pool prevents him from wanting to swim though he's been looking forward to swimming with cousins all day, or where small noises like the unexpected jiggle of a door knob fills him with enough terror to run and hide. It's got to be so hard to live in his world.
"Normal?" I hope this isn't normal. I hope someday his world eases up on him and he can handle a simple shopping trip without a grand mal meltdown and no longer has to even think about the bumps in his socks or the "crumbs" on the pool floor.
Friday, June 2, 2017
2 Standard Deviations
Two standard deviations from normal, according to the evaluation from the occupational therapist. We met with her for the second time on Wednesday, and she gave us a report of her evaluation. The rest of our visit was spent trying to establish a good rapport with London-that this is a fun place-and after that, she explained, it will probably get uncomfortable for him as we seek to find therapies that work at minimizing the sensory integration issues he struggles with.
"London is a sweet 4 year old boy..." the report begins. It goes on to explain that he struggles with auditory, tactile, and proprioceptive sensory integration which is disrupting his ability to engage in appropriate hygiene, social, and self-regulating behaviors.
Having my suspicions confirmed by an occupational therapist was so incredibly validating. And yet, very overwhelming. There's so much work ahead. And cost. And time. And patience required. But there's hope. At least the hope that we have some help and resources to assist us in parenting our sweet, spirited boy.
"London is a sweet 4 year old boy..." the report begins. It goes on to explain that he struggles with auditory, tactile, and proprioceptive sensory integration which is disrupting his ability to engage in appropriate hygiene, social, and self-regulating behaviors.
Having my suspicions confirmed by an occupational therapist was so incredibly validating. And yet, very overwhelming. There's so much work ahead. And cost. And time. And patience required. But there's hope. At least the hope that we have some help and resources to assist us in parenting our sweet, spirited boy.
And all before lunchtime...
We're on a roll this week...
Wednesday
London has his first swim lesson of the season today. He is excited and ready to go. Nevertheless, the morning is a whine-and-fight-fest with London wanting to play alone and Bodhi wanting to play with London. Trying to respect London's introvert needs, while attending to Bodhi's needs as an extrovert, all while trying to get us ready to go and breaking up fights in the meantime, was all pretty exhausting. Eventually, we made it to swim lessons. London starts strong and enthusiastic, but five minutes in, his teacher asks him to Super Man out to her. I could see that he looked scared and uncomfortable. Suddenly, a little baby getting lessons on the other side of the pool simultaneously starts crying. That set him off into the red zone. London starts yelling "MAMAMA!!!" while sobbing hysterically and refusing to do anything else despite both my and his teacher's efforts for the next 20-25 minutes. When the lesson had one minute left, he had finally calmed down and agreed to do some kicks in the pool. I was embarrassed and frustrated. It's now 11 am.
Thursday
Both boys woke up by 5:30am, but played peacefully and quietly until showtime at 6 am. After shows and breakfast, they resumed their playing, but by 7:30, London was chucking wooden puzzles at Bodhi and me, because...I think Bodhi tried to play too?
Later, I'm trying to get us ready to go for a walk, and keep getting interrupted by the boys whining, fighting, and London pretending to be a baby and insisting I treat him as such. It's frustrating, but I soldier on.
Shortly before our walk, we sit down together to arrange his schedule for the day (London has a paper schedule that we arrange every morning so he knows what to expect.) We sit down to put it together and London, without warning, starts smacking the papers everywhere and destroying the schedule. I calmly explain that that behavior is disrespectful and unacceptable. This sets him off in a rage, because apparently he was just 'pretending that he is a baby that doesn't understand and destroys things', so why should he be in trouble?! He picks up a heavy metal toy train, and cocks it back ready to throw. I sternly explain that if he throws that at me, he will not get to go to his uncle's house and will lose showtime. Inside, I am terrified, knowing if he throws it at me, from where he is standing 2 feet away, it will do some serious damage to my face. Angrily, he pretends to throw it at me, but keeps the toy in his hand. After several times of this torture, I decide to turn my attention elsewhere in the hopes he moves on to something else. Instead, he just picks up a different hard toy and chucks that, thankfully, away from my direction. Into the pack-in-play he goes. I shut the door and Bodhi wants to nurse. The entire time I nurse Bodhi, London screams and cries and won't let up expressing his anger. Afterwards, we have a calm, loving conversation while I hold him, but even still, I am drained. It's 9 am.
Friday
This morning both boys were up by five. Bodhi wakes up happy, punching me excitedly and yelling "MOOOM!" London opens the curtains and yells "IT'S MORNING!" Followed by: "Is it 6-0-0?" When I tell him its only 5, he proceeds to whine in protest. (They aren't allowed to watch a show until 6:00am.) "It's not my fault you guys woke up too early. You know the rules." I explain.
It's a whine-fest until 6:00am while I try to make a suitable breakfast. The smoothie makes his mouth too cold. The oatmeal doesn't look right. And of course we don't have enough bacon left to satisfy him. Now he wants nachos. For breakfast.
It's finally 6-0-0. I set his timer for 20 minutes, and he turns on Little Einsteins. The timer goes off too soon...for both of us. I had just finished making his nachos. "I wanted to eat my nachos WHILE I'm watching a show!" London yells. He's pretty upset and runs to his room to get a toy to throw at me. First, he just teases-pretending to throw the toy without actually letting go. Then he chucks a plastic baseball bat at me. I pick him up, set him in the pack-n-play (that he still can't climb out of), and shut the door.
He screams and yells and cries and doesn't let up. Meanwhile I google how to respond to aggression with kids with sensory processing issues. After a few minutes, I hear him yell "MOM I need to go Pee-Pee!" I rush him to the bathroom. He goes and is finally calm. We talk about why he was in timeout. We talk about throwing toys. Again. This time he says, "The pee-pee was making me throw things mom." Seems silly, but I believe him because his sensory issues cause an aversion to using the toilet, which causes lots of fight or flight behaviors. It's now 7 am.
Wednesday
London has his first swim lesson of the season today. He is excited and ready to go. Nevertheless, the morning is a whine-and-fight-fest with London wanting to play alone and Bodhi wanting to play with London. Trying to respect London's introvert needs, while attending to Bodhi's needs as an extrovert, all while trying to get us ready to go and breaking up fights in the meantime, was all pretty exhausting. Eventually, we made it to swim lessons. London starts strong and enthusiastic, but five minutes in, his teacher asks him to Super Man out to her. I could see that he looked scared and uncomfortable. Suddenly, a little baby getting lessons on the other side of the pool simultaneously starts crying. That set him off into the red zone. London starts yelling "MAMAMA!!!" while sobbing hysterically and refusing to do anything else despite both my and his teacher's efforts for the next 20-25 minutes. When the lesson had one minute left, he had finally calmed down and agreed to do some kicks in the pool. I was embarrassed and frustrated. It's now 11 am.
Thursday
Both boys woke up by 5:30am, but played peacefully and quietly until showtime at 6 am. After shows and breakfast, they resumed their playing, but by 7:30, London was chucking wooden puzzles at Bodhi and me, because...I think Bodhi tried to play too?
Later, I'm trying to get us ready to go for a walk, and keep getting interrupted by the boys whining, fighting, and London pretending to be a baby and insisting I treat him as such. It's frustrating, but I soldier on.
Shortly before our walk, we sit down together to arrange his schedule for the day (London has a paper schedule that we arrange every morning so he knows what to expect.) We sit down to put it together and London, without warning, starts smacking the papers everywhere and destroying the schedule. I calmly explain that that behavior is disrespectful and unacceptable. This sets him off in a rage, because apparently he was just 'pretending that he is a baby that doesn't understand and destroys things', so why should he be in trouble?! He picks up a heavy metal toy train, and cocks it back ready to throw. I sternly explain that if he throws that at me, he will not get to go to his uncle's house and will lose showtime. Inside, I am terrified, knowing if he throws it at me, from where he is standing 2 feet away, it will do some serious damage to my face. Angrily, he pretends to throw it at me, but keeps the toy in his hand. After several times of this torture, I decide to turn my attention elsewhere in the hopes he moves on to something else. Instead, he just picks up a different hard toy and chucks that, thankfully, away from my direction. Into the pack-in-play he goes. I shut the door and Bodhi wants to nurse. The entire time I nurse Bodhi, London screams and cries and won't let up expressing his anger. Afterwards, we have a calm, loving conversation while I hold him, but even still, I am drained. It's 9 am.
Friday
This morning both boys were up by five. Bodhi wakes up happy, punching me excitedly and yelling "MOOOM!" London opens the curtains and yells "IT'S MORNING!" Followed by: "Is it 6-0-0?" When I tell him its only 5, he proceeds to whine in protest. (They aren't allowed to watch a show until 6:00am.) "It's not my fault you guys woke up too early. You know the rules." I explain.
It's a whine-fest until 6:00am while I try to make a suitable breakfast. The smoothie makes his mouth too cold. The oatmeal doesn't look right. And of course we don't have enough bacon left to satisfy him. Now he wants nachos. For breakfast.
It's finally 6-0-0. I set his timer for 20 minutes, and he turns on Little Einsteins. The timer goes off too soon...for both of us. I had just finished making his nachos. "I wanted to eat my nachos WHILE I'm watching a show!" London yells. He's pretty upset and runs to his room to get a toy to throw at me. First, he just teases-pretending to throw the toy without actually letting go. Then he chucks a plastic baseball bat at me. I pick him up, set him in the pack-n-play (that he still can't climb out of), and shut the door.
He screams and yells and cries and doesn't let up. Meanwhile I google how to respond to aggression with kids with sensory processing issues. After a few minutes, I hear him yell "MOM I need to go Pee-Pee!" I rush him to the bathroom. He goes and is finally calm. We talk about why he was in timeout. We talk about throwing toys. Again. This time he says, "The pee-pee was making me throw things mom." Seems silly, but I believe him because his sensory issues cause an aversion to using the toilet, which causes lots of fight or flight behaviors. It's now 7 am.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
The Boys
Found this old, unfinished post... How did they grow so fast?!
Bodhi lately...
Smiles sometimes when he sees me, getting fat, seems to be soy intolerant, has done a couple four+ hour stretches between
Friday, February 12, 2016
LoLo
How can a human move so slow and yet so fast at the same time?
Your body is physically moving so fast I can't keep up and yet it takes you 20 minutes to put your shoes on...and they don't even have laces! (You pulled the laces out of all your lace-up shoes.)
It takes you a year to climb in your car-seat. You insist on climbing in through the opposite door, under Bodhi's rear-facing infant seat. And yet, it takes you just half a second to lock your door so that I can't unbuckle you without a game of "who can lock/unlock the door fastest."
It takes you an hour to bring me your toothbrush and toothpaste, but only takes you ten seconds to chuck it across the room in protest...after I've already put the toothpaste on the brush. The bigger the mess, the better, you seem to say.
It takes you thirty minutes to choose a shirt, after pulling five out of your drawer. And ten seconds to change your mind. And another ten minutes to choose a different shirt. Then another thirty of chasing you around before you will put it on. Sometimes we take you places in the nude and get you dressed when we get to our destination, often in the parking lot or in the garage as we are leaving.
London (aka LoLo, the nickname given to you lovingly by the Anderson family), you are the fastest slowpoke I have ever known.
Your body is physically moving so fast I can't keep up and yet it takes you 20 minutes to put your shoes on...and they don't even have laces! (You pulled the laces out of all your lace-up shoes.)
It takes you a year to climb in your car-seat. You insist on climbing in through the opposite door, under Bodhi's rear-facing infant seat. And yet, it takes you just half a second to lock your door so that I can't unbuckle you without a game of "who can lock/unlock the door fastest."
It takes you an hour to bring me your toothbrush and toothpaste, but only takes you ten seconds to chuck it across the room in protest...after I've already put the toothpaste on the brush. The bigger the mess, the better, you seem to say.
It takes you thirty minutes to choose a shirt, after pulling five out of your drawer. And ten seconds to change your mind. And another ten minutes to choose a different shirt. Then another thirty of chasing you around before you will put it on. Sometimes we take you places in the nude and get you dressed when we get to our destination, often in the parking lot or in the garage as we are leaving.
London (aka LoLo, the nickname given to you lovingly by the Anderson family), you are the fastest slowpoke I have ever known.
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