You know the feeling: your well-crafted plan for your child starts to falter.
We know nothing is guaranteed, and that everyone acts first for their own individual needs. It’s not anyone’s fault, but it does make it clear it’s time for a shift in strategy.
I must help my child learn how to navigate it all. I can’t rescue him from the heartache, for it has become a lesson in life to learn well.
To quote a great philosopher:
“… I’m sorry to say so
but, sadly, it’s true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on
You’ll be left in a Lurch ….
I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too,
and face up to your problems ….” (abridged OH, THE PLACES YOU WILL GO! (Seuss).
So it’s time for new plans. Having a full plate of waiting interventions is a ready resource.
This has recently happened to us. Still quite painful, there is no way but forward. No plan except Next. My job is to help John move through any regret and shame into better ways to spend time and to find authentic friends.
John and I talk often about neither of us wanting pretend friends. This over-generalization speaks to a child of developmental delay, trying to catch up on peers and vocabulary. Most people are fully-absorbed in themselves, and truly not watching us. We shouldn’t have such expectations.
One of my best litmus tests is his face. His expressive language sentences aren’t totally reliable (not that he’s lying; his brain isn’t yet wired for straightforward vocabulary of self-analysis). His face can truly show happiness.
How does your child show joy?
We had worked really hard to set up a system of supports. It had worked for a number of years. Personally, for John, his year of 9th grade was joyful. There were some superb 12th grade peers who helped him feel included. In the months after that, it was a slide downhill until even I could visually see that few cared. He could feel that. Thankfully, we had a lot of great activities with authentic friends that we could immediately slide into place. And I continue to help create other performance venues that also benefit other young people.
Public performances, 2 years apart. He posted to his Instagram that day.
We both talk about pain and shame. A lot. I ask him, and see what he does and says.
We both must let go and move on … find new things. If you are a therapy parent, you know this research process never ends. I am forever on the hunt of new groups, new heroes doing wonderful activities, more helpers with momentum. Then, we join in. My job is to become a fellow helper to others and to help my son earn a good adult life. Among many skills, this includes learning to make, keep and appreciate authentic friends.
Learning to make and appreciate authentic friends. He’s a happy kid.
It’s that time of year: Elective selection for next year. He says he wants Band, Theater and AFJrROTC. It won’t all fit. Not in regard to time of day nor in regard to modifications/accommodations. The military doesn’t modify, ever. He has been talking about ROTC for a long time. He has friends there, the uniforms look wonderful, and he can feel the camaraderie.
You may remember that if your grades suffer, so will your extracurricular activities, and quickly: Within the first 5 weeks of the school year. So if you get in academic trouble early, it’s quite hard to dig your way out fast.
He really should pick something besides AFJrROTC, for many reasons. Maybe the computer scheduling will make that forced decision for him. It just can’t be Mom telling him to give up on a dream and be practical. The school and I all know it’s all a long-shot for John, a stretch of his academic challenges, executive function and self-regulation.
Our high school been excellent at giving John enough rope to earn it (or not). He had been showing some behaviors that I interpreted as self-sabotaging in band this semester. I figured it was a coded message of frustration, as his skills (and his sentences) are behind his peers. Dyscalculia (affecting sequence, timing, patterns, counting, etc.) and other learning inefficiencies are alive and well at our house. There hasn’t been the expressive sentence of “Mom, I’m frustrated and I may want to give up next year”.
I told him he wasn’t a prisoner of band, and could pick something different next year but he would lose band and not get it back. There must have been some truth in all that, as he’s doing much better now in his choices and wants to stay in.
So, we filled out next year’s elective forms and will see where the schedule allows John. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I do know that these last two years will important opportunities for John to earn experiences. The LEA knows we work hard on interventions in our non-school hours.
At home and with his private team, if he fails academically, we won’t grieve but instead we will be glad that he had an honest try at the best life of inclusion he can earn each year. Our LEA team has been stellar, the law is here and we appreciate the quandaries they face. He must treat each teacher and class with high respect and his best decisions. We train for natural consequences.
Speaking of all that, his most recent essay is “How to Earn a Girlfriend”. We have lots of puberty natural consequences to work through, as well as all social ones.
His best essay thus far in life, “How To Earn A Girlfriend”
The start. Not the forever.
It won’t be John’s GPA that makes his life. It will be all the social EQ, executive function, auditory processing, best choices, and friendships he can create and keep.
Part 2: As it turns out, he has recently been self-advocating, verbally, boldly, that he wants one of the entrepreneurial electives in Specialized Instruction. {It can also be described as Coffee Cart in Special Education.}
The rejected elective option is Art, which has never been anything he valued. Arts and crafts to him have always been a bridge too far, something to get through as hastily as possible. Creating art continues to be a fine motor challenge.
We have just had a life-planning transition meeting, and it turns out he’s delighted with Coffee Cart Entrepreneurship. Not what Mom would choose, but, hey, it isn’t my life.
This will be his way for his natural strengths to start to blossom … but it doesn’t seal his fate. He’s quite happy for the opportunity, the training and the friends.
Mom is listening better because he is advocating better. I don’t always have to read his mind through his behavior. (Do you have that at your home?)
We still are working on that girlfriend thing. I am telling him, “in college”, and that he can practice now by using good manners, personal space, kindness and sentences. I will keep you posted.
Here’s something to try with our young digital addicts. It really works at this house.
John has a daily list of stuff to do before he gets to goof off (electronically, most likely). Some of these daily tasks have minutes, so the phone timer is our daily companion for self-regulation.
I wish he was as good at analog time-telling as he is at digital time. We really struggle with the long hand and the short hand, sadly. He is also using the phone calendar function to keep himself on track, but I digress.
So, for example, reading is 15 minutes. He sets his own timer, to learn to be ever-more independent, his own executive function.
We spend a lot of time together in the car, doing his list. He will interrupt himself reading (aloud or silently) to lay a big sales pitch or renegotiation on Mom.
I have learned to use a variety of facial micro-expressions, all a part of his social-emotional learning (SEL). I have also learned to use the fewest number of words, because ….. well ….. words beget more words. Since I want him to refocus on his reading (in this example), I will ask “pause?” He doesn’t want pause because he has learned that stops the clock.
When this works the best, he will immediately say “resume”, and get back to his task. You see, I didn’t say “quit talking and get to work” (or anything similar). I used one word to ask him a time question.
He really wants that list done.
We take a lot of old-fashioned learning in the car when we drive. We have hardcopy of his band percussion assignments, drumsticks, some dog-eared Harry Potter paperbacks (pages dropping out by the day), and the device he uses for IXL, our on-going academic supplement. (Check it out, it might work for you. You choose the grade, the subject to study, you get analytics to share back to the school district, and it costs about $10/month.)
So, tools are ever at hand. Mom just asks “Pause?”, he says “Resume!”, and starts himself back on task.
I will admit this does loop a lot.
He may want “to talk”, and that is his choice, resulting in a Pause we can both live with. With the phone timer the bad guy, I try to make all this not my job. If he “wants to waste your evening, that’s OK with me”.
I do have to be mindful to disconnect my list from his list. If I fail in this, I get frustrated.
We work on time awareness constantly. We know early intervention is hugely important.
And yet, each day ticks by, toward adult “independence”, whatever that will look like.
Deputy Austin Gay, the go-to for Precinct 1 tour guide, shared his day with me. He has a long career of service ranging from Hostage Negotiation to Crisis Intervention to Mental Health.
During the day, Deputy Austin Gay (soon to become a Sergeant and a supervisor) shared his personal vision for growing their back-office operations and pro-active county-wide projects of prevention and intervention.
The key, he said, is listening thoroughly. Then to guide, educate, protect and redirect.
(It sounds a lot like parenting, doesn’t it? We show respect to our kids’ perspective by listening, asking questions, letting them get their words out first. This, of course, takes patience and a kind heart.)
This Mental Health CIT unit is one of only two, Montgomery County Pct. 1 Mental Health and Crisis Intervention unit and Conroe Police Department’s CERT Team, in our geographically-large county. It has the top-down mission to purposefully support mental health as the first consideration when the heat is on.
He went out of his way to show me the eye-popping quantity of square miles the units cover 24/7. I also got a first-class tour of agencies and law enforcement colleagues. I asked them the same thing, “What do you want us to know? ”
At the top of their list is to do all they can to calm those caught up in crisis situations. More talking, avoiding handcuffs. (As a mom, I would say more “easy way”, much less “hard way”.)
This listening and building relationships takes more time. It takes patience. Slowing down someone’s knee-jerk reactions can make time on your side. (As a mom, this sure rings true in my house.)
When he encounters those headed toward trouble and/or voicing suicidal thoughts, he likes to ask “what happened today that is different from yesterday?”, trying to determine the antecedent causing the behavior or action(s) taken. The team shares “if you are depressed, you are not crazy”.
I began learning more about Sheriffs and Constables. Our county has one elected Sheriff and five elected Constables in five respective precincts. (Other agencies are State Troopers, DPS, Fire, EMS, and Justices of the Peace (JPs). Precinct 1 covers Lake Conroe, Mental Health, Canine, Schools and other operations.
Our county recently was awarded ARPA funds via the CARES Act for 10 more mental health crisis professionals: 3 supervisors and 7 deputies. This grows the team from 14 to soon 24.
Beth D., Program Director, TCBHC Crisis Services
Our local mental health authority (historically labeled LIDDA) is Tri County Behavioral Health Care (TCBHC). It is a long-standing, grandfathered-in non-profit covering Montgomery, Walker and Liberty Counties, and provides resources for the under-and un-insured. They do much more. They have an in-patient and an out-patient team. Different buildings, similar mission. There are laws to constrain media coverage of law enforcement (funny to think they consider me media), so this photo with Beth D., (Interim) Program Director, Crises Services, TCBHC, is the only one representing many conversations of the day.
You have seen the ambulances of Montgomery County Hospital District (MCHD). They also operate EMS Districts, District Chiefs, and 24/7 EMS staff.
Within the Emergency Services Department (ESD): Fire-coordinated responses, 911 Dispatcher offices, and numerous stations (shared agencies or solo). (I have been studying this several years, and I still get dizzy.)
We then started talking about our young people of neurodiversity. I asked him what he would share with you all. Here are some recommendations:
Don’t let your child control the family.
Parents should teach real consequences for the real world. Natural consequences.
Teach your children right v. wrong.
Have boundaries and rules.
Discipline your child (time outs, groundings, etc.)
Listen to your kids. If they talk about a teenage breakup, it’s just as real and powerful as an adult divorce.
Be aware of the pain of the moment. Youth don’t always have the big picture of life’s ups and downs as adults have grown to know.
If your family member is going to drive (as in launching for independence), have a family determination of the possible consequences, financial liabilities, physical risks, possible damages. This would apply if the young or elderly had their version of neurodiversity / reduced awareness of natural consequences. There is a potential of a felony or death, a lifetime of care, resultant guilt and other psychological issues. Determine that your family member is emotionally ready and is capable of remorse.
A “crash” has contributing factors. It’s not an “accident”.
If a young person is neurotypical, the age of culpability is usually 10 years old. (If there is developmental delay and/or issues of neurodiversity, this will be a different number, to be determined by the court and experts.)
We also talked about Emergency Detention Orders (EDOs). This became a complicated conversation. If you have a first responder in your life, ask them.
I hope to soon spend another day with this team. Lots of bridges to keep building. Want to help?
This school morning was the last-Friday-of-Junior-High-School.
And everything he did blew right through my expectations.
Silly mom me, I had hoped for a rosy-glow sort of last Spirit Day launch.
Ha!
You know how that goes, don’t you?
In every direction, he didn’t do as I would hope.
I could give you a list, but my blood pressure will go back up.
Last night, at a band booster parent initiation, I learned a neurotypical young man, several years older than John, does some of the things that John does.
When I hear such great news, it is a gift to my peace-of-mind.
Dorky, cave-boy teenager things. Could this be normal? Typical?
Our therapy and interventions world has a forward-push, compliance mindset. Right?
Pretty rigid.
This morning, John was way past zoo animal. I have seen better behavior out of chimpanzees.
Such boy-stupid stuff could be happening in other, neurotypical homes?
No words for this sense of relief.
So, as he went running for the bus looking exactly like a motor-planning Mr. Bean movie before my eyes,
it was a wonder he had everything.
Yes, of course, all in the wrong place according to “the plan”, whatever that is.
Still, all in his arms, and he was laughing.
In 30 seconds, we met in the middle for the forgotten mask hand-off.
I then told him to go faster.
Forgot to say I love him forever. That is my shame.
Not that the morning wasn’t to my “expectation”, but that I forgot the most important words of the day.
I sure hope he comes home today as usual. I have some mending to do to my spirit.
This first 2020-2021 winter of COVID–19, we all have been battling Mother Nature. She won v. our pipes, and it was a spectacular inside-the-house mess. I put my son in charge of the larger, louder, borrowed wet vac, and it was sensory overload for hours. Triage is now over; the extensive repairs in the house will be a monster. He did great, with just a bit of his auditory stim.
All things considered, he probably coped better than mom did.
But, in the general day-to-day of life, do I disregard/ignore/allow his stimming? It depends. How does it make his life better?
Usually, the purpose of the repetitive action of perseverating is to find immediate individual comfort and security. In our world of raising children with neurodiversity, I hear often we should allow it, tolerate it, let them indulge in it.
His stim of choice is a loud mostly-monotonous hum.
There was a recent mom-eureka-moment, when I noticed him go for 3+ hours, neurotypically quiet, not humming, when he could have, but didn’t, because he chose. (It was in our church’s media control room where we volunteer.)
Now, to be sure, he does stim occasionally for Let’s-aggravate-Mom reasons, deliberately starting as I enter the room. Attention-seeking. This audience leaves that room pronto, asap.
He may also stim for causes of grief and boredom. In the spirit of “water-the-flowers-not-the-weeds“, and “name-it-and-set-limits“, he is re-directed to stim in his personal bedroom anytime he prefers. (He also hears this boundary regarding puberty issues requiring privacy, if you catch my drift.)
So that’s my compassionate re-direct, which I always hope he chooses later (delayed gratification) to instead stay in the moment of joint attention.
Tomorrow’s hope, his future, is far more important than today’s comfort.
His current choice of stim could really affect the future of his relationships, in every direction.
There is another issue that affects both our short-term comfort compared to the longer-term benefit. I have been stalling on a formal Local Education Authority (LEA) (school) educational evaluation for years. In kindergarten, the wrong set of tests were used on nearly-non-verbal John, and the result was a pretty low IQ number.
In subsequent ARDs, the Committee decided John wasn’t stuck in his learning, that he wasn’t that IQ number, and that he continued to make academic progress. My mom-fear was his repeat performance of not caring, his not understanding the unintentional consequences of doing fast-and-sloppy work that would result in a label of bias against his possibilities. Our ARD discussions were transparent, we all agreed that he didn’t yet have any label other than autism. They all knew mom was in no hurry for a worse label, given the research available and with moving through developmental delay with nearly 24/7 interventions.
I agreed to have a discussion with the diagnostician and the on-going speech-language pathologist (SLP). We agreed they would push John, using humor and as many inclusion tools as possible, to make some educational evaluations on his academic progress. Not included is any IQ testing. I agreed to trust them and their educator hearts of coaxing out of John the best they can of the best he can do.
Two junior high educators who do will do his academic evaluations. I trust them.
For quite some years, we have been watching the issue of curricular LRE at his local LEA. As a parent, it was a gentle charm offensive of both the law and what John’s learning strengths needed for his best successful learning. Like the very best parts of Wright’s Law, in your face.
So, now the time has arrived, and I have had many conversations with the powers-that-be. John has a huge opportunity he has earned.
Can he move from Specialized/Explicit Instruction, into the world of Resource with Curricular LRE and hold his own?
So we are back to the trade-off for both he and mom of short-term comfort at the expense of longer-term quality of life.
Time will tell. I will keep you posted.
Keep our kids moving forward. If they are alive, there is always hope of continued neural pathways.
(The Emergency Game, Adventures To Share & Village Goats)
Many of our kids love structure of time and activities ….. therefore, so do many of us parents. School is dismissing soon for the holidays, and we will have the kids home ever-more-so during this time of COVID-19 shutdown.
What John needs isn’t more stuff. Instead, he needs a greater database of experiences, to think more of others and to build his vocabulary.
It will be a much quieter, different kind of Christmas at our house. John’s brother will be staying in Oregon. John’s beloved cousin/nephew and family will be staying at their home. John’s dad went into hospice care on Christmas Day last year, and on to heaven mid-January. Bin, our exchange student, is back in Vietnam. So, things are a lot quieter.
Plus, puberty is here, and so is his rising awareness of the world around him.
So, we need some new ideas.
Such as: He is getting a village goat for Christmas. Where the village will be, we don’t know. But I bet we will talk more about geography. The World Vision goat he is donating will be surely loved and will have a great life somewhere, providing micro-economic support to an extended family.
World Vision’s Goats have long been a favorite of ours
Another thing we will be trying: Have you ever had a list of things you wanted to do and yet ran out of time? We have. So, this year, we are being more purposeful. Each desired adventure is written on a note to be wrapped, and one-a-day will be chosen by John for the next day. This will get us out of the house for part of each day, and still allow for some goofing off (John’s favorite thing to do).
And I keep adding adventure ideas as I think of them
Rather than allowing the hours to drift into endless electronics (other than the Raspberry Pi component Santa is getting John), we will continue to have his daily list to get done first. (Raspberry Pi may move up the list hierarchy.)
It’s my poor planning if there isn’t time on that list for shared mom/son conversation about life. One of the results of all his interventions and the natural process of growing up has been his increased interest in life around him, including urgency and emergencies. (I want him to learn to hustle, to move faster, not to dillydally….. you know what I mean, right?)
These days, we see ever-higher stakes on why we must educate our children of neurodiversity to somehow handle the chaos of the world. One of our worst parental fears: What if they get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time? They won’t be seeking trouble, but could slip into it accidentally.
Some of our young people have a challenge in processing complex requests, putting sentences together under pressure and following rapid instructions. What if our kids get caught up in something they don’t understand? They don’t sense the danger nor knows how to handle it?
Therefore, we practice. We practice what to do and we practice short sentences he can use when the pressure is on.
We have to train developmental delay to see traps ahead, to calculate social risks, to pay attention to the clues from others. By no choice of their own, our kiddos are naive, distracted, sensory-overwhelmed and challenged in processing language.
And yet, adapting to these risks is what helps them step into their desires, their motivations and to be able to move into their adult lives.
So how do we get them to react faster and be more aware of such dangers?
We are playing the Emergency Game (audio podcast link) at home: processing each Amber alert, every ambulance siren. Asking the question: Is it real or pretend? When a firetruck goes by, what is happening there? When we go anywhere, can he find his way back? I let my kid lead the way retracing our steps. A gathering of people these days will catch our eye: What is going on? Is it an emergency? Does he need to do something? Or need to escape to safety? What is safety, exactly?
Randomly, I will playfully holler at him to “come here, quick”. He dillydallies, so I call out “emergency!”, and he laughingly comes trotting over. “Doesn’t seem like an emergency to me, Mom” he says. So we label that a pretend one.
Years ago, I made these cards to give away when my son would have a bad-decision-emergency, and onlookers wanted to give me an earful. As you already know, helping your child through such an important and urgent teachable moment requires your full focus. Not much time to educate advice-givers, you have your hands full. The times that I ignored the spectators and didn’t say anything to educate them, I felt shame and regretted they still had their wrong presumptions.
With these cards, I could hand them a bit of understanding, and then focus on helping re-direct my child through our own little emergency.
Our kids need good solid neural pathways and awareness of emergency-responses. They need to know how to read body language and tone of voice. So they have will automatic tools to use to survive if they are ever in the wrong place at the wrong time.
So, in this season of forced leisure, social isolation and slower pace of everything, it’s my mom-job to keep him bored enough to keep his brain busy. If I let him fade into the black hole of electronics, it will displace the deeper, creative, critical thinking his future needs.
So we will set and keep some boundaries.
Perhaps some of our ideas may spark something in your family.
We are all doing our best to help the right things flourish, to communicate and then hold the right boundaries.
It is easy to get distracted. Life is a slippery slope of choices.
Things may be doing well, everyone playing nicely together, making good choices…..
then something happens, and things go downhill fast.
How do we help model and teach self-control, emotional equilibrium and self-regulation?
Ever hear: “Don’t worry that the kids aren’t listening. Worry that they are always watching.” (Robert Fulghum, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten“)
So, evidently, I teach by what I do.
I should pay attention to good choices (flowers). I should do my best to ignore relatively-harmless choices that get under my skin (weeds).
(If it were a toxic, life-threatening weed, that would be a different response.)
I do ask John why he is humming or stimming. I try very hard not to bring shame into the conversation.
I try very hard to name the weed with respectful words and tone of voice. And then with the same tone and respect, set the boundaries for this weedful choice.
For example,
“That’s called stimming, and you can do that in your room”
or
“that’s called playing with your privates, and you can also do that in your room”.
With everyone under your roof under foot, and useful, novel distractions more than six feet away, our patience is evermore necessary.
This past winter, early on a cold morning, I sent this email to John’s teachers:
“It breaks my heart but John chose to miss the bus this morning. Dillydallying, bad choices and choosing to ignore all offers of help. This breaks my heart, and yet we’ve been cruising up to this precipice a long time. So we are doing a Mom Day and #MomList all day today. John has helped me compose this email and is pressing Send. Barbara G. had talked about this happening once but only once in her family. I’m following that model.”
Thus, John was not happy, and tried valiantly to renegotiate.
Soon, from another room, I heard the front door slam.
No panic, I figured he was walking toward school.
I grabbed my stuff and headed out.
Scanning the street: no John.
38 degrees F outside.
I drove by the bus stop. No John.
Good thinking, John. I had said 10 times that you had missed the bus.
Why would he wait at the bus stop?
Then I headed out of the neighborhood, out to the busy street.
No John.
(Afterward, I hear from a neighbor mom who said John stopped in front of her house, the last bus stop out of the neighborhood. She then told him the bus had gone, and off he went wordlessly.)
Wordlessly is the key thing: I never get the long (or short) version of any story.
He is a young man who keeps it mostly in his head.
Back to #FadingTheSupports, I spy John stopped on the sidewalk, very near a high-traffic intersection.
I pull over, give a little toot, and beckon “come here”.
My son John has tested every boundary with me these last few days.
One morning, he kept banging on the drums instead of anything I was asking him to do, tauntingly, purposefully, when I finally said “I’ll be waiting in the car”.
#MomCapitulation.
I gave up on redirecting, and just got out the door with whatever was left of my dignity.
Nothing I was doing or saying was moving him toward out-the-door-on-time.
He soon sauntered out the front door, still in his pajamas, playing with our gigantic colorful umbrella. Like a new toy.
I started to back the car down the driveway.
He got the message, I guess, and went back inside.
All of this with a big smirk on his face.
About 5 minutes later, he came out dressed. At least, as far as I could tell.
He seemed very proud of himself with that umbrella. A new skill due to all the rain we’ve had lately.
He (finally) climbed in the car and said “I guess we’re last kid today.”
Yup.
My nagging doesn’t make him move faster. My removal of the audience does.
Please know we’ve been backward chaining and rehearsing and practicing these skills for years.
The better I back off, the better he comes forward.
The more time I allow for this “game”, the better things work.
The best two things I do is #MomZipIt and remember that the snooze alarm is not my friend.😳
I can control when I start the morning, and that influences his progress.
But I cannot control his choices. I can only do the best to set the environment for his success.
It was a school field trip, and someone needed to take charge of the Bus sign.
One neuro-typical child had the sign, but realized it was the wrong bus for her.
My friend Edith, the adult in charge, had to move to a further bus, and needed a sign holder.
She asked for a volunteer.
Believe it or not, the kid that stepped forward was this little guy.
And then this friend (she is quite the mentor) stepped up along with him, in support.
And thus John was in charge, and it all seemed to end OK.
Flash forward a month or two.
John was on the couch, under a blanket, still in his jammies.
Mom had been saying it was time for school for many minutes.
It was getting close to being the last kid to Choir.
I asked if he wanted any help.
More than once, I am reluctant to admit. (So that means I was nagging!)
Each answer was the same, “No. By myself.”
I finally said, “I hope you aren’t the last kid to Choir. I will wait for you in the car.”
And I walked out.
It was about 10 minutes later, when he was locking the front door on the way out.
A face full of smile, shiny eyes.
His shirt was upside down, and pants and socks needed a few adjustments.
Other than that, it all looked pretty much good enough.
(And, months later, this system still works. The sooner I step out, the more time he has to get his plan together and take action. He doesn’t need me telling him the same thing over and over.)
Because of a diagnosis or two. Maybe also some developmental delay, maybe some different behaviors. But no one is in danger. And the diagnosis isn’t “catching”, nor will it rub off on anyone else.
But still, #LetGo by those with whom we thought we had a connection.
By extended family who can’t understand nor offer help.
This may have happened to you, especially in the first days.
I was wrong to hope, to assume unaffected family could understand.
Dangit, I couldn’t even understand what was happening. So, realistically, why should I hope or expect extended family to help save the day?
How about being let go by friends – still very painful, and yet more easily understood, perhaps.
The Shame and Pain of Being Let Go
And how about when we are let go by others:
Schools, worship, neighbors, acquaintances, business, and others we thought were in our community.
At our house, we have recently been #LetGo by our piano lessons on-the-go, home-delivered.
Out of the blue, right after a public recital,
minutes after I gave the teacher her Christmas gift in cash.
It’s one thing to expect it, to see it coming.
Much worse when it comes out of the blue.
When you don’t see it coming.
And yet, rejection is a part of life.
Sometimes you know the reason;
sometimes you don’t.
If we think it is because of our kids with learning differences, because of their behaviors or someone’s bias, it hurts keenly.
Because it is less our kids’ “fault”.
And more the diagnosis and the struggles that accompany.
If it were just about us as adults or as parents and not about our kids, we could probably more easily process the #LettingGo.
Because we are supposed to be able to handle stuff like that.
The rejection becomes intertwined, us with our kids.
I am watching John read, 20-minutes a day, required homework:
I see his lips move, his finger move (tracking the words in the line), and then I see him swallow. When he swallows, he stops moving his lips and finger temporarily. Then, back to things moving.
So, it would seem, his moving parts are really part of his reading process. He’s not reading completely in his head, statue-like. He’s got body parts involved in his reading. So, try letting your children move (anything, really) when they read.
Sometimes I hear him talking to himself. (Not that long ago, John had no words we all could hear. Now he’s talking to himself.)
Please let this encourage you, to keep stretching and challenging your smaller loved ones.
Try using the timer on your phone. When John cheats on his reading (and he does!), I stop the timer and call him on it. He hates that.
It turns out turning on and off the phone timer is a big-deal tool for John to self-regulate himself. It’s free, and he is in charge of running it.
John couldn’t blow out the birthday candles on a cake. For years.
So, for him, breath control to KNOW if he was actually breathing in and out was tricky.
(“If I don’t know where my body is in space, maybe I don’t know where my breathe is, and humming is a way I zone out or try to find something that I don’t know where it is.”)
So, we named it (humming), and then limited it–gave it boundaries. Can’t hum in the classroom! So, for school and home, “Instead of humming, I can …..”)
All well and good, if you know how to “breathe in and out”. John didn’t know this. He accidentally does it all the time, but purposefully knowing—-no.
Here are photos of Rosemary Slade, O.T.R., helping John to figure out how to “breathe in” and then to “breathe out”.
Hope this can give you some ideas to try yourself.
Do you recognize this in your child?
John had percussion lessons at school on Thursday mornings, early.
We have talked before about 
