When Everything is Okay

It's October. Sensory Awareness Month. So, I feel like I should write. Lately, though, my words have been few. Some days I feel as if I've lost the ability to string my words together. Everything seems so chaotic, separate and disconnected. My words have been a reflection of that. 
I wonder if that's what it's like for O when his body can't interpret the sensory information in his environment. Chaotic. Separate. Disconnected. 
Yesterday, I took O to the dentist. We waited. He had his appointment and then we waited some more. It was in the waiting that he was most anxious. In that idle time. In the waiting room full of children and their parents. As each name was called, he waited to hear his own. When would he be chosen? When would we get to leave?

There are many days when I forget. Forget how it used to be. When we first began our journey into understanding O's difficulties with sensory processing.
Things are different now. Yet, so much is the same. 
I still consider his feelings, opinions and potential reactions before anyone else's. I still evaluate each day - each circumstance - based on how I think he will respond. But, I also pray more. For him and with him. Yesterday, I talked to him about the power of Jesus and how it was within us, helping us to be brave. It's a lesson I'm still learning, but it seemed right for him, too. 
Not long ago I actually forgot to bring O's food when we went to my sister's house for dinner. What?! Maybe it had been a crazy day. Or, maybe it had been such a "normal" day that his dietary restrictions slipped my mind. Even though it had my husband scrambling to the nearest McDonald's right before meal time, it seemed significant that I forgot. It felt normal. That never would have happened before!
There are still areas of pain, though. The look of uncertainty before putting on a new piece of clothing or lining up for school. Resistance to trying new foods - or even enjoying old favorites. Creating rules for his toys, time and relationships that cannot be broken. Separation. Chaos. Disconnection.
But, even in the midst of those, God has continued to provide us with glimpses into the fullness of joy. Playing catch in the backyard. Riding a bike. Flying paper airplanes with good friends. Telling jokes at the dinner table. Laughing at his favorite books. 
In the weeks since school started, there have been many days that I've stood with O on the playground, waiting for the bell to ring. 
He says, "I'm scared." 
And, I say, "It's okay to be scared. You're going to be okay." 
One day, I realized something. Those are O's initials - O.K. So, I started telling him, "You're going to be O.K. Because you already are O.K." It made him smile. The more I said it, the bigger he smiled. Of course, as many things go with O, it has now become our routine - most mornings that I drop him off, I have to remind him that he is O.K. I don't mind this routine...because it's a good reminder for me too.
Maybe that's what I needed to say today. To O, to you and to me. That everything is O.K. Even though it doesn't always feel that way.

Be Aware

I have shed many tears during the past six years. For my son. 

At first, it was out of frustration. I just couldn't figure out what to do, how to care for him and make him comfortable. Then, there were tears of fear and questioning - Would he ever speak? How would his life be different? Next came, tears of joy, at his first words and other accomplishments. So many emotions for me, the mother of a child with Sensory Processing Disorder.

Most recently, I stood in my backyard one evening, crying into my husband's shoulder. Broken-hearted, hurting for my son. He had had his third toileting accident at school, because he was afraid to use the restroom. Despite all our efforts, he wouldn't do it. As a result, he pushed his body to it's limits, holding it until he couldn't anymore. 

That night, I cried, "It's not fair!" Not fair that he has to deal with fear and anxiety on a daily basis. Not fair that his body gets confused and reacts to normal stimuli atypically, leaving him uncomfortable and agitated.

While the toileting situation has had me the most distraught lately, what brings me to tears most days is the way O thinks. How his mind analyzes everything to the point of anxiety. It tears my heart apart when I realize all the things that go through his mind, which cause him stress and worry. 

Some of those things are:

- Whether or not to tell me about an injury, anticipating that the "medicine" might hurt more or that I might offer him a bandaid -

- Wondering if the new pjs I just bought him for "pajama day" will feel itchy -

- Starting each day thinking about what may be different or out of the ordinary -

- Hoping he doesn't make a mistake on his writing assignment -

- Focusing on how many minutes are left until the bell rings, because he doesn't want to be late for school -

- Needing to inspect his food before he eats it, if he eats it -

But, there is also good news. There is a God who answers prayers. A God who loves O more than I ever could and as a result is responding to the pleas of his people. To take away O's sensitivity to smell in the cafeteria. To make the bathroom less scary, so that it can become a part of his routine at school. God has been showing me that when I can't, he can. 

That's the truth I want to rest in, every day. God makes promises and fulfills them. He can!

October is Sensory Awareness Month. 

One of the purposes of this blog has always been to raise awareness of SPD. 

Will you do your part in raising awareness? 

Will you share this with one person today?

How Trains Saved My Son

I woke up Christmas Eve, rolled over, and because of what was next to my bed, began to cry. It was O's train table, and it had been in the exact same location since Thanksgiving. We had moved it into our room to accommodate our dinner guests.
I wasn't crying because it was in my room. I was crying because O hadn't asked about it or played with it in nearly a month. There was a time when this would've been unheard of, when the mere movement of one train would have caused a huge meltdown. While, this new development meant growth, maturity and progress, it also meant that my little boy didn't need his trains anymore. 
There was a time when they were his only source of enjoyment, his coping skills and his mode of communication. Now, they were simply collecting dust. I wasn't crying for today, I was crying for the days of the past, when things were so much harder. 
Since this blog is less than two years old, it wasn't around when O was born. So, unlike many other mommy's who blog, I do not have my children's birth stories here. However, today's story is of O's re-birth...and how trains were involved.
It was when his speech therapist brought out the starter train set, with Thomas and Percy, that O's love affair with trains began. He had watched episodes of Thomas and Friends on PBS, but had never been so interested in them, until he played with that train set. Then it was all about Thomas, who he first called "ba-ba" because that was all he could say.

We bought O his first train during our summer trip to Discovery Kingdom. We also visited Thomas Town there and rode on Thomas. Although O doesn't remember that trip. I do. He was so excited, to see all that was previously in his imagination come to life.
He took that first train everywhere with him. It seemed to make everything easier, as long as he had that train. 

The Christmas that he was two, Santa (aka my dad) made him a train table. And, every birthday, Christmas, and trip to Target after that, we added to the collection. The trains were his way of escaping after a hard day. They were the way we could get him to learn new sounds and words. They were everything to him.
And, while this was sometimes difficult. It was so nice to have that safety net. That thing that could always make him happy. Not everybody has that. He needed those trains...and so did we. 
Over time, O has begun to find interest in things other than trains and Thomas. He has begun playing with other toys, and the trains have been used less and less, especially since he started kindergarten. Although they have been replaced with other play things, it's more than that. They've been replaced with more topics of conversation, more typical ways of learning and ever-growing coping skills.
The train table and it's cast of characters are collecting dust. Still, I think O knows that they are there, in my room, just in case. 
I don't know when we will ever be able to pack up the trains for good. I'm sure that day will come. And, I will probably cry that day, too.

Battles and Balance

Things had been going well for O lately. He made the transition to kindergarten beautifully and is even ending his first season of soccer. And, while there have been bumps along the way, they have been relatively small and easy to navigate.

However, I have started noticing a change in O's ability to handle those smaller bumps with as much ease as he had been. While he is still keeping it together at school, his inability to handle the stress is evident at home.

This time of year is typically difficult for him. Fall means changes in weather, clothing, and the beginning of the holiday season. All the changes are difficult. Especially when you are an individual who doesn't just like routine, but needs it.

Last week was Red Ribbon Week at my kids' school. During this week every year, the schools in our area focus on creating a fun-filled week for the kids, which teaches them the dangers of drugs and alcohol, in a creative way. This is a positive program, with a lot of value. However, for O, this week is full of things that cause change in his routine and what he has come to expect from kindergarten.

Monday was crazy hair/crazy clothes day. I had a conversation with O that morning about how silly his friends would look because of this special day. He hid under a blanket during the entire conversation, and for the first time, since the first day of school, said, I don't want to go.

When we got to school he was hesitant to go into the classroom, everyone just looked too crazy. Once he realized that the crazy hair didn't necessarily mean that things would be different in the classroom, he was okay. But, for the rest of the week, every time we drove by the school, he asked about those red ribbons on the trees and why they were still there. It's only for this week, I said, every time.

Life with O is a balancing act. We are constantly struggling to make sure we are keeping him comfortable and monitoring his anxiety, yet putting him in situations where his coping skills can be tested and stretched. Usually that means preparing him in advance for situations that may provoke anxiety.

For example, last week O's kindergarten class also took a trip to the pumpkin patch, on a school bus. I knew that the bus could potentially cause anxiety for O, for several reasons: smell, number of kids in close proximity, new experience, and I'm sure more that I don't even know about. So, his teacher and I began talking to him, about the field trip and the bus. Then, I had an idea.

I had seen a bus driver dropping off a student for afternoon kindergarten on the days I picked O up from school. So, one day I asked him if O and I could take a walk through the bus. He was more than willing. As I expected, O didn't even want to go on the bus with me, but he did it. We found things on the bus he liked, like the color of the seats and the fact that each of the rows was numbered - he loves numbers!

The day of the field trip arrived and I didn't notice any anxiety until we got to the classroom. There were 56 kids there instead of the normal 27, because the am and pm kinders were going together on the field trip. He sat with me until the routine (e.g. announcements, singing, stories, etc.) of the day started, then he was fine.

He rode the bus without issue and seemed completely regulated when he got to the pumpkin patch. That was a huge win!

WAITING IN LINE, AFTER GETTING OFF THE BUS

Last year I wrote about our family's trip to this pumpkin patch and O's avoidance of the suspension bridge. Well, this time, he went over the bridge. He held onto me the whole time, as I whispered encouraging words, but he did it. Another win!

After that, however, he had reached his limit. No other stretching could be done. He needed routine and stability. He needed his big squeezes and special water bottle to drink from. He needed me. And, I was grateful that I was able to be there with him.

O AND I CALMING DOWN, WHILE SITTING ON BALES OF HAY

FINALLY! HE GOT TO PICK HIS PUMPKIN.

As I drove to work later that afternoon, I thought about the morning and cried and cried. I also stopped for lunch at In-n-Out burger (I'm a bit of a stress eater).

I was so proud of what O had accomplished that day. But, I was still so sad. I realized why. At least that day, I wanted O to do well, for him and for me, but mostly for his peers. I wanted to prevent a melt down because I didn't want any of his friends, or their parents, to see it. He has been making friends and playing well with the boys in his class and I didn't want that to be jeopardized in any way. I didn't want them to know he was different.

Now, I just have one more thing to worry about. Will they treat him differently now? Will their parents judge me for the decisions I made? Maybe they won't even remember. Maybe it really doesn't matter, in the long-run. But, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, now.

I tried to talk to one of the mom's about it. She asked, Won't he grow out of it? I never got the chance to tell her, No, he won't. While he has and will continue to develop ways to cope with his anxiety and SPD, it will never leave him. Some days I think it has gotten easier. He has made so much growth. But there are those other days, like the day of the field trip, that I know that his life will always be harder than most.

What I am so grateful for is the truth in this song. I wrote about it my young warrior post and it has become O's theme song, in my mind. They other night, as I was driving O to soccer practice, the song came on the radio...and he started singing it. I know that he is too young to truly understand the words and their meaning. But, I am grateful that he is beginning to speak and rehearse that truth.

The morning of the pumpkin patch trip, O was with me in the bathroom as I was getting ready to go. I started singing, like I often do. This time he finished the words...

Me:  The God of angel armies...

O:  ...is always by my side.

That's right, buddy. He is.

Normal

I recently read the post One Toe in Normal at Four Plus an Angel. In it, a mother describes her feelings related to being in "general education" for the first time. With a teenage daughter with autism who recently graduated high school and a younger daughter, with severe anxiety, who is home-schooled, her experience with education has not been typical.
This post caused an emotional stirring in me. Last week, I went with O and his class on a field trip to the pumpkin patch. I will not explain the whole of that experience here...you will have to wait for tomorrow's post for the rest of the story. But, for now, I want to describe my feelings as I listened to the conversations of numerous other parents. Conversations about normal, typical things. Conversations that I couldn't be a part of because I had nothing normal to contribute. I felt like an impostor and worried that if I spoke, my true identity would be revealed. Weird, huh?
Although O is in general education kindergarten, I cannot always approach things with him in a "general education" way. Even his teacher, while she has praised his performance in kindergarten, doesn't realize how much she has done to prepare him for these experiences. She is setting him up for success, which is wonderful. But, it is not normal. 
When I talk to the parents of my girls' friends, we share experiences and struggles that are normal. It is easy and, with some, it is even effortless. I was hoping that with O, I could find a parent who could relate, at least in some way to our struggles. 
Maybe I just need to share more. But, I'm afraid. Worried that people might not understand. 
I feel like I have one foot inside normal. It feels strange to be there. How much longer will it be until I feel like we belong?

What You See {SPD Awareness}

SPD or Sensory Processing Disorder is not often visible from the outside. There are often no physical markers that make a child with SPD look different. But, there are behaviors, facial expressions, and verbal nuances that make a child with SPD different from the rest.

If you saw my son playing soccer, you may notice his awkward run, but what you may not notice is the way he holds his arms out for balance or grabs the sides of his shirt. You may also be unaware of the way he winces or tenses up when there are a group of kids near him going for the ball. You may miss these things, but as the mom of a boy with SPD, I would not.

If you were the principal of my kids' school, you would have seen me walking them in and O crying and yelling at his sisters to "stop" because they were too far ahead of him. You would tell me that my "boy was giving me a run for my money" that morning. But, you wouldn't know why.

As a parent, I notice that my son is always the last one out of class. Not because he is in trouble and has been directed to the back of the line. It's because he is in more control there. He can control the distance between himself and the kid in front of him. And, there is no one to bump into him from behind; he has controlled that too.

You may assume, when observing our family during mealtime, that I am a parent who doesn't care what her child eats and who gives into his every whim. What you may not see is that my son won't even keep pasta on his plate that is not "penne" shaped because it creates too much anxiety in him. I can't explain it and sometimes, I don't understand it, but I know the anxiety is real.

SOME OF OUR SENSORY STRATEGIES...THAT SEEM SO SIMPLE, BUT HELP SO MUCH.
BOUNCING, PILLOW FORT, HANGING UPSIDE DOWN, DRINKING FROM A SPECIAL WATER BOTTLE.

October is Sensory Awareness Month. Last year, I wrote this post and this one, explaining how SPD has affected my son and my family. 

I know that unless you have a child with SPD you cannot possibly understand our daily struggles. What I hope is that, by reading here, you are a little more informed and have become aware of the existence and reality of this condition.

V is for Victory

I volunteered in O's classroom Monday, for the first time since he started kindergarten. My plan is to volunteer every Monday morning. So I can observe, offer suggestions, and just simply be a part of his educational experience, just as I was with his sisters.

I walked into the classroom and was grateful that he couldn't see me from where he was sitting. I could be a silent observer. I could watch him without him knowing that I was there...but, only for a few seconds because one little boy announced, "O, your mom is here!"

I watched as he participated in the flag salute and sang about the Stars and Stripes. I watched as he listened intently to the teacher's instructions on the day's center activities. I felt victory and defeat. I witnessed steps forward and backward. Points for celebration and areas for improvement.

He participated in group response. Two points for O. He sat without the ability to keep his hands still, something he only does when he experiences anxiety. One point for SPD.

My role as mommy helper was to assist all students at the "Johnny-Appleseed-bear-making-station." I watched as my son cut with great precision. Victory. I watched as he became nervous about the slightest errors in his cutting. Defeat.

I get asked daily about how O is doing in kindergarten. I have found myself saying, "He is doing great. I think that he loves the learning part of it so much that he puts up with the stuff that makes him uncomfortable." After watching him on Monday, I still believe that to be true.

There is so much about kindergarten that O loves. But, there are also things that he doesn't. Like the boy sitting too close to him and calling attention to the fact that his mom is there. Or, making mistakes on his writing or cutting, wanting his words or shapes to look just right.

Putting up with the negative because there is so much good to experience. Isn't that life?

I know that O doesn't love everything about kindergarten. But, I also know that he doesn't complain about going. Steps forward.

I know that O has asked me when kindergarten will be over. But, I also know that he is excited to come home and show me all of his work, tell me about his accomplishments and do his homework. Celebration.

This life, O's life, is full of victories and defeats. But, in the end, there is nothing that I want more than to be O's mom. Because it is what God had planned for me to do.

I came across this prayer Monday night. It was sent to me by a friend during the first week of school.

I pray love and blessings over your family. You have been chosen by God to raise that amazing little boy. I pray He always gives you His peace and wisdom in tough times. Amen.

His peace. The ultimate victory. That's my goal. For me, and for my amazing little boy.

Yours, O Lord, is the greatness, the power, the glory, the victory, and the majesty. Everything in the heavens and on earth is yours, O Lord, and this is your kingdom. We adore you as the one who is over all things.

1 Chronicles 29:11

The First Day

We can't hide from fear. We can't ignore it.

When O said, "I'm scared of kindergarten," as we pulled into the school parking lot, it would have been easy to say, "don't be scared" or "you'll be fine." But, he will be scared and he might not feel fine.

So, instead we prayed. My rock of a husband led the family in a back to school prayer.

All morning I had been struggling with words. If you saw my post from yesterday, you'll know that my words were gone. I was relying on others to speak for me. I was listening to God, though.

He kept saying, "I will be with him. I will be with him." Each time I would begin to worry, I heard those words.

I also could not get the the lyrics to this song out of my head. God will go before me. He has the whole word in His hands. He is faithful. I will hold on to His promises.

All along O has been scared. I have been scared.

What I've been learning is that being scared is okay. Even if our fears remain, God will be there to pick us up, to help us breathe, to bring us through.
Pretending not to be afraid doesn't work. You can't combat fear without acknowledging it.
When I asked O, after school, if there was anything at kindergarten that scared him, he said, "No." For that, I am grateful. Yet, I know that our time of fear and stress is not over. Each day there is the potential for fear. Whether it comes through a visit to the cafeteria or a fire drill. Or, even on the playground.
O and I talked about recess. He said that he played hide-n-seek with a little girl. This is a game he plays frequently with his sisters. I was grateful that he had found a friend, even for today. When I asked him if he went on the slide he said, "No. There were too many people. They could have bumped me. That hurts." Even though it saddened me that my boy couldn't choose the slide today, I am grateful that he could make that choice and he knows why he made it.
His awareness of his differences and needs is improving. With our help, he has come to understand a little bit about what he feels and why. That knowledge enables him to make choices that offer comfort and help him to feel more in control. Isn't that what we are supposed to do as we get older? Make choices.

I don't want any of my kids to think that they can't feel a certain way. It's okay to be sad, mad, scared, excited, etc. None of these feelings is bad or wrong. Ultimately, it's our ability to recognize and cope with those feelings that really matters. That's what I want O to know. 
One of the things I am most proud of is that O is beginning to recognize his body's sensory needs. While he can't articulate it in those terms, yet, he is using the strategies we have introduced over the past several years to help himself feel better. He is bouncing more, drinking from his special water bottle, asking for tight hugs, wearing his heavy backpack around the house, and so much more.
When we picked O up at school this afternoon, he ran out, breathed a huge sigh of relief and gave me the biggest hug. He had made it through day one.
I feel relieved, yet anxious...about day two and so on. But, I must let it go. 
I have and will continue to do all I know how to make O's transition into kindergarten a success, whatever that may look like for him. Yet, I know that when we drop him off each day, God will go before O, stand beside O, and hold O in His hand. That should be all the comfort I need.
Thanks so much for all of your prayers! 

Letters to Kindergarten: I Don't Know

With less than three weeks until school begins, I thought it was time to explore O's current feelings toward kindergarten...

Dear Kindergarten,

It is summer now. I am done with preschool. That means that kindergarten is starting soon. My mom says that I will go to kindergarten in August.

Some days I don't like August or kindergarten.

My mom keeps asking me how I know I don't like kindergarten. I just know. It will be hard and it will take too long. I don't like things that take too long. Waiting for the end of something is boring. Being patient is boring.

I have been to visit you, kindergarten. I even visited your bathroom, just to make sure that your toilet isn't too loud. Visiting is okay because it's short. Also, my mom gets to stay with me when we visit.

I asked my mom if she could go with me to kindergarten. She said she will come to help, sometimes. But, she can't come everyday. That is not fair.

My sisters think that I will like kindergarten. I don't know if they are right.

I did like some of the things I saw when I visited kindergarten. There were numbers and words and even dot-to-dot pictures. Those are not too hard.

Instead of going to kindergarten, I think I will stay home. I learned so many things when I was in preschool. I can already count to 100! I think I have learned enough. I don't need to learn anymore.

I think kindergarten is a nice place for some kids. But, maybe not for me. It was good to visit, but some days I still don't want to go.

I don't know exactly what will happen in kindergarten. When I don't know about something, I get scared. I am scared of a lot of things. Mom says I don't need to be scared, that it will be okay.

But, I just don't know.

Love,
O
To read more of O's letters to kindergarten, click here.

Young Warrior

Friday will mark the end of O's time in preschool. He will graduate. This means that he has conquered, sometimes with resistance, all the language, social, motor and academic challenges that he has encountered within the last two years. 
He has made so much progress. He now willingly and proficiently rides a bicycle, plays in the dirt and mud, participates in dress up, and interacts adequately with his teachers and friends.

Despite all these success, he still tells me daily that he doesn't like school. That school is scary. He seems uncertain and uncomfortable when I drop him off, although his teacher assures me that he participates with confidence during the day. I know that he is not in danger and that he needs this experience, which are the only things that enable me to walk out the door each time.

The end of preschool also means that the beginning of kindergarten is even closer. It's less than two months away! I am currently working on another of O's Letters to Kindergarten, but am having a hard time expressing things as he would.

Almost as often as he tells me he doesn't like preschool, he also tells me he doesn't like kindergarten. That it will be too hard. His anxiety is evident.

I have done many things already to prepare him for this transition. Unfortunately, I think that no matter how much we prepare, the unknown of kindergarten will plague him and cause him anxiety until he has experienced it first hand. I am expecting the worst that first day. I honestly don't know how I will leave him there. Again, he will be in no danger and I know he needs the experience, so I will have no choice but to walk out the door.

I recently listened to a sermon about how we all "draw lines" for our behavior based on our own perspectives, our own definitions of what will give God glory in specific situations. The speaker gave the examples of alcohol consumption, using instruments in a church service, pledging allegiance to the American flag, and more.
Since he was little, O has struggled with motor memory. I believe it's one of the reasons that he had difficulty speaking. It's also one of the reasons that he has difficulty generalizing motor tasks that he hasn't practiced regularly. It's also why each slide at a new playground is like a foreign object. He has no memory of that specific slide, which makes him anxious about using it.

As a result, O's lines are much different than mine. And, my lines for him are much different than they are for his sisters. It doesn't seem fair. The girls are starting to realize this. But, as I've stated here before, fair does not mean equal.

Another part of this sermon, touched on the importance of names. I wrote about this last fall, when I looked up the names of all the women who attended a weekend retreat with me at a nearby Christian camp. It was so interesting to me, when looking at the meanings of these women's names, how true to them their names were.

I thought about this again as I listened to this sermon. As a result, I decided to look up O's name. It means, young warrior or fighter. Yes! My boy has been fighting to make sense of his world since the beginning. 
Every day he wages a war against the sensory stimuli in his environment, the unknown and the anxiety it causes him. Some days, the battle is easy and he walks through without a scar. Other days, he changes his shirt three times before it feels right. On those days, the battle is rougher.

I'm worried. About him. About me. Will I be strong enough to walk away from him on that first day of kindergarten, or on any of the other days, when he assures me that it's too hard or that it's scary?

I know we have no choice but to keep fighting. I just hope and pray that my young warrior and I are ready for the battle.

The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is here among us; the God of Israel is our fortress.

Psalms 46:7 (NLT)

God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake, Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains...God fights for us, God-of-Angel-Armies protects us. 

Psalm 46:1-3 (MSG)

Different

My son is different. He is unlike other boys his age. You can't necessarily tell it by looking at him. But, I can often see it in his eyes, his behavior, his questions.

Here's one example. Recently, I told O we were going to the park, for a birthday party. Most nearly five-year old boys would likely react to this news by jumping up and down with excitement, screaming, "yay!" or "wahoo!"

Instead of either of those things, my son asked, "What does the park look like, mommy?"

I have come to expect these questions. Yet, they still catch me by surprise.

When we got to the park, O refused to go into the area where the party was set up. I had anticipated that he would be leery of this, given that there would be lots of people, many of whom he didn't know. Instead, we went directly to the play structure.

This worked for him, until other kids came to play there as well. As soon as another child got on the structure, he got off. On and off. Off and on. This was his pattern. 

GOT THIS PHOTO BEFORE HE REALIZED THERE WERE KIDS BEHIND HIM

While O is very social with the kids he knows well, he avoids unknown children. Mostly because he can't predict their actions. Even though his best friends at school are loud and rambunctious and hug him way too hard, he knows that they are this way, so he can be prepared. With strangers, it is the unknown that creates anxiety in him.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about O and his SPD. Every time I see another child doing something, fulfilling a milestone that O didn't do at the appropriate time or still hasn't mastered, I am reminded of his differences.

I try not to compare myself with others. I try to follow this same rule with my kids, too. But, in O's case, I need the comparison. I need to understand the differences, so that I can be prepared for them. This preparedness helps both of us. Even though dwelling on these differences is counter-productive, ignoring them is worse.

O's FIRST TIME ON A SWING IN A LONG TIME. SMILING BEFORE IT STARTED MOVING.

Different is a neutral word. It's not bad or good. It simply means not identical; separate or distinct. Different isn't easy. It is a struggle, daily. But, it is okay.

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. 
“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. 
For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways 
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts." 

Isaiah 55:8, 9 (NLT)

If you want more information or have questions about SPD, visit my Defining SPD page or send me an email. 
Some resources that have helped me gain knowledge about SPD and given me a healthy perspective related to O's differences are the A Sensory Life website and Understanding Your Sensory Signals books. 
I recommend them to any parent with questions related to sensory processing.

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Letters to Kindergarten: I Saw You

Dear Kindergarten,

I came to visit you today. My mom came with me...and she stayed. I know that one day she won't be able to stay. But, for now, when we visit, she can stay with me.

When we got to kindergarten, I met my teacher, Mrs. S. She liked that I wore my panther shirt. I'm glad my mom asked me about wearing it. Mrs. S was happy to see me. I could tell by her smile and her eyes. We have been talking about emotions at my school. Emotions mean how you feel. I am learning how to know what people are feeling just by looking at them.

When I saw all the stuff in kindergarten, I was surprised. I saw words on the wall, and I got to read them to my mom. I saw some toys, too. Like trains...those are my favorite. I also saw toys for building. One of the boys was playing Starfall on the computer. I love Starfall!

My mom and I walked around the classroom. I held her hand. My hands felt funny, so I needed to do something with them. With one hand I held my mom's and the other I put into a fist and touched my nails with my fingers. It helped me feel better.

When we left kindergarten we looked at the playground. There were numbers and letters on the ground. Also, there were bikes...six of them. Outside of the classroom were all the kids' backpacks. I saw a Thomas backpack and it was big. My mom said that when I go to kindergarten, I will get a big backpack too. I don't know which kind I will choose.

After our visit, my mom said she was proud of me, because I went to kindergarten, even though I was scared. I told her I wasn't scared, just worried. I worry mostly about the other kids. They don't know me. They don't know that they talk too loud or get too close. They don't know that I need time. I need time to get used to who they are before I can talk to them.

I worry about what the classroom will look, smell and sound like, too. Now, I know a little bit about those things.

I know I will come back to visit you again, kindergarten. Thanks for letting me come today with my mom.

Love,
O


To read more of O's letters to kindergarten, click here.

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My Thoughts on Anxiety

O's world is filled with anxiety. It's one of the side effects of his SPD. Living in an unpredictable world. Being unsure what sights, sounds and textures might bombard his sensory system. Although he has made great progress in so many areas, I still see his anxiety, almost daily.

Yesterday, we were able to play outside. It was cloudy, but not too cold. So, we ventured into the backyard. We played baseball and soccer and climbed the ladder to his "pirate ship."

However, when I suggested he try the swing, he immediately said, "No." I asked him several more times during our playtime. Finally, he agreed.

When I lifted him onto the swing, his body was tense. He was not allowing me to help bend his legs and wouldn't let go of me, so he could hold onto the chains. He was resisting the movements that he feared would harm him, when in actuality, they would have helped him be more secure on the swing. He was in full panic mode.

I bent down in front of him, once he finally put his hands on the chains. I spoke softly and tried to get him to focus on me, not on the swing. It didn't work. He was ready to get off the swing, back onto solid ground.

Not only does O struggle with anxiety because of his SPD, but I also believe it is a part of his genetic make-up. You see, I also struggle with anxiety, daily. There are many things that make me uneasy and distressed.

It is for me and O that I chose this passage, from Philippians, for today's scripture challenge theme - anxiety:

I read a post from Girls of God's Heart this past week about anxiety. In it, Kelly, the blogger, stated that anxiety and prayer are two great opposing forces. Also, in our small group last Sunday, the leader made the assertion that faith and fear are opposites. Based on this passage of scripture, and practical experience, I believe both of those statements to be true.

As I reflected on this passage, these statements, and O's reaction to the swing, I realized that God does not want me to be anxious. Instead, He wants me to pray. He makes attempts to get my attention, speaking in a gentle whisper, and urges me to stop fighting, to let Him help.

Instead of getting flustered, I need to seek peace. That peace, "which exceeds anything [I] can understand," is only found in Him.

Do not be anxious....instead, pray

Do not be fearful...instead, have faith

Do not be restless...instead, seek peace

Dear Kindergarten: My Stuff

Dear Kindergarten,

I like my stuff. And, I like it to be out where I can see it. My mom always wants me to clean up, but it makes me feel better when I know my stuff is there, ready for me.

Some of my stuff is toys. But, I have other stuff that makes me feel calm and good and just right. You may not understand what I mean. It's hard to explain. My stuff just makes me better.

At home I have a bouncy ball, a squish bed, a balance board, dinosaur feet, and probably some other things that I am forgetting. I also like to cuddle up tight with my mom, sometimes. She gives me squeezes and big hugs. I don't always like to be touched, even by my mom. But, sometimes it make me feel really good.

When we go out, my mom always takes my headphones, just in case it gets too loud for me. I also like to take my blankets. Sometimes we walk up and down stairs...lots of times. My mom usually tells me when it's time to use or do these things. She always seems to ask me at the right time. I wonder how she knows.

I don't know what I will do in kindergarten without my stuff. Will you have something for me if it's too loud or when I start to feel funny? Who will know what I need?

Kindergarten, do you have anything that will help me feel just right? I hope I can feel good at kindergarten.

Love,
O

P.S. Next time I will probably write to you about parties. I know you must have them, but I'm hoping you don't.

For background on my Letters to Kindergarten posts, click here.