The Next Attention Deficit Disorder?
I'm so thrilled to see some attention given to SPD. It's such a relief when I meet someone that knows what it is so I don't have to launch into a detailed explaination of it all.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Dear Tristan - 2 Years, 10 Months
Dear Tristan,
Every day I see or hear you do something that I want to remember to blog in your monthly entry. There is so much that you do that simply amazes me. Of course, by the time I sit down to write an entry you are sleeping upstairs in your chair and not even a cup of iced coffee can jog my memory to recall all of the cuteness that is you.
I could write about your obsession with booboos and bandaids. Or how you torment your brother by taking something that's his and running for your life to hide behind my legs claiming that you had it first. I could mention the little bit of sass you are experimenting with, finding that calling Mommy and Daddy names lands you in time out, even if Cuckoo-Popper isn't really an insult. Maybe your obsession with bugs. Your fear of mosquitos, swimming pools, said bugs and sunscreen.
I could write an entire entry on how quickly you've potty trained, even staying dry through the night and naps. We've been bribing you with the jellybeans left over from Easter and now we've moved on to m&ms. For the first time in almost five years I can not remember the last time I changed a poopy diaper. If I wrote an entire entry on potty training you, it would certainly include the neurotic flushing process you go through. Before going potty, you flush. You pee. You flush. You poop. You flush. You wipe. You flush. You finish pooping. You flush. You wipe. You flush. And if it's not all gone down. You flush again. I've tried explaining to you that you only flush once and even tried to make you get on the potty and finish your business without flushing in between jobs, but you refuse to even sit on the potty with that filth in the bottom. I guess it can go on for another week or so just until you really get comfortable with it all. I'm so proud of you.
I probably would like to forget how you torment the cat, chasing him and roaring like a lion because you think it's hysterical to watch him panic. I could also forget the screaming tantrum that you throw when we put you down for bed, as you take a page from your brothers book, yelling, "I want to tell you something!", over and over again. I've fallen for it a couple of times and the thing that you want to tell me is the free association stream of consciousness that's running through your mind. Anything that keeps me from closing your door for bed.
I could probably also stand to forget how if you don't like something that you've been given for dinner, you spit it out. Onto your plate. Immediately. Chewed or not. It's gross and we can't seem to break you of it.
I probably should write about how when you get hungry you go and sit in your seat, patiently waiting for your dinner. You are on a mission and you are serious about it.
Your Dad and I often talk about how sneaky you are. We, of course, can tell when you have a piece of food from the table that's being hidden in your hands or a toy that's been tucked into your pants, but you think you are getting away with something. If you are quiet, you are definately up to something... or sleeping in your chair.
I love you more than Sun and Light,
Mommy
Every day I see or hear you do something that I want to remember to blog in your monthly entry. There is so much that you do that simply amazes me. Of course, by the time I sit down to write an entry you are sleeping upstairs in your chair and not even a cup of iced coffee can jog my memory to recall all of the cuteness that is you.
I could write about your obsession with booboos and bandaids. Or how you torment your brother by taking something that's his and running for your life to hide behind my legs claiming that you had it first. I could mention the little bit of sass you are experimenting with, finding that calling Mommy and Daddy names lands you in time out, even if Cuckoo-Popper isn't really an insult. Maybe your obsession with bugs. Your fear of mosquitos, swimming pools, said bugs and sunscreen.
I could write an entire entry on how quickly you've potty trained, even staying dry through the night and naps. We've been bribing you with the jellybeans left over from Easter and now we've moved on to m&ms. For the first time in almost five years I can not remember the last time I changed a poopy diaper. If I wrote an entire entry on potty training you, it would certainly include the neurotic flushing process you go through. Before going potty, you flush. You pee. You flush. You poop. You flush. You wipe. You flush. You finish pooping. You flush. You wipe. You flush. And if it's not all gone down. You flush again. I've tried explaining to you that you only flush once and even tried to make you get on the potty and finish your business without flushing in between jobs, but you refuse to even sit on the potty with that filth in the bottom. I guess it can go on for another week or so just until you really get comfortable with it all. I'm so proud of you.
I probably would like to forget how you torment the cat, chasing him and roaring like a lion because you think it's hysterical to watch him panic. I could also forget the screaming tantrum that you throw when we put you down for bed, as you take a page from your brothers book, yelling, "I want to tell you something!", over and over again. I've fallen for it a couple of times and the thing that you want to tell me is the free association stream of consciousness that's running through your mind. Anything that keeps me from closing your door for bed.
I could probably also stand to forget how if you don't like something that you've been given for dinner, you spit it out. Onto your plate. Immediately. Chewed or not. It's gross and we can't seem to break you of it.
I probably should write about how when you get hungry you go and sit in your seat, patiently waiting for your dinner. You are on a mission and you are serious about it.Your Dad and I often talk about how sneaky you are. We, of course, can tell when you have a piece of food from the table that's being hidden in your hands or a toy that's been tucked into your pants, but you think you are getting away with something. If you are quiet, you are definately up to something... or sleeping in your chair.
I love you more than Sun and Light,
Mommy
Friday, July 17, 2009
Theme Week
I may have mentioned that I have divided the weeks of summer into theme weeks. The boys are really into it because they get to pick the weekly theme and they think it’s something special all week long. I print out coloring pages from the internet and have them color pages based on the theme, (this week is pirate week), and then we read books on the theme for bedtime, (which, really, we are reading bedtime books anyway, right?) and I come up with one other activity during the week. For Indian week, we read books, made Indian headdresses and colored pages printed from online. While we colored we listened to Native American flute music. When they wanted to watch a movie, I gave them a choice of Peter Pan or Pocahontas… Nifty right?
This week I’ve been slacking a little bit, but this weekend we are taking them to
Here’s some ideas that Pattie sent via email…
Dinosaur week, huh.....get the paper mache going, girl.....you can make some big dinosaur eggs and then hide them around the yard. There's one thought! When I think of anymore stuff, I'll yell! (Maybe some plaster of
And if you ever get around to NASCAR week, I've got TONS for that! We can show them how to roll tables and chairs, and set up for race! WOOHOO! Then you can show them how to pillage suite buffets for 800 lbs. of whole beef tenderloin, turkey breasts, hams and already wrapped hot dogs! (Don't forget.....you can also show them how to properly stuff said 800 lbs. of whole beef tenderloin, turkey breasts, hams and already wrapped hot dogs into duffle bags for transport!) And don't forget the hike to Parking Lot Z.....THAT oughta tire them both out!!! Hell, with some beer and friends, you can even show them how to fend off drunken Earnhardt fans!! You can then cap off the week with a trip to Darlene's driveway at 4am, with cold beer (alright....juice!), and tons of $1 dollar bills, of course, where they will also learn how to share the aforementioned pillaged foods, along with wonderful stories of their NASCAR week experiences!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Break Report
Just yesterday I was going to go around the house and take pictures of all of the holes in the walls and put them into a photo montage that chronicled what it’s like living with drunken monkeys two small boys. I walked around room to room looking over the things that needed to be fixed and becoming more and more agitated. I thought that taking pictures of it all would be good therapy for me and at the least generate some sympathy from your loyal readers out there.
I grabbed the camera turned it on and was rewarded with Nikon’s famous, “lens error”. This means that the camera is now just a kids toy because it no longer is functional. Could be the kids broke it. Could be I did and have no memory of it whatsoever… but that’s not as likely. Now our first Nikon died the same, “lens error” death. I know that cameras are fragile, but they should be able to withstand at least some sort of abuse.
Thus, there will be no break report entry today because the kids have broken the camera… That being said, we will now begin taking donations for the digital SLR that will be replacing the cheap ass point and shoot cameras we’ve been buying. I’ll put up a donate now button just as soon as I’m finished patching up some of the holes in the walls.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Dear Connor - 4 Years, 9 Months
Dear Connor,
Finally you are starting to emerge from the chaos. When I say, you... I mean, YOU. It must be difficult to live in a world of visual and auditory distraction. To not be able to organize your own thoughts or to be in time out every thirty minutes because you can't control your impulses. Finally, you are starting to slow down.
At first I thought that maybe it was just a phase, but now I'm starting to feel like maybe it's going to stick around. Maybe the intensive therapy is starting to pay off already. It's been four days in a row and you've been in trouble less and coherent more. There is no hope like the hope of a Parent. This is something I know for sure.
When we started the therapy they said that we'd see changes in as little as six weeks. I had heard from other moms that major changes could come about in two weeks. In two weeks, you had gone the other direction, getting worse, before you were getting better, something that was quite hellish, when you add in the stress of continual therapy.
Because we've had no one to talk to, save the friends of friends that have Sensory kids and have been kind enough to spare me a few minutes on the phone to listen to me, I and another Mother with a Sensory kid have decided to head up the Sensory Support Group in Charlotte. We are trying to get it started through the SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) Foundation and have a long road ahead of us. We are dabbling in the Foundation to see how it goes, but it's entirely possible that we'll end up starting something of our own. I guess one child's misfortune can be another child's salvation. I hope we can help some people.
Aside from the daily excitement of therapy we've not been doing much this summer. You've honed your obsession with building contraptions, using anything available and various rolls of tape or blankets. I sometimes wonder if you were Macguyver in a past life. By the time you read this entry, Macguyver will be one of those pop culture references that you don't know. It will be a word that's as unfamiliar as album, cassette or cash. Google it babe. I'll bet that's something that's still around.
I've divided the remaining weeks of the Summer into theme weeks. This sounds much more June Cleaver, (another name for you to Google) than it is. Basically, I get so paralysed by my analysis of what to do each day, we sometimes end up doing nothing because the things to pick from are just too overwhelming. So, this week. Indian Week. Next week is Pirate week and so on. It's easy for me to think of an Indian related (or Native Americans as the nice lady at the library with a dot on her forehead reminded me) craft or project to do. You are so crazy into this. I should have thought of it sooner. Really, it's quite genius. Each week will end on a Saturday and we'll have some sort of Grand Finale. I'm not sure what the Indian week finale is going to be... but you'd best be glad that you're not 16 or we'd be out back building a sweat lodge. I wonder if the neighborhood association as a rule against those?
I love you more than ever.
Mommy
Finally you are starting to emerge from the chaos. When I say, you... I mean, YOU. It must be difficult to live in a world of visual and auditory distraction. To not be able to organize your own thoughts or to be in time out every thirty minutes because you can't control your impulses. Finally, you are starting to slow down.
At first I thought that maybe it was just a phase, but now I'm starting to feel like maybe it's going to stick around. Maybe the intensive therapy is starting to pay off already. It's been four days in a row and you've been in trouble less and coherent more. There is no hope like the hope of a Parent. This is something I know for sure.
When we started the therapy they said that we'd see changes in as little as six weeks. I had heard from other moms that major changes could come about in two weeks. In two weeks, you had gone the other direction, getting worse, before you were getting better, something that was quite hellish, when you add in the stress of continual therapy.
Because we've had no one to talk to, save the friends of friends that have Sensory kids and have been kind enough to spare me a few minutes on the phone to listen to me, I and another Mother with a Sensory kid have decided to head up the Sensory Support Group in Charlotte. We are trying to get it started through the SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) Foundation and have a long road ahead of us. We are dabbling in the Foundation to see how it goes, but it's entirely possible that we'll end up starting something of our own. I guess one child's misfortune can be another child's salvation. I hope we can help some people.
Aside from the daily excitement of therapy we've not been doing much this summer. You've honed your obsession with building contraptions, using anything available and various rolls of tape or blankets. I sometimes wonder if you were Macguyver in a past life. By the time you read this entry, Macguyver will be one of those pop culture references that you don't know. It will be a word that's as unfamiliar as album, cassette or cash. Google it babe. I'll bet that's something that's still around.
I've divided the remaining weeks of the Summer into theme weeks. This sounds much more June Cleaver, (another name for you to Google) than it is. Basically, I get so paralysed by my analysis of what to do each day, we sometimes end up doing nothing because the things to pick from are just too overwhelming. So, this week. Indian Week. Next week is Pirate week and so on. It's easy for me to think of an Indian related (or Native Americans as the nice lady at the library with a dot on her forehead reminded me) craft or project to do. You are so crazy into this. I should have thought of it sooner. Really, it's quite genius. Each week will end on a Saturday and we'll have some sort of Grand Finale. I'm not sure what the Indian week finale is going to be... but you'd best be glad that you're not 16 or we'd be out back building a sweat lodge. I wonder if the neighborhood association as a rule against those?
I love you more than ever.
Mommy
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