Last week's tooth drama seems to have been caused by Alex's bed. You see, for three years he has slept in the top bunk of an un-bunked bed. Basically, it's a twin bed with rails all around. He flops around when he sleeps and occasionally bangs the sides, falling right back to sleep.
A few weeks back, he hit his face. Apparently, he hit his tooth hard enough to detach...the nerve? Or something? Anyway, the dentist declared the tooth necrotic, needing removal; and he diagnosed my boy with an infection under the tooth.
So besides the dental drama and antibiotics, what to do? Take off the rails? We tried that, and he freaked out--change is hard. So we decided to give him our guest bed, which is a comfy queen size.
Now mind you, before this it was in Eddie's smaller bedroom, squeezed in with the crib. Now the twin bed is in Eddie's room, and we have a hopeful plan for guests: Alex has a "sleepover" in the twin bed, and guests get Alex's room.
This is, of course, if we can get Alex to agree to it. We hope to sweeten the deal by adding the bed tent we've been hiding a few years. Friday we can test it out, when we have company.
But in the meantime, Alex is sleeping REALLY well. He wakes up happy, and he loves to hang out there. I'd have preferred a double, but we had the queen. And as long as it works this well, I'll take it.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Meltdown
Today was a rough day, as you know if you read my facebook feed.
Alex had a runny nose and cough, so we kept him home from ESY (summer school, for the uninitiated). Oddly, by 9:00 a.m., he seemed much more cheerful.
Eddie has been intermittently cranky-as-hell lately--I think he's teething.But I didn't want to give up on his swim lesson this morning, so we went anyway. It actually went really well, until it didn't. Ten minutes, tops, and he was done.
Then I rush and drop him off with Grandma, so I can make it to my appointment for bloodwork. Scoot in the door at my appointment time...my appointment that is scheduled for next Monday.
Next I ask Alex to come for a ride with me to take Grace to her tennis practice. All was well until we arrived ten minutes early, then Alex saw the courts and the mantra began: "I want to play tennis!" He even added variety after 20 times didn't work. "Hey! I want to play tennis!" x20. "You knoooow...I want to play tennis." x20. I had to be pleased by his willingness to expand his phrasing. And we actually had his racket and ball, so...
We got out and tried a little play, staying out of the way of other kids warming up. Ironically, it wasn't warm--it was frickin hot. 88 degrees, humid, full sun. I hoped he'd realize this was unpleasant, but no. After 5 minutes, the courts were filling up, and I forced an exit.
Meltdown.
We haven't had a full-blown meltdown in a month or more. If you don't live with autism or something similar, here's a short comparison. In a tantrum, it's done as a means to an end, seeking your attention, and is actually controlled for effect; a meltdown is overload, beyond the child's control, and will carry on without attention. When Alex melts down, whoever he perceives created the problem cannot calm him. And today--well, I didn't have the patience to try. It was a short ride to Grandma's, but he wailed the whole time.
Enter Grandma:magical, wonderful, former-first-grade-teacher Grandma. "What do you want, love? Tell me, and I'll make it happen...you want to play tennis? Of course you can play tennis! But you know, they don't let you play tennis when you have a cough...No, I'm sorry. So let's get you all better, and then you can play tennis, my sweet boy!" This went on for 5-10 minutes, until the waves subsided, while I was in the kitchen making his lunch. "Hey, you know what makes you strong? Eating good food...Look! Mommy made you a sandwich! Will you eat your sandwich with me? I was having some cereal..."
My mom is wonderful--but this was magic. He's in her specialty-age-group now. And you know, she's Grandma. So even though he wasn't totally happy, he moved on.
There were more crashes after that, but small ones really. And somehow I dragged myself out of my slump and came up with good ideas. One was calling in backup in the person of Cousin Courtney. She can cheer up any kid and mommy.
And tonight I looked at my boy in his zombie state, playing a video game and got smart. I declared a break time, got right in front of him as asked with a big smile which very physical activity he'd like. He decided on spinning. So I spun him. Then I tickled him. Then he "flew" on my feet. The zombie was gone, and my boy was back.
I have to remember those moments, especially when one of us is melting. I actually do know what I'm doing sometimes.
Alex had a runny nose and cough, so we kept him home from ESY (summer school, for the uninitiated). Oddly, by 9:00 a.m., he seemed much more cheerful.
Eddie has been intermittently cranky-as-hell lately--I think he's teething.But I didn't want to give up on his swim lesson this morning, so we went anyway. It actually went really well, until it didn't. Ten minutes, tops, and he was done.
Then I rush and drop him off with Grandma, so I can make it to my appointment for bloodwork. Scoot in the door at my appointment time...my appointment that is scheduled for next Monday.
Next I ask Alex to come for a ride with me to take Grace to her tennis practice. All was well until we arrived ten minutes early, then Alex saw the courts and the mantra began: "I want to play tennis!" He even added variety after 20 times didn't work. "Hey! I want to play tennis!" x20. "You knoooow...I want to play tennis." x20. I had to be pleased by his willingness to expand his phrasing. And we actually had his racket and ball, so...
We got out and tried a little play, staying out of the way of other kids warming up. Ironically, it wasn't warm--it was frickin hot. 88 degrees, humid, full sun. I hoped he'd realize this was unpleasant, but no. After 5 minutes, the courts were filling up, and I forced an exit.
Meltdown.
We haven't had a full-blown meltdown in a month or more. If you don't live with autism or something similar, here's a short comparison. In a tantrum, it's done as a means to an end, seeking your attention, and is actually controlled for effect; a meltdown is overload, beyond the child's control, and will carry on without attention. When Alex melts down, whoever he perceives created the problem cannot calm him. And today--well, I didn't have the patience to try. It was a short ride to Grandma's, but he wailed the whole time.
Enter Grandma:magical, wonderful, former-first-grade-teacher Grandma. "What do you want, love? Tell me, and I'll make it happen...you want to play tennis? Of course you can play tennis! But you know, they don't let you play tennis when you have a cough...No, I'm sorry. So let's get you all better, and then you can play tennis, my sweet boy!" This went on for 5-10 minutes, until the waves subsided, while I was in the kitchen making his lunch. "Hey, you know what makes you strong? Eating good food...Look! Mommy made you a sandwich! Will you eat your sandwich with me? I was having some cereal..."
My mom is wonderful--but this was magic. He's in her specialty-age-group now. And you know, she's Grandma. So even though he wasn't totally happy, he moved on.
There were more crashes after that, but small ones really. And somehow I dragged myself out of my slump and came up with good ideas. One was calling in backup in the person of Cousin Courtney. She can cheer up any kid and mommy.
And tonight I looked at my boy in his zombie state, playing a video game and got smart. I declared a break time, got right in front of him as asked with a big smile which very physical activity he'd like. He decided on spinning. So I spun him. Then I tickled him. Then he "flew" on my feet. The zombie was gone, and my boy was back.
I have to remember those moments, especially when one of us is melting. I actually do know what I'm doing sometimes.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
The magic of B12
B12: an amateur's report
B12 is a vitamin. People get B12 through foods--I don't know which ones--and some through injections. I remember a story about some celebrity performer (was it Madonna?) being accused of doing drugs and pushing them on her backup singer/dancers, and the answer was that it was B12 injections for their health and immunity.
Sometime in 2011, one of Alex's doctors told me that Alex was deficient in B12, and we should supplement. It was a little bottle of sweet red liquid, dosed in a tiny dropper. It was easy. And I thought I could observe improvement.
I noticed a change when I stopped the B12: he was different, harder to focus, more detached. I restarted, and he was back to his then-normal self. Okay, B12 is firmly on our ever-growing menu of supplements.
Then in April of this year, I went to a conference for the Autism Research Institute--a pioneer in research for biomedical interventions in treating autism. One of the many things I learned about while there was the B12 injection--I vaguely remember the doctor telling me about it, but dismissing the notion as "too much."
Some research indicates that B12 is better absorbed by injection than by mouth (I don't know whose research--ask Madonna). And here they even offered a clinic on how to administer the shots. I still balked, but luckily my friend (also a doctor) was with me and coached me: it's once every three days, you can get a numbing cream for the skin, and you do it when he's sleeping. As for using a syringe, I used to give myself allergy injections before that was outlawed, so I wasn't THAT scared of it.
So I tried. I set my iPhone with a calendar event, rotating it every three days, so I wouldn't forget. And...
Wow.
My boy is so much easier to engage, he makes relevant comments, and can actually focus on a task a little longer. I asked his teachers without telling them about the shots: yes, he's actually been doing great in school lately. Wow--B12 does make a difference.
But eventually, as in all things (ahem, like my blog), I got lazy. To give him the shot, he needs to be on his side or belly, and he has suddenly become a back-sleeper. Sometimes when I try to roll him, he resists and/or wakens. Not to mention the time I "missed" the target where I applied the cream. So for about a week and a half, he didn't get his shot. He detached, he got irritable, he wouldn't engage. Finally, I kicked myself and did it again: Sunday night he got an injection.
By Monday afternoon, my boy was back. Chatting, making eye contact, answering requests. Ta-da.
Eventually, I need to find a way to NOT have to creep in on him sleeping, but we need to calm his anxiety first. Too bad B12 doesn't address that, too.
B12 is a vitamin. People get B12 through foods--I don't know which ones--and some through injections. I remember a story about some celebrity performer (was it Madonna?) being accused of doing drugs and pushing them on her backup singer/dancers, and the answer was that it was B12 injections for their health and immunity.
Sometime in 2011, one of Alex's doctors told me that Alex was deficient in B12, and we should supplement. It was a little bottle of sweet red liquid, dosed in a tiny dropper. It was easy. And I thought I could observe improvement.
I noticed a change when I stopped the B12: he was different, harder to focus, more detached. I restarted, and he was back to his then-normal self. Okay, B12 is firmly on our ever-growing menu of supplements.
Then in April of this year, I went to a conference for the Autism Research Institute--a pioneer in research for biomedical interventions in treating autism. One of the many things I learned about while there was the B12 injection--I vaguely remember the doctor telling me about it, but dismissing the notion as "too much."
Some research indicates that B12 is better absorbed by injection than by mouth (I don't know whose research--ask Madonna). And here they even offered a clinic on how to administer the shots. I still balked, but luckily my friend (also a doctor) was with me and coached me: it's once every three days, you can get a numbing cream for the skin, and you do it when he's sleeping. As for using a syringe, I used to give myself allergy injections before that was outlawed, so I wasn't THAT scared of it.
So I tried. I set my iPhone with a calendar event, rotating it every three days, so I wouldn't forget. And...
Wow.
My boy is so much easier to engage, he makes relevant comments, and can actually focus on a task a little longer. I asked his teachers without telling them about the shots: yes, he's actually been doing great in school lately. Wow--B12 does make a difference.
But eventually, as in all things (ahem, like my blog), I got lazy. To give him the shot, he needs to be on his side or belly, and he has suddenly become a back-sleeper. Sometimes when I try to roll him, he resists and/or wakens. Not to mention the time I "missed" the target where I applied the cream. So for about a week and a half, he didn't get his shot. He detached, he got irritable, he wouldn't engage. Finally, I kicked myself and did it again: Sunday night he got an injection.
By Monday afternoon, my boy was back. Chatting, making eye contact, answering requests. Ta-da.
Eventually, I need to find a way to NOT have to creep in on him sleeping, but we need to calm his anxiety first. Too bad B12 doesn't address that, too.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Eddie the Squall
I have to hand it to EI: they were much faster than I thought they would be! Once I was able to do the phone interview, we got an appointment within the week...to tell me what I had pretty much figured out.
Yes, he's a little behind in articulation (you can't always understand what he's saying), but he is communicating. What's more, he's TRYING to talk. So, early intervention is out of the question, though he may do well with private therapy. I'll talk to the pediatrician about it next week.
In the meantime, the evaluators gave me a gentle kick in the ass for another summer plan: weaning off the bottle and the pacifier. YES, he still has them--don't judge. But they reminded me about oral muscle development and speech. So Monday afternoon, I cut off the bottles during the day; if it's time for a snack or drink, he can have them, not a bottle.
It was ugly. Milk in another vessel was rejected with force. There was screaming and flailing. I really wanted to capitulate. But I didn't, and by Tuesday afternoon, he was asking for snacks and juice. He seems initially devastated, but when he still gets SOMETHING to consume, he gets over it.
His temper is a squall: fierce and furious, but fairly short-lived.
Next it's the bedtime and wake-up bottles. Then the pacifier (which is already limited to certain locations and times); I figure it's "pacifying" and comforting him through this transition.
Step by step...
Yes, he's a little behind in articulation (you can't always understand what he's saying), but he is communicating. What's more, he's TRYING to talk. So, early intervention is out of the question, though he may do well with private therapy. I'll talk to the pediatrician about it next week.
In the meantime, the evaluators gave me a gentle kick in the ass for another summer plan: weaning off the bottle and the pacifier. YES, he still has them--don't judge. But they reminded me about oral muscle development and speech. So Monday afternoon, I cut off the bottles during the day; if it's time for a snack or drink, he can have them, not a bottle.
It was ugly. Milk in another vessel was rejected with force. There was screaming and flailing. I really wanted to capitulate. But I didn't, and by Tuesday afternoon, he was asking for snacks and juice. He seems initially devastated, but when he still gets SOMETHING to consume, he gets over it.
His temper is a squall: fierce and furious, but fairly short-lived.
Next it's the bedtime and wake-up bottles. Then the pacifier (which is already limited to certain locations and times); I figure it's "pacifying" and comforting him through this transition.
Step by step...
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Early Intervention
I'm doing a do-si-do with Early Intervention right now, trying to get Eddie a speech evaluation. They need half an hour to talk to me, but when I have it and call them, all agents are busy. **sigh**
Recently, I was thrilled that I "got" Eddie, that I finally felt an understanding of who the little character is... but lately, that's been stymied by his speech. It is heartbreaking when he's standing before me, crying the same unintelligible words over and over, and I have no idea what he's saying. I stop and think of the words I do recognize, and I think I only recognize them because they're in context.
His receptive language is great--he understands me perfectly. I *think* his hearing is fine--he doesn't get confused between similar-sounding words. But the expressive language is so difficult to decipher...
So...it's time. Now I'm just waiting on the state, which is such fun.
Recently, I was thrilled that I "got" Eddie, that I finally felt an understanding of who the little character is... but lately, that's been stymied by his speech. It is heartbreaking when he's standing before me, crying the same unintelligible words over and over, and I have no idea what he's saying. I stop and think of the words I do recognize, and I think I only recognize them because they're in context.
His receptive language is great--he understands me perfectly. I *think* his hearing is fine--he doesn't get confused between similar-sounding words. But the expressive language is so difficult to decipher...
So...it's time. Now I'm just waiting on the state, which is such fun.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Adventure awaits!
Today I conceived a plan that makes me happy. It's a schedule:
Alex has six weeks of ESY (formerly known as summer school), M-Th, 8:30-12:30. On Fridays, we will be going to feeding therapy at 9:30. After that, we can do little adventures together. And of course, we have afternoons for swimming and fun.
And I need/want to clean out the clutter of my house...AND I have the luxury of Grandma and a babysitter with whom I can leave Eddie while I clean. So...
Tuesdays and Thursdays shall be cleaning mornings; Mondays and Wednesdays shall be adventure days. I can take Eddie to places that Alex doesn't want to go. I can even take him on breakfast/brunch dates. And late Wednesday mornings, we'll be doing swim lessons--which should be an adventure themselves. :)
I'm excited, contemplating a zoo, an aquarium...I don't even know what else! Any suggestions?
Alex has six weeks of ESY (formerly known as summer school), M-Th, 8:30-12:30. On Fridays, we will be going to feeding therapy at 9:30. After that, we can do little adventures together. And of course, we have afternoons for swimming and fun.
And I need/want to clean out the clutter of my house...AND I have the luxury of Grandma and a babysitter with whom I can leave Eddie while I clean. So...
Tuesdays and Thursdays shall be cleaning mornings; Mondays and Wednesdays shall be adventure days. I can take Eddie to places that Alex doesn't want to go. I can even take him on breakfast/brunch dates. And late Wednesday mornings, we'll be doing swim lessons--which should be an adventure themselves. :)
I'm excited, contemplating a zoo, an aquarium...I don't even know what else! Any suggestions?
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Little charms
Hey, I'm back! I didn't quit, just took a vacation--literally. And I have so much to tell...
But today I have simple things to share.
Last night at Eddie's bedtime, I asked him to blow Alex a kiss goodnight, which he did. Alex got out of his seat, walked over to Eddie, and kissed him on the head. Unprompted.
Eddie says "Thank you" without being prompted more than half of the time. Cuter: it comes out sounding like "denk-oo!"
Last night, Alex had no desire to see fireworks, but when I invited him to come outside to look at fireflies, he flew out the door. He was delighted, enchanted--and enchanting.
Eddie likes to give high fives--no, he LOVES to give them, followed by "pounds." And hugs. And waves goodbye. But I love the fact that if he does it with one person in the room, he will go to every other person, too.
After gymnastics today, Alex saw girls in the dance studio at his gym. "I want to go in there!"
"No, Alex, you can't go in now. The girls are working."
"I will work, TOO! I want to POSE!"
(So, um...maybe I'll take him to a dance class? Yeah, maybe. Still thinking that one over.)
Today, I taught Alex how to "volley" a beach ball in the pool. It took some coaching and breaking down the steps, plus plenty of cheering. Eddie joined in the cheering.
But even BETTER than that was what happened next. I told Alex, "Look! Eddie is so happy for you, he's cheering for you." And he looked. Then he hit the ball, and he looked again. He cared that Eddie was cheering for him.
These are the little things that charm my days. I don't want to forget a single one.
But today I have simple things to share.
Last night at Eddie's bedtime, I asked him to blow Alex a kiss goodnight, which he did. Alex got out of his seat, walked over to Eddie, and kissed him on the head. Unprompted.
Eddie says "Thank you" without being prompted more than half of the time. Cuter: it comes out sounding like "denk-oo!"
Last night, Alex had no desire to see fireworks, but when I invited him to come outside to look at fireflies, he flew out the door. He was delighted, enchanted--and enchanting.
Eddie likes to give high fives--no, he LOVES to give them, followed by "pounds." And hugs. And waves goodbye. But I love the fact that if he does it with one person in the room, he will go to every other person, too.
After gymnastics today, Alex saw girls in the dance studio at his gym. "I want to go in there!"
"No, Alex, you can't go in now. The girls are working."
"I will work, TOO! I want to POSE!"
(So, um...maybe I'll take him to a dance class? Yeah, maybe. Still thinking that one over.)
Today, I taught Alex how to "volley" a beach ball in the pool. It took some coaching and breaking down the steps, plus plenty of cheering. Eddie joined in the cheering.
But even BETTER than that was what happened next. I told Alex, "Look! Eddie is so happy for you, he's cheering for you." And he looked. Then he hit the ball, and he looked again. He cared that Eddie was cheering for him.
These are the little things that charm my days. I don't want to forget a single one.
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