Wednesday, June 24, 2009

At long last - a new entry!

While I was in school, I told myself that when I finished I'd update this blog every day. It's been over a month, and obviously, I have not managed to follow through on my intentions.

So, sorry about that!

I'm not sure why I haven't wanted to write. Usually it's because I feel like my relating this crazy life we lead comes out angry or whiny instead of funny, although the kids keep me laughing way more than they keep me angry or in frustrated tears these days. I think it has something to do with my getting more sleep and being less stressed. Who knows? The other night at the dinner table, R was sitting there with us, having already finished his dinner, and T looks at him and says - "Dad, are you finished?" R replied, "yes, T. I'm finished" and T says completely seriously and in a stern tone, "Then you need to leave the table and go into the living room." It doesn't sound that funny, but trust me, it was, mostly because it was such a perfect imitation of R.

Our most recent issue that makes me want to jump off the roof is spitting. Lordy, how I dislike spitting kids. S is the worst, spitting at T when he upsets her (basically about 50 times a day) or at us when we make her really angry - although it's interesting to me that she's usually up in T's face when she spits at him, but is as far away from us as she can get when she spits at us. It's a smart decision on her part, because spitting=automatic time out or other consequence depending on where we are.

A few weeks ago, T had a massive meltdown in the bowling alley which turned out to be loud enough and intense enough for a bowling alley employee to come and try to help me. T, not used to intervention of that nature, freaked out and kept shouting, "I don't LIKE that man", which seemed to prompt S into a seemingly unstoppable round of spitting (and when I say spitting, I mean the phbttttttt kind, not the hocking up a lugey kind) at this poor man who was just trying to help. I think he came over because it sounded like I must be murdering this poor kid, only to find out that I was the one taking the majority of the abuse. T was hiding under a table, screaming at the top of his lungs, refusing to come out, put on his shoes, or calm down. He's a strong little sucker, so trying to pull him out just made everything worse, or rather, louder.

Now, I'll admit, six months ago, I would have been escalating with him and the scene would have been much worse. I've been doing a lot of reading on sensory integration disorders and was able to stay relatively calm and to simply keep repeating what I expected him to do. I realize that to people who don't have kids with issues like this that it seems like I'm letting him run the show. To a degree, that may be true, but from months and months of trial and error (mostly error) I'm starting to figure out how T thinks and to be able to predict how he will react. This has greatly reduced the number of incidents and outbursts in the last year. I'm far from perfect, but the more calm I can stay, the quicker he recovers when he gets overwhelmed or too wound up to be able to calm himself down. Any progress is still progress, and I'm grateful for how far he's come and how much better I feel like I understand him now.

But as I'm half dragging T out of the door and carrying S so she can't make this rather embarrassing situation worse, I can hear her going phbttttttt phbttttttttt phbtttttttttt at the guy over my shoulder. So you can imagine how much I was looking forward to making the kids go back and apologize for their behavior (as in - not at all). But - and thanks to my dear friend Chris for the advice and feedback - it's important that the kids own up to their unacceptable behavior and do the right thing (i.e. apologize). Whether or not T could have avoided or scaled down his reaction, he's able to tell me when he just can't deal and needs to leave, and behaving that way is just not acceptable. That's the entire point behind developing coping strategies and good communication skills. It would be SO SO SO much easier if the doctor here would take me seriously and help me get T tested and diagnosed with sensory issues, but I've had to face reality that it isn't going to happen while we are here. I'm hoping that once we move to our new assignment (and any time the military would like to give us those orders, I'd appreciate it) that the medical resources will improve. If not, I hope I can find another advocate like T's current teacher Mrs. Angela, who will be understanding and supportive as we try to get assistance.

So, stay tuned for the further adventures of the Dahl's. I guess it's a good thing I never wanted to live a boring life. LOL!

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