Chat, chat, chat – breaking News
From a few days ago………
Good parents don't typecast their children.
Good parents avoid labels such as 'Henry, our little athlete, Mary our little mother, Poppy our little jokester.'
There are so many reasons why it is a mistake to label our children. Once they've been cast, they often strive to meet those expectations. Even when they are mis-labeled, the effect can still be profound. Parents can miss a whole slew of information because they're not looking for it. If the 'mother' child makes a joke, the parent fails to notice, because that isn't the jokey child. If the jokey child runs a four minute mile, no-one notices. We see what we expect to see, we miss anything and everything that doesn't fit into our preconceived perspective. Or maybe that's just me?
“I'll make an appointment as soon as they're open dear.”
“Now?”
“No at 9:00, they open at nine.”
“What time is it now?”
“Er….7:21,” I scurry after him like a jogging buddy even though I am terminally allergic to any form of exercise.
“How many minutes?”
“Er…….99.”
“How many seconds?”
“Er…………………..five hundred……five hundred and forty, I think?”
“I will have a different pill?” He has lost the 'non-verbal' part of his label. I have lost my marbles.
“Maybe, or perhaps a smaller one. Do you remember the doctor showed you the three sizes of pills”
“Yes. It is the pill that gives me the headache?”
“Yes I think so.”
As we chat, he moves. My slow lugubrious, laborious, lethargic 8 year old marches swiftly around the house and I follow in his wake. When I say ‘march,’ I mean exactly that. Instead of walking on his tippy, tippy toes, digits splayed, he has his heels on the ground, a rare and quite startling alteration, but only one of so many. His hands touch the furniture in time to the band of his feet, but his head flicks towards me at regular intervals.
“As you were saying….” he says, which nearly makes me trip over my own feet.
“I was? What was I saying?”
“You were saying about tummy aches.”
“I was?”
“Yes. You said that they weren't as bad as headaches.” Where has my recall gone?
“Ah yes. Well I don't really know, but I think that headaches are so bad that you can't do anything, just lie down in bed, but with tummy aches you can keep going.” However, I'm not really sure that I can keep going? It is only 7:22 in the morning. The pill has been in his system 40 minutes and I am already completely out of my depth, trotting behind my son, trying to catch every word. I am so muddled and befuddled.
I have been told that most people are already set in their ways by their early 30’s rather than their 40’s. We become incapable of adopting a major change. At best, we can hope to alter less than 5% of our character, behaviour and opinions. Imagine that! A titchy little 5%. The only caveat to this research is where a person has a life altering catastrophe, such a near death experience. Those individuals cast off the shackles of the past and are reborn. I had accepted this fact as truth. The idiom ‘old stick in the mud,’ could have been tattooed on my forehead, but now, evidence to the contrary blasts me on a daily basis.
“Wait up! I'll be right back.” He lifts a hand in a parting farewell gesture as his body shifts into super fast gear and whizzes out of the kitchen. I scramble after him, through the galley, past the utility room, into the garage, out of the door, down the path I scamper after the galloping, sneaker covered, feet of my son.
This isn't my runner. This isn't my Houdini, the energizer bunny that spins into the path of oncoming traffic. This is my dormouse, the sleepy, gentle child curled in a teapot.
This is the wrong son doing the wrong thing. I hear the traffic and see my shambolic boy, as he widens the gap between us. I run. I see the traffic. I run faster. I hear the hoot, the blare of a horn. I fly, dressing gown gaping to rugby tackle him to the ground.
It only seems a few seconds ago that I was too scared to correct his speech, fearful that the few words that he spoke voluntarily, would dry up. This is all so new, relatively. I've been reluctant to risk correction, short of rephrasing and repeating the right version. Far to scared to extinguish the spark.
“What are you doing mum?” he asks slightly dazed, sprawled on the concrete.
I squeeze him tight and run an eye over him to see how much damage I've caused.
“It's o.k. mum, I'm not hurt, er hurted, I mean hurt, I was right the first time!”
“Oh.”
“What is it, what's wrong, why are you crying? I only went to get the newspaper for you! Here, it's got a great picture on the front!”
Post script – please do not rush out to your paediatrician based on this post. There is a huge downside that I’ve not had a chance to compose, other than the OCD. There is no such thing as a free lunch.
September 9th, 2007 at 11:21 pm
This is all the news that’s fit to print, and then some——how often have I run after my boy in less than suitable for outdoors (decent?) attire. First things first!
September 10th, 2007 at 2:11 am
Wonderful news! I’m crying too. I don’t know what the magic pill was that brought forth the torrent of words or what the side effects are but I do celebrate the fact that he was able to tell you so simply and eloquently why he ran outside. Imagine the tantrum if he was still “non-verbal” and you’d wrestled him to the ground for attempting to do a good deed! But then again, without the magic pill he might never have thought of running out to get you the paper in the first place. Whatever it is, put away the labels in a big cardboard box and bury it in the backyard. I’m hurrying out, spade in hand, to do some much needed burying myself
September 10th, 2007 at 6:04 am
In the letter I wrote to the teacher for today, I said “my son does not know he has autism, and I do not plan on telling him anytime soon, therefore I need your help to teach him independance”. I may use labels but not with him.
Thank’s for the email and NO I don’t have things under control. Just things that annoy me greatly – OCD and anxiety – that I have seriously fought against for the last 4 years. I have a million ideas and can guarantee very few work at my house.
All ASD children are different. All meds are different. We are debating pulling ours… after this high behavioural weekend (which is a regular occurance), I’m not convinced that they are working appropriately. Since he has changed 100%, but the meds never have and the Dr hasn’t discussed it with us, even when I try to discuss it with him. Lots to think about.
S.
September 10th, 2007 at 6:41 am
What are you giving him? Outside of typical mothering love?
Seriously, what meds? You must tell!
September 10th, 2007 at 7:11 am
I’d probably tackle Patrick too if he went to get me the paper. Yikes. Sounds like a lot of changes going on at your house.
September 10th, 2007 at 9:23 am
It sounds like you are a tad overwhelmed. And I have to admit, I’m not sure what I would do if Little Bug started doing all these new things. I hope you can get the right dose of meds for him!
September 10th, 2007 at 9:46 am
I agree completely about labels. Labels are useful for qualifying for services. Beyond that they do nothing to explain who a person is… how they feel, how they make us feel, etc. And we can grow beyond labels too. It wonderful (scary) to see our kids especially grow beyond labels and try on something new.
September 10th, 2007 at 10:07 am
Labels box one in, typify, fence in. I completely agree. So would Deepak Chopra, not to get existential here.
September 10th, 2007 at 10:07 am
YAY for speaking and going outside his own box! I *try* not to label but it is hard sometimes. Becca loves books and is quiet yet has her moments that surprise me
September 10th, 2007 at 10:31 am
I never know what to say, but I want you to know that I read your posts and am learning more about autism with each one.
Labels: I’m 50 and still rankle at the labeling differences between my sister and me while we were growing up . . .
September 10th, 2007 at 10:37 am
Having foudn Joey in the middle of the street, all I can say is…***HUGS HUGS HUGS*** When the boy is on teh run, you have no way to know which diretion those litle feet will turn if he gets distracted. Words do not solve all problems. Joey has words. He still can’t communicate to me where he’s going.
September 10th, 2007 at 12:29 pm
I am so exhausted just reading your pots….what a physical and emotional roller coaster.
Adam met a boy at school the other day…older kid with his one on one aid who informed me had autism.
He was a charming lad…and I was in awe of a child who could out talk and out pace Adam in the free firing neurons of his brain and patterns of logic. Adam couldn’t keep up!!!
September 10th, 2007 at 2:57 pm
Amen for guardian angels and mothers….. Glad he’s safe. Last week Gianna made herself a smoothie and used a carving knife. I have a saying, “Don’t punish progress” but what about when progress becomes death defying??? I’m sending you a cyber cocktail. It IS 6pm on the East coast.
K
September 10th, 2007 at 4:03 pm
OMG, Maddy, my heart stopped when I realized he was going to go into the street! Like Kim said…AMEN! I understand the meds are helping bring about tremendous change but I cannot imagine how jarring (yet exciting) the sudden shifts must be.
September 10th, 2007 at 5:10 pm
Hang on…it’s a bumpy ride. I’m working on gather all the info to fully understand. Your son’s medication was changed and then came his speaking? Frightening episode,the street, I’m glad you are both safe.
I’ve never used the term autistic or any other label with my son (speaking to him or telling him he has a label) who lives with Asperger’s. Same with my CP child…he still does not understand why we have a handicap car tag.
I have chosen to discuss being bipolar with by 12 yo…he has been suicidal and truly needs to understand his issues and learn to compensate and manage behaviors…and why.
It’s all so hard, isn’t it?
September 10th, 2007 at 5:49 pm
I tell people I am blind right off, because people can’t tell. I hate to label myself as the blind person, but it gets it out of the way so they can see the whole me.
The running in the street thing would freak me out. Glad he was just going for the paper.
June 17th, 2008 at 6:51 am
Poor you! Very best of luck with the meds. We have an ongoing love/hate relationship with the meds for my older son; however, he cannot function even remotely without them. My younger son, the one with the ASD diagnosis . . .no meds at the moment, and holding out to see what can be done without. But each and every one of these children is wonderful and unique, as someone else already stated.
I hope that you will all adjust to the meds very successfully and soon.
The labels people give their children, to me, so seldom have to do with the types one finds in the DSM. That is what you said in the beginning, surely – but it is equally true of labeling a kid “disabled,” I’m sure. Constant work on keeping one’s eyes and heart open!