Thunderstorms

Photo courtesy of thelensflare.com

I know that most people have experienced difficulty with thunderstorms at some point in their life. I have, and well, I have mentioned before that Ruth still does. Ruth has had a couple of busy, fun filled days, and took a nap yesterday afternoon. The result: she was up at 10 PM when the thunderstorm started, and I was ready to head to bed. When I say up, I mean playing in her room after being put to bed. I wasn't as sweet as I could have been when she came into the living room to say she was 'scared'. I sent her back to her room, and told her she would be fine. Of course, I really didn't realize there was a thunderstorm going on, as the curtains were drawn, and the TV blaring.

5 minutes later, I went to crawl into my bed, and in popped Ruth. I was still feeling grouchy, but had noticed the lightening through my bedroom window. "Mommy, I just want to talk for a little bit. Is that OK?", Of course it was. I was comfy in bed, and she laid across the foot chatting about how she thinks of our dog, Sam, as a therapy dog, and how she wishes he would sleep in her room. Of course, he sleeps in my room. She has her cat and typically there are 2 guinea pigs. (Right now, there are 4- she is pet sitting for a friend.)

Before long, I told her that I was going to turn off the light. I wanted to see the lightening, and help her to adjust to it in a safe environment. She crawled up to the pillows, and snuggled with my hair rubbing on her nose. We talked about what makes her afraid of storms, and she really was not able to label the cause. Then, she spoke some of the sweetest words, "You know what, Mommy? I feel safe here cuddled next to you and being held close in your arms."



Teachable a moment! (as well as precious memory....)



I asked her to describe how she feels, and to try to paint a picture in her mind of this moment. The lightening and thunder outside, the safe, warm feeling inside. "That way," I suggested. "You will have something to help you when you are somewhere I am not. You can just remember this moment, like I will."



You see, in our home, we deal with SPD a lot. But, almost as often, it is the anxiety that gets the best of us. So, I hope that I was able to build a small, but firm, foundation for another storm. You know like the old children's song....

The wise man builds his house upon the rock.

The wise man builds his house upon the rock.

The wise man builds his house upon the rock.,

and the rains came tumbling down.

The rains came down and floods came up.

The rains came down and floods came up.

The rains came down and floods came up.

But, the house on the rock stood firm.

Maybe, just maybe, Ruth will find her storms in life are bearable, because she has an inner strength no one can take away. Her faith, and well, her family's love.

Hairy Details

When you have a child with Sensory Processing Disorder, one of the issues tends to be brushing/ combing their hair. With Ruth, this is a huge difficulty. She can do the front, but the back is hard to manipulate. I struggle to get her to let me help. The tears flow, and it breaks my heart. But I do not want her to go out with a huge mess of snarls. She has enough to contend with...

We have tried the short pixie cut, but then she didn't have the length she needed for stroking the hair across her nose in an effort to calm herself. That is when we had our last bout of hair pulling, silver dollar sized bald spot. Not pretty, and very concerning. Thankfully, we acted on it, and well, that is what got us our diagnosis: Trichotillomania, General Anxiety Disorder, and finally- SPD. Each step has been long and tiring, but that is a different post.

Back to hair----

After the pixie cut, Ruth was asked to be a flower girl for her cousin's wedding. Ruth wanted to have her hair done, and so we grew it out. Oh, how sweet it looked the day of the wedding. :) That was last year, and though we have had a few days of sweet hair styles, Ruth cries when we try to brush it. We have tried every kind of brush/ comb imaginable. It just is hard to deal with. Who wants their child's day to start with tears, or have their self esteem take a nose dive as you point out where they missed brushing day after day. I know I don't...

The other day we were at the library with our pal, Meg. Meg wears her hair pretty short, and in a wedge.

Hmmm......

I just saw that look on a woman at a party last week.

Hmmm.....

Selena Gomez, one of Ruth's favorite actors, just cut her long hair into a longer wedge.

Hmmm....

Look who got their hair cut into a wedge!

Isn't it sweet? Long hair for nose rubbing, short hair in back without a rat's nest. We think she looks a bit like one of her favorite characters, who lives her life to the fullest: Ramona. She got this morning, and her hair was cute. Brushed with ease and no tears....

Yes, this haircut makes both mother and daughter, happy!

Baking Up a New Outlook

Ruth has a friend, "L". At first, we were not sure about "L" from the parent stand point. Ruth often left her house in tears, and when "L" was here there was quite a bit of fighting. Finally, I told "L" that we don't like fighting at our house, and if she wants to go home, it is okay. I will be glad to take her. Amazingly, the fighting stopped.

"L" has her own set of difficulties. I do not feel at liberty to discuss them, except for one which is pertinent to this post. She is the youngest of 5 sisters. Now, I am the youngest of 4, and my Nana was the youngest of 5. I have often been spoiled by my sisters, not teased to tears. I do not recall them harassing my friends. In fact, the opposite. But, "L" has a different family life style. Her sisters fight, often.

Yesterday, Ruth asked to visit "L" for the afternoon. Ruth was excited and really wanted to go. I let her. It turns out that the older sisters were in charge. They locked Ruth out of rooms, and out of the house. They teased her often, and made up mean songs. When their mother came home, Ruth didn't tell her about all of this, because in the past the sisters have lied about the behavior. Mom offered for Ruth to have dinner, thinking the girls had done the prep work she asked. Apparently they were too busy being nasty to remember, and so dinner wasn't going to be until after 8. Ruth was told it was going to be too late for her to stay for the birthday cake. Ruth called home in tears. I went immediately to pick her up. After she came out to greet me, we tried to go in to get her things. The door was locked. Ruth began to cry again. I ushered her toward the car. As I was getting in "L" and Mom appeared with Ruth's things. They commented on how Ruth left without asking for help in finding them. I explained about the door. Mom said she was int he shower. I believe her. She is a very nice woman, who maybe doesn't know about what is truly going in on. She has a lot on her plate, and I didn't feel it was time to add on. SO, we thanked her for the visit, and left.

On the way home, Ruth asked if we could bake a cake. She bought a mix about a month ago and was told when she was ready, she could make it on her own. She expressed such delight in making this cake. She ripped open the box. Used my good Fiskers pinking shears to cut the plastic bag. UGH! Cracking eggs, there were squeals of delight. Our eggs have the occasional double yolk. She stirred up the mix, measuring liquid in the right kind of measuring cups. :) The chuckles abounded from Grandpa and I as she licked the side of the bowl after pouring it into the pan, and then proceeded to lick the spatula that we needed to scape the remains. Whatever....

Ruth sat and gazed at her "un- birthday" cake as it baked.

She talked about the way it would taste, and the frosting she would place on it. She licked the stove- yes, I know- and decided it didn't tasted the way she thought it would. Good, if it had tasted good, I would be in trouble. She'd be licking every one's stove.... Off topic. We invited Grandpa to come and have cake for breakfast, as he needed to leave while it was still baking.

When the cake cooled, we applied the frosting from a can, and Ruth lathered on the sprinkles. She had a small piece, complete with lights off and candles. The delight on her face showed me that she had a new outlook. The tears were gone. The pleasure of her own creation bloomed.

Ah, if only we could find a way to bottle this to send along with her to school. :)

PS: We have a new house rule. "L" may come here to play as often as she wants. Ruth is no longer allowed to play over there. It is a sad thing, but I think it is for the best.

The strength within

Today was pretty warm, some would say hot. I have been doing school work most of the day while sitting in front of the air conditioner. I have no choice, the work has to be done.

Ruth asked early this morning, before my eyes were even open, if she could invite a friend over. I told her she could, after all her relationship skills have grown to the point where if I have school work, she can play with a pal with out an eagle eye watching. :)

Ah, good intentions... No friend though. No one was answering their phone. Frustrated tears sprang from her eyes. After all, she had dressed up with her new 'funky' outfit, and lip gloss.

Maybe we could go out shopping?

• No, sweetie, I have school work.

How about the pet store, I would love to pet puppies.

• No, darling, I have to do this, it is due.

But, I am bored and tired of TV.

• Thank goodness, but I am sorry. Daddy is busy doing yard work, why not go with him?

No, thank you. I really wanna' go somewhere to pet a puppy or swim or something.

• I have to finish this. You know it is important.

Okay. I will go play for awhile. Can I paint a box for Erin's present? .....

I finally had enough of the school work making my eyes go wacky. I suggested Ruth get her swimsuit on, and we drove down the road to the small beach. She brought her bucket for fresh water mussel shells. I brought, well, my book that I was using for my project, and a highlighter to highlight the passages I needed.

Ruth got wet, and entertained me with dumping water over her head. It was cute. She dug a river and played, all the while eying the raft out about 100 feet from shore.

I wanna swim to the raft.

• Go ahead if you want.

I am afraid to.

• You have swam out there before.

But, I had people in the water with me. (We were the only ones at the beach.)

• Honey, it sounds like you are letting your anxiety win.

But, Mommy, I want to go out there, but I am afraid.

• I understand you are. I cannot go with you, I do not have my swimsuit. It seems like you have two choices, Darling. You can allow your fear to stop you or you can choose to move past it. I can not do this for you, you must decide.

A few minutes go by. More dirt is played with. More passages highlighted. A splash is heard.

Strength within my girl propelled her the distance to the raft. There she sunned for awhile before coming back to shore. I pulled up my shorts and met her about half way. Now, I can sit and do some more school work, and she is content for the evening.

I made a few changes, with Ruth's help.

I thought, if the blog is about her, it should be one that somewhat reflects her.

So, here it is.

The hot pink, cheetah look.

I hope you enjoy it. :)



PS:
Don't forget to check out Hopeful Parents on the sidebar. It is fantastic....

Explaining things

One of the hardest things for me is having to explain Ruth to people. The worst ones to get through to? Family members, lately her brother, Brian.
Tonight, Ruth had several meltdowns over 'special' things: her swing, a seat near the fire. It is so hard to get her to share. The meltdowns are tremendous, and can happen without a glimpse of them coming. Thankfully, as a family, we are working to keep her to 'normal' standards for her age. Occasionally, we might help another person to understand why a certain spot is important to Ruth. I find it helps when she is having difficulty with a friend who is visiting. But, when it comes to 'the girls', Ruth's nieces, I feel that they seem to always have to be the ones to give up, as does Darrell. Tonight, we dealt with the meltdowns, and stood our ground for our granddaughters. In the long run, we believe it helps Ruth as well. I did apologize to Bobby and Chrissy (my stepson and daughter-in-law) about the behaviors. They told me not to worry about it. After all, I had dealt with Brian just an hour before.
You see, Brian was diagnosed with Dyspraxia as a young child. I had no support from a doctor or the school. it was difficult, and his will was very strong. It still is. As a result, Brian had difficulty with anything physical. I let things go, and "helped" him by giving him excuses not to do the things he was told to. "It is too hard" or "My body hurts" were allowed excuses to get out of most situations.
Brian watches me with Ruth, and know that I regret letting things go for him. He attempts to hold me accountable to making her tow the line. Now, this is hard, because he does not understand that his expectations are based on his own age, not hers. He thinks I am full of it. I have spent time trying to explain things to him, and well, he seems to want to understand, but he thinks she is playing me.
I wish I had an answer on how to explain things to others. SPD is not a diagnosis that is easy to comprehend. There are no tests that are conclusive to say it is this chemical or that neuron. The anxiety is just as tough to understand. As he says, often, "We all have sensory and anxiety, Mom." He just doesn't get that Ruth struggles with both at a level that is interfering with day to day life. UGH!
Oh, well, I will plug along. He may
get it' or not. The bottom line, I know he loves her and wants the best for her. I will just keep monitoring things, and pray that I can get through the rest of the summer.