goodfountain

I would like to thank all of the understanding Moms at the Zoo this morning. You know who you are. The ones who gave me a gentle pat on the back. I’ve been there before, they said, I know what you’re going through.

Honestly, there is nothing else that could have made our morning more bearable. After a minute or two, I stopped apologizing. I stopped planning our exit strategy. I started embracing the moment. We will get through this, I said to myself. And we did.

Once we left the hot, stuffy, crowded Education Center at The Zoo and made our way to the crisp, cool, fresh air outside, things improved. She improved.

It was a combination of factors. There was her preconceived idea that a trip to the Zoo meant we’d be outside the whole time. Apparently not. On a school trip you spend the first part of your visit in the Education Center. Which is in the Rainforest building. It’s hot in the Rainforest. Did you know that? Chee was especially hot because she wouldn’t take her coat off. That would be admitting defeat, giving up. And give up she would not do. Not till we were back in the great outdoors trotting along to the Elephant House.

From there we visited the Penguins and the Polar Bears, with stops along the way to look at White Tigers, a Wolf and even a cute little Brown Bear. It wasn’t just Chee and I. Chee’s Daddy and also Ess came along. Ess was oh so happy when I liberated her from the stroller and let her walk like the big kids. She was hot stuff, and she knew it.

Chee turned things around for herself today. It started out rough but ended with her running around the stage with a bunch of other kids in the theater where we lunched. She was happy. She was laughing. Joy was oozing out of her.

Today’s experience illustrated why I am glad Chee is in Special Needs preschool. There was nary a sideways glance or a slight snubbing. These moms really did know. They really have been there. I don’t know which kids were the typical ones and which were on an IEP (Chee’s class is half typical, half special needs), and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The understanding was shared among all of us.

Chee’s grandma came over this afternoon for a visit. When she asked her about what she saw at the zoo, Chee was quick to share the highlight of her visit.

The elephant was poopin’.

I’m glad to say that was not my favorite memory of the trip. Mine is when I caught sight of Chee and another little girl walking along the path arm in arm. Darn I wish I’d taken my camera today.

Yesterday Chee had her 2nd speech therapy appointment with her new therapist, Nancy. The first part was finishing up the evaluation started last week. I had Ess with me so my time was spent keeping her from deconstructing the office manager’s desk as opposed to listening in on the therapy. (Aside: I miss the younger Ess who sat contentedly during therapy chewing on a couple of toys. She’s a lot more work now.)

I was able to tune into bits and pieces of the session though. I heard Nancy ask Chee, When your hands are dirty, what do you use to wash them? She was looking for a soap and water response from Chee. She also asked her, What do you do with a fork. Eat, of course, being the desired response. Chee was unresponsive (unless you consider a blank stare a response) to both questions. Actually, I believe that was when she left the room and started spinning in the lobby. (Incidentally, spinning seems to be her newly-acquired sensory thing that she’s cycling though. She was never much of a spinner until the last few weeks.)

Nancy explained that in the typical course of language development, a child would wash her hands with soap and water, process it, file it away in her brain, and then retrieve it later when needed. She said it’s the retrieval where Chee is getting tripped up. She’s not tapping into that part of her brain, and it’s our job to help her tap into it.

I guess what she means is that it’s the retrieval to be able to verbally produce a response that is tripping her up. It’s not like she doesn’t know to use soap and water to wash her hands or to eat with a fork. She does those things many times a day. But she was unable to articulate responses to those questions. It’s my understanding that many Hyperlexic children struggle with answering Wh- questions.

This afternoon I conducted a little testing of my own with Chee.

Chee, Where do your shoes go?

Chee raises an eyebrow, a quizzical look on her face.

Pause, pause, pause, try to wait 45 seconds but not lose her attention…

Chee, where do your shoes go? This time I tap my foot.

“ON YOUR FEEEEEEET!!!” (Chee is very enthusiastic when she answers. This happens often. I can’t help but crack up.)

That’s right! Great answer! Okay, Chee, where do your pants go?

I get a quizzical look again, that raised eyebrow.

Again, the looooooong pause.

Flicking my leg, I ask again, Chee, where do your pants go?

“ON YOUR LEEEEEEEGGGS!!!”

Fabulous! Now, where does your hat go? I give no visual prompt.

“ON YOUR HEEEEEAAAAAD!!”

That’s right! Great job!

From there she proceeded to tell me where her shirt and her mittens go with no visual prompts.

So, I wonder, did I just help her tap into that supposedly untapped part of brain?

Later I asked her some questions about where things belong in the house. Things like ice cream, popsicles, eggs (she said they go in a pan). That particular one wasn’t going well. She always gave the previous response. So if the answer was freezer for, say, ice cream, she gave freezer again for, say, bread.

Then I thought to try writing my questions for her to read herself.

I wrote on a piece of paper, Where does cereal go? In a bowl! Where do I sleep? In a bed! Where do I ride? In a car! Fabulous!

From there I moved to sentences for her to fill in the blank. In hindsight, I think that is very easy for her. It’s coming up with a response to a Wh- question that is the challenge for her. I think. Although, she did a great job filling in the blank. Toys go in a toybox. I eat with a spoon. I drink water from a cup.

Lastly I wrote, Where do socks go? And before she could respond, I had to tend to a suffering Ess (suffering from being ignored in her highchair after she tired of catapulting food to the floor). Chee took my pen and wrote FEET under my question. Nice work!

I’m not sure what to make of all this. Clearly, I’m not a language development expert by any means. She seemed to do better with a visual prompt initially but continued on without it. Evidence of her strong visual learning style? The visual prompt with the tapping my foot and my leg. Writing out the questions for her to read.

Sometimes I’m so frustrated by my lack of understanding. I find myself looking for the magic technique for tapping (more of that darned tapping) into her mind.

Nancy’s words come back to me though. It doesn’t matter what she does or doesn’t already know, she said. It’s can we teach her?

I’ve got my money on Yes.

Participating in Story Time at the library is a long-wished-for dream of mine. It never worked with Chee the way I imagined in my pre-Motherhood days. She has her own way of doing things. A Chee way that I have learned to embrace.

This morning, with great enthusiasm on my part, Ess and I went to our first Story Time. I have to admit, we had a delightful time. She sat on my lap for the first 10 minutes, eyes bright, smile wide, taking in all the kiddos and adults surrounding her. She laughed through the finger songs, pointed at the puppets, and bounced along during the music. Truth be told, the book readings didn’t capture her attention too much, but who can blame her with all the competition around us.

She eventually braved leaving my lap and that’s when she spotted It. It being the stuffed puppy dog another little person had brought. She pointed and said, I wannnn ih (I want it). The next five minutes were spent with me gently redirecting her away from the stuffed puppy. An observant mom next to me commented, She really wants what she wants, doesn’t she? When it comes to birthing kids, apparently I don’t do easygoing.

Today’s Story Time was about 20 minutes long. It was lame in comparison to the old Story Time that Chee and I attended what now seems like ages ago. That librarian was terrific. She engaged each child to participate in the Sing Hello song, she seamlessly incorporated music, dance, singing and stories in a 40-minute Story Time. We’ve moved since then, but perhaps Ess and I will find our way back there. It might be worth the drive.

Meanwhile, Ess and I will go back next Wednesday. She may never have the passion (obsession) for reading the way Chee does … but that’s okay. For this Mama, it’s about the shared experience.

My cat is having some difficulties which necessitated a trip to the Animal Care Center, a facility designed for emerging and critical care cases. Cat is critical because he hasn’t peed in a couple of days. He’s not acting ill in any way, but if he truly hasn’t peed in that long, it’s just a matter of time before things become desperate.

What’s interesting is how this is affecting me. Or, not affecting me, to be more precise. I sound horrid. And mean. I love Cat, I really do. A blocked urinary tract has got to be painful, and I wish no such pain on him. Yet at the same time I’m already running scenarios in my head tallying how far I am willing to go to care for this cat.

Compare this to my last two cats, Black and Tux. Black was the first cat I ever lost. It was sudden. He had feline cardiomyopathy and, literally, dropped dead. My now-husband (then-fiance) discovered him. I was devastated. I missed the next day of work and when I went back I couldn’t talk about Black without bursting into tears. Eventually it got easier, but I took his sudden, unexpected death hard.

Fortunately, I still had Tux. Tux was my baby. Mine for 11 years, a stray I brought home just before moving out onto my own. He saw me through a multitude of life’s disappointments and joys, faithfully curled in the crook of my arm each night as we slept. (Incidentally, my pregnancy with Chee was hard on Tux when I could no longer lay on my back and he was, therefore, unable to find a comfortable spot. He loudly made his displeasure known.) Tux, somehow, got e Coli poisoning which damaged his kidneys. This happened shortly after Black died, but long before Chee was conceived. I spent well over a thousand dollars that summer nursing him back to good health.

The e Coli left his kidneys damaged. A special, vet-prescribed diet ($30 something a month) and a cat water fountain kept him happily humming for four more years. There was a scare or two in there, but he always rebounded. Shortly after Chee’s first Christmas, when she was six months old, I found myself facing the beginning of the end of Tux. After a couple of weeks of mental denial that things were off with him, I took him in. In addition to his kidneys failing, he also had a tumor. There was only one decision to make. I said my good-byes to him, shed my tears, and went home and hugged my Chee.

It seems I had become one of those cat-parents that I swore I would never be. Having kids changes how you feel about your pets, I heard often. I can’t say that having Chee made me love Tux any less, but it certainly seemed to ease his death. My grieving was shorter. Then again, his death was not a surprise. I often felt like we had him on borrowed-time as it was. I truly loved Tux. He was a perfect cat.

Happily I can say that my current Cat does not have a serious blockage. In fact, no blockage at all. Tomorrow he’s going in for some tests to rule out medical reasons why he’s not using his litter box. If all comes back clear, then we have a behavioral issue. This is foreign territory to me. And to Cat as well - he’s always been a dream in regards to using his box.

Selfishly, I admit, I don’t have much energy for dealing with this problem. However, Cat is a good cat. A dream, really, as I said before. He loves Chee and Ess, plays with them often, and tolerates so much from their curious little grabby hands. He’s worth my energy, he’s worth my effort. As is often heard echoing in the walls of this house, this too shall pass.

Before I became a mom, when I imagined the kind of mothering I would do, visions of Library Story Time, Mommy & Me Music classes, and Baby Tumbling filled my head. Sure I knew there would be feeding and diapers and sleep interruption, but those things were standard fare for the masses. We would go above and beyond. My baby and I would fill our days with our shared passion for books, music and somersaults. Books especially. There isn’t anything I anticipated with as much as excitement as Story Time at the Library.

I love reading. So it was thrilling when Chee became a lover of books (Hop on Pop in particular) at a very young age. Sometime around the 18 month mark, we attempted our first story time. I can remember writing about it to friends, laughing about her curious and busy nature, wondering how other parents got their kids to stay seated. Chee would not sit in my lap, she walked around the circle, took books off the surrounding shelves, took them out of other kids hands. She was aware of the librarian leading it, but didn’t pay any attention to her, unless she was trying to take the book she was reading to the group. I wasn’t especially impressed with that librarian so we didn’t go back.

There was a part of me that worried there was something different about Chee even then. Why *did* all the other kids sit in their mothers laps and engage with the story teller? Why was Chee the only one circling the group and ultimately decreeing an early departure? The other kids out there that are like Chee, I decided, weren’t at Story Time because their mothers knew it already and just stayed home.

I didn’t give up. We found another Story Time that was much more engaging, and the librarian assured me not to feel the least bit uncomfortable with Chee’s wandering. We persevered at this one, attending for nearly six months. I kept waiting and waiting for Chee to join the group. And in some things she did. She eventually consistently participated in the Brown Bear, Brown Bear retelling with felt cutouts of the animals. Well, sort of participated. Were the pace a wee bit slower and the other kids a tad less rambunctious, she might have been more verbally forthcoming. But for the most part, she circled the group, climbed on and off chairs, tried to turn the stereo on and off, removed books from the librarian’s stash, and so forth. Eventually I did give up. It was soon winter and I had a newborn Ess and didn’t need to risk exposures anyway.

My dreams of mommy and me classes were not so easily dashed. We endured Musikgarten and Tumblebees with similar results. The 2nd round of Tumblebees is when I finally admitted defeat. Chee could not have been less engaged. She was happy, thrilled even, to be there. Just don’t try to make her follow the gymnastics circuit. My hubby would take her to the class and by the end of 40 minutes he was drenched in sweat from chasing her around. We dropped out midway through.

You might think I’d have been disappointed at the lack of realizing a dream that I held for such a long time. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case at all. Chee is so fabulous in so many ways, and we enjoy books and music and somersaults at home, we didn’t need a class with a group of peers and moms to share it. She just wasn’t ready for classes yet, I told myself.

Hindsight being what it is, I now realize that her behavior was likely due to a combination of her Sensory Processing Disorder and her Hyperlexia. She has made really huge strides with SPD and in general her social interaction is improving.

Can you hear the wheels turning in my head? Yep, I think it’s time to try again. Ess resurrected my dream of sharing a Mommy & Me experience. And why not have Chee give it a try again? I’m signing us up for a Saturday Music Pups class. Before that I am going to sit in one with Chee and see how she does. If she is more participatory than our previous attempts, I’ll sign her up too. If not, I’m flying solo with Ess and Chee can stay home with her Daddy.

What I am NOT going to do is allow this class to be a barometer of Chee’s progress. She is consistently making gains. She is doing awesome both in language and social interaction. We don’t need a Mommy & Me class to prove it.

Ess, however, I have no doubt that she’ll rock it out.

The much anticipated snow fell all morning. It was beautiful. Then freezing rain covered it. A different kind of beauty.

Two girls playing in the icy snow. Beauty out of this world.

Neither girl handled it too long in the snow. Chee cut her hand on the ice and was very dramatic about it. Took a popsicle and a favorite TV show to finally settle her down.

Ess just stood there. She was overwhelmed by the cold air and the crunching beneath her feet. She tried to walk but lost her balance again and again.

Despite the beauty abounding in my backyard, this was not the most successful of afternoon outings. Warming up inside with hugs under a blanket - highly successful.

Playdate, that is.

We had a first (play)date today with a couple of cute and typical little girls, M and A. M is exactly a year older than Chee, and A is almost a year older than Ess. We met them last year when Chee briefly attended the same Montessori preschool that M attends. Apparently, they became fast friends (well, M was more the friend than Chee was, if you know what I mean).

Let me digress a bit and talk about our Montessori experience. In theory, I love the idea of a Montessori education. It feels right to me. In practice, however, it could not have been more wrong for Chee. She needs much more guidance in the classroom than a Montessori school provides. My decision to enroll her there came way before I recognized how delayed she was. And I never, ever thought she was behind enough to qualify for Special Needs Preschool or be eligible for an IEP. Was I ever wrong.

So I enrolled Chee in a Montessori preschool that she had been attending for a few months already in the toddler class. (At the suggestion of many a good-hearted soul, we enrolled her in a toddler class as that would surely help her language develop. Maybe it did, maybe not.) That class was fabulous and Chee did excellent there. Absolutely not a single issue - behavioral or otherwise.

It came as a shock to me, then, come September, when Chee decided to show her dissatisfaction with being redirected from her not-acceptable-activity-of-choice by kicking (yes, kicking) her new teachers. Kicking itself didn’t come as a total surprise, she went through a long, long phase of hitting and kicking us (and, sadly, Ess was on the receiving end of that far too much). But Chee never hit or kicked anyone outside of her immediate family. Never.

Around the same time that I was being called down to school to take her home because she was “out of control” (out of control in my opinion because they did all the wrong things to calm her down and all the right things to escalate her negative behavior), her SLP and her new OT were (separately) suggesting that I pursue an evaluation with the public preschool. Had Chee been doing well in her Montessori classroom, I might have dismissed their suggestions. But as fate would have it, things were deteriorating for her in the classroom. Rather than deal with the possible humiliation of being kicked out, I withdrew Chee from the school. Two months later she was happily ensconced in her new classroom and started making gains. Things happen for a reason, no doubt.

Fast forward a couple of months and Chee is enrolled in swim lessons at our gym. There is only one other girl in the class - and it’s none other than her Montessori friend M! M is perfect for Chee. She’s on the bossy side and I think persistent might be her middle name. Where Chee might typically wander off and do her own thing, M will not let her. Chee! Chee! Chee! C’mon let’s look at this book! C’mon!

What was fabulous about today, what made it great, was that Chee held her own with M. She initiated communication with her - M, do you want to go the basement with me? (That required a little Mommy Intervention - we don’t play in the basement whenever we feel like it.) She was responsive to M.

Past playdates at our house have usually seen Chee asking to watch a show after a while - an indicator that she needs some time to herself. Not so today. She ran and played and talked and wrestled for a full 2 1/2 hours. She never tired. She never wandered away. Full-on engagement.

I can’t close without mentioning Ess. She was delightful as well. She followed the big girls non stop, pausing only occasionally to toss out a tantrum when she was feeling left out. Watching her idolize her big sister brings a smile to my face.

Last but not least, I liked their Mom! Whew, right? A great playdate indeed.

It’s been a busy few days with out of town guests, a couple of sick parents, one sick kid, snow days and … and … that’s enough, right? Healing has begun and I have my house back and with that comes a return to our version of normalcy.

Language Development spurts are abounding in our home. Not just Chee, but Ess too. She amazes me. I was told this would happen and I’m living it now - Ess’ typical language development is highlighting to me more than anything else could just how delayed Chee’s language has been. We take turns in ‘conversation.’ She points to her sippy cup on the counter and says, “Wa-wa?” She grabs her favorite book (a Sesame Street Look & Find - she’s currently hooked on the furry red guy) and hands it to me, while looking me in the eye, and says, “Read.” She repeats everything we say in a totally and completely not echolalic way. There is a difference. Real communication!

Chee’s language is blossoming too. Every day, I tell you, every single day, there is something new, something more. Something wow.

After a couple rounds of canceling and rescheduling, Chee finally had an evaluation with a new (to us) Speech Language Pathologist. She’s not done with the formal evaluation yet, but so far she’s saying Chee appears about six months delayed. Six months! Her first-ever evaluation nearly a year and a half ago indicated she was well over a year behind in language development, 18 months in some areas.

Today’s appointment was exciting for more reasons though. Therapist Nancy really *got* Chee. After we’d been there some time she tossed her testing guide aside and said, I want to try something with her. Chee has difficulty answering Wh- questions. If I say to her, Which one has pointy ears? with the objective of her identifying the rabbit from among a small grouping of animals, she doesn’t respond. But when asked to point to the one with pointy ears, bingo.

Nancy understood Chee’s hyperlexia and that she is a very strong visual learner. She wrote What’s that? on a card. Chee read the words and as Nancy took Chee through a series of questions, she directed her back to the printed words. Remarkable, noticeable difference. It clicked for Chee. Nancy did a similar exercise with Who’s That? Same impressive results.

When she had finished those exercises she excitedly said that she can use Chee’s visual learning to teach her the rules of language. How to communicate. She will learn it, she said. I can teach her anything! She continued on that we will want to watch her to make sure she can internalize and apply it in the rest of her communication. From my experience, I have seen Chee do that many times. When she gets it, she gets it. I am not the least bit worried.

It was such an uplifting hour this afternoon. Therapist Nancy gets Chee. Chee gets the concept. And I’m getting excited. Very excited.

Second snow day in a row and we’re a wee bit stir crazy here. Both girls were up before dawn this morning too. This after a late night due to some serious bedtime avoidance. The girls were in rare form, feeding off each other like I have not yet experienced. Oh, I hope that is not a foreshadowing of what’s to come. I never should have written this post. Serves me right for talking positively about anything related to sleep in a public place. I should know better by now. Some things are best left tightly sealed up in the vault.

My mom, Grandma B, came over to save the day. Hooray for Grandma’s, right? During Ess’ nap, we broke out the Play-doh for Chee at her request. We used Play-doh Molding tools to extrude (love that word) turtles and suns. Chee has a hard time depressing the plunger with enough strength to push the Play-doh all the way through. Her OT recommended the tools to help her develop hand strength which will help with her writing (do we ever do anything just for fun anymore?)

As Chee is pressing down on the plunger, I cheer her on. “Press harder! Use all your strength!” She screws up her face and with great dramatic flair she tries with all her might to push that plunger and create a sparkly orange sun or white speckled turtle. Usually I help her finish it up.

This went on for a bit and then I moved on to start making tonight’s dinner. Grandma steps in and says she’ll help make the turtles. As she’s getting the Play-doh ready, Chee says, Here, Grandma, you try. It’s reeeeeeally hard.

Whoa. What was that again? A spontaneous (read: not echolalic) comment? Almost inferred even? Directed to someone? In a normal tone, with the right inflection? Wow.

Great talking, Chee! Yep, she always surprises us.

Chee has been in therapy longer than she’s been IN therapy. Her first therapeutic experience was back when she about 9-10 months old. It was spring and she showed a huge aversion to grass. Kicking and screaming if I tried to plop her in the yard, clinging to me - terror on her face. In a bit of eerie foreshadowing, I started her in what I jokingly referred to as Grass Therapy.

Grass Therapy consisted of me exposing her to grass, i.e., the backyard, for increasingly long intervals with fewer and fewer barriers. Initially she wore long pants and sat on a thick blanket. I would put a few blades of grass on the blanket so she could twirl them around in her fingers in her classic reluctant-explorer fashion. We went from the blanket to a sheet (could still feel the grass, but not as prickly) to wearing shorts on the sheet to eventually long pants again but no blanket or sheet and eventually shorts again. There were times when she’d sit there for a whole minute just screaming before I’d pick her up.

I don’t remember exactly how long it took, a few weeks maybe, but eventually Grass Therapy worked wonders and she grew to love the yard. One of my all-time favorite pictures of her is one where she’s rolling around in the grass with a huge smile on her face - happy as can be.

We have had other variations of Grass Therapy. I remember Denim Therapy (I’m a jeans girl through and through and I was determined she would not refuse them forever). Grandpa Therapy was a fun one. We’re pretty sure it was the mustache. I think one of my favorites was Happy Bear Therapy.

Sometime last year, Chee suddenly became afraid of a little stuffed bear that she’d had since she was an infant. It’s the kind that you can stretch out and it plays a lullaby while contracting. Press a button and it recites a bedtime prayer. It was an innocuous little thing, sweetly occupying a corner of her crib or bed.

One day I noticed her warily eying the little yellow bear. I picked him up and asked, “Are you looking at this?” and I Pushed The Button. She ran screaming down the hall, hands covering her ears, No no no!!!

“What are you afraid of?” I ask, “This bear is okay, he’s a Happy Bear.” No happy bear, no happy bear, no happy bear!! Thus began a weird little fearful obsession with Happy Bear. She was terrified of him, but she couldn’t ignore him. He moved into Ess’ room and she would frequently peer around the corner to confirm his presence. If he wasn’t readily seen, her eyes would dart from surface to surface, corner to corner, in a desperate attempt to locate him. Where’s Happy Bear? Where is he? Where’s Happy Bear? I guess if she could see him, she knew she was safe from him?? I may never know the answer to that.

Chee’s Daddy gets credit for Happy Bear Therapy. He started with having Happy Bear nearby when they’d play, moved to encouraging her to Push The Button herself (using another toy initially - she wouldn’t touch him directly) and eventually, Happy Bear earned his rightful place back in the Tub of Stuffed Animals.

These therapies were all before she started OT for her Sensory Processing Disorder. Since then, she hasn’t shown any new, unexplained fears. However, there is one Giant Fear that has eluded all therapeutic efforts.

The Garage.

Chee is terrified of the garage. Not just our garage, any garage. And anything resembling a garage. I’ve been at a loss how to help her overcome this fear. All of my efforts have been too intense and have resulted in no steps forward and sometimes two steps back.

In my blog browsing this weekend, I read about a technique used to help children overcome severe food aversions. Put the food on the table. No expectations to touch it or eat it, it’s just there. Reflecting back on Happy Bear Therapy, we started just having Happy Bear nearby, no pressure to touch him.

How can this work with the garage? My thoughts are to have the garage door open on our walk from door to Mommy Minivan. I’ve unintentionally had it open before and she would not step off the front step. So maybe I’ll carry her for awhile. Let her see that although the door is open, it’s safe, and nothing scary is going to happen. What happens next is undecided. Let’s see if we can get past Step 1 without any trauma.

Garage Therapy. Here we come!